“He meant Christ perhaps,” said Emily.

“With respect,” said the master, “I think he spoke of a living man. Living as you and I do. And could even a lunatic conjure up a Christ who would have him do as he did to me?”

“Men have done worse,” she said, “with that name on their lips.”

“It was some fantasy,” said Lacroix. “It was to justify his violence to you.”

“Not that either,” said the master. “No. Someone had impressed him. Had put ideas in his head.”

“He left then?”

“He did. He knew I had no more to tell him. He even tidied me up a little, handed me my own neckcloth to hold over my eye. Then he explained, very patiently and thoroughly, what would become of me if I blabbed of him. I gave him my word I would not, and I have not, until now. He hung about a while longer, studying me from beside the door. I believe he was debating with himself the wisdom of leaving me with breath in my body. Then he was gone, lit out swift and quiet as he’d come. Well, I sat there a good half-hour on the floorboards before making my way to the house of my late wife’s cousin. You’ll remember him. He asks no questions. The next day he brought me up the water. Brought me here.”

“Your eye?” asked Lacroix. The master shook his head.

“But surely . . . ”

“Nothing.”

Lacroix nodded. His thoughts were full of oddments, glimpses. A tune ran through his head, something a pair of beggar children had been singing outside the inn, yesterday or the day before. This was not how he had imagined it, the truth-telling time. It was as if his secrets had altered in the keeping, had grown like living things, so that he did not quite know them any more. Or that they were not entirely his, not the private stash or black treasure he had imagined. And once more it came to him, the thought that had touched him several times since coming back from Spain, that we are not private beings and cannot hide things inside ourselves. Everything is present, everything in view for those who know how to look.

“Captain Browne,” said Emily. “Where is he now?”

“Henderson? If he is still searching for Lacroix here I’d say he was out in the islands.”

“The islands?”

“Unless he has given it up. Which I doubt.”

“John,” said Emily. “John?”

He touched her shoulder and she twisted round to him.

“John. You heard him? You heard what he said?”

“I did.”

“Then we must go. Today. We must leave. Immediately.”

“She is right enough there,” said the master. “Run south. Put as many miles as you can between yourselves and this man.”

“She does not mean that,” said Lacroix. “Her brother and sister are out there.”