Elizabeth chuckled. A typical Cape Cod tale had come to her mind. “I don’t mean it can’t get bad. You’ll prob­ably see a tree twister tomorrow. There’s a weather story my grandfather once showed me in an old New Bedford paper. It seems a man named Al Higgins was being interviewed about an unusual storm. Higgins told it this way: He had no sooner got to his hen house when the wind blew the door open and his best rooster hopped out. Next came a gust so fierce it whipped off all the bird’s feathers and bounced the rooster up against the chopping block—which the bird hit so hard that the axe dropped down and cut off its head. So there the rooster was—killed, picked, and ready to clean for eating. And Mr. Higgins wound up saying, ‘I don’t believe there ever was such a gale before!’ ”

Elizabeth enjoyed Peter Hubbard’s explosion of hearty young laughter. “Great characters, your Cape Cod people!” he said.

“They must be doing something right. Did you know that more people live to eighty or ninety in these parts than anywhere? Stephen Scott wants to can Yarkie air so people can take it home. They do that on Nantucket and Martha’s Vineyard, you know.”

“It’s sort of fun, I suppose.” Hubbard had been trying to light his pipe, but the breeze was too much for his matches, and he gave up.

“We can go back in if you like,” Elizabeth said.

He shook his head. “Much too nice out here, Liz.”

Her heart bumped despite herself. It was the first time Peter Hubbard had ever called her “Liz.” She wasn’t at all sure she wanted him to, especially with Wanda Lindstrom soon to appear. She said, “It’s late, Dr. Hubbard,” and started back to the lighthouse.

Hubbard stopped her before she reached the door. “I don’t really have a clear picture of how Yarkie lies. Please fill me in.”

With some stiffness, Elizabeth halted and acquiesced. “Well, to orient you, we’re standing on the northwest corner. Think of the island as sort of a rectangle. If we go straight east along this north shore, in about two miles we come to the northeast corner. There’s a point of land there that runs out a way into the ocean. It’s where Yarkie has the garbage dump we’ve been talking about all day.”

Hubbard nodded grimly. “I see.”

Elizabeth went on. “Turning south from that corner, we run along the eastern shore. That’s a mixed bag. It’s mostly woods and cliffs until you get down to the southern part—where the best beaches are.