“I think I know what you mean. Nature is so regardless! One ant the less—that’s all it is in Nature!”

Rosamund said:

“Yes—and that’s the proper way to look at it really.”

He gave her one very quick glance. Then he said in a low voice:

“Don’t worry, my dear. It’s all right. It’s all right.”

II

Linda came down to the causeway to meet them. She moved with the spasmodic jerkiness of a nervous colt. Her young face was marred by deep black shadows under her eyes. Her lips were dry and rough.

She said breathlessly:

“What happened—what—what did they say?”

Her father said abruptly:

“Inquest adjourned for a fortnight.”

“That means they—they haven’t decided?”

“Yes. More evidence is needed.”

“But—but what do they think?”

Marshall smiled a little in spite of himself.

“Oh, my dear child—who knows? And whom do you mean by they? The coroner, the jury, the police, the newspaper reporters, the fishing folk of Leathercombe Bay?”

Linda said slowly:

“I suppose I mean—the police.”

Marshall said dryly:

“Whatever the police think, they’re not giving it away at present.”

His lips closed tightly after the sentence. He went into the hotel.

As Rosamund Darnley was about to follow suit, Linda said:

“Rosamund!”

Rosamund turned. The mute appeal in the girl’s unhappy face touched her. She linked her arm through Linda’s and together they walked away from the hotel, taking the path that led to the extreme end of the island.

Rosamund said gently:

“Try not to mind so much, Linda. I know it’s all very terrible and a shock and all that, but it’s no use brooding over these things. And it can be only the—horror of it, that is worrying you. You weren’t in the least fond of Arlena, you know.”

She felt the tremor that ran through the girl’s body as Linda answered:

“No, I wasn’t fond of her….”

Rosamund went on:

“Sorrow for a person is different—one can’t put that behind one. But one can get over shock and horror by just not letting your mind dwell on it all the time.”

Linda said sharply:

“You don’t understand.”

“I think I do, my dear.”

Linda shook her head.

“No, you don’t. You don’t understand in the least—and Christine doesn’t understand either! Both of you have been nice to me, but you can’t understand what I’m feeling. You just think it’s morbid—that I’m dwelling on it all when I needn’t.”

She paused.

“But it isn’t that at all. If you knew what I know—”

Rosamund stopped dead. Her body did not tremble—on the contrary it stiffened. She stood for a minute or two, then she disengaged her arm from Linda’s.

She said:

“What is it that you know, Linda?”