It was an ugly and grotesque encounter. She pushed her wet face towards them and her jaw trembled as if she had a rigor. She looked from one to the other. ‘You,’ she stuttered. ‘You! Both of you. Animals. Now wait! Now, wait and see!’

Major Barrimore said: ‘Look here, Elspeth,’ and Dr Maine said: ‘My dear Miss Cost!’

She broke into uncertain laughter and mouthed at them.

‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ Barrimore said. She whispered something and he turned on his heel and left her. He was scarlet in the face.

‘Miss Cost,’ Maine said, ‘you’d better go home. You’re overwrought and I’m sorry if I –’

‘You will be sorry,’ she said. ‘All of you. Mark my words.’

He hesitated for a moment. She made an uncouth and ridiculous gesture and he, too, left her.

Miss Emily was motionless under her umbrella. Miss Cost made for her, stumbling on the muddy slope. ‘Wicked, wicked woman,’ she said. ‘You will be punished.’

‘My poor creature – ’ Miss Emily began but Miss Cost screamed at her, turned aside and floundered down the path. She passed through the gates into Wally’s Way and after a precipitant descent, was lost among those of her adherents who were clustered round the jetty.

Jenny and Patrick had set off after the others but, on looking back, saw Miss Emily alone in the downpour. At Jenny’s suggestion they returned and she approached Miss Emily. ‘Miss Pride,’ she said. ‘Let’s go back. Come with us. You’ll be drenched.’

‘Thank you, dear child, I have my umbrella,’ said Miss Emily. She was still staring across the Spring at Superintendent Coombe’s late companion who now advanced towards her. ‘Please don’t wait for me,’ she said. ‘I have an escort.’

Jenny hesitated. ‘I insist,’ said Miss Emily impatiently. Patrick took Jenny’s arm. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘We’re not needed.’ They hunched their shoulders and ran like hares.

Alleyn crossed the enclosure. ‘Good evening, Miss Emily,’ he said. ‘Shall we go?’

On the way to The Boy-and-Lobster he held her umbrella over her. ‘I am sufficiently protected by my waterproof and overshoes,’ she said. ‘The forecast was for rain. Pray, let us share the umbrella.’ She took his arm. The path was now deserted.

They hardly spoke. Rain drummed down on the umbrella in a pentateuchal deluge. Earth and sea were loud with its onslaught and the hillside smelt of devouring grass and soil. Miss Emily, in her goloshes, was insecure. Alleyn closed his hand round her thin old arm and was filled with a sort of infuriated pity.

The entrance to the hotel was deserted except for the man on duty who stared curiously at them. Miss Emily drew her key from her reticule. ‘I prefer,’ she said loudly, ‘to retain possession. Will you come up? I have a so-called suite.’