“I suppose so. I don’t expect he has many visitors.”

“So,” she said, “partly it’s the boy. But it can’t only be that. We both know that boys can be convincing liars.”

“No. It’s not only that. I think that Pamela Marshall was killed because of something she heard on the evening of the arson. I don’t think it was an insane, motiveless crime. I believe that Charles Todd had discovered some irregularity in his family’s business and that he was trying to exploit it. I’m not sure how that fits in, but I’m sure that it’s relevant.”

They had reached the rocks at the base of the slipway. Molly wished that he would walk more slowly. She had a hole in one sock and the wellington was rubbing a blister. She spoke, as much as anything, to stop his relentless pace.

“Well,” she said. “ Which of them do you think murdered Charles Todd and Pamela Marshall?”

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I should do. I’ve talked to them all. I’m afraid that the boy will be convicted. They’ve almost proof enough. He made the threats. He had the opportunity to set fire to the Wendy House, and to strangle Charlie. He knew that Mark Taylor was a deep sleeper. He knew that Charlie would be in the hide. He could have woken early, realized that Jerry would not wake in time to keep the appointment, then he could have killed Charlie and be back in bed before his alarm went off. On Saturday night his knife was used to kill Pamela and his fingerprints will be on the knife. He was found in her room, covered in blood. When we found him, his words could have been taken as an admission. If we don’t find out who is the murderer, Nick Mardle may well be convicted.”

He stopped and turned to her. “You don’t mind?” he said. “You don’t mind coming here and helping? I didn’t really ask you, did I? The phone call last night was a bit like a royal summons.”

She tried to concentrate on more than the blister and her aching legs.

“I’m pleased,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice. “I trust your judgement. If you say that the boy is innocent, then we must prove that he is.”

Chapter Thirteen

The next day the sun was shining still, and there were still birds for John and George to ring. They all had breakfast together, in the kitchen. George and John were talking about the birds they had caught. Elizabeth was quiet and preoccupied. Molly listened and watched.

“I’d like to go over to the mainland tomorrow,” George said. “ I have something to discuss with Paul Derbyshire. But I won’t need to go out until later, so I’ll be able to help with the ringing again.”

Elizabeth looked up. “ I’m going out tomorrow, so I can give you a lift if you like.”

“Where are you going tomorrow?” John asked sharply.