‘He wasn’t flat out an hour ago. He was in the ugly stages. He – he – was talking so wildly. What he’d do to her – to Miss Pride. You know?’

‘My dear girl, he was plastered. Don’t get silly ideas into your head, now, will you? Promise?’

‘All right,’ she said. ‘Yes. All right.’

‘Good night,’ he said and left her there with her fingers against her lips.

IV

On the next day, Tuesday, Miss Emily kept to her room, where in the afternoon she received in turn, Mr Nankivell (the Mayor of Portcarrow), Dr Maine and the Rev. Mr Carstairs. On Wednesday she called at Wally’s Cottage. On Thursday she revisited the Spring, mounted to her observation post and remained there, under her umbrella, for a considerable time, conscientiously observed by Sergeant Pender to whom she had taken a fancy, and by numerous visitors as well as several of the local characters, including Miss Cost, Wally Trehern and his father.

On Friday she followed the same routine, escaping a trip-wire which had been laid across her ascent to the ledge and removed by Mr Pender two minutes before she appeared on the scene.

An hour later, this circumstance having been reported to him, Superintendent Alfred Coombe rang up Roderick Alleyn at his holiday address.

V

Alleyn was mowing his host’s tennis court when his wife hailed him from the terrace. He switched the machine off.

‘Telephone,’ she shouted. ‘Long distance.’

‘Damnation!’ he said and returned to the house.

‘Where’s it from, darling?’

‘Portcarrow. District Headquarters. That’ll be Miss Emily, won’t it?’

‘Inevitably, I fear.’

‘Might it only be to say there’s nothing to report?’ Troy asked doubtfully.

‘Most unlikely.’

He answered the call, heard what Coombe had to say about the stone-throwing and turned his thumb down for Troy’s information.

‘Mind you,’ Coombe said, ‘it might have been some damned Ted larking about. Not that we’ve had trouble of that sort on the Island. But she’s raised a lot of feeling locally. Seeing what you’ve told us, I thought I ought to let you know.’

‘Yes, of course. And you’ve talked to Miss Pride?’

‘I have,’ said Coombe with some emphasis. ‘She’s a firm old lady, isn’t she?’

‘Gibraltar is as butter compared to her.’

‘What say?’

‘I said: Yes, she is.’

‘I asked her to let me know what her plans might be for the rest of the day. I didn’t get much change out of her. The doctor persuaded her to stay put on Tuesday but ever since she’s been up and about, worse luck. She’s taken to sitting on this shelf above the Spring and looking at the visitors. Some of them don’t like it.’

‘I bet they don’t.’