“Colonel,” Stone said, “perhaps you could explain yourself?”

“Of course, Mr. Barrington,” the policeman replied. “Earlier this afternoon a very fast yacht berthed here and cleared customs, stating his intention of picking up a charter passenger. And you were seen, not half an hour ago, having a drink at the bar of the Shipwright’s Arms with that yacht’s captain, and then going aboard her.”

“That’s quite true, Colonel,” Stone said. “I met the man, whose name I believe is Sam, at the bar. I expressed an interest in his boat, and he was kind enough to offer me a tour. He said his charterer was a Mr. and Mrs. Chapman.”

“Come, come, Mr. Barrington, you are being disingenuous,” the policeman said.

“I assure you, I am not,” Stone replied firmly.

“Colonel,” Allison piped up, “why do you think I have anything to do with that yacht?”

“Yes, Colonel, why?” Stone asked.

“I am not a fool, Mr. Barrington,” the man said.

“Of course you aren’t,” Stone agreed. “But what, specifically, causes you to believe that Mrs. Manning has chartered the yacht? Have you spoken with the captain?”

“Not yet,” the man admitted.

“Well, when you do, I’m sure he will tell you what he told me, that someone else has chartered his yacht.”

“Oh, I will speak to him, Mr. Barrington; you may be sure of that.” He stood up. “In the meantime, Mrs. Manning is confined to this yacht and to the Shipwright’s Arms.”

Allison shrugged. “I’ve hardly left this yacht since I came to St. Marks, except at the insistence of Sir Winston Sutherland,” she said. “I don’t know why I would want to leave it now. You see, Colonel, I am quite looking forward to my trial and acquittal.”

“She is not to go to the airport or anywhere else on the island or to board any other yacht,” the colonel said, continuing to address Stone, “on pain of immediate arrest and close confinement.”

“I quite understand, Colonel,” Stone said, “and believe me, Mrs. Manning will follow your instructions to the letter.”

The policeman saluted them smartly and, herding his colleagues before him, went up the companionway.

Stone followed them partway and watched as they marched off toward the Race.

Chapter
40

Stone sat back down on the sofa and took a large swig of his drink. It turned out to be straight rum. “Jesus,” he said, coughing, “I was expecting Scotch or something.”

“I grabbed the first thing I saw,” she said, sitting beside him. “That man frightened me very badly.”

“I’m glad you still have the capacity for being frightened by something,” he replied. “He was on the point of jailing you, you know.”

“I believe you. What do I do now?”

“We’ve got to get that motor yacht out of English Harbour, that’s what. How did you go about chartering it?”