“No.”

“Well, he can’t have been very sure then, can he?”

“Why did you and Jerry Packham come to the island last Friday?”

For the first time she looked scared. “Why? What’s that to do with anything?”

She was stalling, trying to decide on her response. He said nothing.

“Who told you that we were here?” she asked.

“Nobody. I looked in the log.”

“Why are you interested?”

“I was wondering if perhaps you were using the mist-net from which the guy was taken, the guy used to strangle Charlie.”

“Oh.” She was relieved. She did not question his interest in the murder. “Oh, I see. I shouldn’t think so. You know how meticulous Jerry is, and he put the gear away.”

So something else had happened on that Friday to frighten her, but now she realized that he was ignorant of it, and she would not be persuaded to talk. Again he regretted that Molly was not with him.

“Did you see Charlie that day?” he asked. “ How did he seem? Did he mention where he was going?”

“I had coffee with him that day,” she said. “He was very mysterious about his trip. I presume now that he was going to meet the people in the canal-boat theatre to discuss the project with them.”

“He didn’t drop any hints about selling the island?”

“No. Not at all like Charlie.” For a moment her mouth stiffened as she said, “ He was very bad at keeping secrets.”

Then the impression of anger was gone. She smiled at him, took his arm, and they walked together back to the observatory.

That night they sat for the meal much as they had the night before, but PC Martindale took Charlie Todd’s place. He was embarrassed, preoccupied, took refuge from his awkwardness in dreams of Rachel. There was the same hiss of the tillies, the same movement of the tide, the same prints on the walls of birds and shipwrecks, but everything was quite different; Because of Charlie Todd’s death, and because of the presence among them of a murderer, they were all different. In the shadowed light, with a policeman at the table, they could no longer pretend that this was just another meal. They ate in silence. Then Jasmine Carson spoke to George. He was sitting next to her and she did not speak loudly, but they all listened.

“John tells me that you intend to help the police to find the murderer.”

He emptied his mouth, answered slowly and calmly. “I’ve told them that I’ll help in any way I can. I’m in a special position, I suppose, because of my work, and because I wasn’t here when the crime was committed.” He smiled at Martindale, who had not been listening and was confused by the attention. “But I’m sure that the police are competent.”

“Are you?” she said crossly. “Someone broke into my flat six months ago and they never found the thief on that occasion. I want this matter sorted out quickly. We don’t want it hanging over the observatory. It will ruin our reputation, stop the serious work of the place.”