My Bones Will Keep

This time they did not follow the rough path to the bridge and the level-crossing which led to Mrs Grant’s house, but continued on the single-track road to Loch na Greine, the Loch of the Sun, the Tom Tiddler’s Ground on which the island of Tannasgan formed a base. It was the second time that Dame Beatrice had seen the loch since the murder, for they had been obliged to pass very close to it on their way from Freagair to Coinneamh Lodge, but on that first occasion she had obtained only the most cursory view of the waters of Greine as the car carried her past the little stone jetty from which Laura had embarked for the island.

George drew up on the verge to take the car off the road, and Dame Beatrice and Laura got out and walked to the jetty. Dame Beatrice looked at the iron ring in the stonework and then walked to the end of the tiny pier and gazed across the loch to the island and its house.

‘Nothing much doing, by the look of things,’ said Laura, joining her. ‘Have you seen the apparatus for summoning a boat?’

‘We might make use of it, I think,’ said her employer. ‘Will you operate it?’

Laura did this and then rang the bell. They waited for five minutes by Laura’s wristwatch and then she tried again, but again there was no response from the island. They could see two rowing-boats in the boathouse and this was too much for Laura. She went back to the car, retrieved her wet swimming costume, sheltered behind a convenient bush and, a couple of minutes later, was in the water.

George also had left the car, deeming it his duty to act as bodyguard, and he and Dame Beatrice stood on the bank and watched Laura’s progress. As usual, she swam fast, on a powerful freestyle, and they saw her scramble out and then get into the smaller of the boats.

‘I’ll just immobilise the car, madam. Mrs Gavin took her towel out,’ said George. ‘I hope she isn’t being rash,’ he added.

‘So, indeed, do I. I realised her intention, but she is a law unto herself, of course. Do you wish to visit the island, George?’

‘I have studied such accounts of the murder as have come my way, madam, and have listened to the conversations in public houses, and I feel a certain amount of curiosity about the affair. It is a little bizarre, madam, don’t you think? We have never been involved in anything quite like it.’

‘I would not have missed it for the world, George. Well, Mrs Gavin seems to be getting away quite safely.’

Laura pulled the heavy boat across the loch and George held on to it as soon as it reached the jetty. He tied up. Laura dried herself and dressed, then she and Dame Beatrice, followed by the chauffeur-henchman, stepped aboard. George courteously relieved Laura of the oars and they were soon across the water and tying up in the boat-house of the Island of Ghosts.

‘You saw no sign of life, I suppose?’ asked Dame Beatrice, when they had negotiated the planking and were standing on the lawn.

‘No sign and no sound,’ Laura replied. ‘I expect the place is deserted. Let’s go up to the house and have a look-see.’

As one who was acquainted with the terrain, she led the way. The front door was wide open.

‘It hardly looks as though the place is deserted,’ remarked Dame Beatrice. ‘It is almost as though visitors are expected. One would expect the front door to be closed, if not bolted and barred.’

Laura agreed and then added:

‘I hope the police aren’t still in charge. It will queer our pitch properly if they are.’

‘A policeman would be on duty at that door,’ said George, a slight distortion of his uniform indicating the presence of a heavy spanner in one of the deep pockets. ‘By your leave, Mrs Gavin, I’d better go in first.’

‘Oh, rot, George!’ retorted the Amazon. ‘Women and children first! You ought to know that.’ She produced a bit of bicycle chain. ‘Wonderful what you can learn from the Teds. I am armed and well prepared. Together we can defend Dame B. from all the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. Come the four corners of the world in arms and we shall shock them.’ At this point she tripped over the step. Dame Beatrice produced a small revolver from the capacious pocket of her skirt. ‘And God defend the right,’ concluded Laura piously, picking herself up and dusting herself down. ‘For goodness’ sake, put that thing away, Dame B. It gives me goose-pimples in the small of my back. I never did care about gats, as I told Mrs Stewart a while ago.’

She led the way to the dining-room door, turned the handle without a sound and then suddenly thrust the door open. The room was tenanted. Seated by the empty hearth was her red-bearded friend. Beside him on the table was what had been a bottle of Scotch. It was now merely a bottle which, no doubt, retained the aroma of Scotch, and the stertorous breathing of the sleeping man gave sufficient indication of where the contents of the bottle had gone.

‘What d’you know!’ said Laura, under her breath; then, in a whisper to Dame Beatrice, ‘Think he’s alone in the house?’

Dame Beatrice motioned to her and they crept back to the hall.

‘I think we must either wake him or return to the jetty,’ she said, when they were away from the dining-room door. ‘We can hardly explore the house under these circumstances. I had anticipated either that it would be empty, or else that we should encounter someone to whom we could explain ourselves, even though the someone turned out to be a policeman.’

‘I should judge,’ said Laura, ‘that the citizen in there is so far under the influence that, even if we did wake him, it might not be the easiest thing in the world to explain ourselves to him. In vinas veritas is all very well, but in my experience a superabundance of alcohol is apt to impair the intellect and stimulate little but the wrong reactions. Look here, how would it be if we rowed about on the loch for a bit? I’d like to see what the other side looks like.’

‘It would be taking a liberty, of course, but, as we have already put ourselves in an equivocal position, I think it cannot do much to darken our offence. Perhaps though we ought first to find out whether your friend is alone in the house.’

‘Well, I know where the kitchen regions are, so, swinging my bicycle chain in the approved fashion, I’ll go along, shall I, and take a gander around?’