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II
They spent the morning on the cliffs, taking it in turns to flash a mirror at
the mainland.
There were no signs that any one saw them. No answering signals. The
day was fine, with a slight haze. Below, the sea heaved in a gigantic swell.
There were no boats out.
They had made another abortive search of the island. There was no
trace of the missing physician.
Vera looked up at the house from where they were standing.
She said, her breath coming with a slight catch in it:
‘One feels safer here, out in the open…Don’t let’s go back into the house
again.’
Lombard said:
‘Not a bad idea. We’re pretty safe here, no one can get at us without our
seeing him a long time beforehand.’
Vera said:
‘We’ll stay here.’
Blore said:
‘Have to pass the night somewhere. We’ll have to go back to the house
then.’
Vera shuddered.
‘I can’t bear it. I can’t go through another night!’
Philip said:
‘You’ll be safe enough—locked in your room.’
Vera murmured: ‘I suppose so.’
She stretched out her hands, murmuring:
‘It’s lovely—to feel the sun again…’
She thought:
‘How odd…I’m almost happy. And yet I suppose I’m actually in danger…
Somehow—now—nothing seems to matter…not in daylight…I feel full of
power—I feel that I can’t die…’
Blore was looking at his wristwatch. He said:
‘It’s two o’clock. What about lunch?’
Vera said obstinately:
‘I’m not going back to the house. I’m going to stay here—in the open.’
‘Oh come now, Miss Claythorne. Got to keep your strength up, you
know.’
Vera said:
‘If I even see a tinned tongue, I shall be sick! I don’t want any food.
People go days on end with nothing sometimes when they’re on a diet.’
Blore said:
‘Well, I need my meals regular. What about you, Mr Lombard?’
Philip said:
‘You know, I don’t relish the idea of tinned tongue particularly. I’ll stay
here with Miss Claythorne.’
Blore hesitated. Vera said:
‘I shall be quite all right. I don’t think he’ll shoot me as soon as your
back is turned if that’s what you’re afraid of.’
Blore said:
‘It’s all right if you say so. But we agreed we ought not to separate.’
Philip said:
‘You’re the one who wants to go into the lion’s den. I’ll come with you if
you like.’
‘No, you won’t,’ said Blore. ‘You’ll stay here.’
Philip laughed.
‘So you’re still afraid of me? Why, I could shoot you both this very
minute if I liked.’
Blore said:
‘Yes, but that wouldn’t be according to plan. It’s one at a time, and it’s
got to be done in a certain way.’
‘Well,’ said Philip, ‘you seem to know all about it.’
‘Of course,’ said Blore, ‘it’s a bit jumpy going up to the house alone—’
Philip said softly:
‘And therefore, will I lend you my revolver? Answer, no, I will not! Not
quite so simple as that, thank you.’
Blore shrugged his shoulders and began to make his way up the steep
slope to the house.
Lombard said softly:
‘Feeding time at the Zoo! The animals are very regular in their habits!’
Vera said anxiously:
‘Isn’t it very risky, what he’s doing?’
‘In the sense you mean—no, I don’t think it is! Armstrong’s not armed,
you know, and anyway Blore is twice a match for him in physique and
he’s very much on his guard. And anyway it’s a sheer impossibility that
Armstrong can be in the house. I know he’s not there.’
‘But—what other solution is there?’
Philip said softly:
‘There’s Blore.’
‘Oh—do you really think—?’
‘Listen, my girl. You heard Blore’s story. You’ve got to admit that if it’s
true, I can’t possibly have had anything to do with Armstrong’s disappear-
ance. His story clears me. But it doesn’t clear him. We’ve only his word for
it that he heard footsteps and saw a man going downstairs and out at the
front door. The whole thing may be a lie. He may have got rid of Arm-
strong a couple of hours before that.’
‘How?’
Lombard shrugged his shoulders.
‘That we don’t know. But if you ask me, we’ve only one danger to fear—
and that danger is Blore! What do we know about the man? Less than
nothing! All this ex-policeman story may be bunkum! He may be anybody
—a mad millionaire—a crazy businessman—an escaped inmate of Broad-
moor. One thing’s certain. He could have done every one of these crimes.’
Vera had gone rather white. She said in a slightly breathless voice:
‘And supposing he gets—us?’
Lombard said softly, patting the revolver in his pocket:
‘I’m going to take very good care he doesn’t.’
Then he looked at her curiously.
‘Touching faith in me, haven’t you, Vera? Quite sure I wouldn’t shoot
you?’
Vera said:
‘One has got to trust someone…As a matter of fact I think you’re wrong
about Blore. I still think it’s Armstrong.’
She turned to him suddenly:
‘Don’t you feel—all the time—that there’s someone. Someone watching
and waiting?’
Lombard said slowly:
‘That’s just nerves.’
Vera said eagerly:
‘Then you have felt it?’
She shivered. She bent a little closer.
‘Tell me—you don’t think—’ she broke off, went on: ‘I read a story once
—about two judges that came to a small American town—from the Su-
preme Court. They administered justice—Absolute Justice. Because—they
didn’t come from this world at all…’
Lombard raised his eyebrows.
He said:
‘Heavenly visitants, eh? No, I don’t believe in the supernatural. This
business is human enough.’
Vera said in a low voice:
‘Sometimes—I’m not sure…’
Lombard looked at her. He said:
‘That’s conscience…’ After a moment’s silence he said very quietly: ‘So
you did drown that kid after all?’
Vera said vehemently:
‘I didn’t! I didn’t! You’ve no right to say that!’
He laughed easily.
‘Oh yes, you did, my good girl! I don’t know why. Can’t imagine. There
was a man in it probably. Was that it?’
A sudden feeling of lassitude, of intense weariness, spread over Vera’s
limbs. She said in a dull voice:
‘Yes—there was a man in it…’
Lombard said softly:
‘Thanks. That’s what I wanted to know…’
Vera sat up suddenly. She exclaimed:
‘What was that? It wasn’t an earthquake?’
Lombard said:
‘No, no. Queer, though—a thud shook the ground. And I thought—did
you hear a sort of cry? I did.’
They stared up at the house.
Lombard said:
‘It came from there. We’d better go up and see.’
‘No, no, I’m not going.’
‘Please yourself. I am.’
Vera said desperately:
‘All right. I’ll come with you.’
They walked up the slope to the house. The terrace was peaceful and in-
nocuous-looking in the sunshine. They hesitated there a minute, then in-
stead of entering by the front door, they made a cautious circuit of the
house.
They found Blore. He was spreadeagled on the stone terrace on the east
side, his head crushed and mangled by a great block of white marble.
Philip looked up. He said:
‘Whose is that window just above?’
Vera said in a low shuddering voice:
‘It’s mine—and that’s the clock from my mantelpiece…I remember now. It
was—shaped like a bear.’
She repeated and her voice shook and quavered:
‘It was shaped like a bear…’
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