VI

It was one of those moments when time stands still.

With an odd feeling of unreality Emily Brewster heard herself saying:

“We musn’t touch anything… Not until the police come.”

Redfern’s answer came mechanically.

“No—no—of course not.” And then in a deep agonized¹ whisper. “Who? Who? Who could havedone that to Arlena. She can’t have—have been murdered. It can’t be true!”

Emily Brewster shook her head, not knowing quite what to answer.

She heard him draw in his breath—heard the low controlled rage in his voice as he said:

“My God, if I get my hands on the foul² fiend who did this.”

Emily Brewster shivered. Her imagination pictured a lurking³ murderer behind one of theboulders. Then she heard her voice saying:

“Whoever did it wouldn’t be hanging about. We must get the police. Perhaps—” she hesitated—“one of us ought to stay with—with the body.”

Patrick Redfern said:

“I’ll stay.”

Emily Brewster drew a little sigh of relief. She was not the kind of woman who would everadmit to feeling fear, but she was secretly thankful not to have to remain on that beach alone withthe faint possibility of a homicidal maniac⁴ lingering close at hand.

She said:

“Good. I’ll be as quick as I can. I’ll go in the boat. Can’t face that ladder. There’s a constable⁵ atLeathercombe Bay.”

Patrick Redfern murmured mechanically:

“Yes—yes, whatever you think best.”

As she rowed vigorously away from the shore, Emily Brewster saw Patrick drop down besidethe dead woman and bury his head in his hands. There was something so forlorn about his attitudethat she felt an unwilling⁶ sympathy. He looked like a dog watching by its dead master.

Nevertheless her robust⁷ common sense was saying to her:

“Best thing that could have happened for him and his wife—and for Marshall and the child—but I don’t suppose he can see it that way, poor devil.”

Emily Brewster was a woman who could always rise to an emergency.

 

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