Descending, he called Ronald everywhere: the silence that received his voice gave him back an infuriating sensation, less of being unheard than of not being answered. The boy might be round any corner listening compassionately, telling himself that there went poor old Milton hollering away. So he pressed on in a shut-down kind of silence, and was surprised and aggrieved as at each turn the emptiness renewed itself down pergola, lawn or glade. A flitting echo of Mrs Hillier’s remark sent him suddenly towards the gleam of water. There was no path: he had to push his way through some bushes to the rim of a larger tank that had been cut out, a square of vivid green water, under the jut of a cliff. The tank had a kerb of yellow marble, and he saw, looking across it, that the smooth streaked sides went down about three feet before they came to the water, which might be lower than usual but gave some suggestion by its unmuddied yet complete opaqueness of being very deep. The water looked solid; if a body disappeared through the surface it might leave a dint, perhaps, a gash which would slowly heal, but never a ripple. He could not imagine the green line swelling up or fretted for even a moment against the face of the marble. He leant farther over it, after a glance up of instinctive watchfulness at the cliff which, like a lid on a hinge, had seemed at that very moment to lean farther over him, and inwardly smiled at a picture, a fanciful composition to which his attitude and manner consciously leant themselves, that could be called ‘Temptation to Murder’. He saw his own head and shoulders reflected, and the cliff and sky (though none of these impinged on the greenness), and presently, after some recorded disturbance of branches, the figure of Ronald which, coming out from under the cliff, stood on the kerb of the tank nonchalantly, then sat down, dangling its legs. ‘He might say something,’ Milton thought resentfully; but after some seconds of silence, whose duration seemed insulting and ludicrous, he had to throw a ‘Well, hullo!’ across the water in impatient concession.

‘Hallo,’ answered Ronald. ‘Exploring on your own?’

‘Yes – you, too?’

‘Not quite,’ said Ronald politely. ‘I’ve been exploring with Miss Fitzgerald.’

‘Biggest tank I’ve seen,’ said Milton, nodding down.

‘Yes, isn’t it? More of a swimming-bath.’

‘What on earth – it’s like talking to about ten people!’

‘Yes, it’s this cliff.’

‘Can’t you come round?’ said Milton impatiently.