On Friday morning Sphinx Island woke up enshrouded in swirls of milky-white mist, at first no more than a delicate translucent veil that kept dissolving, but then it gradually started thickening into a damp impenetrable fog, which rendered the sea invisible. Nor could the sea be heard. The seagulls were quiet too. It was all a little eerie.
Once more Lady Grylls and Maisie were sitting in the drawing room.
The clock on the mantelpiece chimed ten-thirty.
‘You are an awfully brave gel, my dear. If I’d been you, I’d have screamed the house down. I’d have picked up the phone and called the police right away, though I don’t think that would have been much good, would it?’
‘No.’
‘It would have taken them ages to arrive – in the middle of the night – we are, after all, in the middle of the sea – I suppose they have their own boats and things – is there such a thing as coastal police? If that’s what they are called. Must ask Sybil. They must hate it, I am sure they hate it, I mean the police, whenever they get an emergency call from an island. You are looking terribly pale, my dear.’
Maisie gave a little smile. ‘I didn’t sleep very well.’
‘I am not at all surprised. What did you do after he left?’
‘I cried a little. I was upset, I guess.’
‘I bet you were. You poor thing.’
‘I am OK now. I really am.’
‘Miss Havisham – that’s who Oswald reminds me of. Remember Miss Havisham? Sometimes I have sick fancies. Trying to get into your bed indeed. You should have screamed the house down. Would you be an angel and pour me another cup of coffee? So cosy sitting here, so quiet – looks as though we are among the clouds – we might be up in Valhalla – one of those places.’ Lady Grylls gestured towards the window. ‘It is jolly sporting of you to have forgiven him. I don’t think he deserves your forgiveness.’
‘He was extremely drunk. He couldn’t have known what he was doing, could he? Actually, it wasn’t so very dreadful, apart from the things he said to me.’
‘I wish I had your generosity of spirit! My life may not have been a dedicated pursuit of virtue, but there are certain things I draw the line at.’
‘OK. It was dreadful but – I mean – nothing happened.’
‘I should think not! I would have refused to stay under the same roof with him if it had.’
‘He doesn’t seem to remember what he said or what he did. You saw him this morning at breakfast, didn’t you? He acted as though nothing had happened. Smiling and talking about the weather and giving me my instructions for the day!’
‘Having threatened to throw you out on your ear and make you unemployable!’ Lady Grylls shook her head. ‘I believe he also asked you if you’d heard from your sister in Oregon and how her baby was doing? He sounded genuinely interested, as though he really cared about you. I couldn’t imagine anything creepier.’
Maisie smiled happily. ‘My sister gave birth last week. Her first baby! I am an aunt!’
‘That’s splendid news … Has Oswald ever done anything like that before? Never? How perfectly extraordinary. Sybil says that’s the way some chaps react after they get their heads nearly blown off. Perhaps she is right.’
‘I was so frightened … The way Mr de Coverley appeared at the door with that gun!’
‘It was the stuff of nightmares, I quite agree.’
‘It looked as though he really meant to kill Oswald!’
‘I believe he did mean to kill Oswald. John seems to resent his intentions of taking over the island.’
‘I thought Mr de Coverley was quite pleasant when I first talked to him. He never used to open his door. Oh it was so funny. He’d ask for something on the house phone and I’d take it to his door, then we’d talk through the keyhole. He said he liked the sound of my voice.’
‘Like Pyramus and Thisbe, eh? Could be the start of a romance, you never know. Maybe all John needs is the love of a good woman and then he’ll be right as rain? Or would the age difference be a problem?’
‘I saw him watch me through field-glasses from his window.’
‘Well, I think that clinches it. Sybil says John’s never been violent before, with people, that is, but then Sybil is the queen of understatement. I do honestly believe he needs to have his head properly examined. Some may say he is ready for the men in white coats. Incidentally, how do you clean those solid silver candelabras?’ Lady Grylls pointed. ‘They become so badly clogged after use, don’t they; it must take hours to get rid of the wax.’
‘Oh, it’s not too bad. Ella and I blast them with our hairdryers till the wax runs off on to blotting paper. It only takes a couple of minutes,’ the girl explained cheerfully.
‘Perhaps they could be fitted with cardboard “collars” – what they use on dogs’ necks, to stop them scratching?’ Lady Grylls took a sip of coffee. ‘We seem to have not one but two dangerous men on the island,’ she went on in a thoughtful voice. ‘I personally believe Oswald is more dangerous than John, but you will probably disagree … So quiet, isn’t it? Or have I gone completely deaf? My doctor keeps telling me I should get a hearing aid.’
‘It is quiet.’
‘Not sure I care much for such dead calm … Like the hush before the proverbial storm … Goodness, what was that? Sounds like someone being skinned alive.’
‘It’s Mrs Garrison-Gore. She wants us in the library. Today’s Friday, remember? Last instructions, I think.’
‘Last rites more like. What a bore that woman is. To tell you the truth, I’ve been having second thoughts. I am not sure we are doing the right thing at all. Poor Hugh and poor Antonia. They’ll probably never forgive me. Wouldn’t be surprised if they stopped speaking to me altogether. I may have miscalculated. Oh well. Too late now. Iacta alea est.’
‘Are you all right, Lady Grylls?’
‘Never felt better, my dear. The sea air agrees with me. The die is cast. That’s what it means, in case you wonder. Latin, you know. I heard Hugh say it once. I seem to resemble my nephew more and more as I get older. I find the Garrison-Gore a perfect pest. She sets my teeth on edge. Goodness, is that her again? Let’s go, shall we?’ Lady Grylls put down her coffee cup. ‘Where’s my stick? Blasted thing!’
‘Lean on my arm, if you like.’
‘Thank you, my dear, I shall … I am not as young as I was … If Mrs G-G makes her quip about putting one’s best foot forward and not in it, I shall scream … All that horrible heartiness must be a cover for something, wouldn’t you say?’
‘I guess she is worried the murder may not be a success.’
‘I don’t think all crime writers are like her,’ Lady Grylls said resolutely. ‘My niece-by-marriage is quite different.’
Mrs Garrison-Gore cleared her throat, ‘There is a change I would like to make, in view of what happened yesterday …’ Her eyes strayed significantly to the portrait above the fireplace. ‘We must take the shooting into account … They are bound to notice the bullet holes and they’ll ask questions. We could always have the picture taken down and replaced with another one and remove the book altogether, I suppose, but I have a better idea … I’ll explain exactly how it’ll work, so please listen very carefully. This is a corporate effort, don’t let’s forget. So all hands to the mast, as they say. Do let’s put our best foot forward, not in it, shall we?’