Death in the Andamans by M. M. Kaye Page A

appeared to the openly listening bystanders, evidently possessed a meaning for John Shilto. And afterwards Copper was to remember the way in which both colour and smile had been wiped off his face as though with a sponge, leaving it pasty white and raw with rage. To remember, too, the hot, bright sunlight and the dappled shadows, the silent group of people, and the strange, fleeting look that she had surprised on one other face …
    John Shilto put up a fumbling and uncertain hand and tugged at his collar as though it were too tight for him, then turning abruptly, he walked away across the lawn with a curious stumbling tread.
    Hurried and somewhat guilty conversation broke out again as the spectators of the recent drama awoke to a belated sense of social shortcomings. But as Ferrers Shilto turned on his heel, Valerie heard Copper draw in her breath in a short hard gasp and saw her stiffen as though the sight of the little man’s face had given her a violent shock. ‘What’s the matter, Coppy?’ she asked sharply: ‘You look as if you’d seen a ghost.’
    â€˜I believe I have,’ said Copper huskily.
    She forced an uncertain laugh and said in a voice that was not entirely under control: ‘Don’t look so alarmed, Val. I’m not mental. At least I don’t think I am. But — that nightmare I had. I know it sounds fantastic, but the man I saw in it was Ferrers Shilto!’
    *   *   *
    A period of deep, warm, post-luncheon peace had descended upon Mount Harriet.
    Those members of the picnic party who had failed to secure one of the coveted beds in the house had disposed themselves for slumber on rugs and cushions in various shady corners of the garden, and Valerie, Copper, Charles and Nick, beaten by a short head in the race for the comforting though restricted shade of the fig trees on the eastern edge of the lawn, had retired with all the rugs they could muster to the lorry.
    This capacious and utilitarian vehicle, the property of the Public Works Department, was ordinarily employed in carrying loads of gravel or stone for road repairs, but had on this occasion been borrowed to transport half the party from Hopetown jetty to Mount Harriet. Traces of its workaday occupation still lingered between the boards and littered the corners, but failed to discommode the four who, climbing in over the tail-board, spread rugs and cushions upon the dusty floor and settled down to a peaceful afternoon’s siesta.
    â€˜This is bliss,’ said Charles drowsily. ‘Wake me up in time for a late-ish tea, someone. And let us pray that no hearty friends get bitten with the idea of going down to bathe and drive off with us, like last time!’ He settled himself comfortably on his back on the floorboards and closed his eyes: only to open them a moment later as footsteps crunched the gravel outside and some unseen person approached the lorry and, pausing beside it, laid a hand on the edge of the tail-board.
    Copper opened her mouth to speak, but stopped at a grimace from Charles. ‘Ronnie!’ mouthed Charles silently; and indicated by dumb show that if Mr Purvis discovered their occupation of the vehicle he would undoubtedly add himself to their party. Whereupon the four lay quiet and made a creditable attempt to cease breathing, and after a moment or two the hand was withdrawn and the footsteps moved away in the direction of the house.
    â€˜Saved!’ sighed Charles. ‘That tedious Romeo would have pressed in and talked the entire afternoon.’
    â€˜It wasn’t Ronnie,’ announced Copper, peering through a crack in the side of the lorry. ‘It was the Shilto cousin — Ferrers.’
    â€˜That’s odd,’ said Valerie. ‘I thought it was Ronnie, too. I wonder why? What do you suppose Ferrers is doing wandering around loose? I’d rather hoped that after the Big Scene the padre would put a leash on him. Charles, do you