‘But not to get myself into debt and then to overdraw on it,’ said his mother, determined to martyr herself, ‘and when the same thing happened a short time ago, Dame Beatrice, I felt I could not go to my husband and confess until I had tried to find some means—any means—to put things right. My husband himself, I thought, found me the answer. He received a letter of invitation from his sister to spend a paid holiday on Great Skua at the hotel she owned. When I studied the brochure she sent, I realised that her prices were high and this caused me to decide that she must be in a fair way of business.’
‘Instead of which, the hotel is head over ears in debt, just like you,’ said Sebastian.
‘I could not possibly know that,’ said his mother, impatient at the interruption. ‘Well, Dame Beatrice, I knew that my husband had always sent money regularly to his sister. You see, he had inherited everything from his parents and she had been left nothing. It occurred to me, therefore, that by going to Great Skua I could point out to Eliza that for many years she had been sent money which belonged rightly — that is to say, lawfully — to our family purse. I then intended to ask her to hand enough of it back to me to clear my debt to the bank. It was not a great sum and, had it been my first peccadillo in this respect, I should have had no hesitation in going to my husband and confessing what had happened.’
‘Shows a lack of confidence in a loving spouse that you didn’t,’ muttered Sebastian. ‘Oh, Boobie, darling, well art thou named!’
‘I have other resources,’ said Marius to Dame Beatrice before he turned an irate face towards his son. ‘There was no need for my wife to distress herself.’
‘At first—before I over-spent—I was extremely angry that Marius was determined to accept the invitation and take the children with him,’ continued Clothilde, ‘and I think my over-spending was really a kind of revenge. Later on, when I came to my senses, I was relieved that I had taken my stand. On the excuse of going off on holiday to my cousin’s, I pawned my watch and one or two things for the fare — this was before the others were due to travel — and I went to Great Skua, intending to go from there to Cousin Marie’s cottage, as I had said I would.’
‘And did you contact Mrs Chayleigh?’ asked Dame Beatrice, as the narrator paused.
‘No, I did not. I enquired for Eliza at the hotel and they said at first that she was far too busy, they thought, to see anybody. (I did not give my real name at the desk, but used my maiden name, which I did not believe Eliza would remember. I was most anxious, you see, that, when Marius and the children arrived, they should not be told that I had been there). I said that my business was urgent, so I was told that if I cared to book a room they would let Eliza know that I was there. Well, I needed a room, in any case, so I booked in.
‘In the morning I enquired again for Eliza, but the woman at the reception desk said that Eliza had gone over to the mainland on hotel business.’
‘Which day of the week would this have been?’ Dame Beatrice enquired. ‘I mean, which day did you arrive on Great Skua?’
‘It was on the Thursday, nearly a week before my husband and the children were due to arrive. I was particularly distressed that I could not see Eliza immediately, since I had given my cousin a date for my arrival at her cottage and I most certainly did not want her telephoning my home to find out why I had not arrived. To add to my perturbation, I learned that there was not another boat until the Saturday, so I was left to get through the whole of Friday the best way I could. Well, to pass the time, I went to look at a house which the chambermaid had mentioned as being to let for the summer. I walked up to the front window, but could not see much because of the curtains, so, having plenty of time in hand, I went round to the back. There was a most unpleasant sight just outside the kitchen door.’
‘We know about the pig,’ said Dame Beatrice.
‘Covered in flies! And blood all around and about! It was absolutely nauseating, and I left the house more quickly than I had come to it. Before I got back to the hotel, however, it struck me that it was very strange to have killed a pig and left it outside the kitchen door, so I went to take another look. There was nobody about. I tried the outhouses. All but one were open. I looked in through the window of the locked shed and saw something under a sheet. It looked so much like a body covered up that, without more ado, I fled back to the hotel, but on the way upstairs I ran into the woman Crimp.
‘ “Ah”, she said, “you are finding something to do with yourself, I hope. I am sorry you’ve missed Mrs Chayleigh, but she’ll be here on Saturday’s boat.” ’
‘ “I didn’t want Mrs Chayleigh,” I said. She looked surprised.
‘ “You asked for Eliza,” she said. “I took it for granted you meant Mrs Chayleigh. She is the only woman on the island, so far as I know, whose name is Eliza.”
‘ “This is Great Skua, isn’t it?” I asked.
‘ “It’s Great Skua, certainly,” she answered. “Oh, well, I must get on. You haven’t been looking at
‘ “Puffins?” I said. “I don’t know one kind of seabird from another.” ’
‘They call the nearby house
‘Well, how could I know that? There was nothing to say so. Anyway, I was not going to tell anybody that I had been to the house because I knew there was something strange about it, apart from the thing under the sheet.’
‘Something strange?’ asked Dame Beatrice.
‘There were big packing cases in all the other sheds. I was curious enough to prise up a loose board in one of them. It contained rifles. I was seriously alarmed, then, for my own safety, as I realised that no stranger would be expected to explore the premises without permission. I wondered whether any eyes had been watching when I approached the house and what would happen if such had been the case.’
‘Yes, we live in a lawless age,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘I can only add that all the packing-cases had been removed before Laura and I moved in.’
‘I cannot think what possessed you, Clothilde,’ said Marius severely.
‘Well, how was I to know about all those guns and things?’
‘I think you must tell your story to the police,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘It is most important.’
‘Well, really, I feel I must agree with Dame Beatrice,’ said Marius. ‘What do you think, my dear?’ he asked, turning to his wife and speaking in a gentle tone. ‘Are you prepared to do your duty as a citizen?’
‘Oh, I suppose so,’ Clothilde replied.
‘Well, if you do,’ said Sebastian, ‘be sure to have your solicitor present and don’t answer anything unless he says you may, will you?’
‘I’m not an idiot,’ replied his mother with asperity.
‘I must have notice of that reply,’ murmured her son.
‘Besides,’ his mother went on, ‘I have not finished my story. By the time I got to Cousin Marie’s cottage I was almost penniless.’
‘Surely you didn’t suppose you could ask Cousin Marie for your fare home!’ exclaimed Marius.
‘I was in great distress, but when I arrived at the cottage Cousin Marie was even more affected. Miss Potter had left her.’
‘How do you mean — left her?’ asked Marius.
‘I mean exactly what I say. Miss Potter had gone off, leaving a note in which she said that her expectations had at last been realised, so she could stop being a burden on Cousin Marie, as justice had been done at last and she was off to foreign parts and hoped never to return to England.’
‘Didn’t she even say goodbye?’ asked Margaret.
‘Apparently not. Then Marie told me something which absolutely astonished me. Who do you think Miss Potter turns out to be?’
‘I gave up guessing games when I left the nursery,’ said Sebastian.
‘Why, it seems that Marie had known all the time that Miss Potter was second cousin to that old Miss Chayleigh who left Eliza the hotel (only it was a house then) and the estate on Great Skua.’
‘Well, that accounts for two things,’ said Sebastian. ‘It accounts for Cousin Marie’s putting up with that crawler for all these years…’
‘Yes, Marie was always looking out for the main chance,’ continued Clothilde. ‘I suppose Miss Potter gave out that she had expectations and Marie hoped to cash in on them some fine day.’
‘It also accounts for their visit to Great Skua last year,’ said Sebastian. ‘I always thought that visit was a bit odd. Cheltenham and Bournemouth were their kind of holiday places, not a bit of granite stuck out in the Atlantic
