A Prospect of Vengeance

Audley relaxed, suddenly. ' Mitchell — Paul Mitchell —?' Then he laughed, but not happily. 'Oh yes — that would be it, of course! We laid the trail — and you picked it up . . . even after so many years ... is that it? Now I see! You think that Mitchell

— ? Because of Thornervaulx — ?' He completed the unhappy chuckle. 'It's what my dear wife always says: 'too-clever-by-half' — and not half clever enough!' He looked at Ian, and then Jenny, and then away from both of them, down the hillside.

Jenny waited.

'Well, Miss Fielding — Mr Robinson — ' Audley came back to them, with a slow shake of the head ' — if you think that, then I think you're both in big trouble now.' He pointed down the hillside. 'So now we'll see?'

And then there was suddenly Reg Buller, stamping up out of the dead ground among the rocks.

And then there was Paul Mitchell with him —

dummy2

2

Reg Buller was puffing like a grampus, from his climb: Reg would be sweating now, even worse than she had done before the sun had dried her, here on the summit of the Greater Arapile.

But Paul Mitchell wasn't puffing: he was striding easily, swinging up a long black case — half briefcase, half violin-case — as he surmounted the last of the rocks.

'Paul.' Audley seemed neither surprised nor pleased. 'You took your time.'

'David!' Mitchell trod disgracefully into the midst of the crocuses, quite regardless of them. 'I'm sorry, David — ' He cradled the not-violin-case in his arms, to his breast, still crushing the flowers. 'Where's Faith? Where's Cathy, David

— ?'

'They're down below.' Audley nodded back towards the monument. 'Among the rocks. Sunbathing and reading. And possibly topless . . . Faith, anyway. Do you want me to call them?'

'No. They'll do well enough where they are.' Mitchell clambered up on to the uneven rocky platform on which the monument had been raised, setting the case down at his feet.

'No problem, David.'

'No problem,' Audley growled the words. 'You'd better be dummy2

right.'

'Now, David . . .' Mitchell continued to scan the landscape, quartering it segment by segment ' — when have I ever let you down?'

Audley stared at him, then shook his head resignedly.

And finally came back to Jenny. 'You've caused us a lot of trouble, Miss Fielding.'

'Correction: she's caused me a lot of trouble.' Mitchell stepped down from the platform. He looked untroubled, but decidedly rough and quite unlike his previous rather smooth self, thought Jenny unhappily: unshaven, with the beginning of a pronounced designer-stubble and an open-necked shirt inadequately tucked into a pair of shapeless old trousers, he might just have passed for a local. And, oddly enough, the net effect of this was to make him look younger and much more sexy (at least, for those who might be into younger men; but still not in the same class as Audley). 'You've caused me a lot of trouble, Miss Fielding- ffulke — and that's a fact!'

'I'm sorry, Dr Mitchell.' It was hard to think of this ragamuffin as Doctor Mitchell. 'But . . . you caused us some trouble, too. In fact, you frightened us.'

'So I gather.' Mitchell flicked a glance at Reg Buller, who was mopping his face with an enormous and very dirty handkerchief. 'So — I — gather!'

Jenny looked at Buller accusingly. 'Mr Buller — ?'

'Don't blame me, Lady!' Buller wiped his face even more dummy2

vigorously. 'E caught me on the road, not long after you left me. An' . . .'e was very nasty, I tell you.'

'Oh yes?' There would be no help from Reg Buller now, that wonderfully authentic whine indicated: Reg knew which way the wind was blowing, and he always adjusted himself to his circumstances, which was the secret of his survival from many past disasters. So, in his new role as their unwilling employee he could no longer be relied upon. But that, in turn, freed her from employer's responsibility. 'So, do you still think Dr Mitchell is a murderer, Mr Buller?'

'I never said that, Lady — I never did!' Buller rolled his eyes, driven to over-play his role even more by such a direct accusation. 'It was Mr Robinson, more than me: I just reported what I found out — like you told me to.'

That shifted the whole weight to Ian, who hadn't said a word since the world had changed for them.

That's not true, Mr Buller — '

'It's all right, Jen.' Ian watched Mitchell.

'It was Mr Buller, Ian — '

'It's all right.' He dismissed her, having eyes only for Mitchell. 'And it's true, also.' He blinked for an instant.

'Maybe we made a mistake. Or ... maybe we didn't— ?' He faced Mitchell unashamedly. 'What was she really like, Dr Mitchell? Tell me?'

Mitchell stared at him. Then he turned away and reached for the case.

dummy2

'What was she really like?' Ian pursued Mitchell remorselessly.

'Let him be, Mr Robinson.' Audley took a step down from his eminence, to join them. 'This isn't the place — or