Fear by Night by Patricia Wentworth

when the sea and the sky swam together in a blue and golden haze and only the faintest of clouds just touched the sparkling water with a passing shade of hyacinth or amethyst, she did not feel as if she could ever really be friends with Gale Anderson. It was a pity, because it would have been nice to have had someone young to play with.
    Gale Anderson was young, in the early thirties. He was good-looking in a quiet, well-featured, fair-haired way—heaps better looking than Charles, who had a dark, ugly face which became ferocious when he frowned. On the other hand, when he smiled, you forgot all about his being ugly and you were put to it not to weaken.
    Ann dragged herself away from remembering how Charles looked when he smiled. If it was undermining, the less she thought about it the better. Charles, refused, would probably marry the boot-manufacturer’s daughter, which would be very nice, because then he wouldn’t have to sell Bewley.
    Gale Anderson neither smiled nor looked ferocious. He was pale, polite, and indifferent, and his cool blue eyes when they rested upon Ann appeared to find her of no more interest than if she had been a binnacle or a bulwark.
    â€œPuts me in mind of a young gentleman that visited in my first place,” said Mrs. Halliday. “Courting Miss Edith he was, and everyone said how lucky she was to get him, but it didn’t turn out at all ’appy—not that there was anything against him, but he’d a sort of h’icy way with him that made me come up goose flesh all over, if you know what I mean.”
    Ann knew exactly what she meant, and said so.
    â€œThen best keep mum about it,” said Mrs. Halliday, “for him and Jimmy’s as thick as thieves.”
    The words stayed in Ann’s mind. They said themselves over once or twice when Jimmy Halliday and Gale Anderson walked up and down the deck talking in the low tones which never satisfied anyone else’s curiosity. But of course there was nothing to be curious about.
    They dawdled along among the islands and up the coast. It was all quite perfect. The weather went on being blue and gold for two days, and then broke in a thunderstorm. There was a flicker of lightning on the far edge of the horizon as the sun went down, and a lead-coloured bank of cloud crossed by puffs of white like the smoke from a heavy gun. The white clouds raced across the black one, and the black cloud itself came up and filled the sky. In a moment it seemed to be dark.
    Ann was not at all pleased at being ordered off the deck. She wanted to watch. The wind came up in a squally gust and dropped again. For a moment everything held its breath, and then the lightning ran in a jagged scrawl across the zenith and a deafening clap of thunder followed. As James Halliday fairly pushed her inside the companion and slammed the door, a second squall struck the yacht and Ann was tipped down the companion with a noise in her ears that drowned the sound of the thunder. She got to her feet and slid across the saloon. As she caught at the handle of Mrs. Halliday’s cabin, the door gave and she was flung inside. A brilliant flash lit the skylight overhead, but she could not hear the thunder for the noise of the wind. She would not have believed that wind could make so much noise. It was like thunder, and an express train, and a great whip cracking, and about half a million fiddles gone mad.
    She steadied herself against the tilting of the cabin floor. Her blood was racing and she felt as if she had been running hard. It was all very exciting, but it was quite evident that neither Mrs. Halliday nor Riddle was enjoying it. Mrs. Halliday was in her berth with a frilled nightcap on her head and a fine knitted shawl about her shoulders. She looked white but determined, and at intervals of about half a minute she said, “Don’t be a fool, Riddle!” You could see her saying it, but you could not hear the words because of the wind.
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