red streaked with grey, glistening faintly where the tide had just receded. Above the line of the dark brown seaweed the white daisies hung in feathery bunches, ornamental and unreal in the brilliant light.
'Look.'
A faint dark streak had appeared at the waterline. Mary shuddered. The sharp hopes twisted violently within her.
Drowned, drowned, drowned, her dulling consciousness repeated.
'The roof slopes down, you know,' one of the coast-guards said.
'What?'
'The roof slopes down. It's highest at the opening. It'll be another five minutes at least before they can swim out.'
I wish he wouldn't say things like that, thought Mary. Twenty minutes from now, half an hour from now, how would her life be then? Could she endure it, the long vigil of death made visible? When would she begin to scream and cry? Would she still exist, conscious, untattered, compact in half an hour's time from now?
Octavian and Kate were in the other coastguards' boat. She could see Kate staring at the dark shadow in the water. Minutes passed. People in the other boat had begun to whisper.
Drowned, Mary thought, drowned. The boats had closed in.
The waters still sank. The opening of the cave became larger and larger. Nothing happened. Drowned.
There was a loud cry. Something was splashing in the dark hole moving out into the light. Mary held her heart, contracted into a point of agony.
'It's Mingo.' 'What?' 'It's only the dog.' Mary stared at the black hole. Tears of pain flowed upon her face. There was another movement, a splashing, a swimming head seen clearly in the light, a louder cry, an answering cry. 'It's Pierce,' someone said into her ear. Theo perhaps. She could see her son's head plainly now. The other boat was nearer. Someone had jumped into the sea. He was being held, hoisted. 'I'm all right,' he was shouting, 'I'm all right.' Theo was holding her awkwardly as if she needed support, but she was stiff. He's all right. Now John, John. 'There he is!' It was Kate's voice. Mary's boat had nosed to the front, the bow of it almost touching the cliff. Several people were in the water now, splashing about at the mouth of the cave. Mary saw the head of Ducane among them. Then he was bobbing close just at the side of the boat. He was being pushed up, pulled up, raised from the water. He rose up limp and straight out of the sea, the thin white heavy form of a naked man. He flopped into the bottom of the boat with a groan. Mary had taken off her overcoat and wrapped it around him. She gripped and held him fast. 'I understand you had an unpleasant experience at the weekend,' said Biranne. 'What happened exactly?'
'Oh nothing much. I was cut off by the tide.' 'None the worse, I hope?' 'No, no, I'm fine.' 'Well, you wanted to see me. Have you decided my fate?' 'Yes,' said Ducane. 'Have a drink.' It was early evening. Ducane, who had been in bed until half an hour ago, was wearing his black silk dressing gown with the red asterisks over his pyjamas. A fire was burning in the grate which he had laid and lit himself, since Fivey was unaccountably absent. He still felt deeply chilled, as if there were a long frozen pellet buried in the centre of his body. However, the doctor had been reassuring. Mingo had probably saved both him and Pierce from dying of exposure. By the decree of fate and chance the water had abated within feet of them. Ducane was still simply enjoying being alive. Existing, breathing, waking up and finding oneself still there, were positive joys. Here I am, he kept saying to himself, here I am. Oh good! 'Thanks,' said Biranne. 'I'll have some gin. Well?' Ducane moved over to close the drawing-room window. The noise of the rush hour in Earls Court Road became fainter. The evening sunlight made the little street glow with colour. Oh beautiful painted front doors, thought Ducane, beautiful shiny motor cars. Bless you, things. 'Well, Ducane?' Ducane moved dreamily back towards the fire. He went to the drawer of the desk and took out Radeechy's confession which he laid on a nearby chair, and also a copy which he had made on a large piece of paper of the cryptogram which Radeechy had written on the wall of the black chapel. 'Sit down, Biranne.' Biranne sat down opposite to him. Still standing, Ducane handed him the sheet of paper with the cryptogram. 'Can you make anything of that?' Biranne stared at it.'No. What is it?' 'Radeechy wrote it on the wall of the place where he performed his – experiments.' 'Means nothing to me.' Biranne tossed it impatiently on to the marble table beside his drink. 'Nor me, I thought you might have an inspiration.' 'What's this, a sort of spiritual test? Satori – that's Japanese, isn't it? What does it matter anyway?' 'Radeechy matters,' said Ducane. 'Claudia matters. Aren't you interested?' He was staring down at Biranne. Biranne shifted uneasily. Then he stood up and moved back, putting the chair between them. 'Look here,' he said, 'I know what I've done. I don't need to be told by you. I know.' 'Good. I just wanted to be sure.' They stared intently at each other. 'Well? Go on.' 'That, for a start.' Ducane turned away, and with a long sigh poured himself out some gin. Then he poured a little dry vermouth into the glass, measuring it judiciously. Then he began to inspect Biranne again, looking at him with a sort of grave curiosity. 'Get it over with,' said Biranne. 'You're turning me in. Don't cat and mouse me as well.' 'Cat and mouse,' said Ducane. 'Yes. Well, you may have to put up with being a little bit, as you charmingly put it, cat and moused. I want to ask you a few questions.' 'So you haven't decided? Or do you want me on my knees? Oro supplex et acclinis. Yes, you do think you're God!' 'Just a few questions, my dear Biranne.' 'Ask, ask.' 'Where's Judy?' 'I don't know,' said Biranne, surprised. 'You told me to drop Judy.' He gave a snarl of a laugh. 'And did you?' 'No. She dropped me. She just disappeared. I imagined she was with you. I must say I was rather 
