evening shoes. Are you coming?’ (They were in the lounge of the hotel.)
‘No, I shan’t bother. If I can dance in these pumps, I can play table tennis in them.’
‘And your dinner jacket?’
‘Oh, well, look, then, we’ll stroll over to the chalets and out there I can shed my jacket and you can take it with you and bring me back my thin sweater while I repair to the games room and bag a table for our game.’
The large chalet which was called the games room was situated at the far end of the sunken garden so that any sounds which emanated from it should not penetrate to the other chalets and disturb the rest of their inhabitants.
Margaret and Sebastian, therefore, went their separate ways, he across the sunken garden and up the steps on the far side of it, she in almost the opposite direction. She had slung her brother’s dinner-jacket round her shoulders and was hitching it into position when she became aware that someone was standing at one of the windows of the chalet which she and Sebastian occupied. The sun was beginning to set and was going down in a blaze of splendour to the sea, but the sky was clear and the day was not yet done. It was an hour, however, when Margaret and her brother had usually retired to their chalet, not to sleep, but to read the books which Sebastian, who had guessed correctly the contents of Laura’s rectangular parcel when first she had come to the island, was in the habit of borrowing from time to time.
The golden glow of the declining sun seemed to be setting the windows of the chalet on fire, and Margaret, in any case, could not see the visitor’s face. His back was towards her, and his figure, against the almost blinding light, was nothing more than a silhouette. As the girl walked towards him she saw something more. He was busy at the window with the obvious intention of attempting to force it open. As soon as she realised this, Margaret ran forward, shouting:
‘Hi, there! What are you up to?’
At this the man turned and ran. He ran clumsily, for he was heavily built and did not appear to be in his first youth. Margaret made no attempt to pursue him, neither did she continue in her course towards the chalet. She stopped dead, her heart pounding. Then she turned and made off in the direction of the games room and flung herself at her astonished brother.
‘Where’s my sweater?’ he demanded.
‘A man!’ gulped Margaret. ‘A man trying to get into our chalet!’
Except for themselves the games room was empty. Sebastian took her by the shoulders and put her on to a bench which was against the wall.
‘Here, steady on,’ he said, ‘What’s all the panic about?’
‘A man! Trying to force a window. I’m sure he thought we were in there. Since Father went to the inquest we’ve always gone back there after dinner. We were sitting in the lounge a bit longer than usual tonight. Oh, Seb, I’m
‘Now, then, take it steady,’ said Sebastian. ‘I bet all you saw was somebody who’d mistaken our chalet for his own. Probably put away a couple too many in the bar. Come on, I’ll walk back over there with you. Why, it’s still daylight! Nobody tries to burgle a place—’
‘It wasn’t a burglar!’
‘Well, I never said it was. I’m sure it was only some pickled customer mistaking his home from home. It does happen, even in the best-regulated hotels, you know, and the chalets are all alike.’
‘But I tell you he was trying to force a window! I’m sure he was!’
‘What of it? Found his key wouldn’t fit and was too sozzled to realise he was trying to open the wrong box, so he had a go at a window, that’s all. For goodness’ sake forget it.’
‘But he ran away as soon as I shouted.’
‘Probably brought him to his senses. A sudden jolt does do that sometimes. Come on, now, not to worry. Shall we have a knock-up or shan’t we?’
‘I shouldn’t be able to hit a ball, and I’ve still got these silly shoes on.’
‘All right, give me back my jacket. We’ll go over to the hotel and I’ll buy you a stiffener in the bar. You’re just about old enough, aren’t you?’
They stayed in the hotel bar for three-quarters of an hour. Under the mingled influence of the cheerful chatter round about her, the comfort of her brother’s presence and the effect of two fairly potent drinks, Margaret relaxed and calmed down, and when Sebastian, with a glance at the clock, suggested that it was time to think about going to the chalet before it got quite dark, she was ready enough to accompany him.
When they reached their chalet, however, she hesitated.
‘You don’t think he managed to get in while we were in the bar, do you?’ she asked. Sebastian laughed.
‘We’ll soon find out,’ he said, producing his key. ‘We’ll go in by my door, shall we? You stay out here, if you like, while I have a butcher’s.’
‘No. If it’s anybody nasty, two of us will be better than one.’
There was nobody in the chalet and no signs anywhere that anyone had attempted to force an entrance. Sebastian drew the curtains in both bedrooms and in the tiny sitting-room and Margaret switched on the light. They opened a small flask of brandy which Sebastian had talked the barman into letting him have, and he had just poured out a small tot for each of them when there came a sharp tapping on the window. Sebastian was so startled that he almost dropped the flask. Margaret was petrified.
‘It’s him!’ she said, her voice rising to a terrified squeak. ‘No! Don’t go near the window! Don’t!’
‘Oh, rot!’ said Sebastian, in an unconvincing tone; but he did not go to the window. He called out, ‘Push off, whoever you are! Get lost! Drop dead!’
There was silence. They waited, but nothing else happened, neither did they hear the sound of retreating footsteps for, although there were paved paths up to the doors of the chalets, there was grass under the windows.
‘I wish to God people wouldn’t think it funny to play the fool at night,’ said Sebastian. Scarcely had he spoken when there came a thunder of knocks on his bedroom outside door. It sounded as though somebody was hammering on it with a heavily-knobbed stick.
‘It’s the murderer!’ whispered Margaret. ‘Don’t open the door, whatever you do! First Aunt Eliza, then Ransome and now us! I said it before, and—’
‘Oh, rot!’ said Sebastian. He raised his voice and, in a shriller tone than he intended, he called out,
‘Is that you, Father?’ The banging had ceased and, more to reassure his sister than himself, he called out again, ‘Is it you, Father?’ There was no reply. ‘Who’s there?’ he demanded; but again there was no answer except a deep-throated, bloodcurdling laugh. Sebastian snorted in annoyance. He felt sure of his ground now. ‘It’s one of the bird-boys acting the fool. I’m sure of it. I’m going to catch him out,’ he said.
‘No,’ whispered Margaret, ‘don’t go! Please don’t go! Don’t open any doors. It’s almost dark outside and— well, there was that man—’
‘All right, then,’ Sebastian whispered in return. ‘But I still think it’s somebody acting the goat. You go to bed and I’ll come in and sit with you if you want me to, but don’t get all in a tizzy. There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s only some lunatic trying to be funny, you know, or else another tight chap—or even the first one back again.’
‘I can’t go to bed while somebody is trying to get into the chalet.’ Margaret was frightened and betrayed the fact.
‘Good gracious, nobody is
‘Oh, I’ll be so glad to be leaving!’ said his sister.
‘Yes, well, all right, but not to worry. Look, we haven’t touched our brandy. Let’s have a sip or two, shall we? We only had a couple of drinks at the hotel just now.’
Marius reached
‘I must apologise for calling on you without warning,’ he said, when he was shown in to a sparsely-furnished sitting-room, ‘but I shall be leaving Great Skua again by the first outgoing boat and I have problems which I cannot solve.’
