Danger Point

Chapter 40

IT was not until they were having coffee under the cedar after lunch that anyone mentioned the Inspector’s visit. It was Lisle who mentioned it and immediately had reason to wish that she had held her tongue.

Alicia yawned ostentatiously.

Rafe – what had happened to Rafe? Something – but she couldn’t have said what. She was not looking at him, or he at her, but for a fantastic moment it was just as if a wire ran tightly stretched between them and from his end of it there had come – well, that was just it, she didn’t know what. Shock – anger – surprise – fear – a signal – a warning? She didn’t know.

It was all over in a flash, and they had emerged into the reality of Dale’s anger.

“March? When did he come?”

“This morning, when you were out.” She sounded as she looked, a little bewildered, like a child who has offended without quite knowing how.

Dale set down his coffee cup with a bang.

“And no one told me – no one thought it worth their while to mention it? What did he want – and why wasn’t I told about it? Or didn’t he want anything at all? A social visit perhaps! Are we going to have that damned policeman walking in and out all day and every day?”

Rafe tilted his head back against the canvas of his chair.

“Probably. But why so heated? It might be worse. He’s quite a nice chap when he isn’t being a policeman, I should think.”

“What did he want?”

“To see me – and Lisle.”

“What for?”

Rafe’s eyes were half shut. He gazed through his lashes at the heavy green of the cedar overhead.

“Fingerprints,” he murmured – “on Lisle’s coat, you know – some new process. Naturally the whole thing would be plastered with our prints. That’s the worst of being such a united family.”

“Mine?” interjected Alicia. There was so much sarcasm in the word that the colour rushed to Lisle’s face.

“And mine – and Dale’s,” said Rafe amiably. “Possibly William’s and Evans’ – probably Lizzie’s. A nice bag of tricks for our modern scientific police. You put ’em in a hat and shake ’em up, and then you put in your hand and pick your murderer.”

Alicia said, “Really, Rafe!”

Dale laughed angrily.

“Quit fooling and tell me what happened!”

Rafe opened his eyes and sat up.

“Oh, nothing. We’re all still here – no gyves on any wrist, though I think he had his eye on mine. You see, I helped Lisle on with that coat last time she wore it, and our imaginative Inspector is all het up over some especially clear prints which I must have left on it then.”

Dale stared at him in a kind of horror.

“You don’t mean to say the man suspects one of us!”

Rafe Jerningham leaned sideways and stubbed out his cigarette on the short, dry turf.

“He has a nasty suspicious mind,” he said. “He’d suspect his own grandmother for twopence.”

“But it’s insane!” said Dale. “Cissie Cole! Good heavens – what possible motive could any of us have had?”

There was a pause. Lisle didn’t look at any of them. She looked down at the dry turf between her feet – short, burnt grass with the colour scorched out of it. It was in the shade now, but presently the sun would reach it again. The shadow of the cedar would shift away from it and the scorching would go on. She heard Rafe say in his pleasant casual voice,

“Oh, one can always think up a motive. In March’s place, I could produce half a dozen.”

After a moment Dale said in a horrified tone,

“Rafe, you don’t seriously mean-”

Rafe got up.

“March does. He hasn’t got any evidence of course – he’d never dare take those prints to a jury. He knows that, and he knows that I know it. We had quite a pretty fencing match – honours easy. But we’ll have to watch our step, I think. All of us.”

Alicia Steyne turned her eyes upon him. He was smiling, a hand in his pocket getting out a cigarette-case. She said, in her high, sweet voice,

“Why have you gone back to that old battered thing? What have you done with the one Lisle gave you for your birthday?”

With the shabby old case in his hand, he smiled at her. Then he snapped it open and took out a cigarette.

“It’s gone missing. It will turn up again all right.”

“Missing? Since when?”

“Oh, a day or two. Have you seen it?”

Alicia looked at him, then she looked away.

“Perhaps.”

“Mysterious – aren’t you? Well, I’m not offering a reward, so it’s no good holding on for one.” He strolled away.

From where she sat Lisle could see glimpses of his light shirt amongst the trees on the seaward slope. He walked slowly, aimlessly – the perfect picture of an idle young man with the whole summer afternoon to idle in. But there was the funeral – Cissie’s funeral-

Suddenly she felt as if she could not sit here any longer between Dale and Alicia. She got up.

Dale said at once, “Where are you going?”

“I thought I would rest for a little before the funeral.”

“Wait a minute! You saw March too?”

“Yes.”

“What did he say to you – what did he want to know?”

“Very little, Dale – just when I wore the coat last, and whether any of you had touched me when I was wearing it.”

“And you said?”

“Rafe helped me on with it – I told him that.”

“Well, if it comes to that, I suppose we all touched you.”

She shook her head.

“Not whilst I was wearing the coat.”

He laughed and looked up at her, all his anger gone.

“Darling, I’d just got home – we’d had a most affectionate meeting.”

She began to move away.

“I wasn’t wearing the coat then. Rafe brought it to me afterwards.”

When she had reached the terrace she looked back. The shadow of the cedar had shifted. Dale was still in it, but the sun touched Alicia. At the instant in which Lisle turned she saw Alicia’s hand go up with something bright in it. It dazzled and flew from her to Dale. He reached forward and caught it.

As Lisle went into the house she wondered a little idly what the bright thing had been.