«I’d like a cup.»
Vera rose. She said:
«I’ll go and make it. You can all stay here.»
Mr. Justice Wargrave said gently: «I think, my dear young lady, we would all prefer to come and watch you make it.»
Vera stared, then gave a short rather hysterical laugh. She said:
«Of course! You would!»
Five people went into the kitchen. Tea was made and drunk by Vera and Blore. The other three had whiskey – opening a fresh bottle and using a siphon from a nailed up case.
The judge murmured with a reptilian smile:
«We must be very careful…»
They went back again to the drawing-room. Although it was summer the room was dark. Lombard switched on the lights but they did not come on. He said:
«Of course! The engine’s not been run today since Rogers hasn’t been there to see to it.»
He hesitated and said:
«We could go out and get it going, I suppose.»
Mr. Justice Wargrave said: «There are packets of candles in the larder, I saw them, better use those.»
Lombard went out. The other four sat watching each other.
He came back with a box of candles and a pile of saucers. Five candles were lit and placed about the room.
The time was a quarter to six.
II
At twenty past six, Vera felt that to sit there longer was unbearable. She would go to her room and bathe her aching head and temples in cold water.
She got up and went towards the door. Then she remembered and came back and got a candle out of the box. She lighted it, let a little wax pour into a saucer and stuck the candle firmly to it. Then she went out of the room, shutting the door behind her and leaving the four men inside. She went up the stairs and along the passage to her room.
As she opened her door, she suddenly halted and stood stock still.
Her nostrils quivered.
The sea… The smell of the sea at St. Tredennick…
That was it. She could not be mistaken. Of course one smelt the sea on an island anyway, but this was different. It was the smell there had been on the beach that day – with the tide out and the rocks covered with seaweed drying in the sun.
«Can I swim out to the island, Miss Claythorne?»
«Why can’t I swim out to the island?..»
Horrid whiny spoilt little brat! If it weren’t for him, Hugo would be rich… able to marry the girl he loved…
Hugo…
Surely – surely – Hugo was beside her? No, waiting for her in the room…
She made a step forward. The draught from the window caught the flame of the candle. It flickered and went out…
Tn the dark she was suddenly afraid…
«Don’t be a fool,» Vera Claythorne urged herself. «It’s all right. The others are downstairs. All four of them. There’s no one in the room. There can’t be. You’re imagining things, my girl.»
But that smell – that smell of the beach at St. Tredennick… That wasn’t imagined. It was true…
And there was some one in the room… She had heard something – surely she had heard something…
And then, as she stood there, listening – a cold, clammy hand touched her throat – a wet hand, smelling of the sea…
III
Vera screamed. She screamed and screamed – screams of the utmost terror – wild desperate cries for help.