“Did you have a pleasant walk?” Sylvia asked lazily. She stretched and George thought that she looked like a big, voluptuous chestnut cat.

“Yes thank you.”

“I’ll go and make some tea.”

“No,” he said. “ Not yet if you don’t mind.”

She seemed surprised but curled back into her chair.

“When did you give the green scarf to Mary?”

“On Friday afternoon. School finished early so that the children could go to welcome Jim and Sarah, and she came in immediately afterwards. Jonathan was still in the classroom. She had admired it several times and she wanted something pretty to wear to impress her new sister-in-law. It wasn’t expensive—not real silk—so I gave it to her. Is it important?”

“I think so. I think that her death may not have been an accident.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think that she may have been pushed.” He realized that he had avoided the word “ murdered.”

“Oh George, are you sure? It doesn’t seem very likely. The people here are far too boring to do anything like that.”

She could not take him seriously. She was laughing at him, accusing him of senility, of an obsession with crime. He did not answer her. Jonathan looked up, at last, from his book.

“Are you sure, George?” he asked.

“No. But I’m not satisfied that it was an accident.”

He explained why he could not accept the theory that Mary had slipped over the cliff.

“Yes,” Jonathan said. “I see. It does seem strange.”

He continued to give George his full attention. His eyes did not stray back to the book on his knee. George went on:

“Mary was going to tell me a secret. I was wondering what it could be. You know all the Kinness scandal, Sylvia. Has anyone got any deadly secrets?”

“We all have secrets,” she said brightly, “ but I don’t think any of them are deadly. Really, George, aren’t you imagining it all?”

She put aside her book and stood up. “Now,” she said. “I’ll make some tea.” They heard her in the kitchen, and she came in again soon after with a tray. She put it on a small table but did not sit down. She stood where she was in front of the fire. In the firelight she seemed flushed.

“I thought that I might go out on the boat tomorrow,” she said, “and stay on Baltasay for a few days. I could come back on Friday. I need some time away from Kinness. Perhaps I could treat myself, stay in the hotel, do some shopping. I’ve been feeling rather trapped lately.”

She knew that she was saying too much and was abruptly silent. The men watched her. The speech had come as a shock.

“Of course you must go if you feel like that,” Jonathan said gently. “We’ll manage here.”