Road to Paradise Island

IN A DARK HOUSE

We were on our way to the Granville property. Events had moved quickly, and now I sat in one of the much publicized coaches of Cobb and Company which was carrying me away from the city and into what I learned was the "outback."

Felicity was now Mrs. Granville; she seemed to have shut herself away since her marriage, which was only of a few days' duration. It was hard to understand what she was feeling. Moreover Milton Harrington had gone back to his sugar island and had left an emptiness behind. While he had been around my uneasiness had abated a little. It came back in full force after the Wednesday boat had sailed.

The wedding had been quiet and brief. There were many such weddings in Sydney; brides coming out to join husbands, and the object was to get the ceremony over as quickly as possible.

There was an absence of family for one thing; and usually only a few friends attended. The sort of wedding with white dresses, orange blossom and bouquets would have been out of place here.

So now here I was, jolting along in the coach with Mr. Granville and his new bride and six other passengers, for the coach carried nine. Our driver was a cheery little man.

We had left the city and the magnificent harbour behind and were now in the open country. The roads were rough and I was struck by the tall eucalyptus trees with which I was now becoming familiar, and I wondered how long they had stood there. Perhaps even before the coming of Captain Cook. The coach rocked dangerously, but the other passengers, with the exception of Felicity, seemed to take that for granted.

Felicity wore an expression of resignation, as though she could no longer be surprised by anything. I pondered what that meant. I rather wished she would talk to me as she had before her marriage because that would be good for her.

The Granville property was a day's coach ride from Sydney and

it was still light when we arrived at Lalong Creek. They called it a township. It was a road with an earth pavement, an inn, a few shops and a scattering of houses. The coach pulled up at the inn where the horses were to be changed—and here was our journey's end.

My heart sank. This was our nearest town, and I could not imagine that we should want to come here frequently.

As the coach approached the inn, a man in a straw hat and corduroy trousers and a brown shirt rose lazily from the bench outside the inn and spat out a quid of tobacco.

I glanced at Felicity. She looked impassive with that air of resignation which implied that she must accept everything, however unpalatable.

"Oh, there is Slim," said William Granville. "Got the buggy there, Slim?"

"Yes, Master. Been waiting here the last hour."

"Good. We'll get away at once."

We dismounted, rather stiff from our long ride.

Slim had left us and when he came back he was driving one of those conveyances they called buggies—a light, four-wheeled vehicle, drawn by a grey horse.

"We shall not be long now," said William Granville. "We have about five miles to go."

He helped us into the buggy and stowed in the hand luggage we had brought with us. He seated himself on one side of the buggy, beside Felicity. I sat opposite. I found it embarrassing because every time I looked up his eyes were on me. I noticed a certain sardonic expression in them. I expected I had conveyed my disapproval of him.

Then we left the township for the drive to the Granville property.

The country seemed stark and so alien from home. In comparison our trees and meadows looked as though they had been tended by gardeners; this was wild country. Some of the tall trees had grey barks which gave them a ghostly look.

"They look like ghosts," I said, feeling some comment was needed.

"We call them ghost gums," William Granville told me. "The abos won't go past them after dark. They think they are the ghosts of men who have died violently and can't rest. You're thinking how different it is from home, eh?" He put his arm round Felicity and pressed her to him. I was not sure whether she winced or not.

"You girls are good horsewomen, I hope," he said.

"I enjoy riding," I said. "I believe Felicity does too."

Felicity nodded.

"You'll find horses to ride in the stables. You'll have to take care not to get lost. You get out there and you can go round and round in circles. One of the easiest things you can do here is get lost."

He subsided into silence. I looked at the scenery, at the clumps of bushes; here and there feathery wattle bloomed; I could smell its fragrance. We called it mimosa at home and ever after when I smelt that unusual haunting perfume I was reminded of that drive.

"Better speed up a bit, Slim," said William Granville. "Want to get there before nightfall."

"Yes, Master," replied Slim, and put the horse into a gallop.

I was thrown forward and William Granville put out his arms to catch me. For a few seconds he held me so that my face was close to his. I could smell the whisky and found the contact most repulsive.

I hastily disengaged myself.

"It's a rough ride," he said. "Better slow down a bit, Slim. You're making the ladies uncomfortable."

He grinned at me. I was silent.

The horse went splashing through a creek. Some of the dirty water was on my coat. I brushed it off with a handkerchief.

"Steady, Slim. You're splashing the lady, now."

I felt he was laughing at me, that he disliked me in a special sort of way and enjoyed humiliating me; and I thought, As soon as I can leave here, I will.

It would soon be dark. The sun was low on the horizon and I understood that in this part of the world there would not be our long twilight. Darkness came swift and sudden.

There was a grandeur about the landscape which I should have enjoyed in different circumstances, but the farther I went from Sydney, the more uneasy I became.

He said: "We're on my land now. All this is mine. And there are acres and acres of it. One thing that is cheap here is land ... well land and labour. People came out to make their fortunes. There was the gold rush. There is wool ... all this grazing land. They come out here and they don't always make it. Then they've got to do something. That's where we get our cheap labour."

We jogged on. It was almost dark now and we were there.

"Here it is. Your new home, my bride. What do you think of it? Not like your old homestead, is it? No fancy mansion which has stood for hundreds of years. No mullioned windows, Palladian columns and the like. Here they build houses to live in for a while... not to last five hundred years. You'll get used to it."

We had drawn up before the house. He helped us alight and we stood there looking at Felicity's new home.

It had two storeys with several outhouses attached and the wood was a dirty grey colour. The paint was peeling off the door and there were dark patches on the wood. Above the porch there was a balcony, and I noticed at once that some of the staves were broken away. There were glass doors leading onto this balcony.

The door opened and a woman stood there. I imagined she was in her early thirties. She had very thick dark hair which she wore piled up high on her head in a rather elaborate knot; her eyes were long, narrow and slanting, which gave her an almost oriental look. She was tall with large hips and bust and a small waist. She was very striking but in some way I felt repelled. Her eyes were on me and with a flash of intuition I realized that she thought I was the new Mrs. Granville, and there was a certain malevolence in her gaze.

I felt an urgent need to correct her.

"Here we are at last, Mrs. Maken," said William Granville. "This is Mrs. Granville and her friend, Miss Mallory. Mrs. Maken helps to keep things in order here, don't you Millie? She sees to all my comforts."

I felt the phrase was significant and because of what I was rapidly discovering about Felicity's husband, something in their manner towards each other suggested to me that he was on very intimate terms with his housekeeper.

"Well, come on in," he said.

Mrs. Maken said: "Welcome to Granville's."

"Thank you," I replied. Felicity nodded; she seemed unable to speak. It was now Felicity who had Mrs. Maken's attention, so I was sure my instincts were founded on fact, We went into a small hall. A door was open. I could see a large kitchen where a big fire was blazing in spite of the heat.

"Food is the first necessity," said William Granville. "We're starving. We've been in that coach all day. It gave us a shaking. The ladies are not used to roughing it, Millie. Straight from the Old Country, they are."

I said: "We had something of a buffeting on the ship coming out."

"Preparation for what was to come," said Mr. Granville. "Well, what about that food, Millie?"

"It's all ready."

"Perhaps we could wash first," I suggested.

"There we are, Millie. The ladies want to wash."

"They'll want hot water," she said. "I'll get Sal to bring it. Shall I take them up?"

"I'll do that. You see to the food."

We went into a room which was large and rather sparsely furnished. There was a lack of comfort perhaps because of the wooden floors and rush mats. William Granville lighted an oil lamp and its light flickered round the already darkening room.

"You're seeing your new home for the first time in the dark," he said. "You're silent, my love."

Felicity said: "I'm very tired."

"Of course, of course. Never mind. You're home now."

We went up a staircase to the next floor.

"This room is the nuptial chamber," he said. I saw the french windows which opened onto the balcony. "Have to keep the windows shut up. Mosquitoes can be a plague. Them... and other things. There's a lot you have to get used to in the outback. Well, I'll show you Miss Annalice's room."

It was at the end of the passage. I was glad to be as far away from them as possible.

It was a smallish room, with bare boards, rush mats and a brass bedstead. There was a wash-basin, a cupboard and a chair—and very little else.

"There," he said. "This is where you sleep while you honour us with your presence."

"Thank you," I replied dismissively.

He hesitated, giving me one of those looks which I dreaded and hated.

I looked out of the small window. It was too dark to see much but I could make out some of the outhouses and the bushes in the distance.

A young girl came in with hot water. She could not have been more than fourteen; she was very small and rather scared to see William Granville there—for I was sure she was not frightened of me.

"Thank you," I said to her. I took the water and turned my back on William Granville. I was relieved when he had gone. And I was thinking: How soon can I get away?

Then the thought of leaving Felicity made me very uncertain. I argued with myself: How could she? Surely she could see what he was like. Or had he been different in England? I had the impression that he was a devious man.

When I had washed I went into the passage. I could hear the sound of voices below. I went swiftly to the room which he had called the nuptial chamber. I tapped on the door.

"Who's there?" That was Felicity in a high nervous tone.

"It is I... Annalice."

"Oh, come in."

I went in. She looked at me for a moment and I thought she was going to burst into tears.

She came to me suddenly and I put my arms round her and held her close to me.

"It's all right," I said. "It'll be all right. It's dark. Places always look different in the dark. It will be all right in the morning."

"I'm so glad you're here," she said.

I wanted to cry out: "I'm going. I can't stay here. There is something about the place ..."

I said nothing. I realized how much more strongly she must feel. She was trapped.

I patted her gently and was relieved to see that she was not crying. I wondered how he would have reacted to tears. She must be remembering that she had to face him and that woman downstairs.

We descended together.

Mrs. Maken was standing in the hall. She led us into the kitchen. "This is where we eat," she said. "Though sometimes we eat out of doors... Cook out there, too."

On the fire were saucepans and a kettle. William Granville was already seated at a long wooden table which was set at one end of the room, as far away from the fire as possible.

Mrs. Maken ladled out soup for us. It tasted good and we evidently needed it for I felt my spirits reviving a little. Cold beef followed. William Granville ate voraciously. He was rather scornful of what he called our "ladylike appetites."

"The outback will change all that," he said with a look at Felicity.

It was a relief when the meal was over.

"Well," said William Granville. "To bed, I think. We can all do with that."

He put his hand on Felicity's shoulder and smiled at me.

"Off we go."

I lay in my bed from where I could see the window. It was dark, but the stars were bright and they threw a little light into my bedroom.

I thought longingly of the comfort of home, and wished I could rid myself of this increasing uneasiness.

But I could not get Felicity out of my mind. What was happening to her now? I shuddered. She had changed. I kept thinking of her when I had first met her at the Billingtons'. She had appeared to look forward to her marriage then. I supposed the prospect of travelling to the other side of the world had appealed to her, and had seemed adventurous as it would to any girl. And now the reality had to be faced. She seemed to have lost all her spirit. Perhaps the only way she could endure the ordeal of being married to William Granville was to numb her sensibilities. I could well imagine that was necessary.

But what was I doing here? If only Miss Cartwright had remained with us she would have brought a certain normality with her. I wondered what she would have thought of this place, the meal in the kitchen, the voluptuous housekeeper...

I must get away. It was easy for me. I could ride into the township and discover at what time the next Cobb's coach left for Sydney. I would go and stay at that hotel for a night or so and on the first Wednesday...

How happy I should be to see Milton Harrington again! There was nothing in the world I wanted so much at this moment.

I thought I should never sleep, but I must have been very tired because I did.

I awoke early and for a moment I could not remember where I was. As I looked round the room memories came back and with them that feeling of dread.

But everything seemed easier in daylight.

There was a horse to ride, he had told us. I could explore the countryside. There was a sameness about it and one could get lost easily. I could well imagine that. But one could pick out landmarks. It would be pleasant to ride again.

Perhaps I could talk to Felicity. Perhaps she, too, would decide that she wanted to get away and we could escape together.

I noticed that some of the water which had been brought last night was still in the jug, so I washed with that. I could see that here I should have to dispense with the niceties of comfortable living. I dressed and went downstairs. It was quiet down there. I opened the door and stepped out. The morning freshness was very pleasant. I walked round the house, looking back at it. My eyes went to that wooden balcony with the broken staves; and I tried not to think of what it must be like married to such a man.

As I stood there, I was aware of someone standing close to me.

I turned sharply. It was Mrs. Maken. She must have seen me leave the house and had come up to me very quietly.

"Taking the air?" she said.

"Yes, it's lovely this morning."

"Before the heat," she said, her eyes going all over me, assessing me as it were.

She looked up at the balcony and then gazed sideways at me enigmatically.

Then I heard a laugh such as I had never heard before. It was jeering, almost uncanny.

I looked about me, startled.

Mrs. Maken grinned. "Kookaburras," she said. "Birds, you know. There they go again. There's two of them. They're often in twos."

"It sounds as though they are laughing at us."

"Perhaps they are. Come in and I'll give you some breakfast. There's coffee, if you like it. And I've got some dampers all ready."

I sat at the table in the kitchen.

"It's like a furnace in here when the fire's going." she said. "But we've got to cook though. Mr. Granville likes his food."

"The heat must be unbearable."

"Not much hotter here than outside. We cook out there sometimes. . .just before sundown. That's the best time. The flies aren't such a pest then ... but the food brings them."

She sat down and. leaning her arms on the table, watched me.

"You'll find it a bit rough going out here. Bit different from the Old Country, I should reckon"

She was smiling at me maliciously.

I thought: Yes, I'll go into that township and find out what time the first coach calls.

During the day I felt a little better. I went for a walk after leaving Mrs. Maken and when I went back, which was about three quarters of an hour later. Felicity was up and William Granville was just about to leave. He would be away all day. he said. "You ladies will have a little time to get your bearings, Millie will show you what you want to know, won't you, Millie?"

Mrs. Maken said it would be a pleasure.

As soon as William Granville had ridden off Felicity's spirits rose a little. The prospect of a day without him must have been a tremendous relief to her.

I suggested that we go and look at what horses were available and perhaps take a ride.

Felicity seemed pleased at the suggestion.

We found horses and were very soon riding from the house. I thought that in other circumstances I should enjoy exploring the country. There was an undoubted grandeur about it. I loved the wattle and the great eucalyptus trees fascinated me. and the wildness had a strong appeal.

"I'd like to ride on and on." I told Felicity.

"You mean as far from this place as possible."

I looked at her swiftly, "You'll get used to it." I said. "It's just that it is strange at first. Shall we see if we can find that township?"

"You mean the place with the inn?"

"Yes. It can't be so very far."

"Do you think you can find it?"

"Yes, I think so. There is a road of sorts. We might follow that and try to remember the way we came last night. I remember one tree which seemed bigger than all the others. There were some grey ones clustered together. Let's try, and hope we don't lose our way."

Felicity looked as though she did not care if we did.

I had meant to broach the subject of my departure but decided I would wait awhile.

"There must be quite a number of people working on the property,* 1 I said.

"Yes, I think so. It's so vast. Some of them live in places quite a long way from here. It takes several days to ride all round it."

"I suppose your husband will have to do that, after being away for so long."

She was silent.

I wished she would talk to me. I felt I could be so much more helpful if she did.

A man came riding by.

He said: "Hello there."

I recognized Slim.

I said: "Good morning, Slim. Is this the way to the township?"

"Right. Go straight on, past the clump of ghost gums."

"I remember those from last night's drive. Thanks."

He rode on.

"He was quite pleasant," I said. "They are probably all right when you get to know them."

Felicity said nothing.

"Look!" I cried. "There it is."

"What should we do there?" she asked.

"Explore."

We came to the inn. There was a post outside to which people could tether their horses.

"Are you going in?" asked Felicity.

"Yes."

"Why, do you want some refreshments?"

"No. But I want to make some enquiries."

I opened the door. There were several men sitting about drinking out of tankards. They all looked up as I entered with Felicity behind me.

I ignored them and went up to the man at the bar.

"Could you tell me what time the coach calls here on its way to Sydney?" I asked.

"Can't be sure of times on the road, Miss."

One of the men shouted: "Ten if it's early ... could be eleven ... or midday. You never know on the roads."

The men laughed. "Wheels come off," said one of them. 'They might have met Ned Kelly's ghost."

They all seemed to think this was a great joke and laughed among themselves.

"No use coming on a Sunday," said one of them. "There's no coach on Sundays. Nor ain't there one on Tuesdays. Mondays there is and Wednesdays and Saturdays. That's the little lot."

"Thank you. You are very helpful."

Again they seemed to find the situation very amusing.

We came out to our horses. Felicity was silent until we were riding away when she said: "You're going, aren't you?"

"Well, I wasn't supposed to stay, was I?"

"I did not think you would go so soon."

"I haven't gone yet. I just wanted to know about the time of the coaches."

"They would have known at the house."

"I just thought I should like to enquire for myself."

"Those horrible men ..." she began.

"They weren't so bad really. They did tell us what we wanted to know. I expect you get used to them in time. It is just their manners that are different."

"I don't think I shall ever get used to it here."

"Oh, you will."

"Annalice, you won't go home, will you, just yet?"

I hesitated. "It may be that I shall not be wanted. After all, I am only a visitor."

"I think ... my husband ... quite likes you."

"Oh, I hadn't noticed that. I expect he won't want me to overstay my welcome."

"Promise you won't go ... yet."

I was silent. "You know I came out here because I wanted to find out about my brother."

"Yes, I know."

"I'll never find out anything here."

"Just for a little while ... And you won't go without telling me, will you? I couldn't bear it if I woke up one morning and found myself—alone."

"I promise I won't go without telling you."

We left it at that. She had confirmed the fact that she was very frightened.

A few days had passed. I was beginning to know something about my surroundings, and the more I discovered, the more I longed to get away.

Many times I was on the point of telling Felicity that I must go. Then I remembered that I had been glad enough to use her journey out as a means of getting away. Now I could not desert her when she needed me. Only what I could do to save her from the man she had married, I did not know. It was just that I was company during the day.

I was growing accustomed to the hot midday sun; the swarms of flies which came from everywhere to pester us; the smell of cooking steaks. They seemed to live on steaks. They were part of the scene with the heat of the fire, the cooking dampers—a sort of leavened scone which they baked in the ashes—the hungry-looking dogs which prowled about and looked so ferocious until they got to know us. I was always taking scraps out to them so that after a while they positively fawned on me. There were lots of men about; they all had sunburned faces and wore straw hats—some of them with corks attached to them to keep off the ever-present flies. Sometimes the men would come to the house; or they would sit about outside or in the kitchen playing cards and drinking ale. There was much coming and going. There were sheep on the property—millions of them it seemed, because William Granville was "in wool."

Often, as Mrs. Maken had said, they cooked out of doors. They had great pails stuffed with paper and the meat was cooked on a grill over this; the fat from the meat kept the paper continually burning— and in any case they ate their steaks half raw. They sang songs: "Botany Bay" and something about a kangaroo; and when they saw us they assumed a somewhat jeering attitude which I believe was half resentment, half admiration.

William Granville was often with them. They would sit outside in the evenings and I could hear them from my room. They would laugh and talk in loud voices, often breaking into song—and drinking all the time.

I would lie in bed listening to them, telling myself that I was going to catch the next coach to Sydney. I would stay at the hotel till Wednesday and then I would take the ship to Cariba.

But when the morning came and 1 saw Felicity 1 knew I could not leave her just yet.

I had been here a week. It seemed like a month. I went out riding a great deal. Felicity always came with me. Often I thought she was on the verge of confiding in me; but she never did. I had made up my mind that I would tell her I must go and if she hated it so much she must come with me.

I was not sure of the wisdom of advising a wife to leave her husband.

Meanwhile I was rather fascinated by the country. It was one of contrasts. There was so much that was beautiful. I gasped with pleasure when I saw the flame trees with their bright coral-coloured flowers and a flight of the grey rose-crested cockatoos which they called galahs. That was sheer beauty. Then there were the miles and miles of scrub land and the swarms of insects unlike anything we had ever encountered at home, like the hairy nannies, little centipedes which came into the house—and the interminable flies. Millie Maken went about watchfully, silent-footed and resentful of us, I believed; but what I disliked most was the presence of William Granville.

It was a night when I had completed my week. The men were outside drinking and talking. I could hear the sudden bursts of laughter. It was almost midnight.

I always felt uneasy until I heard William Granville go to the room he shared with Felicity, and it was only some little time after the door shut on him that I felt safe to sleep. There was no key to my door and I was afraid that he might come into my room.

He lumbered up the stairs, muttering to himself, so I guessed that he had been drinking more than usual.

I heard the bedroom door shut behind him. I lay there telling myself again that surely now I could begin to plan my departure and I came to the decision that I would speak to Felicity in the morning.

As I lay there, thinking of what I would say, I heard a door open. I was alert immediately. I got out of bed, waiting.

The doors were ill-fitting and there was a crack at the side through which I could see into the passage. My heart missed a beat. Coming along the passage was William Granville clad in a nightshirt which reached to his knees. I shivered with apprehension. I was ready to defend myself and I thought: Now I shall go in the morning.

He had paused and was opening a door halfway down the passage. It was Mrs. Maken's.

He went in.

I leaned against the door breathing heavily with relief. It was confirming only what I had guessed already. At least he was not attempting to come to my room.

So ... Mrs. Maken was his mistress; hence her resentment at the intrusion of his wife. This was monstrous. Under the very roof and only a few doors from that room in which his wife lay!

"The man is a monster," I said to myself.

It was no use trying to sleep. I wrapped a dressing gown round me and sat by the window.

The bright starlight gave a weird look to the country. I could see grey eucalypts in the distance—like ghostly sentinels.

I must do something, I thought. I have to go, but I can't leave Felicity unprotected.

Then suddenly I had an idea.

I took out writing paper and pen. It was just light enough for me to be able to see.

I wrote:

"Dear Raymond,

"I am very anxious. There is something very wrong here. This marriage was a great mistake. It is not just a matter of fitting into a new way of life and a new country. Felicity is frightened. And I understand why.

"Life here is crude. Felicity would find it very difficult to adjust herself even if she had a good husband. But William Granville is a monster. I know that sounds exaggerated but I do believe it to be so. He is unfaithful to her. There is a housekeeper here who, I am sure, has been his mistress and still is. She resents Felicity and at the moment I am writing this, which must be one o'clock in the morning here, he is with the housekeeper. I want to leave, but Felicity begs me not to. I don't see how I can stay here but when I talk of leaving she is almost hysterical. She has changed a great deal.

"I think something must be done. Raymond, you have been so good. You have helped me in so many ways. What can be done? Unfortunately Miss Cartwright had to go home. You will know that by now and Felicity has no one to protect her from this man she has married. Please help her. She needs someone to look after her.

"I will stay as long as I can, but life is very awkward here for me in this house. I am ill at ease with her husband and I find him most offensive.

"Please Raymond, this is a cri de coeur. Advise me what to do. I want her to leave but she has a strong sense of duty. He is, after all, her husband.

"I am writing this in my room, in the dark more or less. There is just enough light from the stars—they are brilliant here—to write.

"I feel desperate. Perhaps I shall feel differently in the morning, but I think I shall post this letter however I feel for 1 know when night comes I shall wish I had. I want you to know what it is like here.

"Writing to you has made me feel much better. It is like talking to you.

"I have made a little progress in my search. I think I mentioned to you in my letter which I posted in Sydney, that we had met a man named Milton Harrington. Miss Cartwright will have told you about him, I expect. He helped her to get a passage to England from Cape Town. Well, he remembered Philip's staying in a hotel on the island where he has a sugar plantation. It's a place called Cariba. I thought I would go there when I get away from here, but I want first to see David Gutheridge if possible. He is the botanist with whom Philip came out. I called at the Botanical Association's headquarters when I was in Sydney and they knew approximately where he was and when he will be back ... say in a month. I would really like to talk to him before I go to Cariba. Philip stayed at the hotel there according to Mr. Harrington. There is a hotel on the island. Some of the people there must have known him. So I am making progress ... but slowly.

"My main worry is Felicity. I wish you were here. You would know what ought to be done.

"It would be wonderful to see you and talk to you. Then everything would seem sane and normal.

"I hope this doesn't sound hysterical. But I really am worried.

"Your loving Annalice."

I sealed the letter.

Tomorrow was Wednesday. One of the days the coach called, and the coach would take the mail to Sydney—and from there it would be shipped to England.

It would be a long time before that letter reached Raymond; but it must go tomorrow and I must be at the inn before ten o'clock. I must not miss the coach.

One of the stockmen took the letters into the township when he collected any that might have come. But I was not going to trust this one to him. William Granville might be curious to see what I was writing about. I could suspect him of opening letters and reading them. I was sure he would stop at nothing.

I went back to bed. There had been no sound in the passage all the time I had been writing and I had been alert, listening. It was clear that William Granville was spending the night with his housekeeper.

Finally I slept.

I awakened early for the events of last night must have been on my mind.

I went downstairs. Mrs. Maken was not there, as she usually was. The fire was out. There was a spirit stove, so I made some coffee and taking one of yesterday's dampers spread a little butter on it.

That would suffice.

Felicity joined me. She looked a little better, I thought. She had

been spared the attentions of her husband last night which must have been a great relief. I imagined she would be delighted if he spent his nights with an obliging housekeeper.

I said: "I have a fancy for an early morning ride. I've written a letter and I want to take it into the township. It's Wednesday, so I can catch the coach."

"I'll come with you," she said.

"All right. Be quick and change."

When she came down ready, we set out.

"Why don't you let one of the men take your letter in."

"I want to catch the coach. Goodness knows when it will get there."

"It would only have to wait until Saturday."

"I want it to go at once."

She came into the inn with me. There was a small section of the counter where they collected and dispensed mail. Felicity glanced at the letter as I handed it in. So she knew I was writing to Raymond. Well, there was nothing unusual in that. After all I was engaged to him ... unofficially, so it was the most natural thing in the world for me to write to him. I wondered what she would have said if she had known what the letter contained.

I felt better when the letter had gone off. The responsibility seemed to have lifted a little, although it would be weeks before Raymond received the letter and more weeks before I could have a reply. But still, I had done something. I had taken action—and that always made me feel better.

We had a stroke of luck that day. One of the jackeroos came to the house at midday. He was one of the young apprentices who was learning the way sheep farming was carried out in Australia and one of his tasks had been to ride round the estate to make sure all was well with the sheep, for these were numerous and the grazing land so extensive that there had to be these occasional round trips to make sure all was in order.

He was a fresh-faced young man—recently out from England— and very eager to learn the business, I should imagine with a hope of owning his own property one day. He had gone off before we arrived in the company of Walloo, an aborigine whose duty it was to instruct the young man. Walloo, I heard later, had been one of the more trusted workers and had been on the property for three years which was a long time for an aborigine. It was said that they all had an inborn urge to wander. They called it "Walkabout"; and suddenly they would leave whatever they were doing and without a moment's notice, wander off and not be seen again for months... perhaps never.

Walloo had gone off with this young apprentice and suddenly decided to "walk about." He had left the young man to fend for himself in unknown territory. That was why he had been delayed in getting back.

William Granville was deeply concerned by what he had to tell. The young jackeroo might not know the country but he certainly knew sheep. He had found some of them in urgent need of attention if they were not to perish; moreover more repairs were required to certain fences than he had been able to give them.

Our good luck grew out of this for the result was that William Granville was going off with three of the men and the young jackeroo and he reckoned he would be away for at least a week.

My spirits rose. A week without him! I would be able to put off that agonizing decision for a little while. Meanwhile my letter would be on its way to Raymond.

William Granville had to leave that day and I watched the party set out with joy in my heart.

The change in Felicity was miraculous. She seemed to come alive and I realized how cowed she had been. I dreaded to contemplate what she had to submit to in her marriage.

That night I slept peacefully. No apprehension. No waiting until he was safe in his room.

The next morning we went riding. It was a beautiful day. We skirted the township and made our way to a creek which we had discovered. It was a beautiful spot—an oasis among the scrub. The trickling stream glistened silver in the sunlight and in the distance I could see the clump of ghost gums, looking quite uncanny in the shimmering light.

"I could enjoy all this," I said, "if ..."

I had spoken without thinking. Felicity went on: "You mean if it were in different circumstances."

I was silent.

"I'd like to explore," I went on. "I should like to find the Blue Mountains and explore them. Bathurst is on the other side. I heard that years ago they used to believe there were evil spirits in the mountains who would never allow people to cross them. And on the other side is Bathurst... and wonderful sheep country."

"Yes," said Felicity, "I should like to explore them too."

She was looking wistfully towards the horizon. I had meant to broach the subject of my departure to her when she was a little

calmer, but somehow I could not spoil this day... our first of freedom. And we had the whole week.

"Perhaps we shall one day," I said.

"You're planning to go though, aren't you?"

She had brought up the subject so we must talk of it.

"Well, I shall have to, shan't I? This is not my home."

"I suppose you'll go back to England and marry Raymond. I think you are the luckiest person in the world."

"You never know how things are going to turn out."

"Annalice, what can I do?"

"About what?"

"About everything. About my life. I can't endure it here. I can't endure... him. I didn't know married life was like this. The things that are done... I had no idea."

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked gently.

"I can't bring myself to speak of it. It's unspeakable... every night."

"Last night ..." I began.

"Last night?" she said quickly.

I said: "I know. I heard him come out of your room. He went to Mrs. Maken."

She nodded. "I was glad. I thanked God. Annalice, you have no idea."

"I think I have."

"I never thought..."

"It was a rough awakening."

"If I had known. I thought it was beautiful... romantic ... But I never wanted William."

"I know. You told me there was someone else you loved."

"He would never have done these things. Sometimes I think I shall go mad. I just can't endure it."

"Try to be calm. There's a week's respite. Let's think what we can do. We could go into the township tomorrow. The coach leaves for Sydney. We could get on it... get out of this place."

"He is my husband, Annalice. I'm married to him."

"That does not mean you have to endure the humiliation he subjects you to."

"But I am married to him."

"Well, what are you going to do? Stay here and endure it?"

"I'll have to. Sometimes I think I'll get used to it... and there is Mrs. Maken."

"You would accept that!"

"I have to."

"I wouldn't. I'd walk out. I wouldn't stay another night."

"He would never let me go."

"I would not say that he is besottedly in love."

"He despises me. I think he has from the first."

"Then why ... ?"

"He came to England to find a wife. He wanted one who was meek and had some money. I suppose I fitted into that."

"Money!" I cried.

"Well, my father left me well provided for. 1 never thought much about money before. William wants my money, he has plans for improving the property. All this land belongs to him. I am not sure of the boundaries. He wants to clear the scrub. He thinks he might have gold on the land. He wants to prospect for it. You see, I am very useful in a way ... although in others I am such an ignoramus."

"Oh, my poor Felicity. Now I am sure. You've got to get away. You've got to get help."

I was thankful that I had sent that letter to Raymond. It would be a start. I wished I had known this before. I could have mentioned it to him. I would write another letter—even more urgent than the first.

"Look. There is one thing to do. We'll ride into the township now and book our places on that coach."

"I couldn't go. Annalice. I know he would find me. It would be worse then. He would never forgive me for running away. He'd make sure that I didn't do it again. I'd be a prisoner."

"You're not quite as helpless as that. I can help you. We'll go together."

"It's all very well for you. He can't harm you. Oh, Annalice, you've no idea. When he comes into that bedroom I pray that something awful will happen. Fire perhaps ... anything to save me from him."

"My dear Felicity, this is terrible. You must be sensible. I'll get you away. You can stay with me and when I find what I want we can go home together."

"You make it all sound easy. Life is easy for you. You are so fortunate. Raymond loves you ..."

There was something about the manner in which she said his name which told me.

I said: "It is Raymond isn't it. whom you love?"

She was silent for a few moments, then she said: "It was more or less understood. Everyone said that he was just waiting until I grew up. We were always together. There was something special between us. It would all have turned out as they expected, but... he met you. He fell in love with you. You are so different from what I am. You are clever and I am rather stupid. But... Raymond seemed to like me the way I was. He was always so tender, so protective. It seemed as though it was all working out and then ... he met you."

I stared straight ahead. I was seeing it all. It fitted in naturally. Poor, poor Felicity! And I was responsible for her unhappiness.

"Oh, Felicity," I said, "I'm sorry ... so very sorry."

I saw the tears glistening on her cheeks.

"It was not your fault," she said. "I suppose his feelings for me weren't strong enough. It was a sort of habit... and he only had to meet you to realize this. If only ... It would have been so different. And then it all went wrong and now there is... William."

"You married him because of Raymond and me," I said. "Oh, Felicity, how could you?"

"I thought I would get right away. If I had stayed there would have been times when I should have had to see you and Raymond together. I don't think I could have endured that."

"What a mess," I said. "An unholy mess!"

"You have been so good to me. I don't think I could have lived through all this without you. I should have taken a horse and ridden off and lost myself... or perhaps drowned myself in one of the creeks... anything to get away."

"I am more convinced than ever that we should leave here."

"He would find me."

"He wouldn't. The world is a big place. And when we get back to England we can get help. Raymond will help."

"I can't face Raymond."

"What nonsense! He is your friend. He cares a great deal about you."

"He loves you."

"He loves you, too. There is a great deal for you at home. You have suffered a terrible experience, but it is not the end. You're young. You've got the whole of your life before you."

"Annalice, stay with me. I couldn't go on without you."

"Look here. Let us be calm. We have a week to plan. We should not delay. Let us go to the inn and book our places on the first available coach. We'll get to Sydney. We'll go to Cariba on the next ship. Milton Harrington would help us, I am sure. He would know what we should do."

"He is another who is in love with you."

"You talk too lightly of love, Felicity. Milton Harrington is in love with himself—and I imagine it is an abiding passion which would not let anyone else in."

"I think he is in love with you."

"He has been helpful. He wants to help. He would know how best

to deal with your case. One thing I know is that if it is horrible for you, you don't have to endure it."

"It's a comfort talking to you."

"It would be more comforting to take some action. Let's go to the inn.

"Not today. Please, Annalice, leave it for today. Perhaps tomorrow ..."

"I think we should book soon. We might not be able to leave on the first coach. After all they only take nine passengers. What if they were fully booked?"

"I can't decide. Annalice ... please give me until tomorrow."

"Till tomorrow then. Come on. Let's ride. We have a week. Let's enjoy our freedom."

I might have known that she would continue to hesitate. She was always pleading for time. There was no doubt that she was terrified of her husband; her resigned acceptance of his bestiality amazed me. I pictured myself in her circumstances. I would not have endured it for another day. But then I should never have married him in the first place, for I had been aware of his gross sensuality from the moment I met him. I had no doubt that in England he had been on his best behaviour. He had probably been born and bred in a similar environment to that of Felicity and would know what was expected of him. But he would never have deceived me, I was sure.

His absence had lulled Felicity into a sense of security. She was sleeping well at night and that made a great difference. She no longer lay trembling, waiting for his arrival. But she seemed numbed and unable to act.

I realized that he would not easily relinquish her. He had brought her out here for a purpose—to bear sons and provide the means for developing his land; and he was determined that she should fulfil that purpose.

Perhaps in her mind was the thought that if she became pregnant he would desert her for a while. The housekeeper was waiting to supply his comforts, as he called it. Others too, probably. I had seen one or two women about the place.

It was an insupportable situation and Felicity was a fool to go on enduring it.

I talked to her constantly. Again and again I pointed out how simple it would be to go to Sydney, take the boat to Cariba, and ask the advice of Milton Harrington. He would know what was best to be done. If she wished we might put her on a ship to England. Then she would be perfectly safe. I was here to pursue my enquiries about my

brother and would stay. But I had nothing to fear from William Granville.

At one moment she might appear to listen. But always she came up with the excuse: "But he would find me."

And so the days began to pass. Three ... four... five ... and then I was certain that she would not agree to come. I would eagerly have gone myself but she implored me so earnestly to stay and in view of what she had told me about Raymond, I felt impelled to do so.

He returned late one afternoon. Mrs. Maken had cooked a leg of mutton and made many pies pending his return. The entire household changed. Menace had come back into it.

Many of the workers were at the house that evening. They sat outside eating and drinking.

I went to my room and sat there watching... waiting for him to come up.

It was past midnight when he did.

I heard him lumber up the stairs and burst into the bedroom with the balcony.

I could not sleep, thinking of Felicity who had not had the courage to escape when she had the chance.

What would become of her, I wondered.

I thought that one day she might really go out and lose herself or drown herself in a creek.

It could come to that. But she was more likely to fall into the role of acceptance, to bear child after child, to lose her prettiness, to become drab, worn out, without spirit, just accepting, taking for granted the cruel life which had been thrust upon her.

Another week went by. I had been in the house three weeks. It seemed incredible that I could have stayed so long. I wondered whether David Gutheridge had returned to Sydney. Whatever happened I would go soon. I would insist. 1 would tell Felicity that either she came with me or we must say goodbye.

One Sunday afternoon I heard a great commotion below. I looked out of my window and saw a group of men talking excitedly together.

William Granville came out to them. I heard snatches of the conversation. "Over at Pickering's ... Bushrangers... That's it... Only the women there. All the men out working ... Mrs. Pickering and her two daughters..."

"They're only girls ... Thirteen and fifteen, I reckon."

"The devils," said one man.

"They say there were five of them."

"Five and three women ... my God."

"Robbed the place... took every penny... and other things too. They don't know whether Mrs. Pickering will survive. Poor woman... seeing her daughters handled ... by that scum."

"Who are they? Anyone know?"

"Not a clue. Except that it's a gang they think are ranging the country. No woman's safe. That's about it."

I drew back.

What an awful story. I would tell Felicity that we must make plans to leave without delay.

Everyone was talking about the terrible affair over at Pickering's. William Granville rode into the township. When he came back he shouted to Felicity and me to come into the parlour.

The parlour was the big room near the kitchen where the men sat and played cards in the evening... when they did not use the kitchen.

On the table were several pistols.

He looked at me sardonically.

"How good a shot are you?"

"Me? I have never had a gun."

"Well, you have something to learn."

He put his hand on Felicity's shoulder. I noticed her suppress the desire to wince. So did he, I think, for he put his fingers inside the neck of her bodice as though to punish her. She stood impassive.

"And you, my love, how good are you with a gun?"

"I'm no good at all."

"Now it may surprise you, but I didn't think you would be!" He shouted: "Well, you're going to learn. You heard what's happened over at Pickering's. There are wicked men around. Bushrangers. They are on the look-out for what they can steal and they have a fondness for people like you. You wouldn't like that... You wouldn't like it at all. So you are going to learn to shoot... and if any of them come near you you'll have to use your guns. No good being squeamish out here. They would come during the day. There are men around at night. They wouldn't come then. They come when they think there are only women in the place. You show your guns... and you shoot if necessary. You understand?"

"Yes," I said. "I understand."

He nodded and grinned at me.

"That's the ticket," he said. "Now what I'm going to do right away is give you some practice. I am going to teach you how to use a gun. I know my dear wife will never learn. She's more likely to be turning it on herself. That, my love, is the barrel of the gun ... that's where you shoot out from."

Felicity stood impassive.

"Now we are going to practise. Right now... without delay. Take one of these each. Now those are yours. They go with you everywhere. When you go out riding or when you're at home. You'll have to have belts to put them in. Never let your gun leave your side till they catch these fellows. And even then there could be more. You have to be ready. Now out. We're going to have a lesson right away."

A piece of metal had been attached to a bush not far from the house and there the shooting began.

Mrs. Maken was with us. She was quite a good shot. All the women were given guns.

I mastered the art fairly quickly, and although I might not be able to hit a bull's-eye at least my shots went into the metal.

William Granville said to me: "Not bad. Not bad at all. Hold it like this. More firmly." His fingers closed over mine. He knew I hated the contact and I was sure that made him enjoy it. There was a sadistic streak in him.

Felicity was aiming wide of the mark. He said sarcastically: "We shall all have to beware when my dear wife has a gun in her hands."

When the first lesson was over, at least I knew how to load and handle a gun.

"You can practise every day," said William Granville to me. "Then you should be quite a good shot."

"Thank you," I said coldly.

And we went into the house. Poor Felicity looked humiliated. He took a delight in making her feel so, and I was sure she was more afraid of him than of bushrangers.

I had become interested and enjoyed practising. I slept with the gun beside my bed so that all I had to do was reach for it. When I went riding I wore it in my belt. It was amazing what a sense of security that gave.

I felt I was becoming quite adequate. I could draw the pistol from my belt and shoot with speed taking aim in a matter of seconds. Felicity was hopeless. She was afraid of the gun as she was of everything else here.

Two days after we had had our first lesson I was practising. The house was quiet. Felicity was sleeping, I thought. She was often exhausted—more due to William Granville, 1 believed, than the heat.

Someone had come up to stand beside me. 1 knew it was William Granville and went on shooting.

"Good," he said. "Goodo. You're quite a shot. But then, of course, you would be."

I put my pistol in my belt and turned away.

"You're a fine woman. Miss Annalice." he said. "You'd be more suited to the life out here."

"I do not agree." I replied.

"I thought you were settling in nicely."

"Indeed not. I shall be leaving soon."

"My dear wife implores you to stay, does she not?"

"She has been most hospitable."

"I hope I have been, too. It's my property, you know. I have no desire for you to leave. I like to have you around."

"Thank you," I said, and took a step towards the house.

He stood in front of me. barring my way.

"I wish I had seen you first," he said.

I raised my eyebrows pretending to misunderstand.

"Before my dear wife.'' he said. "I should have asked you."

"It would have been of no avail."

"Oh. I don't know. We've got a lot in common."

"Nothing at all. I should imagine."

"I like you. You've got spirit."

I took another step towards the house but he caught my arm. and brought his face close to mine. The overpowering smell of whisky sickened me.

I must have shown my feelings, for he squeezed my arm so hard that it was painful.

"Please release me. v I said coldly.

He slackened his grip but did not let go.

"You and I could have a lot of fun together," he said.

"I despise you," I retorted. "And I shall take the earliest opportunity of leaving your house."

He laughed. "You won't, you know." he said. "When little Felicity comes crying to you. you'll stay ... just a day longer... then another day ... I don't mind. It suits me. I think a lot about you. There are a lot of things I should like to show you."

"Keep them for your friends." I said.

I wrenched my arm away and walked into the house. In spite of my outward calm I was very shaken.

Tomorrow. I promised myself. I will ride into the township and book a place on the coach.

I was very uneasy. I had known for some time that he had cast lascivious eyes on me but this was the first time that he had spoken of his feelings.

It was certainly the time to get out.

That night I waited in my bedroom for him to go up to his room. I had my gun ready. It should never leave my side.

I heard his footsteps; and then the door open and shut with a bang.

I breathed with relief. Then I put a chair behind my door so that I should be immediately awakened if he made any attempt to come into my room. I should at least be warned and ... there was the gun. I decided that I would shoot him in the leg. I should be ready.

I heard the door open. I picked up the pistol, leaped out of bed and peered through the crack in the door.

Someone was in the passage. No. It was not William Granville. It was Mrs. Maken. She went quietly along the passage to the room with the balcony. She opened the door and went in.

What did that mean?

I waited. Five minutes passed. Ten minutes.

Then I understood. She was in there... with him and Felicity. This was monstrous. It could not be endured. What sort of orgies was he planning? The man was lascivious, sexually perverted and insatiable.

I must leave. And Felicity must come with me.

I had scarcely any sleep that night. Whatever happened I was going off next day to book my seat on the coach.

The next morning Felicity looked remote—as though she did not belong to this world. I think she was dazed. My imagination failed me. I could not conjecture what might have happened in that bedroom on the previous night.

She could not go on living with such a man. She must see that.

I said to her: "I am going to ride. Will you come with me?"

She nodded.

When we were riding out together, I said: "Felicity, I am definitely going. I cannot stay here any longer."

"I understand how you feel."

"Are you coming with me?"

"I can't, Annalice. I daren't."

"You know I have to go. I can't bear to leave you here."

"I have to stay. I have made my bed, as they say, and I have to lie on it."

"But you don't have to. You could get out of this marriage."

"I can't. I'm caught. I'm trapped."

"There is always a way out. Come with me. I'll book our places this morning, and as soon as we can get out, we'll go."

"I can't."

"I know what's going on here. I'll be frank. It's no time for pretence. I have seen him go into Mrs. Maken's room and last night ..."

"Oh. Annalice..."

"Yes, last night. I saw. She came in to you. She stayed. Oh. Felicity, this is terrible. You don't have to endure that. There could be a divorce. I'm going to ask Milton Harrington what to do. Come with me."

"He'd follow us."

"He wouldn't."

"He would ... because of the money ..."

"We could try. If we go to Sydney, we could get that ship to Cariba. Milton Harrington will help us. I know. He is very worldly. He would know what could be done. No one has to go on enduring what you have. It's monstrous. Everyone would agree with that."

"I can't bear to face anyone." she said piteously. "I can't bear to talk about it. . . even to you."

"It's got to stop," I said. "I don't trust him. I'm frightened of him myself. I can't stay under that roof any more nights than are necessary. I'm going to book my place on that coach. Be sensible. Felicity. Let me book for you. too."

"I can't. I daren't. He'd kill me."

"He wouldn't dare."

"He would dare a great deal for money."

"Are you condemning yourself to a lifetime of what you have already tasted? Milton Harrington half warned me against him. He must have an evil reputation for people as far off as that to have heard about him."

"I'm terribly frightened, but I should be more so if he found out I had booked on the coach."

"Why should he find out?"

"People might tell him."

"It's a risk you have to take if you want to get away."

"I can't. I can't."

"Then. Felicity. I shall have to go without you."

"Oh. Annalice. please

"I have stayed so long. It has to be now. I can't stay any longer. I have to get away."

She closed her eyes. I saw that resigned look come into her face. I found it irritating. I suppose because it was so alien to my nature. I should never accept what was so repugnant to me. I should fight.

Felicity was no fighter.

But I could not give way again. I kept thinking of that man ... his bloodshot eyes, his whisky-tainted breath. I knew that sooner or later he would turn his attention to me. I was agile; I was quick-thinking. I was strong. But he was stronger.

Resolutely I rode into the township.

I did not look at Felicity for fear I should weaken. We tethered the horses and went into the inn.

At the counter I asked about the bookings.

The Saturday coach was fully booked. There were places on the Monday one.

"What would that be, Miss? Two?"

I looked at Felicity but she shook her head.

"One," I said. "One place on the Monday coach."

I came out into the sunshine, experiencing a great sense of relief, but it was tempered with a sadness and a deep anxiety, because although escape for myself was close at hand, I was leaving Felicity behind.

Two more days and I should be free! Saturday and Sunday—and then Monday. I would get down to the township early so that I should be there in time.

I should have to get Slim to drive me in because of my luggage. He could not refuse.

Felicity looked desperately unhappy. I tried to comfort her but she could only say: "You're going. What will it be like without you?"

"It's not too late," I told her. "There might still be room on the coach."

But she refused.

I was getting my things together. I asked Slim if he would take me into the township early on Monday morning and he said he would do so.

Mrs. Maken said: "So you're leaving us?"

I felt I could scarcely speak to her since I had seen her go into that room with the balcony. I did not blame her so much when I had seen him going into her room, for I had long realized the relationship between those two. But that she should actually go into the room with him when Felicity was there disgusted me.

I said coolly: "Yes, I did not mean to stay long."

"Mrs. Granville persuaded you, no doubt."

"Well, I stayed to be with her, of course."

"What a timid creature she is."

"Everything here is very different from what she has been brought up to," I said.

"Well, the outback is no place for you ladies."

I went up to my room to continue with my packing. After tonight only one more to get through, I kept telling myself. I was longing to get to Sydney. I should arrive in the evening. On Tuesday I would go

to the Botanical Association and then I should book myself in on the Wednesday boat for Cariba.

I had to admit the prospect of seeing Milton Harrington again excited me. I should be able to tell him about what was happening here. I was not going to abandon Felicity. I had to help her even if she would not help herself and I believed that Milton Harrington might have some suggestion to make.

It was just like any other Saturday night, though the merrymaking out of doors seemed more riotous than usual. It was midnight when they dispersed and went off to their own quarters. I heard William Granville come up to bed.

I waited, listening. He went into his room and shut the door.

I breathed more freely. I would give him a little time to settle down and then I would go to bed, not forgetting to put the chair against the door.

Ten minutes passed.

1 got into bed.

It must have been about fifteen minutes later when I heard stealthy footsteps in the passage. I sat up in bed and felt for the pistol. I held it securely and waited.

My heart was hammering. The footsteps had stopped outside my door.

The chair moved a little. There was a scraping sound and it fell backwards. He had stepped into my room. The starlight showed me his grinning face—horrible, lustful and determined.

I leaped out of the bed and stood on the other side of it, holding the pistol ready in my hand.

"If you take a step towards me, Til fire," I said.

He looked amazed and stared at me.

"By God," he said, "you were ready and waiting for me."

"I know too much about you," I retorted. "Get out... unless you want a bullet through you."

"You wildcat," he said.

"Yes. Remember it. You will be sorry if you take another step into this room."

"You couldn't shoot me. could you?"

"I could and I would."

"Murder me in my home ... in cold blood."

"In your home but in hot blood. I am seething with anger against you. 1 loathe you. I despise you. I distrust you. You are not a man. You are the lowest form of animal. Do you think I don't know what goes on here. I wanted to take Felicity back with me but she would

not come. Some misguided sense of duty. Duty to what? You! Who call yourself a man! Stand back. I shall fire if you move."

He was recovering from the shock of seeing me facing him with the pistol in my hand.

"Now... now," he said. "I only came in to see if you were all right. I thought I heard a noise... Someone prowling about."

"Perhaps it was your mistress coming to visit you."

"I thought it might be the bushrangers ..."

"Well, it isn't. Go away, and if you set foot in this room again while I'm here I shan't warn you. I shall shoot."

"Spitfire! Wildcat! You're a tigress, you are. I wouldn't hurt you. I like you. I could get very fond of you. I like women with a bit of spirit. If you'd only take the trouble to get to know me ... "

"I know all I need to know and the more I know the more I despise you."

"Give me a chance."

"Go away."

"You don't mean that, do you?"

He was trying to sidle round the bed.

"I do. One step nearer and I shall fire. I shan't miss. You yourself said I was a fair shot."

"That's murder, you know."

"I shall shoot you in the leg. And it will be in self-defence. I shall tell everyone that you came into my room intending to rape me. I shall tell them that you take your housekeeper to bed with your wife. You wouldn't be very welcome, even in this wild land, after I had told all I know about you."

Suddenly I knew that he was defeated. He looked at me with something like hatred.

He said: "All right, you bitch, you she-wolf. You think you are so precious, do you? Get out of my house. Get out now."

"I shall leave first thing in the morning."

"And where will you go? Sleep rough? That would hardly suit her ladyship."

"I shall go to the inn. I am leaving in the Sydney coach on Monday. If I can't get a room there, I will sleep anywhere ... in their parlour ... I shall not mind. All I want is to get away from this place."

"Go," he said, "and good riddance."

With that he went out of the room kicking the chair aside and banging the door after him. I sank onto the bed. My knees felt as though they were giving way, and now that I no longer had to steel myself to face him, my hands were trembling so much that I could not

hold the pistol. My teeth chattered. I thought if he were to come back what good would I be in the fight against him?

I lay still, all senses alert. I heard him go downstairs. I waited, listening for the time of his return, trying to control my trembling limbs. I must go tomorrow. I would ride out and ask if I could stay the night at the inn. Surely someone would give me shelter just for one night—and on Monday morning I would be off. The hideous nightmare would be over.

What was he doing. I could hear nothing.

An hour passed. My limbs had ceased to tremble. I kept the pistol in my hand.

Then I heard him. He was coming up the stairs. I put my eyes to the crack in the door. I could hear him muttering to himself and I could just make out his tall figure. He was reeling a little. He must be very drunk.

I watched him hesitate at the top of the stairs. Then he turned and went into the bedroom with the balcony.

It could only have been five minutes later, and I was still waiting tensely, when I heard the shot.

I knew where it came from and carrying my pistol in my hand I went along the passage and opened the door of their bedroom.

The door to the balcony was wide open. I saw Felicity. She was on the balcony, clinging to the broken wood.

"Felicity!" I cried. "What happened?"

She tried to speak but no words came. She shook her head and pointed to the balcony.

I saw that several more of the staves were broken away and the front of it had collapsed almost in its entirety. I went forward and looked down. Sprawled on the ground below was William Granville. Some distance from him was the gun.

He lay inert like a big puppet and there was something unnatural about his position.

My instinct told me that he was dead.

I did not ride on the coach that Monday. I stayed in the house with Felicity. I took her out of that room of many evil memories and made her lie on my bed. It was wide enough for the two of us and she was in no state to be left alone.

She was numb; she stared ahead of her and there was a glazed look in her eyes. I began to fear for her reason.

The days that followed now seem rather vague in my mind. There was much coming and going. The body of William Granville was taken away. He was shot through the head.

Officials rode out from Sydney and a great many questions were asked.

How had he fallen? they wanted to know.

He had leaned against the balcony and it had given way.

I felt calm. Felicity had not told me what had happened and I was afraid to ask her. I felt she would break into hysteria and I did not know what she would say if she did. I had a niggling fear in my mind that she had come to the end of her endurance and possibly had fired the fatal shot. I could well understand that. I had been ready to shoot him myself. There is a limit beyond which even the meekest person cannot be goaded.

What I wanted more than anything was to get away from this place. And I wanted to take Felicity with me. Whatever had happened was over. I wanted to soothe her, comfort her. I understood so clearly what she had suffered.

The theory was that the bushrangers had been prowling around. The Pickering story was discussed in great detail, and the bushrangers were in everyone's mind.

I said that the dead man had come to my room earlier that evening and had said he thought he had heard prowlers whom he suspected might be bushrangers.

That was true enough.

It was confirmed that he had been constantly watchful for bushrangers after the Pickering affair. Everybody was.

It was believed that he had heard strangers outside and had taken the gun and gone to the balcony. It was a fact that the balcony was in need of repair. One stave had been missing for months. It was easy to see how it happened. He had dashed out with his gun, forgetting the wood of the balcony was rotting; he had leaned against it and in falling had shot himself. Then the gun had been knocked out of his hand and so was found a few feet away from him.

It was another tragedy of the outback.

I believed that at home there would have been more enquiries into the matter. Here life was cheaper. People were pioneering, making a new country, and the risks that entailed were numerous. Death was not such a rare occurrence.

Mrs. Maken told how we had all been given guns after the bushranging outrage at the Pickerings'. Mr. Granville, she knew, was very anxious not to leave the women unprotected.

"The bushrangers have a lot to answer for," said one of the officials.

But I was not sure that they had to answer for William Granville's death.

I said I wanted to get away as soon as possible. Mrs. Granville was in a state of shock, from which I feared she would not recover until we left this house of tragedy.

But first there was the ordeal of the funeral to be faced.

There was a small cemetery just outside the township and his grave was close to that of Mrs. Pickering, who had died after her ordeal with the bushrangers.

We stood round it— Felicity. Mrs. Maken, myself and several of the men. A number of people came in from miles around to witness the burial. Much sympathy was shown to Felicity, and I watched her anxiously, wondering whether she was going to lose that calm and betray her real feelings.

It was quite unlike the funerals at home—no glorious trappings, no ceremonial black-clad undertakers, and elaborately caparisoned horses. We had tried to find as much black as we could but there was no way we could get new clothes.

"Poor soul," said one of the women spectators. "I'd like to murder those bushrangers. When they find them they'll be lynched, I can tell you. That poor Mrs. Pickering... what she suffered! And now Mr. Granville."

Our silence was construed as grief, and we went back to the house in the buggy, with Slim driving us. as he did on our arrival.

It transpired that William Granville had borrowed heavily on the strength of having married a woman of fortune. His debts would have to be met. and this could only be done by the sale of his property after which there would be very little left. Felicity agreed listlessly to all that was suggested and was glad that the matter could pass out of her hands. She told me she wanted nothing of her late husband's estate. All she wanted to do was get away, and for things to be as though this had never happened.

I had packed our things and made the arrangements.

Felicity would not stay in the house alone; nor would she go to the township. When I went in I had to leave her some little way off. She could not bear the condolences which were offered her. She was in a highly nervous state.

I made the bookings on the coach for a Wednesday which was eleven days after the death of William Granville.

Felicity was exhausted and for that I was grateful because it meant she slept heavily at night. I used to sit by the window watching her and trying not to imagine all that she must have endured in that room.

The balcony had been repaired. I went into the room once. It seemed evil to me because I knew something of what had happened there. I shuddered as I looked at the brownish curtains at the french

windows which opened onto the balcony, the big cupboard, the dressing table and the two chairs. My eyes came to rest on the bed and I shivered again.

I stepped out onto the balcony and looked down. The new staves shone brightly among the old ones.

How had it happened? I wondered. Perhaps Felicity would tell me one day.

I should never ask her.

There was a menace in this place and it was centred in this room. This was where Felicity had suffered her ultimate humiliation.

I felt myself turn cold. There was a tingling sensation in my scalp. Was this what was called one's hair standing on end?

I was not alone.

I swung round, clutching the balcony just as he may have done. I fully expected to see him standing there with that lustful grin on his face.

I was looking into the enigmatic eyes of Mrs. Maken.

"Oh," she said, "taking a last look at the place?"

I replied: "The balcony looks firm now." My voice sounded high-pitched and unnatural.

"It was a terrible thing to happen," she said. "Those bushrangers have a lot to answer for."

I nodded.

"It will make changes round here."

"I daresay. What plans have you, Mrs. Maken?"

"I'm to stay till it's all cleared up. The solicitors have asked me to. There's got to be someone here... and as things are with Mrs. Granville..."

"It seems an excellent arrangement. I was thinking of after that."

"I've had an offer from a very nice gentleman in Sydney. Housekeeper and all that."

She was smiling at me complacently.

"I'm glad," I said.

"And you'll go off. Well, it's the best thing for Mrs. Granville. She never took to our ways out here."

She was looking round the room reminiscently, but I could see she was already making plans for her life at the establishment of the nice gentleman in Sydney.

"They'll catch those men," she said. "There's an outcry about it. This makes them more determined than ever. Just think, if Mr. Granville hadn't heard them prowling about he'd be here now. Well, you'll soon be off. You were going on that Monday ... well, then you had to stay for a bit when all this happened. But if it hadn't been for those men..."

I said: "Yes, indeed." I had come back into the room from the balcony and I had to walk past her to get to the door. I kept seeing images of her in that room with Felicity and William Granville.

She looked at me sardonically and I wondered if she read my thoughts.

She was an uncomfortable woman. But on Wednesday we should be on our way.

Our last night. Felicity lay in bed, but she was not asleep.

I sat on a chair watching her. The bed was not really big enough for two and I usually lay on the edge so as not to disturb her.

She had always been fast asleep by the time I retired. I think she was really worn out with fear and emotion. Sometimes I would sit at the window until past midnight looking out and thinking over the time I had spent here. Since the death of William Granville a touch of unreality had crept into everything. When I finally left here I hoped it would become vague in my memory—a nightmare, grotesque, terrifying while it lasted but which faded from memory in daylight and the return to normal life.

That was what I hoped at least.

Felicity's trunks had already gone to Sydney where they would be stored at the docks until her departure for England. My baggage and Felicity's lighter possessions had already gone to the township to be put into the coach when it arrived. All that was left for us to take was one capacious piece of hand luggage each.

I went to the window and sat there. I had no inclination for sleep. I should make up for that when I had left this place.

Felicity spoke to me then. "Why are you sitting at the window, Annalice?"

"I don't feel sleepy. Our last night, Felicity. I feel so relieved that we are going together."

"Oh, Annalice, it was dreadful when you were going without me."

"I know. I had to do it though."

"I understand that."

There was silence for a while, then she said: "It's all over. I can't believe it."

"There is only tomorrow morning. We will leave in good time for the coach."

"And then we shall say goodbye to this place forever."

"Forever. We shall put it right out of our minds."

"Do you think we shall ever be able to do that."

"I'm going to have a jolly good try."

"It's easy for you."

"In time it will be for you."

"I shall never forget, Annalice."

"I suppose the memories will come back. But they will get fainter ... more remote..."

"I don't think they ever will ... not of that night."

"Well, for a time of course ... But when you are away from this place, it'll fade. It will, I promise you."

"Not that night. It is there forever... stamped on my mind. I shall never forget that."

I was silent and she went on: "It wasn't as they said, Annalice."

"No," I replied.

"It wasn't the truth. I have to tell someone. I can't keep it to myself."

"If you have to tell someone it had better be me."

"That night... he came up ... he was laughing to himself. He had drunk a lot of whisky but he was not drunk ... not like he was later. He went out ... I thought he was going to Mrs. Maken. He did, you know, often."

"Yes, I know."

"He was always saying how much better she was than I was... things I can't talk about."

"Then don't."

"I've got to tell you. I think once I have told you I may be able to stop thinking about it... at least not so much."

"Tell me then."

"He was away a long time. I thought he would stay the night. He usually did. I liked that. It was wonderful when he was away. I was grateful to Mrs. Maken for being so much better... at that sort of thing... than I was."

"Oh, Felicity," I cried, "I don't care what brought you out of this... but I'm glad it happened."

"I'm glad, too. It's wicked, but I'm glad he's dead."

"The world is a better place without him and his kind. Let's rejoice he is no longer in it."

She shivered and sat up suddenly, her eyes coming to rest on the door.

I said: "He can't come in. He's dead. You're not afraid of his ghost, are you?"

"I would be in this place. I think one of the eucalyptus trees will turn grey and he'll be in it."

"I wouldn't worry about that. You'll be far away. In time you'll forget this place ever existed."

"Home," she said. "It's like a different world."

"It won't be long now. You could get on a ship and be home very soon. I shall not go yet. I have things to do."

"I know. And I stopped you, didn't I? I want to stay with you, Annalice."

"All right then. We'll be together. It will be exciting. We shall go to Cariba."

"Yes... yes ... as long as I am with you. And in time we'll go home together."

She was lying down now, smiling.

Then she said: "But I have to tell you about that night."

"Go on then ... tell me."

"I shan't rest until I have told you. I want you to tell me that I am not wicked."

"Of course you are not wicked. Whatever happened, he deserved it."

"Well, he came back into the room. I was sleeping. I was so tired, Annalice. I was always tired. Those fearful nights ..."

"Don't think of them. Just tell me."

"He came back. It was a long time after ... It must have been more than an hour. He was very drunk. He looked awful. He shouted: 'Wake up. I suppose I'll have to make do with you.' Yes... that's what he said. It flashed into my mind that he might have quarrelled with Mrs. Maken. Then something seemed to snap in me. I couldn't endure any more. I pushed him away. It was only because he was so drunk that I was able to do it. I jumped out of bed and picked up the pistol, the one we were supposed to carry round with us. I said, 'If you touch me I will shoot myself.'"

"Oh no, Felicity!"

"Yes... yes ... He laughed at me. I wasn't sure what I was going to do. I would have killed myself. I could not stand any more of him. It was too degrading, too humiliating. It was everything that I hated. I hated him and that made me hate myself. I felt unclean ... unworthy to live. He came after me and I ran onto the balcony. He caught me. He was trying to get the gun away from me. He was laughing. He was very drunk. Then suddenly ... I may have pushed him. I don't know. I can't remember clearly. The balcony gave way ... the gun went off... it spun out of our hands and fell clattering below... and there he was lying beside it... with blood all over him. I screamed... and that was when you came in."

"I see," I said.

"Do you? I think I may have fired the shot that killed him."

"It was a struggle, the gun went off. Stop thinking about it. It's over. Whatever happened wasn't your fault."

"Oh, it wasn't, was it?"

"No, no. You must remember that."

"I will. I feel so much better now I've told. Perhaps I should have told those men, but how could I without explaining things that I didn't want to talk about?"

"It was better as it was. He's gone. That's the end of it. You're free, Felicity, gloriously free. That's what you have to think about."

"Thank you, Annalice. I'm so glad you're here."

"Well, we shall be together... and in time we'll go home."

"That would be wonderful. Home. I wish I had never left it."

"You'll love it all the more when you get back. Just think; tomorrow we shall walk out of this place and leave it all behind us forever."

"It's wonderful. I shall think of that. I shall try to forget. Talking did help."

She was silent and after a while she slept.

I did not go to bed. I sat in the chair and dozed. I saw the dawn come into the sky, the glorious dawn of the day of departure.

The next day we were jolting across the roads to Sydney, and with every passing minute my spirits lifted. The nightmare is over, I thought. Now we can go on from here.

We arrived in the evening and I was relieved to find they had a room at the Crown. We both had a good meal and a good night's sleep; and in the morning we were greatly refreshed.

My first task was to call at the Botanical Association. I left Felicity in the hotel while I set out.

There was good news. David Gutheridge had returned from the expedition and was at this time in Sydney.

They had informed him of my previous visit and he had asked them to give me his address if I called again. This was great progress and I was delighted.

He was staying at a small hotel not far from the Crown and I went there immediately. Another stroke of good luck awaited me. He was in.

He received me warmly. I had met him when he and Philip were making their preparations, so we were not entirely strangers.

He took me into a small room and we settled down to talk.

I said: "We have had no news of Philip ... for a very long time."

"It is strange," he said. "I heard nothing of him. I did make enquiries at the time and no one could tell me anything."

"Where did you make enquiries?"

"It was at a hotel on one of the islands ... the biggest of the group. Cariba actually."

"Oh yes ... I did hear he was there."

"Apparently he made it his headquarters for a while."

"Yes?" I said eagerly.

"He was determined to find some island, wasn't he? I remember he had a map and the mysterious thing was that the island did not appear where it should have been ... according to the map. It wasn't on any other map either. But Philip was certain this island existed somewhere... and he was going to find it."

"What was the last you heard of him?"

"It was in Cariba actually. There is a sugar plantation on it... and on one of the others too, I believe. Yes, he was there when I heard the last of him. They said he left suddenly."

"Left the hotel, you mean?"

"Yes ... the hotel. That's all I can tell you. He was staying there. It was his headquarters for a while because he was sure the island was in that vicinity. Apparentiy he just left... and no one heard of him after that."

"I see."

He looked at me ruefully. "I'm afraid I'm not much help. It is all I can tell you though. It is a long time now, isn't it?"

"It is more than two years."

"All that time since he disappeared!"

"Yes. He did write once... and that was all we heard. I decided I just had to come out here and find out."

"And you are not getting very far."

"No. The only thing I have discovered is that he had been to Cariba. A man whom I met coming over told me that."

"I was a little while in Cariba. It's practically owned by the man who has the sugar plantation. He's a sort of big white chief."

"That would be the man I met. Milton Harrington."

"That's the man."

"He was quite helpful to me and to the ladies I was travelling with."

"Cariba would appear to be the last place he was seen."

"And you have no idea where he might have gone from there?"

"I'm afraid I haven't. Unless he went off in a boat somewhere. Squalls blow up pretty fast in this part of the world and small boats... well, they don't have much chance."

"It seems strange—if that were the case—that he told no one he was going."

"He may have done so."

"I thought someone at the hotel might be able to throw some light on his disappearance."

"That might be so. If I hear anything, Miss Mallory, I'll contact you. You're going to Cariba, are you? You'll be at the hotel. It's the only one actually. If I should hear of anything ... or something occurs to me, I'll write to you."

"That is kind of you."

He looked at me quizzically. "You've got a hard task ahead of you, I'm afraid."

"I'm prepared for that. But I am determined to find out what has happened to my brother."

"Best of luck," he said warmly.

He clasped my hand, and said he would escort me back to the Crown, which he did.

On the following Wednesday, Felicity and I left for Cariba.

THE ISLAND OF CARIBA

It was early on the Thursday morning when we came into Cariba.

Felicity and I had been sitting on deck dozing through the night. I felt more at peace than I had since what I called the nightmare had begun. The sea was smooth; now and then I saw a phosphorescent gleam on the waters—weirdly beautiful; the Southern Cross above, with its myriads of companion stars, reminded me how far from home we were—but we were going to Cariba, and there I hoped I should discover some news of Philip and ... I should see Milton Harrington.

Life had become full of adventure—sometimes terrifying—but I believed that nothing which lay in store for me could be more fearful than that horrific experience through which I had just passed.

I looked at Felicity; her eyes were closed. There was a change in her since she had confessed to me what had really happened on that night. It was as though she felt she had shifted her burden a little. Poor Felicity! What she had suffered was beyond endurance. I could only be thankful that it was at an end—by whatever means we had reached that end.

And now before us... Cariba and Milton Harrington.

The sun rose as suddenly as it set and the water lost its mysterious darkness and was opalescent in the morning light.

And then I saw the islands. There was a group of them. I made out four... and yes, another one some distance away, separated from the others. It is an exciting moment when one catches sight of land and I could well imagine the exhilaration which those early explorers must have experienced when they sailed the uncharted seas.

As we drew nearer I awakened Felicity.

"Look, Felicity. We are nearly there."

We stood together leaning over the rail. I turned to look at her. She was smiling. I put my hand over hers. "You look so much better," I said.

"I feel more at peace. I didn't dream at all as I sat there dozing. It was... well, peace."

"That is how it is going to be from now on."

"Thank you," she said. Til never forget all you have done for me.

I was thoughtful for a moment, thinking: But for me it would never have happened. You would have married Raymond if I hadnt come along. And that episode would never have taken place.

What a difference that would have made to Felicity! I could see her married to Raymond, becoming a good wife and mother, living uneventfully, never dreaming that there could be men in the world like William Granville.

For the first time it occurred to me how suited they were—she and Raymond, and how but for me they would have drifted into marriage. Raymond would make the perfect husband ... to any woman he married.

It was strange that I who had contemplated marrying him myself— and had made excuses for delaying fulfilment—should be thinking of his marrying someone else.

But here was Cariba. A new adventure was beginning and I promised myself that this was going to be wonderful. I should achieve what I had come out for.

The islands were green and lush; a heat haze hung over them at the moment.

Felicity was shading her eyes. "That one seems a little apart," she said.

"Yes. The others are very close together. What would you think? No more than half a mile between them. Except that one. I wonder what it is called and if there are people on it."

We were approaching the largest of the islands—Cariba itself and our destination. There were several boats in the small harbour, which was alive with activity. We had weighed anchor. As I had expected the water was too shallow for the ship to go right in and we should go ashore in small boats.

Now little boats were rowing out to us; In them were small boys who grinned up at us and called to us in pidgin English to throw down coins which they would dive for. So we threw pennies into the water which was so clear that the sea bed was visible.

We hastily searched our purses and found more coins. We laughed as we watched the lithe brown bodies dive and squirm in the water like little fishes. When they found a coin they held it up to us triumphantly, threw it into their boat and called: "More. More."

This continued for some time before we were told to assemble below for the journey ashore.

We climbed rather perilously down a rope ladder to the boat below and in a short time we were being rowed to the island.

My excitement was intense. This was the last place where Philip had been known to be. Someone here must know something.

The sun was getting higher in the sky and it was perceptibly warmer. It glinted on white houses. I picked out a large building which I took to be the hotel.

It was not the desert island I had imagined. There must be a thriving community here. The dock was littered with large cases; of course it would be, for it was the day the ship came in from Sydney, and those cases would be loaded and taken for distribution probably to various ports in the world. I saw crates of green bananas, and fruits, the names of which I did not know. There were people of all colours— black, brown and some white. Everyone seemed to be dashing about and making a great deal of noise.

I said to Felicity: "We will go straight to the hotel. Some of these people will tell us how to get there."

The boat was almost there. One of the two big black men who had rowed us leaped into the water and secured it.

Then he lifted us out so that we did not get our feet wet.

I heard a shout—and there he was pushing his way through the crowd. I noticed the flash of his white teeth in his sunburned face.

"I thought you were never coming," he said.

I felt ridiculously emotional and the absurd idea came to me that my troubles were at an end.

He was shouting orders. Where was our baggage? He would see to that. Everyone seemed to stand to attention at the sound of his voice.

I laughed, feeling deliriously happy. I said: "You really are the big white chief."

"It is the only thing to be out here."

He took my arm and that of Felicity.

"You poor girls must be worn out. It's an exhausting journey, I know, and a night without sleep."

"We dozed, didn't we, Felicity?"

"It was so peaceful on deck and such a lovely night."

"You were lucky. It can be quite the reverse. Now I'll have your baggage seen to and sent up to the house."

"What house?"

"My house, of course. You are my guests."

"No, no," I said. "We are staying at the hotel."

"I won't hear of it."

"I insist. It is good of you to be so hospitable, but we must be in the hotel. I have so much to do and I want to be in the hotel."

"Every time the ship has come in from Sydney I have been here waiting. I have your room prepared. I did not know you would be here, Mrs. Granville."

"That is a long story which must wait," I said. "We shall stay at the hotel."

He looked at me sardonically.

"Short of taking you to my house by force, I see there is nothing I can do but take you to the hotel."

"Absolutely nothing."

"Perhaps I can persuade you to visit me later."

"Thank you. And please don't think I am ungrateful. I do appreciate all your kindness and the help you gave us before ... But I must be in the hotel. We don't want to be in a house again for a while. Something awful happened to Mr. Granville."

He was taken aback. So the news had not reached Cariba yet. I supposed it would in due course, but there had hardly been time yet.

"It was an accident," I said, willing him with my eyes to say no more in Felicity's presence.

"I'm sorry," he said to Felicity.

"It would be nice if you would help us get into the hotel," I put in quickly. "I dare say a word from you would ensure our getting the best treatment."

"Come along," he said. "This is your light baggage, is it?" He shouted to one of the men. "Have this brought to the hotel."

"Yes, Master," said the man.

"Now, let us go. It is here ... right on the waterfront."

I said: "The big white building with the balconies?" I stopped suddenly and looked at Felicity who had turned pale.

"That's it," he said. "It's moderately comfortable. You'll find it cooler inside. I'll see that you get good rooms."

He took me on one arm and Felicity on the other. It was almost like a royal progress. People stood aside respectfully to let us pass.

"It seems you are the king of the island," I commented.

"Monarch of all I survey." He looked sideways at me and grimaced. "Well, not quite all."

We mounted three steps to the door. A little black boy rushed to open it for us, and we stepped into a reception hall.

A woman who was almost white sat behind the desk; she was a quadroon, I guessed.

"Good morning, Master" she said.

"I've brought you two guests, Rosa," he said. "I want the best rooms in the hotel for them ... in the front with balconies overlooking the harbour." He turned to us. "You'll find that interesting. It's a busy harbour... always something going on."

"There's only one vacant at the moment, Master."

"Then we'll have that and the one next to it."

"There's no balcony to that one."

I said to Felicity: "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, yes," she said quickly.

"You'll like the balcony in the cool of the evening," Milton told me. "The temperature changes quite a bit at sundown."

"Well, Felicity can share mine if she wants to. Let us have those two rooms."

"That's settled then," he said. "You two ladies will be dining at my house tonight. I'm going to give you the whole day to rest. You'll need it after your journey. I shall be calling for you at seven o'clock. In the meantime, rest. Now, I'll see the rooms, to make sure they are satisfactory."

"Yes, Master," said the quadroon girl, and signed to a man in livery.

"Morning, Master," he said.

"Good morning, Jacko."

As we went up the stairs I said: "It seems you manage everything on the island."

"On such an auspicious occasion, yes."

"It is really rather awe-inspiring."

"That's what I like to do... inspire awe. It makes me very happy... but what makes me happier is that you have come at last."

We were taken to the rooms. They were large with big double beds, blinds to shut out the sun and small rush mats on polished floors. There were nets over the beds.

"Never forget to use these," Milton Harrington warned us. "You'll be eaten alive by morning if you don't. You'll be delighted with the flora but the fauna can be quite another matter. And you'll want to keep the blinds down during the heat of the day."

He opened the french windows onto the balcony. "There. You see, it's a fine view of the harbour. It is interesting in the evening when the sun's gone down. Then you can sit out here. You'll enjoy that."

I stepped out and looked. Felicity hesitated. I took her arm and drew her out.

I put my hand on the ironwork of the balcony. It was firm and strong. I felt her tremble a little and we went back into the room.

"You'd better get something to eat," said Milton. "I'll tell them to send something up."

"You think of everything," I told him.

"I've been waiting for this day so long so I have had plenty of time to think about it. What kept you?"

"I'll tell you sometime," I said significantly.

And he understood.

"Now," he said, "I shall leave you. I will come for you at seven o'clock and take you up to my house. If there is anything you need just ask for it. I've instructed them to look after you."

"It is very comforting to have such a powerful friend."

"I intend that you shall enjoy your stay on my island."

"Thank you. You are very kind."

He took my hand and pressed it firmly. His eyes were gleaming. There was no doubt that he was delighted because I had come.

When he had gone I looked at Felicity. "Well, here we are at last," I said.

"He is so good to us."

"He helped us when we were on the ship, didn't he? Do you remember how he made all the arrangements for your aunt?"

She nodded. "I always thought he wanted to be rid of her."

"Why should he?"

"So that he could have more chance of seeing you. Aunt Emily was always there ... a chaperone, wasn't she?"

"She wanted to go."

"I sometimes think he helped to make her believe she did."

I laughed. "He is a very forceful man."

"It is good to have him on our side. I should not like to have him against me."

While I was preparing a remark a tall negress came in with a tray. On it were little rolls of bread and a plate of fruit—mangoes, bananas and pineapples. There was some milk which turned out to be from a coconut.

It was very appetizing and just what we needed.

When we had eaten I asked Felicity if she would like to unpack her bags which had by now been brought to our rooms. "Unpack," I said, "and sleep a little."

She said she would like to do that.

I went with her into her room. The blinds were drawn to shut out the sun. I was glad there was no balcony to remind her.

"I'm really tired," she said.

"Sleep first," I advised. "You can unpack later."

"And you will be in the next room."

"Of course."

"You won't go out without telling me?"

"I promise. All you have to do if you want me is to come next door."

I kissed her and left her.

I went into my own room and stepped out onto the balcony. People seemed to be running all over the place. The ship lay out there. It would stay there for some days while the loading of cargo took place and it would be ready to leave for Sydney in time for the next Wednesday's sailing.

I listened to the noise and bustle, watching the brilliantly clad women in their long flowing gowns. Many of them wore flowers round their necks and most of them had long black hair. They were beautiful and moved with the utmost grace. The men were scantily dressed and less attractive; many of them wore only a loin cloth. They were busy unloading crates and shouting as they did so.

It was a colourful, fascinating scene.

I went back to my room and unpacked a little. But I realized I was indeed tired. I lay on my bed and in a very short time was asleep.

It was about five o'clock when I awoke and I remembered that Milton Harrington was coming at seven to take us to his house.

I rose and knocked on Felicity's door. She was still sleeping and I was struck by the tranquillity of her face. I felt suddenly happy. She would forget now, I told myself. This island is the best place for forgetting.

I sat by her bed and called her name gently. "It is Annalice. Do you know what the time is?"

She opened her eyes and I saw the horror dawn on her face. For a brief moment she must have thought she was back in that bedroom she had shared with her husband.

"It's all right," I said quickly. "We're in Cariba. You've had a good sleep. So have I. We needed it."

She sat up.

"What time is it?"

"Fivish."

"He's coming at seven."

"Yes, we shall have to get ready. Did you think to hang out one of your dresses?"

"Yes, I did. The blue. I never wore it at ... "

"It wouldn't have been suitable. But you are not there now ..."

"I left behind most of what I wore there. I don't ever want to see it again."

"Where is the blue dress? Oh, I see. That will be lovely."

"He won't look at me. He'll be looking at you all the time."

"I think he takes everything in."

"He seems very important here."

"It's his island. He owns the plantation and I imagine that is the main business, so they are all depending on him."

"What are you going to wear?"

"My red."

"It's very colourful. They do wear colourful clothes here."

"It fits in with the flowers and everything."

"How long shall we stay here, Annalice?"

"Are you longing to go home?"

"I don't think I shall ever feel really safe until I am home."

"You know why I came. I am going to find out about my brother. As soon as I have, I'll be ready to go. But if you want to go before ..."

"No. I couldn't face going back to Sydney, getting on a ship ..."

"You see how Mr. Harrington works. I daresay he could arrange everything for you and make it all smooth and easy."

"No, no. I want to be with you ... and I think I am going to like it here. I do believe I ought to have a little time ... time away from all that... time to recover a little ... before I go home."

"Well, there is the long sea trip."

"I'd like you to be with me. I shall stay with you, and I hope you soon find out about your brother."

"So do I. Now I must go and get ready, and so must you. We could ask for hot water to be sent up. I'll see what I can do."

"Annalice."

"Yes."

"It's wonderful to be away ... to have escaped from all that."

I agreed that it was.

He came for us at seven and drove us up to his house in a carriage rather like the buggies we had seen in Sydney, but his was much more grand. It was highly polished and he drove two magnificent horses.

"I use this very little," he told us. "It is easier to go around on horseback. You'll want horses to ride. I'll have two sent up to the hotel for you."

"You overwhelm us," I told him.

"I'm so honoured to have you visit my island."

The day was drawing to an end for the sun set at half past seven. It was like that all the year, I gathered. There were not the seasons which we had at home. No winter; no summer; just the dry and the rainy season; I was glad we were not yet into the latter.

We came to some iron gates which were wide open and then we were in an avenue with high stalks of cane on either side. This was the plantation. I saw the house then. It was large, white and impressive and the scene was touched by the red glow of the setting sun. Everywhere I looked I could see sugar cane.

1 caught my breath in wonder.

"You like it' 7 " he asked.

"It's quite ... splendid.'"

"What were you expecting?"

"Something grand ... but not like this. I've never seen anything like it before."

"You've never been on a sugar plantation. I am glad the mill and the boiler houses are out of sight. They are slightly less beautiful."

We had come to a halt on a gravei path.

"Here we are." He leaped out of the vehicle and as if by magic a man appeared to take charge of the horses: and putting an arm through mine and one through Felicity's, he led us into the house.

We stood in a lofty hall built in the style of an English manor house. It reminded me a little of our own. There were light silk curtains at the windows: heavy velvet would have been out of place in such a climate. There was a long table with elegant chairs round it. It looked eighteenth-century.

**I hope you like my house." he said. "Shall we sit here and have a cooling drink before we go in to dinner?"

"It's just like being at home." said Felicity.

He smiled, well pleased.

Chinks were brought by a silent-footed girl in a long loose-fitting cotton gown with red and white roses patterned on a blue background: about her neck and arms were red beads, "It's a cooling native drink." Milton explained. "Not intoxicating, or not very. It's designed for a hot climate. It tasted delicious.

He asked about the journey and he told us that he had now heard of the tragedy for the news had been brought in by way of the ship.

"The coming of the ship means news from the outside world and there are always plenty to bring it. and here there are those to make sure it is well circulated. It must have been a terrible shock. The bushranger TU ff UM^ is growing. I belie j need have no fears here. We are a law-abiding island. The penalties for misdeeds are so great that no one is going to risk incurring them."

"It would be easier to catch criminals here than it would in Australia." I commented.

"It's true. So you can put your fears at rest."

He told us a great deal about the island and how the sugar was grown and marketed.

He took us to a very pleasant dining room, very much like ours at home. He even had a large tapestry on one of the walls. There were french windows which opened onto a courtyard. He said: "After we have eaten we can sit out there. It is rather pleasant after sundown. I'll give you a fan so that you can ward off the insects. You'U need one in the heat of the day."

The food was unusual. There was a great deal of fish such as I had never tasted before. I had my first introduction to baked breadfruit.

"It's an acquired taste," he said. "You'll find it palatable and get to like it very much in time." There were all sorts of fruit and the special drink of the island.

It was certainly the best meal I had had since leaving home.

After we had finished eating we went into the courtyard where our fans were brought to us. They were beautiful, made of ivory and painted in rich colours. Mine was blue and green—Felicity's red and white.

We exclaimed with pleasure when we saw them.

"Something to remember me by when you find the heat unbearable," he said.

So we sat out there in the scented evening. There were flowers in abundance in the courtyard; red hibiscus, pink jasmine and gladioli.

Sitting there I felt intoxicated with the perfume and the drink which I felt was more potent than he had admitted.

But perhaps I felt this dreamy contentment because I had escaped from the nightmare of William Granville's house, because I was starting on my quest, because it was all so strange and beautiful and because I did enjoy the company of this man.

That night I lay in bed drowsily going over the events of the evening. I could still smell the heavy scent of frangipani, hear the sudden whirring of an insect as it fell against one of the lamps.

"The flying beetle," he had said. "Nothing to worry about. They come in often. They're quite harmless and you get used to them. There are lots of strange things you get to know out here."

And we had sat on in that scented velvety night and I could savour nothing but a deep contentment.

He had brought us back to the hotel at ten o'clock. He said we needed a good night's sleep.

I told him we had slept most of the afternoon.

"A good night's sleep is what you want," he said firmly. So he took us home, along the drive with the cane on either side, down to the harbour. I could hear the clop clop of the horses' hoofs as we came down the slight incline; and I could see the little boats rocking on the water, and the ship, which would sail tomorrow, was still lying there in the bay.

And when I went to bed I tried to ward off sleep because I wanted to go on remembering.

I awoke feeling greatly refreshed. I threw aside my mosquito net, jumped out of bed and drew up the blind. I stepped out onto the balcony. Below me the harbour was already stirring to life. Carts drawn by bullocks were coming in—I presumed from the hills beyond. People with produce to sell were arranging their stalls.

There were several boats on the water—fishing I guessed.

Water was brought to my room and I washed and dressed. Then I knocked on Felicity's door. There was no answer so I went in.

She was lying on her back staring at the ceiling. As I came close I saw the tears on her cheeks.

"Felicity!" I cried in alarm. "What's wrong?"

She said: "He came ... he came in the night ... He came back ... He was here ... just as in that dreadful room."

"You've been dreaming," I told her. "It was nothing but a dream. You're here in Cariba. You loved it yesterday. The harbour is just down there. It looks so exciting."

She began to shiver. "I shall never get away from him," she murmured.

"Listen, Felicity, he's dead. He can't touch you now. That's all over. We're starting again."

She shook her head; her teeth began to chatter and there was a blankness in her eyes. I realized she was not listening to me.

I was horrified and bewildered and uncertain what to do.

My first thoughts had been that she had had a nightmare which, although it left unpleasant effects, could be dispersed with the coming of daylight. It was more than that. She just lay there inert and when I spoke to her she did not seem to hear.

I grew more and more worried. I was realizing that I had been simplifying matters when I thought I could just take her away from the scene of horror and she would forget. She had gone through several ordeals, culminating in the violent death of her husband. I could not expect her to recover from that merely by removing her from the place where she had endured her misery.

I immediately thought of Milton. I needed help and he was the one to give it.

I went downstairs and spoke to the quadroon at the desk.

I said: "My friend is ill. I am very anxious about her. Could a message be sent to Mr. Harrington?"

"But certainly. I will send someone immediately."

"Thank you very much."

She summoned one of the men and he set off without delay.

"The poor lady is sick," said the quadroon. "She seems not very strong."

"Yes," I agreed. "She has had rather a bad time."

"The doctor will soon make her well."

The dark eyes surveyed me with some curiosity. I supposed it was partly Milton Harrington's interest which made us special objects of curiosity. Moreover if they knew of William Granville's sudden death they would know that Felicity was his widow. They would not, therefore, be very surprised to find that her health had suffered.

I went back to Felicity. She was still lying there staring into nothing.

I sat down by her bed and took her hand. I said: "It's all right, Felicity. I'm here to take care of you."

She did not speak but the pressure of her fingers told me that she was reassured.

It was not long before Milton arrived.

He came straight up to my room. I heard his approach and went out to meet him.

"It's Felicity," I said. "She's acting rather strangely. She doesn't seem to be aware—She had a bad night... dreams... nightmares... But it is more than that."

"Shall I see her?" he asked.

She looked up fearfully when he came in.

I said: "It's all right. It's Mr. Harrington. He's come to help."

She clenched her teeth together: "He didn't die ..." she whispered. "He's here..."

I looked at Milton.

"I'll send for Dr. Norton," he said. "I know him well. I'll explain."

"Oh, thank you."

He went out of the room. Felicity just lay there as though unaware of anything that was going on.

I heard him coming back and I went out into the corridor to meet him.

"She's suffering from delayed shock," he said. "It was a terrible ordeal she went through. It's beginning to show now what an effect it has had on her."

"I thought she was getting on so well."

"She left Australia, she came here ... the effort all that entailed could have sustained her. Now that she has arrived it's quiet and the accumulated effect of all that tension begins to show. I daresay all she needs is rest and careful treatment. Norton is a good fellow. He's been out here some years. He came out for a bit of experience five years ago ... and stayed. Hell do the best possible for her."

"I'm very worried about her."

He put his hand on my shoulder. "I'm here. You know you can trust me to look after you .,. both."

I turned away. I felt too moved to speak. I was desperately worried about Felicity.

The doctor arrived and examined her. He gave her something to make her sleep. Milton and I. with the doctor, went downstairs and sat at one of the tables outside the hotel to talk.

Dr. Norton said: "She's in a highly nervous state. We'll have to be careful. She has had some terrible experience."

"Yes." I said. "Her husband died violently and she was with him when it happened."

"The Granville case." explained Milton.

"Oh. I see. That explains a great deal. Poor lady, she seems to be of a rather nervous disposition. It must have been a great grief as well as a shock."

"It was not a happy marriage." I said. "Mrs. Granville could not fit into the life to which she had gone. She had lived quietly in England and had no idea to what she was going."

"I see. We will restore her to health but it may take time. I shall keep her sedated for a few days. After that we will see that she does not have too much excitement. Your room is next to hers. Good. I think she is going to rely on you a great deal."

"I shall be there when she wants me."

"Quiet and rest... and then she should be all right."

"Thank you." I said.

"I've given her something to quieten her. It will make her sleep. I'll send some pills to the hotel at once, and I'll look in tomorrow to see how she is. I think you will find rest is what she needs more than anything. That will restore her peace of mind. You should take charge of the pills I shall send. One each night before retiring. Two might be injurious—more than that fatal. So you should take care of them. Make sure that she cannot get at them. She appears to have a lack of interest in anything at the moment. Give her one pill tonight and that should ensure a good night's rest."

When the doctor left I went in to Felicity. She was lying still, her eyes closed, so I left her and went downstairs. Milton was still there.

"Well?" he asked.

"She's quiet. But I'm terribly worried about her. She looked so wild."

"She looked to me as though she could break down completely. But don't worry. Norton knows what he is about. We re lucky to have him on the island. He keeps talking about going home and we keep persuading him to stay. He's doing an excellent job here. Even the natives regard him as a very special witch doctor with extraordinary powers."

"Thank you for coming."

"My dear Annalice, I am always at your service."

I smiled at him. He seemed different, tender, gentle almost. I warmed towards him—not with that heady excitement which I had felt on some occasions but with something deeper.

"Sit down for a moment," he said. "You must not let this make you ill, you know. You have to be the strong woman, the comforter, the healer, the good nurse. It would be an excellent idea if you moved up to my place."

"I must stay here."

"You would be more comfortable there ... and so would Felicity."

"No. I must be here."

"You say that with such finality that I know you are determined. You are an obstinate woman."

"I suppose I am and I'm sorry to be so ungracious."

"We should allow ourselves to be frank. I know why you won't come. You want to pursue your enquiries, for one thing, and the other is that it might not be comme il faut. Conventions are not so rigid here as they are in Merrie England. You think I am not to be trusted, and I'll tell you a secret as we are being frank. I'm not."

I laughed and I realized it was the first time I had done so since I had gone into Felicity's room and found her lying there lost and bewildered.

"Sit down here," he said. "Watch the harbour ... its very bustle will make you feel sleepy."

"Yes," I agreed. "It has that effect. I am sorry for calling you in. I could have sent for the doctor. I must have called you away from your work."

"It would always be a pleasure to be called by you."

I shrugged the remark aside. I felt this was no time for light flirtation.

He was serious at once. "Know always that if you are in difficulties I am here to help."

"I am grateful."

"One day," he said, "I shall want more than your gratitude."

"Please ... not now ..."

"I was merely stating a fact. I can see how worried you are. Whatever happens I'll look after you."

"Thank you," I said.

"All this is understandable. She was actually present when he fell and killed himself."

I nodded. Then I burst out: "It was not only that. That was just the climax. It was before..."

He was looking at me wonderingly.

Then because I was overwrought, because I felt I must make him understand, I found myself blurting out everything ... the arrival at the house, the presence of Mrs. Maken, those terrible nights which Felicity had had to endure in the room with the balcony, the participation of Mrs. Maken, the stolid acceptance of Felicity, her pent-up emotions about matters of which she could not even talk to me.

"He had an evil reputation. Drink and women. But one does not always pay a great deal of attention to scandal and rumours."

"In his case no rumour could have been bad enough."

I told him about the guns and how one night he had come into my room and I had threatened to shoot him.

"Good God!" he ejaculated.

"I should have done so, too," I said. "I never thought I could kill anyone, but I believe I would have killed him. I said I would shoot him in the leg... cripple him... and that frightened him. He knew that I meant it and that I was a fairly good shot."

"If I had known ..."

"What could you have done?"

"I should never have let you go with him."

"How could I have left Felicity? She is frail and gentle. She couldn't take care of herself and yet..."

He said: "That night ... on the balcony ..."

"They said he was about to take aim at what he thought were bushrangers."

"And there were no bushrangers?"

"I don't know. I think she had come to the end of her endurance. There was a struggle and the gun went off and he fell."

"No wonder she is in this state. I'm glad you brought her here. We'll take care of her together."

My lips trembled a little. I said: "I'm glad we're here... with you. How can I thank you."

"You just have," he said, "in a way which means more to me than anything."

We sat there in silence for some minutes looking out over the harbour. I hardly saw it. I was back in that house. I was reliving it all again. I would never forget. How much more deeply had it affected Felicity!

The doctor's assistant came with the pills. I took them to my room and hid them at the back of one of my drawers beside the map.

Then I went to Felicity. I sat beside her for some little time. She was sleeping peacefully.

When I went downstairs Milton was still there.

"She's asleep," I said.

He nodded. "That's what she needs. We'll have lunch together and then I shall send you to rest. Siesta is the order of the day here. In the afternoon it is too hot to do anything else but sleep. Everything is silent from two o'clock until four. This evening I shall come to see how you both are."

"Thanks—again thank you," I said.

I could eat nothing more than a little fruit. I was very shaken by Felicity's state. That blank look in her eyes had worried me more than anything.

Milton seemed to understand my mood. He tried to divert my attention by telling me stories of the island, the plantation, the habits and customs of the people. Sometimes he made me smile faintly; and all the time I was overwhelmed by my gratitude towards him.

I kept asking myself what I should have done had he not been here.

After he had left I went to my room, first looking in on Felicity. She was lying on her back with her eyes closed, and there was a look of tranquillity on her face.

I could not sleep. I kept turning over and over in my mind all sorts of possibilities. What if she were really ill? What if she lost her reason? What should I do? She was my responsibility. I thought comfortingly: He is there. He will help.

And thinking of him I was able to doze a little.

Felicity slept through the day. At sundown I went in and sat up by her bed. She opened her eyes and smiled at me.

"I feel tired ... so tired," she said.

"You need rest," I told her. "Sleep all you can."

She smiled and closed her eyes.

I went downstairs. Milton was there. He asked about Felicity and I told him she was sleeping all the time.

"It's what she needs," he said.

We dined together in the hotel. I was rather silent but he talked cheerfully and somehow I got through the evening. When he said good night, he took my hands and kissed me tenderly on the cheek.

"Don't forget, if you are frightened, you only have to send for me.

I went up to my room and from the balcony watched him ride away. He turned to wave, putting his fingers to his lips and then blowing a kiss towards me.

I smiled and waved. Then he was gone.

I went to Felicity's room.

"Is it night now?" she asked.

"Yes."

"I'm afraid of the night."

"There's no need to be now you are here in Cariba."

"I dream ... nightmares."

"Remember I'm next door. The walls are thin. Just knock if you wake ... and I'll come in."

"Oh yes ... I will. You are so kind to me, Annalice."

"Nonsense. I'm looking after you and I fancy I am rather good at that."

I settled her down and adjusted the net over her bed.

"I feel shut in," she said. "Just like ..."

"You're miles away from there. That's all behind you. This is quite different and remember I am on the other side of the wall."

I kissed her lightly and sat beside her till she slept and then went to my room. I was really very tired.

It must have been about two o'clock when I was awakened by the knocking on the wall. I hastily rose and putting on my dressing gown went into Felicity's room.

She was sitting up and wildly staring about her.

"No, no," she was moaning.

"It's all right," I cried. "I heard the knock. I'm here. Was it a dream?"

"He came in ... " she stammered. "The whisky ... I could smell it. I hate whisky because ... because ..."

"Listen to me," I said. "It's all over now. You've got to forget it. As soon as you can you'll be all right. There's so much to do here. It's such a lot of fun really. Milton is ready to help us. All you have to do is get well. I'll give you a pill," I went on. "The doctor said you might have one ... only one ... each night. Perhaps I should have given you one before I went to bed but you were sleeping so peacefully. However, I'll give you one now. It will make you sleep and give you pleasant dreams."

I went to my room and brought the pill to her. She took it obediently.

"I'm here ... in Cariba, aren't I. You're with me and he's dead ... dead. He was lying there with all the blood round him ..."

"He's dead," I said, "and buried. That is the end of him. He can never torment you again. He's gone and we are here; and that is all that matters."

She said: "Yes."

"Now lie still, close your eyes. I shall stay here until you are asleep."

"Will you promise to?"

"I promise and if you have a bad dream all you have to say is: This is only a dream.' And if you need me, all you have to do is knock on the wall."

"Yes... yes... that's all. It's all right, isn't it? It's all right."

"It's all right," I repeated.

She lay still murmuring: "It's all right ..."

The pill took effect quickly and soon she was breathing easily. She would soon be asleep.

Then I heard her say something. "Raymond ... why ... if only... Oh, Raymond..."

I sat there looking at her.

I thought: If I had never gone to the conference... If I had never met Raymond ... none of this would have happened.

She was fast asleep and I rose and went to my room.

I could not sleep. I was thinking what a tangle we had got ourselves into. She loved Raymond. What she needed more than anything now was Raymond to come and say that he loved her.

Fervently I wished he would because it was becoming increasingly clear to me that if I said goodbye and sailed away from Cariba— and by that I meant Milton Harrington—I should never be completely happy again.

Next morning, as soon as I was up, I went to see Felicity. She looked blank but at least she was quiet in her mind.

I went downstairs and ate breakfast in the courtyard at the back of the hotel. It consisted of yams with fresh bread and coconut milk. While I was eating it the quadroon girl came out and asked about Felicity.

I told her the doctor would be coming later, and that Felicity seemed a little better but was still very tired.

"If you need anything, ask me," said the girl. "I'm Rosa. I know people here."

"Yes, I suppose so. In your job you see everyone who comes into the hotel:'

"Poor Mrs. Granville. She looks so ill."

"She'll soon be better, we hope."

"Mr. Harrington is really concerned for her... and for you."

"He has been very kind and helpful to us."

"He is a very important man. The island depends on him. We don't forget that... nor does he."

Was that a faint criticism? I wondered.

I merely nodded.

"The plantation is good for the island. All this prosperity ..." She waved her hand.

"Yes, that must be true."

"So many people want sugar ... so many people. Our plantation is bigger than Manuel's on Second Island."

"That's the island closest to this is it? The next biggest of the group?"

She nodded. "Mr. Manuel ... he died not long ago. Mr. Harrington was in England then. Mrs. Magda ... she manage it now. She very clever lady."

"How interesting. I want to see the other islands while I am here."

"Perhaps Mr. Harrington will take you to Second Island, yes? Perhaps not."

She seemed to find the situation amusing, then she said suddenly: "Forgive me ... I have work."

I sat back thinking about the other island and wondering what was significant about Mrs. Magda Manuel which had seemed to provide Rosa with some amusement.

I finished breakfast and then went to take another look at Felicity. She opened her eyes as I entered and I asked if she would like a little breakfast. To my joy she said she would and I went down and asked them to bring up some milk, fruit and bread.

I sat with her while she ate it. She seemed much better and did not refer to my visit during the night; and indeed appeared to have forgotten it. She said she still felt tired and I told her that was probably due to the medicine and she clearly needed sleep.

I sat with her until she slept and then went down. I came out to the front of the hotel and stood for a moment looking at the harbour. Several people were seated on chairs on the raised terrace in front of the hotel. Sunshades had been put up over the tables which gave the place the look of a Continental cafe. People were sipping liquid from glasses—the cool drink of the island, I supposed—or perhaps the

hotel had other wines to offer. But it seemed odd to be drinking wine so early in the morning. Other lands, other customs, I murmured to myself.

I sat down in one of the chairs and a waiter came up to me and asked if I wanted anything. I told him I did not.

I said: "What a lovely morning," and he replied that it would be very hot later. "When you see the mist over the island you know what is to come."

He was like most of the people on the island, very responsive to a show of friendliness. They all seemed to enjoy talking and laughing.

I asked him what his name was and he told me it was Obadiah.

"A good biblical name," I commented.

"Oh... we're Christian, Mistress. We've been to the Mission School."

"On this island?"

"Oh yes. It's here for the little ones. They go to Mission School. They learn about God and how to add up. They're educated."

"Have you been in the island long, Obadiah?"

He burst out laughing as though that were a huge joke.

"Why, Missie Lady, you must be joking. I was born here. People don't come to Cariba... not unless they is ladies like yourself or here for business... or holiday ... Our sort, we gets born here."

"And you have worked in this hotel for some time, I gather."

"Why, bless you, Missie Lady, I was working here when I was no higher than that." He indicated the height of a boy about ten years old. "Opening doors, I were, all dressed up in my fancy clothes. I was proud and happy all the day. Master he said to me: 4 You work hard, Obadiah, and there's no knowing where you can get to.' That weren't this master. Twere the other."

"Oh ... the other?"

"This 'un's Pa. A big fine fellow, like Master. 'E were Master's Pa. And now it's for Master to get himself a wife and a little 'un or two so's the plantation goes on."

"I see. Master is Mr. Harrington."

"Oh yes, he's Master. Owns about everything here, he does. He's the big man. He's the master. We want to see him with a wife and little 'uns."

"So he has no wife yet."

"No, Missie Lady, no wife. We thought when he came back he would bring one of them with him. They always likes wives to come across the sea. Nothing here fits the likes of the Master ... not for a wife, that is. Though there be Mrs. Manuel. But, you see, she wasn't free when he went away. Different story now."

Here was Mrs. Manuel again! I gathered she was a good friend of Milton Harrington. I felt a little stab of something like concern. Jealousy? Uneasiness? I really was letting myself become involved with that man.

"And what of Mrs. Manuel now?" I asked.

"Oh, well... we'll be seeing now. It's good. Master coming back without a wife ... perhaps."

"You mean Mrs. Manuel is now free to become the Master's wife?"

"Master don't like talk about himself."

"Who does?"

He put his finger to his nose which I construed as meaning that he was realizing he had been a little indiscreet and he would prefer me to keep what he had said to myself.

I nodded in response and I went on, changing the subject: "Obadiah, can you remember back... about two years?"

"Two years. Why ... what's that for?"

"You'd remember people who stayed here, wouldn't you? People from over the seas?"

Obadiah tapped his head and grinned. "It's all up here," he said. "I remember back years and years."

"Do you remember a gentleman who stayed here for a while? A Mr. Philip Mallory?"

"A Mr. Philip Mallory. Now... that seems to bring back something."

"He was a young man who stayed here. It was about two years ago."

Obadiah rolled his eyes upwards and said: "Surely. I can remember him. A very pleasant gentleman."

"He was my brother."

"Your brother, Missie Lady, you don't say!"

"You must have seen him often."

"Oh yes. I see him."

"And what happened?"

"Well, he were here ... and then he weren't here."

"Where did he go? Have you any idea?"

Obadiah scratched his head thoughtfully.

"Wasn't he one of them that do charts?"

"That's right," I said eagerly.

"Oh well, he went off charting, I reckon."

"How did he go? Where did he go?"

"He just went."

"Did anyone go with him?"

"Oh, I couldn't say as to that."

"Try to think. How long did he stay here?"

Obadiah shook his head. "Could have been one week. Could have been two... and then again it might have been three or four ..."

"But you just said he went away. He didn't say where he was going. He didn't just walk out. He must have paid his bill."

"Oh, I don't know nothing about that. Bills has nothing to do with old Obadiah."

I could see I was not going to get any further with him. But he did remember Philip. That was something. There might be others at the hotel who remembered more.

I talked to several of them that morning. Most of them remembered Philip, but there did not seem to have been anything mysterious about his departure. He had just come and gone as all other visitors to the hotel did.

I wandered down to the waterfront. But I could scarcely walk up to people there and ask them if they remembered my brother. I felt frustrated, wondering if I would ever discover anything. I had pinned my hopes on Cariba and now I was here 1 seemed to have come to a full stop. Moreover there was Felicity to consider.

I walked disconsolately back to the hotel. As I mounted the steps I was met by Milton Harrington.

"I've brought a horse for you," he said. "I've arranged for it to be kept in the stables here. Come and have a look at her. How is Felicity?"

"She seems a little better. She sleeps most of the time but she seems quieter in her mind."

"Good. That's what we want."

I followed him to the stables which were at the back of the hotel, and he showed me a pleasant little chestnut mare. "Her name is Excelsior. Don't you think that is rather pleasant?"

"Very," I said.

"Don't take her out in the afternoons. It's too hot for her and for you. She is sure-footed and understands the country. She's mild and friendly."

"Of excellent character. I don't know how to thank you."

He looked at me steadily and said: "You'll find ways of expressing your gratitude."

I was silent and he went on: "In fact it is I who should be grateful to you. I am very happy because you are here. I hope you will stay a very long time."

"But I have been here for such a short one. Who knows, if I stay too long, you might want to get rid of me."

"Never. I want to marry and that would mean that you would stay with me for the rest of our lives."

"Marry me!"

"Don't look so startled. Surely you can't be. You knew my intentions."

"I knew some of them, but I was not sure that they included marriage."

"Have you been listening to tales of me?"

"Are there such tales?"

"Aren't there always? No one is immune from scandal."

"Especially someone of your importance. I have been hearing about your power, this morning."

"Oh?"

"Someone called Obadiah. He seems to hold you in great awe."

He said: "This is no place to talk of serious matters." He led me into the hall.

Rosa looked up from the counter smiling at us.

"We are going through," he said.

"There is no one there, Mr. Harrington," she replied.

"We want to talk privately. See that no one comes."

"Very good, Mr. Harrington."

She was smiling her secret smile, speculating no doubt.

He opened the door of a small room which looked over the harbour. There was a balcony with chairs on it. He shut the door and we went onto the balcony.

"We can be quiet here," he said.

"You seem to command absolute obedience here."

"Of course."

"Your natural heritage, I presume."

"Now let's be serious. I want you here... with me... forever. I want you to marry me."

"Did you go to England to look for a wife?"

"I suppose every man is subconsciously looking for a wife as soon as he understands what life is all about."

"Your search was unsuccessful then?"

"On the contrary. I found my wife on the ship coming from England, so the mission—if mission there was—was highly successful."

"Not unless she agreed. You seem to have qualms about that."

He came closer to me and put his arm about my shoulders. "I never accept defeat."

"That's a bold statement. The most determined have now and then been disappointed in their hopes."

"I know you, my dearest Annalice. You really want me... but

you won't let yourself believe it. Your experiences in Australia have affected you as well as Felicity. But life is not like that. That was not a real marriage.

"Naturally I don't think all marriages are like that—otherwise we should have a world of maniacs."

"Listen to me," he said. "You'll find the islands interesting for a while. My plan is to sell up the plantation and go home to England. We shall have to see about the children's education and we shall need to be home for that. We wouldn't want them to leave us and go away to school on the other side of the world."

I said: "I must remind you that I am engaged ... in a way ... to someone else."

"Someone who lets you go so far away!"

"There was a reason."

"What reason?"

"It is really between myself and my fiance."

"/ should never have let you go."

"I make up my own mind, you know."

"So you made up your mind to leave him. He must be what they call a laggard in love. You would find me very different."

"I have seen you here and on the ship and in Sydney," I replied. "Here you are like some little God. People are in awe of you, bowing down, almost worshipping you... and yet you behave like a callow youth in some ways."

"In love, you mean?"

"Yes. Imagining you only have to speak to me of marriage and I will thrust everything aside and say, Thank you very much.'"

"That's love," he answered. "Don't keep me in the dark. Why did you come here? And why did this fiance allow it?"

"He helped me to come."

"Why did he want you out of his way for months?"

"He helped me to come because he knew how important it was for me to do so. I will explain."

I told him about the discovery of the map and Philip's obsession with the island.

"He came out here and disappeared. I want to find out why and whether he is alive. He is my brother and we were more close to each other than most brothers and sisters. I cannot rest until I know what happened to him."

"Didn't he write?"

"His last letter was from Australia. He mentioned in it that he was going to some island and I know now that he came here to

Cariba. What I have to find out is where he went after that and what happened to him."

"You have a map, you say?"

"Yes, a copy of the one which was found in our house. I made it. It is an accurate copy. I have some knowledge of these things."

"Have you the map with you?"

"Yes. Shall I get it?"

He nodded.

I went to my room, found the map and brought it to him.

"The Paradise Island," he murmured. "This map is not correct. There is no such island."

"But it is there on the map."

"Who made the original map?"

I then told him how the room had been walled up and when it was taken down we found the map with the journal.

"You're bemused," he said, "because this girl had a name more or less the same as yours. My dear Annalice, you are a romantic after all. I am so pleased to discover this streak in you. There was a time when I thought you were all hard common sense."

"Wouldn't you have been intrigued by such a discovery?"

"Most certainly. So your brother came out on the quest and most mysteriously disappeared. He stayed here a short while... presumably he booked in like every other visitor. Where did he go from here? That is what is going to be difficult to find out. But this island ... if it exists, should not be hard to discover. You have the map. Look at it. Here we are." He pointed with his finger. "Here is Cariba, and the other islands. Here is the one which is a little apart from us and then... how far would you say this Paradise Island is? Thirty miles... according to this map. I have sailed these seas... frequently. I would say there is no land—north, south, east or west for at least one hundred miles."

"What does it mean?"

"That whoever made this map put in an island which did not exist."

"I believe it is somewhere. There could be an error as to where. You see, the map was made from memory. Long ago the man who made the original visited this island when he was shipwrecked... and he made the map from memory afterwards."

"Coming from a family of map makers you would know that to trust to memory is no way to make maps."

"I know, I know. But there must be a reason behind all this."

"Unless your man dreamed up the island."

"That is a possibility. He was shipwrecked after visiting the island. He was picked up in an exhausted state."

"Dreams perhaps. Hallucinations."

"I had thought of that. But where is Philip?"

"Several things could have happened to him. He could have been wrecked at sea. You have been in the outback. You see that life is cheaper in some places than in others. He could have fallen among thieves. There are countless possibilities."

"What can I do?"

"Call in help," he said.

"Where from?"

"Here."

"Are you offering your services?"

"Didn't you know I was yours to command?"

I felt so happy that I could not hide the fact. I looked at him and I knew that gratitude shone from my eyes. I was going to shed a tear in a moment, if I were not careful.

He saw it and said: "How I love you. In all moods I love you. Determined and strong and sometimes faintly acid. And now tremulous and sweet—and let's admit it, rather helpless."

He put his arms round me and held me against him.

"Admit this, too," he said. "You'd be rather pleased if I came into the project."

"I just have a notion that you will succeed in everything you undertake."

"It could be well for you to remember that."

"I should be so glad of your help."

"Well," he said, "the first thing we must do is see if we can find that island. We need a fairly large boat... not like the one you came in from Sydney, of course ... but not just a little rowing boat. We'll take the map with us and we'll go off. The first thing to do is to satisfy yourself that there is no island, at least not in the spot indicated on the map."

"Thank you. Oh thank you."

"There is one thing to be considered," he went on. "When you have solved this mystery, will you return to England?"

"That is my plan."

"And marry the young man who is quite happy to lose you for months... in fact has helped to arrange it?"

"He is very understanding. He knows that I will never settle down until I find out what has happened to Philip."

"So he lets you go off..."

"He understood ... perfectly."

"I should never have let you go alone. I should have come with you."

"When shall we go on this boat trip?"

"It will depend on the weather. Leave it to me. In the meantime I shall try to find out all I can about your brother's stay on this island. Also I want to show you something of the island. I shall pick you up at five o'clock this afternoon. It will be cooler then. I want to show you the plantation, and you will dine with me. I advise you to stay in your room during the heat of the day."

He stood up. I rose with him. He took both my hands in his.

"If it is possible to find out where your brother is. we shall do it." he said. "Come with me."

We went out to the desk where Rosa was sitting smiling to herself.

He said he wished to speak to Mr. Selincourt and Rosa immediately left the desk to find that gentleman. In due course we were ushered into a room where Milton was greeted effusively by a short coffee-coloured man. to whom I was introduced and who turned out to be Mr. Selincourt. the manager of the hotel.

Milton asked to see the records of the last three years and I could see roughly at what time Philip must have come here. There was his name in the book. He had stayed here three weeks.

Mr. Selincourt remembered him. He had been a very agreeable guest. Yes. he had paid his bills: no. there had been no mysterious disappearance. He had paid his bill like anyone else and left.

"Did he leave on the boat to Sydney?" I asked.

Mr. Selincourt said that was the likeliest possibility'. But according to the date of his departure he had not left on the day the boat called. He had left on a Sunday. That was strange.

No, Mr. Selincourt had not seen him leave. He would make enquiries of his staff to see if any of them remembered.

This seemed good progress—and it was all due to Milton Harrington.

In spite of my anxiety about Felicity. I felt rather elated.

My hopes ran high during the days which followed even though Mr. Selincourt's enquiries among his staff produced nothing. No one saw Philip leave. He had just been there and then he had gone. But as he had left on a Sunday he could not have gone on the Sydney ship.

That was disconcerting, but Milton was sure we should find some clues which would lead to his discovery sooner or later. And at least I was doing something about finding him.

I was no longer so acutely worried about Felicity. She was very

quiet and aloof, but she was better. She liked to stay in her room and had ceased to have those fearful nightmares. The doctor had warned me that they could return at any time and probably would, so I must be prepared. She needed to be soothed and assured all the time.

She slept a great deal which was what the doctor wished for her. She was mentally as well as physically exhausted, and she needed sleep and complete peace to recover.

I was seeing Milton Harrington every day; he would come to ask after Felicity and take me off somewhere. I rode round the island with him on my newly acquired mare and I began to enjoy the days.

He had taken me round his plantation which was an entirely novel experience. I had no idea how sugar was produced and because of the enthusiasm he brought to everything, he made it sound completely fascinating.

We walked on foot through the little paths between the canes— some of them dwarfing us by their height, for they were at least twelve feet high and about an inch and a half thick. He explained how the climate was just right for sugar—warm, moist, with sea breezes and some very hot spells. I had a peep at the roller mills which looked formidable, and at the boiler house. The people—mostly natives of the island—stopped their work to grin at me. One of them showed me a mongoose who was there to keep down the rats and the white ants which were the plague of the plantation.

I said: "You would hate to leave all this. It is your life."

"No, no," he said. "It's a means to an end. My father started the plantation. He made a success of it. He made the island what it is today. I have gone on with it. But his plan was to go home when the moment was ripe. That moment never came to him, but it will to me."

"All these people depend on you."

"I should not go until I found the right person to take over my place..."

"Then you will."

"You know, there is one thing—even more important—that I am determined on."

"What is that?"

"You."

"That is not so easy."

"No. But not insuperable."

"I know you believe you could never fail."

"It's a good way to live."

"Tell me more about the plantation."

Blithely he went on to explain the system of pan boiling.

After our tour of the plantation, I dined with him again.

He said: "When you are tired of the hotel you can always be my guests— you and Felicity."

The hotel is comfortable," I replied. "They take good care of Felicity and really seem concerned about her. She only has to ring a bell and they are on the spot. And the view of the harbour is fascinating. It constantly changes."

There came the day when we took our sea trip. I could safely leave Felicity in the care of the hotel staff, so I set off without any fears about her and greatly looked forward to what we might discover.

It was not a large boat, but there were three men to manage it. I had the map with me. We made our way through the islands and for the first time I had a better view of that one which was a little apart.

"That's Lion Island," explained Milton. "You'll see why in a moment There is a little bay and the cliff rises high above. From some way out it looks just like a reclining lion."

There is a boat there. Is that a house?"

"Yes. The island is owned by a rich mining family from Australia. A sort of holiday island. They are not there very often, I gather. They keep themselves to themselves. There! You can see the reclining lion now."

We watched the reclining lion from afar and did not go any nearer to the island.

Soon we had left the group behind us.

"You need a fairly sturdy boat to come out here," said Milton. "A squall can blow up in no time. A flimsy boat could soon be overturned. Perhaps that was what happened to your brother."

I was silent. It was difficult to believe that now. The sea was so calm; there was scarcely a movement. I saw flying fishes skim the water and then rest lightly upon it. In the distance I caught a glimpse of dolphins at play. It was a beautifully peaceful scene.

Milton was holding the map in his hand.

"Now, according to my reckoning, this is where the island should be. You can see for miles. There's no sign of any land."

"Nothing," I said. "Nothing but the deep blue sea."

"We'll tour round a little if you like ... but there is nothing... nothing at all. There has been an error somewhere."

I shook my head. "I think I shall have to come to the conclusion that there is no island. I can't understand it. That's an absolute copy of the map we found."

"I suppose your brother had the one you found?"

"Yes. He took it with him."

"Well, there it is. There is nothing here ... We'll have to give up the search, I'm afraid. So... back to Cariba."

I looked at that vast expanse of water and I thought of the young man shipwrecked, dazed, drifting on a quiet sea. How long he had drifted, he did not know. Had he become delirious? Had he dreamed of an island where everything was perfect? Perhaps he had died for a few brief moments and gone to paradise and then had come back to life to dream of an island that was lost to him.

The sea was so beautiful, so calm on this day. How different it must have been at the time of his shipwreck. The deep blue sea changed in certain places where it appeared to be lightish green. Looking back I saw patches of that colour on the surface of the water.

I was about to call Milton's attention to this when he said: k4 We were lucky the weather was so good to us. Look. You can see Lion Island in the distance."

So I looked and forgot about the colours of the sea.

I felt vaguely depressed because I had to be convinced now that there was no island. It was a dream which had been conjured up in the mind of a shipwrecked man.

The days were passing—lazy days full of bright colours and the sound of continual chatter and spurts of laughter coming from the harbour where people ran about among the bullock carts. What excuse was there to stay? I could discover nothing of any significance about Philip. It had been proved that the island did not exist—at least not where it was supposed to be according to the map.

There was Felicity, of course.

I said to myself: "We cannot leave here until she is well."

And I wanted to stay—of course, I wanted to stay. I wanted to see Milton Harrington every day. I wanted to bask in his admiration, in his passionate absorption with me. It was vanity of course, but I could not help it.

I liked to watch him from my balcony window when he came riding up to the hotel. I was proud of the respect he inspired. People stood aside for him. In this island he was all powerful—the King among them all, the man from whom their comforts flowed, for the prosperity of the island came from the plantation, and he was the plantation; he was the island.

Then he would catch sight of me on the balcony and pause and smile and I would see the glint of his blue eyes in his bronzed face. I should scarcely have been human if I had not been gratified by the attentions of such a man.

To what was it leading? I was not sure. And the very uncertainty added to the fascination. But I should have to go home. I should leave

this exotic life behind me. It would be something to remember all my life, but a life which did not include him would seem very dreary to me.

So ... I did not want to think about the future. I just wanted to revel in the present.

Felicity was a little better. On the previous day she had sat with me in the courtyard in the late afternoon when the sun had lost some of its fierceness. She shrank a little if any stranger spoke to her; but at least she had left her room for a while.

She was still getting the occasional nightmare. I slept lightly. I think I was listening for the tap on the wall even when I slept. It came now and then and I would leap out of bed and go to her. The horror in her eyes when she came out of those dreams haunted me, and I knew that it was going to take a long time for her to recover.

But it was comforting to know that she was a little better.

She would talk to the chambermaid who looked after our rooms and brought up our hot water and food for Felicity. I often had my lunch with her. She slept late in the mornings so I breakfasted downstairs and if I was going out, which I often did in the company of Milton, I would ask Maria to keep an eye on her, and if she should ask for me tell her I should not be away long.

Maria was talkative and eager to help. She was perhaps not the best of workers but she had a pleasing personality. She was young and slender with long black hair and laughing dark eyes and a light brown skin; her bead necklaces and bracelets jangled as she walked.

She would roll her eyes round as she talked and life seemed a great joke to her. Even when she was recounting some disaster she would laugh. She liked to keep us up to date with what was happening in the island. We learned that a certain Sam had hurt himself badly when he fell on the stubs of cut cane. "Cut about he was," she told us with a high-pitched giggle. "Hands and face bleeding. He'll be marked for the rest of his days." Then there was old Mrs. Joppa who was knocked down by a bullock cart which provided the same kind of mirth.

This laugh followed every item of news—joyous or tragic. I presumed it was a habit and of no significance.

Maria had a lover. One day she was going to join him in Brisbane where he was working on a property. Sabrino was going to have a property of his own one day ... just a little one for a start. Then Maria would join him. They were both saving their money to make that dream a possibility.

I listened attentively. Sabrino, it seemed, was the most handsome man in the world. He had been born in Cariba, but Cariba was no place for Sabrino; Maria lived for the day when she would join him.

The only time she was serious was when she talked of Sabrino.

She used to linger in my room. She was very interested in my clothes. Once I found her rummaging in my cupboard. I expressed surprise but could not really be angry with her, for her curiosity was so natural and she was so eager to please.

One morning I was sitting on the balcony when a very striking-looking woman came into the hotel. She was tall and her dark hair was piled high on her head; she walked with the exquisite grace such as I had noticed among the women of the island. But she was very different from the others. I felt she was of some importance and I had formed that opinion merely by seeing her walk through the crowd. She wore a white clinging gown and there was a gold chain about her neck.

I decided to ask Maria who she was when I next saw her. Maria would be sure to know.

To my amazement Maria came to my room. That was another habit of hers. She would come in without knocking, and although I had asked her to remember to do so, she often forgot.

"Miss Mallory," she said in a high-pitched excited voice and she appeared to be so consumed with laughter that she could scarcely speak, "there's a lady downstairs asking for you. She's come to call on you."

"Oh, who is she?"

Maria was so overcome that for a few seconds she was speechless.

"It's Mrs. Manuel," she burst out at length.

"Is that the lady I saw a little while ago? Tall, dark, in white?"

Maria nodded.

"I'll come down," I said.

Mrs. Manuel was seated in the reception area and I was aware of Rosa behind the desk, and several of them standing there, tense as though waiting for something extraordinary to happen.

She rose when I appeared.

"Miss Mallory," she said, "I have come to see you. I am Magda Manuel."

"Oh, how nice to meet you. I've heard of you."

"Everybody hears everything on these islands."

"I have heard about you from Milton Harrington."

There was silence about us. They were all listening intently as though there was something of great significance about this meeting.

"Perhaps we could go somewhere and talk," I said.

Rosa betrayed the fact that she had been listening by saying guilelessly: "Oh yes, Miss Mallory. Come this way."

She led us to the room with the balcony overlooking the harbour where I had once talked to Milton.

"You would like some refreshment?" I asked.

"Yes please."

Rosa said she would bring Lalu, which was the name of the local drink which was made of fruit and was only slightly alcoholic— the perfect drink for a hot day which was obviously why it was so popular.

We sat together side by side on the balcony.

"I have been meaning to call on you for some time," she said. "But we are so busy on the plantation."

"The plantation?"

"Oh, didn't you know. I come from Second Island. We have our plantation there. Not as big as the one here ... but there is a great deal to do in it. I can't keep my work people in order as Milton does his. I lack the touch ... so did my husband. Milton has taught us a few things."

"So you have a sugar plantation, too."

"Oh yes... It's a little too much. I lost my husband quite recently. I don't know how I could carry on without Milton's help."

The refreshment was brought by one of the men who seemed reluctant to leave us. I had a notion that beyond this room they were all talking about the meeting between myself and Magda Manuel.

"Milton was talking about you and I thought I'd call," she said. "You must visit me. Come to dinner. I believe you have a friend with you."

"Yes. But she has been very ill and still is."

"I heard about that terrible business in Australia." She looked at me apologetically. "You see, news travels fast here. It hasn't far to go."

"She is not well enough to see anyone just yet, but she is improving."

"You haven't been to Second Island yet, have you? I know you haven't or I should have heard."

"No, but I have often looked at it. It seems green and inviting."

"The green is the cane ..."

"Are you managing the plantation yourself?"

"Not exactly. I have a good man. George Callerby. He was my husband's right-hand man. So many things go wrong in a plantation. Storms can beat down the canes; rats and white ants can eat them; the boilers give up at the wrong moment and the mills grind to a halt. Milton has all his under control and the best equipment... and most of all a way of handling people. He rules with the iron hand in the velvet glove. I have never known how people achieve that. Nor did my husband. He used to say Milton had a genius for these things. These people must know who is master. They've got to respect you, otherwise they'll slack and you'll find them half asleep with their

cutters in their hands. But I am boring you with all this talk of business. What I want to know is, will you dine with us?"

"I should enjoy that."

"I'll fix a date. Milton will row you over. It is not really far. I've wanted to meet you so much but I have been busy. You see, my husband died only a few months ago. It was while Milton was in England."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"He was ailing for a long time, so it wasn't unexpected. Til let you know the date. It will probably be next week. That will be all right, won't it? You're not thinking of leaving us yet?"

"I shall have to go soon, I suppose. But I want to make sure that Mrs. Granville is fit to travel."

"Of course."

She rose. She was very gracious and graceful; the gold glinted in her ears and the sun caught it about her neck. She was a very beautiful woman.

I walked with her through the reception room to the door of the hotel.

I was very much aware of the eyes which followed us. I was sure that as soon as we were out of sight, the whispering would begin.

I went up to my room.

Maria was there, making a great play with a duster, but apparently doing very little.

I spoke to Milton about Magda when I saw him that evening. I wondered whether he had spent the day with her.

He had come to have dinner with me which he usually did. He often asked me to go out to his house, but I was wary of doing this and I did not care to leave Felicity alone in the hotel for too long. I wanted to be somewhere within call if possible.

We sat in the courtyard before dinner and I said to him: "I had a visitor this morning. A friend of yours."

"Magda," he said.

"She told you?"

"Yes."

"I suppose she called on you after she left me."

"She came up, yes."

"She tells me they have a plantation on that island."

"That's right. Smaller than this one."

"She told me that, too. She manages it on her own."

"She has a very good man in George Callerby. Jose Manuel wasn't meant for it. He should never have taken it up."

"She said you had been helpful to them." "I gave a bit of advice... when Jose was alive." "I gather that he died while you were in England." "I can see she has brought you up to date with the news." "Everyone here seems to be very amused that she should come to see me."

"They are easily amused." "They seemed to find this especially hilarious." He looked at me sardonically. "Magda has been almost a widow for some time. She had a hard life. Jose was injured in his mill. Something went wrong and he wasn't experienced enough to handle it properly. He was badly hurt and had been an invalid for four years." "And you were a great friend of his and helped him a good deal." "I found George Callerby for them. He is an excellent man." I could imagine it so clearly. The husband who was no husband; the vibrant woman, young and beautiful, and Milton's going over to their island to help them, being the good friend... especially to Magda.

And of course the islanders would know. There was little they did not know. Perhaps they had thought that now Jose was dead, Milton would marry his widow. Then ... I had appeared. Oh yes, it was very clear to me.

I had a rival. I could not stop thinking of her sinuous beauty, which made me feel almost clumsy in comparison. She had dignity and good looks. She fitted into this island life far better than I would. I wondered what he felt about Magda. I fancied his voice had softened a little when he spoke of her and I was aware of twinges of jealousy. It was absurd. I kept telling myself that as soon as Felicity was well enough I would go home and marry Raymond.

He was saying: "We are going to do a little bit of diving tomorrow. Would you like to see it?" "Diving?"

"Yes... it's at sunrise tomorrow. We have some oyster beds on the south of the island. Occasionally we find a few really fine pearls. Not enough really to make an industry of it. So ... we just amuse ourselves and hope that one day we shall come up with a pearl of great price."

"I should like to see it. Who does the diving?" "We have divers. They have to be rather skilled. I have been down on occasions but I don't make a practice of it. It is quite exciting... sorting out the haul. We get all kinds... Quite a number of baroque—lovely colour but irregular; then we get blisters which are hollow and knobbly ones which we call coq de perle. Imagine the

joy when we find a perfect pearl. The right colour, the right texture and the right shape."

"Have you ever found one?"

"Once. It was in my father's time. That was a real gem. I've never rivalled that. But there have been some that were rather fine."

"I had always thought of this as a sugar island. I'd never thought of pearls."

"Ah, there is a great deal you have to learn about us. So would you like to see us at work?"

"I should love that."

"Can you rise early enough? The boats will be a little way out where the beds are. They will start at sunrise."

"I shall be there."

"At sunrise," he repeated.

The next morning I rose early and went round to the south side of the island. I saw the men on the shore. I knew several of them because I had seen them on the plantation.

I said: "Is Mr. Harrington here?"

One of the men—Jacob—nodded out to the boat which was rocking gently to and fro in the water.

"Mr. Harrington's going down today," he said.

"What?... Diving himself?"

"Oh yes, he'll dive."

I stood there watching. I could see several figures in the boat. One was taller than the others so I presumed that to be Milton.

"How long do they stay down there?" I asked.

"Not long, Missie Lady. Couldn't stay long. Can't breathe for long. One minute about all time."

One of the men said: "Gemel he stayed six minutes once."

"Gemel very great diver. He stayed too long once though. Tried to break the record."

"What happened to him?"

"Can't live long down there, Missie Lady, not without air."

"You mean he died?"

"Diving dangerous work. That why they get money for it... lots of money."

"But Mr. Harrington has gone down."

"Master... he can do anything ... better than anyone else."

"What is that noise I hear?"

"That's the shark charmers."

"Sharks! There are sharks in these waters?"

"Sometimes they come close. But they won't come while the shark charmer's there."

I felt a twinge of anxiety. I had no faith that those mournful ditties would deter the sharks.

I said: "Has any man ever been taken by a shark?"

"Oh yes... there have been."

"Then where was the shark charmer? What was he doing at the time?"

"There always be accidents, Missie Lady."

"How do they go down?"

"You see the man at the side of the boat? He's working with one of the divers. They work in pairs... one goes down and the other watches the cord that's tied to the diver."

"It seems very hazardous to me."

I was suddenly afraid as I stood there watching. He had gone down because I was here. He had wanted to prove again his ability to do everything better than anyone else. I thought angrily: I suppose he thinks he is going to return with his pearl of great price!

Pictures forced themselves into my mind. I imagined a monster shark appearing. I pictured the rope which was attached to him breaking. I saw him in my mind's eye down there gasping for breath.

"Let him be safe," I prayed. "Let him come back ..."

I knew then how much he mattered to me. I just wanted him to be safe. Nothing else seemed to matter in that moment. I was arguing with myself. I have to go away. I have to go back to England and I shall marry Raymond, good, kind Raymond. But please God, let him be safe.

I might have known he would be all right.

I stood there rather angrily as the boat came in. He sprang out and ran to me. He was glowing with health.

"You came then?" he said.

"I expected to find you on the shore not at the bottom of the sea."

"It was exhilarating," he said.

"Did you find the fine pearl?"

"Probably. They have to be sorted out. You look a little distraught."

"I've been talking to the men about diving. It's dangerous."

"There is an element of danger in most enterprises."

"And particularly so in this."

"Perhaps it is rather specially hazardous. So you are rather pleased to see me back on dry land?"

"Of course I am."

He took my hand and pressed it. "Don't worry. I'll always turn up. I'll always be there."

There was triumph in his grin. I had betrayed myself.

ECHOES FROM THE PAST

It was two days later. I had breakfasted and had taken my favourite seat on the terrace overlooking the waterfront. I seemed to have made a habit of sitting there at this time of day. Later I would go to Felicity's room and see how she was.

The scene never failed to interest me. It was constantly changing, never the same.

As I sat there a man came along. I had seen him on the previous day and guessed he was a visitor to the hotel. He was obviously English and as he passed my chair he said: "Good morning. ,, "Good morning," I replied.

He hesitated. "May I sit here?"

"Please do."

He took the chair close to mine.

"I have seen you around," he said. "Are you enjoying your stay here?"

"Oh yes, very much."

"The noise those people make down there! They don't seem to be able to do anything without shouting and laughing."

"Yes. It's amusing to watch."

"You come from England, do you?"

"Yes."

"I'm from Australia."

"Not so very far away."

"No. It's very convenient really."

There was silence for a few moments.

Then he said: "I have heard that you have been asking about a Mr. Philip Mallory."

I was alert. "Why yes," I said eagerly. "Did you know him' , "

"I can't say I knew him. I called in here... it must have been about two years ago. I spoke to him then ... just as I am speaking to you now."

"He was my brother," I said.

"Really!"

"Yes. I am Annalice Mallory. Did you ever hear anything about my brother?"

"Hear anything about him? No. I just spoke to him on one or two occasions. Then I went home. I did come back some months later and oddly enough I mentioned him and was told that he had gone away."

"Nobody seems to know where."

"I had one or two conversations with him. He told me something about an island he was going to visit."

"Yes... yes... that was so."

"He seemed to set great store on finding it. Apparently he had made some attempt to and had been disappointed."

I was feeling more and more excited. This man was telling me more than anyone so far.

I said: "We never heard what happened to my brother. We waited and waited for news of him but we heard nothing."

"That must have been terrible for you."

"If only I could find out what happened to him. If only I could find this island..."

"These seas have been well charted. It shouldn't be difficult."

"It seems this island is not where we thought it was."

"Have you come here to look for the island?"

"I really came to see if I could find out anything about my brother. I want to know what happened to him."

"How long is it since you last heard?"

"Two years."

"That's a long time."

"People here knew him. I have talked to them, but they can't tell me any more than you have. They met him. They talked to him. But he seems to have talked to you more than he did to most for he did tell you about the island."

"Well, that's all I can say. I suppose naturally he would talk to me. He was just out from England and I'm English, too, although I live in Australia. We just got talking and it slipped out about the island."

"And you can't remember anything else?"

"There was nothing else. We just sat and talked for half an hour or so one or two mornings. That's all."

I was disappointed. It was the same as I had heard again and again.

"My name is John Everton," he said. "I hope you did not mind my speaking to you."

"Not at all. I am very interested to hear any little detail about my brother."

"I wish I could be of help."

We talked about the island and after a while I left him.

The next morning he approached me again.

He said: "I've been thinking a lot about what we said. This island ... It is intriguing, I find."

"It's non-existent apparently."

"How can you be sure of that?"

"Because I've actually been out to look for it and there is nothing where it should be."

"Did you have a map then?"

"Yes, I had a map."

"Depicting this island?"

"Yes."

"Well, then it must be there."

"It's a very old map ... or rather a copy of one."

"Where did you get this map? It seems so extraordinary that the place should be marked on a map and not be there."

"It is the copy of a map which was found in my home."

"Found in your home! What... ? Forgive me. I am being too inquisitive."

"No... certainly not. We found this map in our house. It had been there for a hundred years or thereabouts. The island was marked on it."

"Do you have this map?"

"I have my copy of it."

"Could I... would it... Would it be asking too much to let me see it?"

"Of course not. I'll go and get it."

When I brought the map down to him he studied it with close attention.

"And that's the island," he said, pointing to it. "The Paradise Island."

"That is just the name which was given to it by the man who made the original map."

He looked at me with puzzlement in his eyes.

"It's a long story," I said. "The map was found in our house when some alterations were made. That was what gave rise to all this. My brother wanted to find the island."

"And so he came out here ..." He put his finger on the island. "It is clearly there. I have sailed these seas and I am sure that there is no such island. The map must be at fault. Are you sure this is the actual map which was found in your house?"

"It is an exact replica. I made it."

"yoamadeit?"

"Yes, from the one which was found."

"It's an excellent job."

"My family have been map makers for a very long time. I learned a little about it. I can assure you it is an exact copy."

"How very interesting!"

He gave the map back to me.

He said: "I really do find this most intriguing. I wish I could be of help to you."

"It has been very pleasant talking."

Conversation drifted on to other matters and I bade him farewell and left him.

He seemed to make a ritual of these morning talks for the next day he came up again.

"I feel so excited," he said. "Something has occurred to me. I woke up at five this morning with this idea. That is the time for my ideas. I've had my best then. I wonder what you will think of it."

"Do tell me."

"It's about the map and the island. The map is in error. I wonder who made it in the first place."

I hesitated, then I said: "It was made by a man who was shipwrecked and thrown up on an island. He stayed there for a while and when he was fishing off the island he was caught in a storm and almost drowned. He drifted for a while and was picked up by a ship. Then he made the map."

"Good heavens! That explains a lot."

"You mean there was no island. He was just suffering from a form of hallucination. We have thought of that."

"That might have been so, of course, but I wasn't thinking of that. He made his map from memory. That could explain it. He could be miles out."

"Yes, that is a possibility. But after this group there are no islands for hundreds of miles."

"But what if his island was one of these?"

"How could it be? These are marked clearly on the map."

"There is an island ... a little apart from these by several miles. Four of them are close together, but this one is some distance apart."

"You mean Lion Island? The one which belongs to the mining people?"

"I mean that one, yes."

"But that is marked on the map. There are the four islands and the fifth one apart."

"Exactly, but the shipwrecked man could have been thrown up on that island and thought he was a long way from this group."

I hesitated and he went on: "Don't you think it would be worth investigating?"

"That island belongs to someone."

"Why not pay a visit? The people there might know something about the history of the island."

"Do you think I might do that?"

"I don't see why not. Look here, I'm enormously interested. I've been thinking about it since five this morning. It's a calm day. Why don't I take you over. I could get a boat and we could leave right away."

I considered" this. Why not? I had nothing to do this morning. Milton would call in the evening. I was sure that Felicity would be all right. I did not believe for one moment that Lion Island was the Paradise Island, and even if it were it must have changed completely now and how could I prove it? But I had promised myself that I would follow every clue, however remote it seemed.

I said I would go.

I went to Felicity who was still in bed. She said she felt like a lazy morning and would get up later.

I said: "I'm going out to one of the islands. I'll be away all the morning. So don't worry if I'm a little late back."

"To one of the islands?"

"Yes, just to have a look at it. I have been asked and I might as well go."

It was a feature of Felicity's illness that she was listless and indifferent to what was going on around her. She merely nodded and closed her eyes.

Soon we were skimming over the water. There was the gentlest of breezes and it was very pleasant. Looking ahead I could see the reclining lion getting nearer and nearer.

I was rather sorry when the boat touched land.

"Aren't we trespassing?" I asked.

"I don't think that will matter."

I stood on the sandy beach and looked back. There was no sign of Cariba and the other islands.

"I should have thought they were near enough to be seen," I commented.

"We're on the other side of the island."

I shaded my eyes and looked about me. There was a cove in which lay two ships. One quite big.

"What now?" I asked.

"Explore."

"How could we tell even if we are on Paradise Island?"

"I don't know. We just have to wait and see what happens."

Something was happening now. A man was coming towards us. He was of medium height with blond hair and light blue eyes. Did I have the feeling that I had seen him before—or did I fancy that afterwards?

He put out his hand and said: "Welcome to my island."

I put my hand into his.

He said: "Let me introduce myself. I am Magnus Perrensen."

I was in a state of bewilderment and incredulity and it is difficult for me even now to remember that day very clearly. From the moment he had taken my hand and spoken I felt as though I were living in a dream. I just stared at him. In that moment I was not myself. I was Ann Alice who had become me—just as he, the lover of long ago, now stood before me on Lion Island.

"I'm Annalice Mallory," I told him.

"At last you have come," was his answer.

"I ... I don't understand. What does this mean?"

"You know who I am," he replied. "So there is a great deal we have to say to each other."

We both seemed to have forgotten John Everton who was standing by looking puzzled and uncertain—as well he might.

"Come into the house," said Magnus Perrensen.

We walked up a slope. I was trying hard to grapple with common sense. I am dreaming, I thought. I must be. How could he be Magnus Perrensen. He must have died years ago.

The house was magnificent. It was dazzlingly white in the shimmering heat and brilliantly coloured flowers bloomed in the gardens which surrounded it and my mood of bewilderment touched it all with an air of unreality.

He led us through a door into a cool paved hall.

John Everton who had not spoken so far said in awed tones: "It is splendid."

"You should have brought Miss Mallory before," said Magnus Perrensen.

"The idea that we should see the island only came to Mr. Everton this morning," I said, and as I spoke I felt more normal. The memory of meeting John Everton outside the hotel and discussing the trip brought me back to reality.

We went into a room with tall windows looking over the sea.

Magnus Perrensen turned to John Everton. "By a strange coincidence," he said, "Miss Mallory's family and mine were in contact years ago. We have a great deal to discuss. It was a stroke of good fortune that you brought her here today. Thank you."

"I'm glad of that," said John Everton rather awkwardly.

"We don't have many visitors here. We don't encourage it. It's by way of a retreat for my family. When we are here we like solitude."

"Perhaps," I began, "we should not have disturbed you ..."

He looked at me reproachfully. "You are welcome ... welcome indeed."

A servant appeared and he asked for cool drinks to be brought. His order was immediately obeyed.

I could not stop looking at him. I was taken right back to that night when I had sat up in bed reading Ann Alice's diary. Something had happened to me then ... when I sat in that room ... when I had tended her grave... and now here I was on a remote island ... sitting face to face with Magnus Perrensen.

I was aware of course that this was not the young man who had worked in our shop and had planned to marry Ann Alice and take her in search of the island, any more than I was the girl who lay in that grave at Little Stanton. But some part of those people lived on in us, and I believed that I was on the verge of a great discovery.

At length Magnus Perrensen said: "Mr. Everton, you would like to see the island. Miss Mallory and I have a great deal to talk about because of our family connections. You will need a horse. I will arrange for someone to take you round. Luncheon will be served at one o'clock."

"I shall have to go back," I explained. "I have a friend at the hotel. She is ill and will be wondering what has become of me."

"If you go back immediately after luncheon it will mean being on the sea in the heat of the day."

"Then I must get back before," I insisted.

He smiled at me. "Very well. Just an hour... leave in an hour's time. I will tell them to bring you back, Mr. Everton, in one hour. That will give us a little time to talk and next time it shall be longer."

So I was alone with him.

"I see that you are bewildered," he said.

"I am indeed."

"You know something of what happened years ago?"

I explained about the night of the storm and our finding the journal.

"That Magnus Perrensen was my greatgrandfather."

"So you know the whole story of what happened?"

It is a story which has been passed down through my family. My greatgrandfather told it to my grandfather, and he in his turn to my father and so to me. We were all named Magnus. It makes a kind of continuity. And you are Annalice ... which is a little different from Ann Alice ... and yet similar though."

I said: 'This is not the island ..."

He shook his head.

"Please tell me what you know," I begged.

"As I said the story has been passed down through my family. When my greatgrandfather returned to Little Stanton it was to find his bride-to-be dead. She had died, he was told, of the plague which was raging nearby. At least that was the story. He didn't believe it. The matter was wrapped in such secrecy and there was the room. People talked a great deal about that. It was walled up by the local carpenter and builder who prospered from that time. My greatgrandfather believed that it was because this carpenter had seen something in the room which must never be known and the price of his silence was money to enable him to prosper in his business."

"What did he see in the room?"

"My greatgrandfather believed that Ann Alice was murdered. Her stepmother and her lover murdered her. She was probably shot. There would be bloodstains all over the room. Shooting is not a neat way of disposing of people. They daren't let what was significant in that room be seen. They were able to conceal the evidence of their crime because of the plague. There was a case of some tailor's rooms having been walled up because of the goods in them. They got away with that. They never would but for the plague and the bribable carpenter."

"It sounds very plausible."

"I believe when you saw me you thought for a moment that I was that Magnus Perrensen. Did you perhaps think you had become Ann Alice?"

"I had read her journal and it is still very vivid in my mind. Something seemed to happen to me after I had read it. I just felt part of her, and for a moment when I saw you on the beach and you told me your name ... I felt strange and quite bewildered. Yes. for a moment I did feel that I had stepped back in time."

"Nothing so strange, I assure you. There is a logical explanation to everything that happens on Earth I feel sure. I suppose we all have something of our ancestors in us. Isn't that proved? Traits of character handed down from generation to generation ... There must be something of that Magnus in me and something of Ann Alice in you. It seemed like a miracle to me when you came along this morning. R>r a moment I thought it was a fusion of the past and present."

"You said: 'At last you have come.'"

"I did, did I not? It was involuntary, as though someone was speaking through me. You felt it too."

"Yes, it was a very strange moment."

"Now calm reason is here."

"Tell me everything that happened. There was no island, was there?"

He shook his head.

"Let me tell you what I know and you shall tell me. This is the story we heard in our family. My greatgrandfather, Magnus Perrensen, came back to Great Stanton. He had been to London to make arrangements for the journey back to his family. He was going to take Ann Alice with him."

I nodded. This was exactly what I had read in the journal.

"He came back to learn that she was dead. Died of the plague, they said. She was already buried, as people were quickly in such circumstances. They had walled up her room because of the fear that things might be infected. He would not believe it. He was highly suspicious of the stepmother and the man whom he suspected of being her lover. He was heartbroken. He wanted to know the truth and he wanted vengeance. There were no more cases of the plague. There had been only two men apparently and Ann Alice who were alleged victims. The men were tailors who had been buying materials somewhere in the Middle East. He could not rest. He wanted to know. He became suspicious. He questioned the carpenter and he was not satisfied. But there was nothing else he could do. He was young and a foreigner and the people at the Manor were rich and powerful. In time he gave up and came back to his family. He could not rest though. He wanted to go back and find that island."

"Did he find it?"

He shook his head. "No. There was no island. He wouldn't believe it at first. It was a long time before he had to accept it. He would not leave the area, so he went to Australia and there he became interested in looking for gold; he always believed he would find the island although he searched continually and there was nothing where he believed it must be."

"Do you think it was a hallucination? He was shipwrecked, wasn't he? And he was only on the island for a short time. It was strange that he was shipwrecked a second time. Do you believe that he imagined the whole thing? If he did he must have drifted for days and days at sea."

"I think that is a conclusion we have to come to—though he never did at heart. You see, the island was perfect ... too perfect. Those lovable natives ... the gold everywhere. It was a dream... an ideal. Perhaps he came to this conclusion in time, though I don't know. However, he discovered gold. He had great success. He went in for mining on a large scale. He was obsessed by gold because it was there on his island. Well, that was the start. He became rich; he married a girl in Melbourne; he had a son, my grandfather... That's the story. It was my father who bought this island. We use it as a sort of refuge. We come here for long spells sometimes ..."

"You and the rest of your family?"

"Mostly myself. I have no brothers or sisters. My father does not come here much now. He leaves it for me."

"And your family... your wife and children?"

"I have not married ... yet."

"Oh, are you planning to?"

He looked at me very steadily. "I suppose most people think of marrying sometimes. There have been occasions ... but something has held me back. And you? But perhaps I am asking too personal a question?"

"As I did of you?"

He laughed. He said: "We are not really strangers, are we? How could we be in these very special circumstances?"

"That's true. You asked me if I was planning to get married. There is someone at home. I thought I might marry him. He has asked me, but as yet..."

"I understand perfectly. And you came out here ... ?"

"I came with a friend who was going to be married. I wanted to find my brother."

"Your brother. So you have family."

"I had a brother. We were very close because of the family situation, I suppose. My mother died when I was born and my father married again and lives out of England. My grandmother took charge of my brother and me. When we were young there was a question of our being separated and that of course brought us very close together. He came out here in search of this mythical island... and we haven't heard from him since."

"How long ago was that?"

"Two years."

"Oh... that's bad."

"I came out to find him."

"How did you hope to do that?"

"I wasn't sure. I thought I might get clues and be led to the solution of the mystery."

"And have you found any?"

"None really. People knew him ... remembered him ... He was in Cariba. Then he left and no one has any idea where he went."

"And you have not found anyone who could give you an idea?"

I shook my head. "I am so frustrated. It seems so hopeless."

"It does seem a hopeless task."

"I really don't know what to do. I went out to look for the island. There is a man in Cariba. You probably know him ... Milton Harrington."

"Who does not know of him? A forceful character. He practically owns the place, I believe."

"He owns the sugar plantation there."

"And he took you out to where you thought this island should be?"

"Yes, there was a map. The one we found in the walled-up room after the storm. My brother took it. I made a copy. So we were able to see where it ought to have been. There was nothing there."

"Nothing at all?"

"Absolutely nothing. Mr. Harrington said there were no islands for a hundred miles at least."

"And you have this map with you, this copy? Are you sure it is accurate?"

"It's an exact copy of the one which was found in Ann Alice's room. I made it myself."

" row did!"

"You know of the family business. Your greatgrandfather was in the same when he came over to England. I suppose that was abandoned when he went into mining."

"Oh yes, of course. Everyone knows of Mallory's maps."

"I worked in the shop now and then. I knew a little about map making ... enough to make an accurate copy."

"I see. I wish I could be of help regarding your brother. I should have been so pleased to meet him. This has been a most exciting morning for me."

"For me too. I am still staggering from the surprise of hearing your name."

"And you now know that I have not stepped out of the past. You know I'm no ghost."

"It's all perfectly normal. You've explained so much. Isn't it extraordinary that we have met!"

"It seems miraculous. But when you think of it, the island—this

non-existent island—is the focal point. You've come looking for it as all those years ago my greatgrandfather did. It drew him here and he started our dynasty in Australia it's true, but we still thought of the island ... and then we came here to this one. You found the journal and the map... and you're here too. There's a sort of pattern to it."

"Yes, that is what makes it so exciting."

"Do you realize that our hour is drawing to an end. Need you return just yet?"

"I must. My friend, Mrs. Granville, will be worrying. She is in rather a nervous state. She suffered a terrible experience in Australia. Her husband died violently."

"Oh... that Granville. There was a case. The bushrangers, wasn't it? He was after them and fell from a balcony when his gun went off."

"Yes, that is the case."

"The papers were full of it. Poor lady, I can understand that she is in a nervous state."

"I was in the house when it happened. I have brought her with me to Cariba. We shall go home together eventually."

"Not yet, I hope."

"I think we shall stay a little longer yet, though I can see that to try to find out what happened to my brother is rather a hopeless task."

"I fear so."

"And you understand I don't want to cause her anxiety."

"Of course. They'll bring your companion back very soon. You will come again?"

"I should like to. I am sure I shall remember all sorts of things I wanted to say after I've gone."

"And if I may, I will come to Cariba."

"That would be very pleasant."

"Now that we have found each other so miraculously that is a beginning. I hear them coming now."

"Then I must say goodbye."

"Au revoir," he corrected me.

John Everton came in looking flushed and rather pleased. "The island is beautiful. It is a pity you cannot stay and see it."

"Miss Mallory has promised to come again," said Magnus Perrensen.

He walked down to the beach with us. He took my hand solemnly and kissed it. I still felt a little light-headed.

"What a strange morning," said John Everton as we skimmed across the pellucid water. "Who would have thought we should have been so hospitably received! And what an odd coincidence that he

should have known your family. Did you have a good discussion about all that?"

"Yes. It was indeed very strange that our families should have known each other a hundred years ago."

"That's quite amazing. I feel very gratified for having been the means of bringing you together."

"Thank you. It was a wonderful experience."

And as I sat back watching the reclining lion grow fainter and fainter, I still felt I was dreaming.

I was seated in the courtyard in Milton Harrington's house and telling him about my morning's adventure. I had asked Maria to look in now and then on Felicity and if there was any need to send for me. Maria had nodded, giggling. There must have been speculation about my visits to Milton's house.

He listened to my account of what had happened and clearly did not like it very much. I imagined he was a little piqued because there was a man in the neighbourhood as influential in his sphere as Milton was in his.

"You mean you went out in a boat with this man!"

"Well, I went out on another occasion with a man in a boat. Because his name was Milton Harrington does that make it all right?"

"Of course it does."

"You see, it seemed feasible and I did not want to leave any stone unturned."

"So you went out and met this mysterious gold miner."

"It was very odd—the most extraordinary thing that has ever happened to me. When I stood on the beach and he said he was Magnus Perrensen, which, as I told you, was the name of the man my ancestress was going to marry, I just felt as though I were dreaming... or I had been transported back in time. It was miraculous and then I discovered that he had descended from that man and he knew all that had happened... all that was in the journal because the story had been handed down from generation to generation in his family."

"And what happened then?"

"We just talked and talked ... He wanted us to stay to lunch but I was thinking of Felicity. I didn't want to upset her. So we came back. Don't you think it is the most extraordinary thing that we met like that?"

"It's a little too extraordinary," he said. "I don't like it much."

"You don't like it because you weren't there and it doesn't concern you."

"It does concern me if it concerns you. I want to know more about this visitant from the past."

"He's not from the past. He has just descended. Oh, it is the strangest thing. I never thought of anything like this happening."

"You seem to be in a daze and you have been all the evening."

"I can't stop thinking of it."

"He has become very affable all of a sudden. I have always heard that he did not like people trespassing on his island."

"It was rather exceptional circumstances."

"I shall find out what I can about him."

"'What do you mean?"

"I don't like these mysterious people. He comes here every now and then... He is supposed to be fabulously wealthy; he owns the only gold mines that are really producing these days. He must be something of a phenomenon."

"And if there are any of those about, you want to be the only one.

"Naturally. I hope you wont make a habit of going off with strangers. Promise to consult me before you do anything rash again."

"The suggestion for rashness might easily come from you."

"That is different."

"I see." I smiled at him. I was glad to see him sitting there. I still thought of the anxiety I had suffered when I had known he was on the sea bed and there were sharks in the vicinity.

"By the way," he went on. "Magda Manuel wants you to dine with her and suggests I take you over."

"I shall look forward to that."

"The evening after tomorrow. Felicity is invited if she is well enough."

I shook my head. "She still doesn't want to meet people. Do you think she is getting better?"

"I think it takes a long time to recover from such an experience."

"I'll ask her. In any case I shall be delighted to come."

He drove me back to the hotel in his carriage.

When he said good night, he added: "By the way I should like to take another look at that map."

"The map? But we've been there. There's nothing there."

"Still. I'd like to have a look at it again."

"Just as you like. I'll give it to you next time I see you."

I went to my room. I thought at once of the map. I would get it out so that I remembered it tomorrow. I kept it at the back of the drawer, I suppose because Ann Alice had done the same.

I went to the drawer. The map was not there.

I could not believe it. I had not taken it out and I never put it anywhere else.

It was very strange.

I turned out the drawer but I could not find the map. How very odd! I must have put it somewhere else. But where? I would make a thorough search in the morning.

I found sleep difficult. I kept going over that moment on the beach when he had said: "I am Magnus Perrensen."

I knew it was all logically explained, but somehow I could not accept the logical explanation. It was almost as though I had been brought here for a purpose and that purpose was to meet Magnus Perrensen.

I could easily believe that I was Ann Alice, that she had led me here because she wanted me to meet her lover, to live the life which she would have lived if she had not died so tragically, so violently on that last night she had written in her journal.

We had been brought together for a purpose. What purpose? What purpose could there be? It was more or less certain now that I was in love—physically in love—with Milton Harrington. I was excited by him; I loved to spar conversationally with him; I felt I could have died of fright when I had pictured him at the bottom of the sea. Was that love? I could have been sure it was but for Raymond. I loved Raymond too. I trusted Raymond. Did I not trust Milton? Perhaps not entirely and yet there was even an excitement in mistrust. Raymond would be a faithful husband. Would Milton? There was the shadow of Magda Manuel already to give me cause for speculation. I was sure there had been a deep relationship of some sort between them. Life with him would be a stormy one. With Raymond it would be gentle; 1 should be at peace. What did I want? I was unsure.

And now here was Magnus Perrensen. I had seen him only once but how many times had I thought of that other Magnus. 1 felt that I knew him. I had lived through those pages in the journal as though they were real. To some extent I was Ann Alice.

Life was becoming more and more complicated.

It was inevitable that night that I should dream. I was in the walled-up room and I was sitting at the dressing table writing in my journal what had happened to me that day. I was Ann Alice and I was listening all the time for a footstep on the stairs.

I saw the words clearly: "I thought 1 heard a noise. Footsteps ... I can hear voices... Something is going on down there. They are coming Then I heard the step on the stairs. I looked at the key in the door and it suddenly fell out of the keyhole. 1 heard breathing behind the door which was being forced open.

I screamed and awoke damp with sweat to find myself lying under my mosquito net. I was someone who had died a hundred years ago and had been reborn. I was Ann Alice as well as Annalice. Fantasy was still with me. She had willed me to come here... and here I was. This was what she wanted.

I stared at my door. It was being gently opened.

For a moment I thought I was still in the dream. I expected to see the wicked stepmother there with her lover, and the lover would have a gun in his hands.

"Felicity!" I cried.

She looked like a ghost in her white nightgown, with her hair loose about her shoulders.

"I heard you cry out," she said.

She came to my bed and I murmured: "It... was a nightmare."

"So you have them, too."

"We all do at times, I suppose."

She laughed suddenly. "This is in reverse," she said. "Me... coming to comfort you."

I felt a tremendous relief sweeping over me. Felicity was more like her old self than I had seen her for a long time.

I took her back to her room and sat by her bed. We talked awhile and finally she slept.

I went back to my bed.

I was fully awake now. Fantasy receded. There was a logical explanation to everything.

NIGHT ON A LONELY ISLAND

Milton had rowed me to the small island where Magda had her plantation. Felicity had at first said she would come, which showed how much better she was; but at the last moment she had felt unable to face strangers. I did not attempt to persuade her because I felt she must be left until she was ready. She seemed to be progressing to some extent and I did not want to reverse that.

So here I was alone with Milton watching him as he pulled the oars with such ease that he made it seem effortless.

There was no wind. It had dropped that evening—but there was a faint mist in the air and the silence was broken only by the swish of the oars in the water.

I was intrigued at the prospect of seeing Magda Manuel in her own home. I have to confess that I felt a few twinges of jealousy. She had seemed to me so poised, so beautiful when she had called at the hotel.

I asked Milton as we rowed across: "She is a great friend of yours, isn't she?"

And he replied enigmatically: "A very great friend."

The distance between the islands was not great and in a short time we were there. Milton shipped the oars, leaped out and helped me to alight.

I was wearing a loose pale lavender-coloured dress which I had bought in Sydney for Felicity's wedding. It was cool and suited to the climate. About my neck was a necklace which Granny M had given me on my seventeenth birthday; it consisted of amethysts set in gold which matched my dress perfectly. I had taken great pains with my appearance.

The house was set back from the beach and, like Milton's, was surrounded by sugar canes. It was a white building, smaller than Milton's but otherwise not unlike it.

There were three steps to the porch and she was at the top of these waiting to greet us. She looked elegant in the extreme and was wearing white again. I wondered if it was a sort of mourning for her husband who was recently dead. I knew there were some people who wore white rather than the black we wore at home.

This white dress was low-cut; it accentuated her small waist and perfect figure. A thick gold necklace was tight about her neck-choker fashion—and she wore thick gold bangles. Creole earrings completed the picture.

Beside her stood a man, tall and if not conventionally good-looking, very pleasant.

Her welcome was warm.

"How glad I am to see you at last," she said. "I meant to ask you before, but I have been to Sydney on business. We have to make these trips now and then. By the way this is George ... Mr. Callerby."

He said: "How do you do?" and bowed.

"I was afraid there was going to be a mist which would prevent your coming," said Magda.

"There is a faint one in the air," replied Milton, "but it would have to be very thick to deter us."

She laughed and took us into a room—very elegantly furnished as I felt everything about her would be. It had french windows opening onto a grassy lawn which went straight down to the sea, which at this time of the evening was touched with the red of sunset. The sun was now like a great red ball lying on the horizon. Soon it would drop from sight and darkness would be upon us.

She served us with the usual drink with which I was now familiar, and she asked about my impressions of the islands.

I told her how they fascinated me.

"What do you find most interesting?" asked George Callerby.

"The people," I replied. "Undoubtedly the people. They seem happy ... and contented."

"They are not always so," she said. "Isn't that true, Milton?"

"We have our troubles ... now and then."

"It's the sun. There it is up there shining down fiercely most of the time. Who wants to work when the sun is shining?"

"But they always seem to be laughing," I pointed out.

"Laughter does not always mean amusement," Magda explained.

"That's true," agreed Milton. "You'd never get to know these people even if you spent a lifetime here."

"You manage them very well, Milton," said George Callerby.

"I've found the recipe. They have to be a little unsure of you, a little afraid of you ... and at the same time you have to be on friendly terms. It's the right mixture of the two. It takes some acquiring. I learned it from my father."

"And Miss Mallory is such a newcomer to the islands," said Magda.

"How long do you intend to stay, Miss Mallory?" asked George Callerby.

I hesitated. I was aware of Milton who was watching me rather ironically. I said: "My travelling companion has been ill. I want to wait until she is better before she undergoes the ordeal of a long journey."

"Yes, I heard how ill she was. Our servants discover everything for us. They go over to Cariba for the markets and there they glean all that is happening and bring the news back to us. So we heard about her and of course her involvement in that terrible case."

I could imagine that everything about us was known and that Magda was watching me intently—and Milton, too. I wondered what she was thinking behind those long languishing eyes.

"Shall we go in to dinner," she asked. "There has been great excitement in the kitchen. They have been discussing the meal all day long. I leave it to them, of course. Interference would be fatal. They would giggle if I suggested anything and if I insisted it would be spoilt... just to teach me a lesson. So I leave well alone."

We went into another room. It was dark now and big oil lamps had been lighted. A net was drawn across the windows and one of the servants drew the curtains. This shut out the beautiful view but I had been here long enough to know that it was better to forget the scenery rather than endure the intrusion of certain insects.

Turtle soup was served. It was delicious. Fish followed. I was getting used to the many types of fish on the islands which were quite different from anything we had at home. This was followed by alligator steaks which were palatable and no doubt owed much to the spices with which they were garnished.

But I was far more interested in the company than the food.

Seated at the head of the table was Magda, looking mysterious in the lamplight. Every time I looked up I caught her eyes on me speculatively. I imagined she was wondering about my relationship with Milton as I was about hers. There was no doubt in my mind that she entertained rather special feelings for him and she was very curious about me.

They asked a great many questions about England. George Callerby had come out about eight years before and had been working on a station near Sydney. He had apparently met Milton there and it was Milton who had suggested that he come and manage the plantation.

"George came at the right time for us," said Magda. "We were so grateful to Milton for bringing us George."

She smiled her seductive smile first at Milton and then at George. "It was wonderful for us," she added.

"For me, too," said George.

"My husband you see had had this accident."

Milton put in: "You were talking a short while ago about the contented workers. Well, these were not so contented. Do you mind if I tell Annalice, Magda?"

"No, please tell Miss Mallory ... if she is interested."

"I am enormously interested."

"And may I suggest," said Milton, "that before we go any further we dispense with formality. Let it be Annalice and Magda... and George. We are all friends together. Miss This and Mr. That ... it is quite unnecessary in the circumstances."

Magda looked at me. "Do you agree?"

"Why yes, of course."

"All right, then. Tell Annalice, Milton."

He turned to me. "One of the workers put a stone in the grinding mill. Jose did not understand what was wrong. He tried to put it right. The thing exploded and he was badly crippled."

"How terrible."

"I don't know how I should have lived through that time but for Milton," said Magda.

"I did what any neighbour would. I came over, sorted out the trouble with the men and put the fear of God into them."

"And made them feel," continued Magda, "that in acting against us they were acting against themselves."

"They believed that with any more trouble I would close down the plantations," said Milton. "They didn't want that. They have the sense to see that their prosperity comes with sugar and they need to keep the plantations going if they are to enjoy their present standard of living."

"Yes, Milton saved the plantation for us. Something for which I shall always be grateful."

She was looking at him with such tenderness that I felt: She loves him. He is her sort. There is something wild about her. They fit together. She would have the same outlook, the same ideas, the same morals which would be less rigid than those with which I had been brought up. I believed that like him she would stop at nothing to get what she wanted.

"And then," she was saying, "he found us George."

Now her smile was turned on him.

"It was the luckiest day of my life when I was found," said George.

"George is a natural for this sort of work," said Milton. "I knew it as soon as I set eyes on him."

He was looking at them benignly and I felt there was some deep emotion in this room. I thought: She has asked me here to have a good look at me. She is angry because she will have heard of his attentions to me. She is very beautiful, the kind of woman to whom he would be drawn.

But he was drawn to me and I was not in the least like her. I saw myself as quite different. She was softly spoken, experienced with men; she knew how to attract them with that subtle flattery which was irresistible to them and which I would disdain even if I could master it. I was prickly, terribly uncertain, quite inexperienced.

They were talking about hobbies.

"George, you know, is an astronomer."

George laughed deprecatingly. "A very amateur one."

"He came out to Australia because he was tired of the night sky on the other side of the world," said Milton.

"That," replied George, smiling at me, "is not exactly true."

"I've always liked to hear about the stars," I said. "It is so fantastic to think of them all those light-years away. I've always found that particularly fascinating. To think that when you look at a star you may be looking at something which is no longer there because it is so far away that its light is only just reaching you."

"It's all very scientific," said Magda. "And it is not only the stars, is it, George? It's the Earth and its age and everything. What was it you were saying about climates and the ice melting and all that?"

"Are you really interested?" asked George.

"I am ... very," I told him.

"I was just saying what a difference climatic conditions make to the Earth. While everything is neatly balanced life remains predictable. But you only need a sudden change ... a slight change ... and there could be chaos. An ice age would freeze us all up ... or suppose it became warmer. The ice at the poles would gradually melt. Imagine the influx of water all over the Earth. Continents could be submerged."

"Let us hope that doesn't happen," said Magda. "We complain of the heat but an ice age would be terrible. And the idea of being submerged by flood I suppose even worse."

"I believe within the last hundred years there has been change," said George. "I was reading that there was a period of excessive warmth which melted some of the polar ice and the seas did rise a

little because of it. It wasn't all that noticeable as far from the poles as we are ... but it did happen according to geologists."

"I hope there is a warning if it happens again," said Milton.

"It would probably happen gradually."

We had finished the creamed pudding and Magda suggested that we go back to the drawing room.

I complimented her on the excellent meal and she asked if I would like to see the house and I said I would.

"Then we'll leave the men to chat," she said. "They know the house very well and don't want to see it again."

She took a candle and led the way up a carved staircase. There was something rather Spanish about it which I supposed was to be expected. I guessed from his name that Jose must have been Spanish, and very possibly Magda was too.

"My husband built this house when he came here," she said. "I think he tried to make it like a corner of home. But you can never really do that in a foreign country."

She showed me her bedroom. There was a large bed with dainty white curtains about it. I thought of Milton visiting her here, and I wanted to get out of that room. She took me through to others. I was not paying much attention. All the time I was wondering about her and Milton.

I said: "You have made a charming home here."

"I wonder," she answered. "We are rather remote. I was brought up in a big city. It is very different here. There is very little on this island. We have to go to Cariba for everything. It is nice to have friends there. I could not have survived after Jose's accident without Milton."

"I can imagine that."

"He did everything for me. He is a wonderful friend. And Jose was fond of him, too. We relied on him."

"And now you have Mr. Callerby. I should imagine he is very efficient."

"George ... oh yes. And I never forget that Milton found him for me. You see, he is my benefactor. He is a very good man although people don't always realize this because ... Well, he rules Cariba with a rod of iron. They are all in awe of him. It is wonderful to be able to inspire such feelings."

I agreed that it was.

"They know that if there was trouble here Milton would step in. That is a great comfort to us. On him really rests the prosperity of Cariba. Well ... I think we had better join the men. They will wonder what we are doing all this time."

We went down.

"I thought you had decided to desert us," said Milton.

"We were talking," explained Magda.

"Not about me, I hope."

"There," said Magda, "you see how important he thinks he is! Even when he is not present he thinks we are talking about him."

He looked at Magda intently and I guessed he was wondering what she had said to me.

"As a matter of fact," I told him, "you were mentioned."

"Don't look alarmed," put in Magda with a laugh. "I only told the nice things about you."

"What else could there be to tell?" He added: "It is time we went back."

"Must you? It is not eleven yet."

"My dear Magda, I have to take this young lady back to her hotel after rowing her across."

"Well, I suppose we must let you go."

"You will come and dine with me soon. You too, George. We will have a foursome."

My cloak was brought. It was a flimsy cashmere affair which I had brought with me because the night could be a little chilly.

As we came out of the house, Magda exclaimed: "It's still misty."

"Thickened up a bit," added George.

"Milton, do you think it is clear enough? I could put you up here."

"It's nothing," said Milton. "After all we only have a short distance to go and if anyone knows the way, I ought to. Heaven knows I've done it times enough."

A look flashed between them then. Was that significant or was I imagining it? I pictured his going over to the island at night, going quietly into the house. The invalid husband would be sleeping. Magda would come out to meet him. They would cling together passionately ... and he would go into the house with her.

"Come on, Annalice. You're dreaming."

Yes, I thought, picturing you and Magda together and not liking it at all and despising myself for harbouring such feelings. What was his past life to do with me? But that past was impinging on the present.

He took my cloak and fastened it more tightly about me.

"It's chilly," he said. "It can turn really cold with the mist."

He helped me into the boat, pushed it out and leaped in. Magda and George stood on the beach waving.

"Are you sure you should go?" called Magda.

"Quite sure," replied Milton.

And then we were skimming over the water.

"Well?" he said.

"It was a most interesting evening."

"Yes, I could see you were interested."

"She is a fascinating woman."

"I agree."

"And she runs that plantation with the help of George Callerby. That's very unusual for a woman."

He looked at me almost maliciously. "She has good friends."

"You, for instance."

"I am gratified to be one of them."

"A very special friend, I gathered."

"Yes, you could say that."

I was silent.

"Cold?" he asked.

"Yes, a little."

"This mist is a curse."

"Is it unusual?"

"Well, it is not all that common. But if we once get it, it seems to be a feature of the season."

"It seems to be thickening."

"I believe you are a little uneasy. Haven't you learned yet that you can trust yourself with me?"

"I am not entirely convinced."

"Don't worry. Even if we drift out to sea you'll be safe with me."

He rowed in silence for a while. Then he shipped oars and looked about him.

"Where is Cariba? We should be there by now."

"So you are lost."

He did not answer but began to row again. After a few minutes land loomed out of the mist.

"It looks familiar," I said. "But it is not the harbour."

"It's not Cariba," he said. "I'm going to pull up here. It's no use going on in this mist."

"Not Cariba! What is it then?"

"It's the little one. We're some way from Cariba. It would be foolish to attempt to get there in this mist. It won't last long. It rarely does. I'm afraid you're going to be shipwrecked on an island with me."

"Oh no!"

"Oh yes. We have been around in a circle. I know exactly where we are now. We shall have to stay here until the mist lifts."

"That could be ... all night."

He was looking at me with some amusement. "Perhaps," he said.

I thought to myself: I believe he has arranged this. I believe he knew where we were all the time. Excitement and anger were fighting with each other. It was typical of him. He was not to be trusted.

The boat scraped on the sand; he jumped into the shallow water and picking me up waded ashore.

"I'll have to pull up the boat," he said. "We don't want it washed away. Then we'll go and find shelter."

"Are there people on this island?"

He grinned at me and shook his head.

"It's about half a mile long and less than that wide. Just a rock really sticking up out of the sea. It used to be much bigger, but the sea encroached."

"Where could we find shelter here?"

"There's an old boathouse if I remember rightly. At least it used to be here. I came here in my extreme youth. We'll see if it is still there and if it is it will provide shelter. Come on. Give me your hand."

I did and he pulled me along with him.

Suddenly he put his arm round me.

"You're faltering," he said. "You're reluctant. You are just a little uneasy."

"It has hardly been a comfortable journey."

"I promise you comfort soon. Come with me."

We went a short way up the incline.

"A little hilly," he said. "Thank Heaven for that. If it hadn't been the sea might have claimed the lot. And yes... there is the old boathouse."

"Why should anyone want a boathouse on an island where no one lives?"

"It's a relic of the past ... of the days when people did live here. That's what I was always told."

The sand was getting into my shoes and it was difficult to walk. He lifted me under his arm as though I were a parcel and carried DM along.

"Put me down," I said. "I'm too heavy."

"Light as a feather," he retorted, ignoring my request. "Ah, there it is. A little more dilapidated than when I last saw it, but what can you expect."

He set me on my feet and pushed open the door. It was almost falling off its hinges.

A dark long object was there. I looked closer. It was a canoe.

"It's still here," he cried. "Leave the door open or we won't see a thing. I used to lie in this when I was a boy and pretend that I was

sailing on the high seas. It's quite comfortable. They knew how to make these things. I reckon it is more than fifty years old. They don't look solid, but they are."

He put an arm round me and said: "We shall be comfortable here."

I drew away from him.

"Don't go out there. You'll be cold. It will be warm and cosy in here. We'll make a comfortable resting place in the canoe while we wait for the mist to rise."

"They'll be wondering where I am."

"They won't until morning."

"I should have said good night to Felicity. She'll be very worried."

"She knows you are with me."

"That might make her very uneasy."

He laughed aloud. Then he said: "They'll think we stayed at Magda's. They'll see the mist. They'll say no one would attempt the journey back in this."

"You did."

"Well, I attempt many things. Come on. We'll make it cosy. We'll make a bed for ourselves in the canoe."

"Oh no."

"Isn't it time?" he asked. "How long are you going to keep me at bay?"

"I believe you arranged this."

"You give me more credit than I deserve. Brilliant as I am, I cannot control the weather."

"I think you could have got us back to Cariba."

"Do you?"

"Yes, and I think you brought us here deliberately."

"And you would be pleased at that?"

"Pleased! I wanted to go back to the hotel."

"You will find our canoe a little more interesting than your virgin couch."

"You ... planned this."

"I could not arrange the mist, as I told you."

"You seized the opportunity."

"I always seize my opportunities."

He put an arm round me and kissed me. Somewhat to my alarm I was responding before I withdrew myself with a show of indignation. I could not get Magda Manuel out of my mind and I was realizing that I did not trust myself any more than I trusted him. It would be so easy to forget everything but that I was here alone with him. In truth it was where I wanted to be... alone with him... but I was afraid.

I was haunted, partly by my obligations to Raymond, but more I think by my experiences on Lion Island. It was almost as though Ann Alice was there urging me to be strong, not to give way to impulse. She had not haunted me, brought me across the world for this. I had met him once... and I should see him again. During that brief hour we had spent together something had happened to me. I knew as sure as I stood on this island that I had not seen the last of Magnus Perrensen.

I was not alone on this desert island with Milton Harrington; Ann Alice was there with me.

He went on kissing me. He was saying: "Don't be afraid. This was inevitable ... from the moment we met. I knew you were the one for me... and you knew it, too, didn't you? It happens like that sometimes."

For a moment I lay against him. Go away, Ann Alice, I thought. I am not you, I am myself. Your life ended in that walled-up room: but I am here, alive and I want to be with this man, because it is true that I love him—if loving is wanting to be with him, close to him, sharing his life.

He was quick to sense my mood. He picked me up in his arms and set me down in the canoe.

He took the pins out of my hair and put them in his pocket which I thought fleetingly was rather a practical thing to do. I should need to put my hair up before I returned to Cariba. The thought crossed my mind that he had probably done this before.

He said: "You look beautiful."

I replied: "How many women have you brought to this island ... to this canoe?"

"You have the honour of being the first and I swear here that there shall never be another. Perhaps you and I will make a pilgrimage here before we leave for England. We will remember this night... the true beginning."

"The beginning of what?" :« "Of shared love."

"So you think that the seduction will be completed tonight?"

"It's an ideal spot. Very romantic really if you don't mind being a little cramped, and it may be that the canoe lacks that pristine brightness which it must once have had. Outside the gentle swishing of the waves on the sand and about us the gentle Heavensent mist."

"No," I said.

"No?"

"I don't want that."

"My dearest Annalice, do you think I don't know you'.' You do.

You love me... you want me absolutely ... as I want you. And you have for a long time."

"I have explained to you that I am almost engaged to someone else."

"After tonight you will realize that is quite out of the question."

I ignored that remark and said: "This smells of the sea."

"What did you expect it to smell of? The perfumes of Araby?"

He was beside me and his arms were about me.

"I want you to listen to me," I said.

"I am listening."

"I realize I am here at your mercy. You are physically stronger than I. If I resist you can overcome me. Is that what you intend to do?"

"You will come to me willingly."

"Yes," I said, "or not at all."

"But since you admit to my superior strength, how could I fail?"

"You could have a temporary success if you forced me. That would be rape."

"That is the technical term."

"I should never forget it and never forgive it. You might get temporary satisfaction but that would tell me what I have been trying to discover for a long time."

"You don't mean that."

"I swear that I do. I would leave at once. I would take Felicity with me. I would tell her what had happened. I believe that if she feels she has to look after me she would regain her strength. She would understand. Similar things happened to her. She had no redress. She happened to be married to her brute. I am free and I will come to you willingly ... not on a makeshift bed because the opportunity was there, but because I want to, because it is of my own free will."

He kissed me gently. "Yes," he said. "Go on."

"This is a night for the truth, is it not?"

"It is."

"I will explain. I think I am in love with you. I want to be with you. I think I am happier with you than anywhere else. But I did care for Raymond Billington. He is quite unlike you... self-effacing almost, selfless. You are not like that."

"More human" he said.

"Indeed yes. You stride in and take what you want. You can take me now but that means you will lose me forever."

He said: "It wouldn't be like that. I would show you what joy we could give each other. I would make you see how well we suit each other. I would show you that we could have a lifetime of happiness together."

"How well do you know me?"

"Very well indeed. That is why I love you, because I know you so well and that tells me you are the one for me."

"Then if you know me well you will know my pride. I would not submit to you. I would come willingly or not at all. You see, I was with Felicity in that dreadful house where she suffered nightly. She was not the only one who was affected by what happened there. I was, too. And I know that when I married or loved a man I would never submit. I would be his equal. I would not be forced ... as Felicity was. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he said. "Go on."

"I think I want to be with you more than anyone. But there is Raymond. I know Raymond well. He is gentle and kind. I think I could be happy with him. There would not be the excitement I should know with you. I am fully aware of that. It would be even... no heights... no depths..."

"Which you would find excessively dull."

"Not dull. Just pleasant... sailing along on an even keel."

"Squalls come along on the smoothest seas. Mists..."

"Yes, I know, but Raymond could be relied on."

"And I should not be."

"I should never be sure. You have known many women, I don't doubt."

"And Raymond has been completely chaste, of course. The perfect knight. Was it Galahad? I expect he is sitting at home polishing his holy grail and not worrying about what is happening to you."

I couldn't help laughing. "That is ridiculous," I said.

"It is your fault for introducing such a paragon on such a night as this."

"And don't forget," I reminded him, "I came out here for a purpose. I want to find my brother. I have an extraordinary feeling that I am going to solve the mystery."

"You are still thinking of the stranger on Lion Island."

"Yes," I answered. "I am."

"And where does he come in?"

"It is so strange. Sometimes I feel I am really Ann Alice ... that she is part of me. That she lives again through me."

"You were bemused by this man. Do you know, I think he is more dangerous than the saintly Raymond."

I was silent. Was he? Here was I lying in a canoe with this man whose very presence excited me and it was as though Ann Alice was there with me, putting words into my mouth ... telling me that 1 must keep myself chaste as she was ... so that when the time came for her

to marry Magnus Perrensen she could go to him as a bride should. But she had died. It was as though she had chosen me to play out the life which had been denied her.

"You have some very strange ideas," he said, kissing my forehead.

"I have been truthful to you. You were Magda Manuel's lover, were you not?"

He hesitated. Then he said: "She was lonely and there she was up there... her husband an invalid. I used to go often. We became very friendly."

"And the husband?"

"I think he knew."

"I see ... a convenient arrangement."

"It was not meant to be a match, you know. I was still waiting for you to come along. It is a pity you delayed so long."

"I think she resents me."

"Oh no. Magda is a woman of the world. She understood. There was never a question of marriage between us."

"But you were in love with each other?"

"It depends on what you mean by being in love. We liked each other. We were good for each other. We suited each other. We're the best of friends. I'd do a great deal for Magda."

"You see ... how I feel."

"You are hemmed in with conventions. It is not quite the same out here as it is at home. Maybe it is the climate. I am sure you will understand."

"And you and Magda now?"

"It's over."

"I don't think it is for her."

"I know her well ..."

"She seems mysterious, secretive."

"That is because you are looking at her in a certain way. You don't like me to have been fond of any other woman... even before I met you. I like that. It comforts me."

I was silent and he held me against him, kissing my face gently. I thought: He really loves me. And I wished I could turn to him and tell him that I wanted to be everything to him ... to stay with him forever. I almost did. I had only to say the word. It rested with me. I was happy that that was so. And I wanted to say that word... and yet, I was held back by forces I did not fully understand.

We lay there ... close, for a long time. His arms were about me comfortingly.

I shall never forget it—the gentle sound of the water outside the hut ... the silence ... the comfort ... the knowledge that he loved me

enough to hold back that passion which I sensed in him because he believed that I was a woman whose wish was to be respected.

Love between us had to be perfect. No furtive affair in an old canoe because the mist had thrown us together. I loved him more for understanding.

I had no idea of the time but it must have been the early hours of the morning when the mist lifted. I was cramped. He helped me out of the canoe.

"It's quite clear now," he said. "You can see Cariba."

"We're very close," I replied.

I lifted my face to his and he kissed me.

"Thank you," I said. "I shall never forget this night. It will be one of my most precious memories."

"We'll come back every year we're here. We'll even come back and see the old place after we've settled in England."

"I wonder," I said.

"No need to wonder. It's a promise."

"Who can say?"

"I say," he said.

"And you are always right?"

He had returned to his old self, but I thought I had seen a new side to his nature on this night. And I loved him all the more for it.

I sat in the boat. He was smiling at me. He produced the hairpins from his pocket.

"I like it flowing," he said, "but I think you look more decorous with it up."

I took the pins from him while he took the oars and rowed us back to Cariba.

FIRE IN CARIBA

Everyone thought we had stayed the night at Magda's plantation. The mist provided a good reason for our doing so. Felicity had been anxious at first but had been reassured and I was relieved that next morning there appeared to be no undue excitement about the matter. Perhaps there was a little more surreptitious giggling, but I refused to notice it.

Felicity seemed a little better. We breakfasted together. I told her about Magdas plantation and she showed a little interest which was rare with her. I fancied she was coming out of her listlessness which was a move in the right direction.

I liked to watch the ship come in from Sydney and I would sit on the terrace waiting for it. There was always a great deal of bustle and excitement even though it was a regular occurrence. The waterfront was noisier than ever and there was general congestion among all the bullock carts and the people who had come from their houses with produce to sell.

It was becoming a familiar scene to me. I felt that I was indeed part of the island. Memories of the previous night were still with me and I was there, in my imagination, lying in that canoe with Milton. I treasured the memory because I believed he had shown that he truly loved me. It would not have been impossible for him to have overcome my scruples but he had not done so.

Then I began to think of Raymond and more perhaps of Magnus Perrensen. He aroused such strange emotions in me. He seemed remote; even his speech was a little archaic. If he had told me he was really that Magnus Perrensen, born again, I think I should have been ready to believe him.

The ship had arrived. People were coming ashore. Idly I watched, my thoughts elsewhere.

Then suddenly I was startled. It could not be. I must be dreaming. I had surely imagined it. But it was! Raymond was stepping out of one

of the little launches which rowed people ashore from the ship. I stared. It must be someone who looked like him. People had doubles and one could be mistaken ... especially from a little distance.

I left the hotel and ran down to the waterfront expecting the figure to turn into someone else as I approached.

But the nearer I came the more certain I was that I had not been mistaken.

"Raymond!" I cried.

He put down the bag he was carrying and looked straight at me.

I ran to him and he caught me in his arms. "Annalice!"

"Raymond! Oh ... Raymond! It is really you."

"I've come to see you ... and Felicity," he said.

"Oh Raymond, what a surprise! Why didn't you let us know? We didn't expect... It's such a surprise."

"I had made up my mind to come when you left," he said. "It was just a matter of arranging a few things. It was a business trip you see. I had to see people in Sydney."

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"Letters take so long. I have written as a matter of fact."

"Where to?"

"Australia."

"We left there some time ago. So you don't know what's happened. Did you get my letters?"

"I received one which arrived just as I was setting out. Something was wrong. Felicity was unhappy. The marriage wasn't a success. You told me that. I heard in Sydney that you and Felicity had taken the ship to Cariba."

"Oh Raymond, there is so much to tell. You will stay at this hotel."

"Where is Felicity?"

"She is here. She has been ill... very ill."

"111?" he said with alarm.

"She's getting better, I think. Raymond, I must tell you all about it before you see her. She is not herself. She came near to a breakdown. It was all that she suffered in Australia. You haven't heard about her husband's death? I suppose you wouldn't in England. It was in the Sydney papers."

"My dear Annalice, what is all this about? It is so good to see you. I have missed you so much."

"And you were planning to come out all the time."

"I wasn't sure. It was a matter of business. I didn't want to say I should be following you and then find it didn't happen."

"Where is your luggage?"

"They're bringing it ashore."

"I'll go and book you a room in the hotel while you see to it. And I do want to talk to you before you see Felicity."

"Is it as bad as that?"

"It's very bad. But she is improving. I'll go at once and see about the room. Get them to bring your luggage to the hotel. I've got to talk to you."

"It sounds so mysterious."

"Raymond ... this is such a surprise. I'm so glad you're here."

He took my hand and kissed it. Then I left him and ran into the hotel. Rosa booked a room with an excited giggle. A friend of mine and Mrs. Granville had come. A gentleman. She found that of great interest and I could see was eager to impart the news to her colleagues.

When Raymond had his room and his baggage had been taken up I took him onto the terrace and called for a drink.

Then I told him everything, the marriage, the character of William Granville which had rapidly emerged, the terrible ordeal to which Felicity had been submitted, culminating in the shooting on the balcony.

"Poor child," he said. "How she must have suffered!"

"It is not surprising that she became a little ... unbalanced."

"She is such a gentle creature ... so carefully brought up and to go to such a brute."

"It was very unfortunate. She should never have agreed to marry him in the first place."

"I expect she wanted the excitement of travel."

"I don't think that was all," I said.

"When can I see her?"

"I think you had better come to her room."

He rose with alacrity and followed me upstairs.

I had asked Raymond to wait outside for a moment and I went into her room. She was sitting at her window idly looking out on the scene below.

"Felicity," I said. "Someone is here to see you."

She started up. I don't know what she expected. The ghost of William Granville? Mrs. Maken? Someone from the past. I said quickly: "It is Raymond Billington."

"Raymond! It can't be!"

He was in the room. She looked at him wonderingly and the joy in her face moved me deeply.

"Raymond," she cried and ran to him.

He took her into his arms.

She cried: "It isn't really you. I'm dreaming."

"I'm here all right," he said. "I've come here to look after you... you and Annalice."

"Oh Raymond!" She was crying now and I had not seen her cry for a very long time. She put up her hands and touched his face as though to assure herself that he was really there.

He held her tightly, rocking her to and fro. "It's all right now," he said. "I'm here. I'm here to take you home."

She put her hand against his chest and I saw the tears rolling down her cheeks.

I shut the door and left them together.

I went to my own room and thought: She loves him and he loves her too. Oh, what a mess we have made of everything. And what will happen now?

I was not surprised to see Milton. He had heard of Raymond's arrival and had lost no time in coming to the hotel.

I was sitting on the terrace with Raymond and Felicity when I saw him. He bounded up the steps and I rose to meet him.

I said: "Raymond Billington has come."

He looked rather grim.

"Come and meet him," I said. "Raymond... this is Milton Harrington. I've told you about him. He has helped us so much."

Raymond held out his hand. I watched Milton sizing him up. I could not tell from his expression what he thought of him.

"We were sitting here watching the harbour," I said.

"You look very much better, Felicity," said Milton.

"Oh, I am," she replied.

Milton sat down with us.

"This is rather a surprise, isn't it?" Milton turned to me. "Or did you know?"

"A great surprise," I told him.

"Letters take so long," said Raymond. "It makes communication difficult. I went to Sydney and made enquiries. Then I caught the first boat."

"Shall you stay long?"

"No. I can't do that. I shall be returning soon, I imagine. I believe the ship goes only once a week."

"You mean you are thinking of going next week?"

Raymond smiled at me. "I shall have to see about that. I've only just arrived. We haven't had time to discuss anything. It was a great shock to find that Felicity had been so ill."

Felicity lowered her eyes and flushed slightly.

"You must come up to the plantation and dine with me," said Milton.

"I hope you'll dine with us at the hotel tonight," I said to Milton.

"Thank you. I have to go back now. I'll come in at seven."

I walked with him to the stables where he had left his horse, leaving Raymond with Felicity.

Milton said: "You're not going back with him."

"I don't know. It's all so unexpected. I was astounded when I saw him getting off the boat."

"And you'd no idea that he was coming?"

"None at all."

"He should take Felicity back. She's much better since he's come. She seems like a different person."

"Yes," I agreed.

"Due to him, is it?"

"I think it must be."

"Let them go. You stay here."

"I don't know, Milton. I can't think what I should do."

"I'll think for you."

"No. I must think for myself."

He looked at me ruefully. "I might ask myself what hope I have," he said, "with a saint and a ghost for rivals."

"I don't think you would be overawed by either."

He turned to me suddenly and held me against him. I wished I could wave a wand and remove all the obstacles which stood in my way.

"I'll see you at dinner tonight," I said.

"I shall be there and perhaps I shall get to know this paragon of a man, this saint, and I am going to discover something about the ghostly one too. He's a queer character. Then I shall come to claim you for my own. You're going to stay here, you know. You're going to marry me."

I smiled at him and thought: That is what I want.

Then he mounted his horse and rode away.

There was tension in the air. Raymond's arrival had created that. Felicity had passed through the first stages of euphoria; she was very much aware of Raymond's feelings for me and there were moments when I felt she hated me for it. She was deeply in love with him. I could see that clearly. It was something she would never get over because he had been the hero of her childhood, whom she had dreamed of marrying. In fact she had implied that his family and hers

had thought that a match between them was certain. Then I had come along. No wonder she felt less than kindly towards me.

I wanted to tell Raymond that I could not marry him. I wanted him to take Felicity home and leave me here. But I had not had a chance to speak to him at any length for Felicity was with us most of the time.

I wanted to explain to him that I could not go home. Perhaps I was not going to find my brother. Perhaps I had subconsciously accepted the fact that he was lost forever and the theory that he had drowned was correct. I had discovered nothing about him really. But what I had learned was that I was unsure of myself. That I loved Milton Harrington in a different way from that in which I had loved Raymond was certain and if I went back with Raymond I should never have a moment of real happiness because my heart would be in Cariba. Yet, if I stayed here I could drift into a state of blissful oblivion of everything but the moment.

All this I wanted to explain, but I must wait for the right occasion.

The previous night Milton had dined with us at the hotel as we had arranged. It had been an uncomfortable meal. Milton was inclined to be aggressive, talking about the plantation and the island and keeping the conversation to himself. Raymond, of course, deferred, which was exactly what one would expect of Raymond.

I was glad when the meal was over and Milton left.

"A very interesting man," was Raymond's comment.

I think Milton would have been less complimentary of Raymond. But that was an indication of their different natures.

I had been unable to sleep. I had another search for the map. I went through everything I had and could not find it.

The idea occurred to me that someone had stolen it. Why? Who would want it? What use was it to anyone? It was very strange.

Looking for the map I came across Felicity's pills. She hadn't needed one for some time now and I had almost forgotten them. I had regarded that as an indication that she was getting better. But I had made sure that I had some in case she should need them. There were ten still left in the bottle. I hoped she would not need them again.

During the afternoon when Felicity was resting I did have a talk with Raymond. We sat in the courtyard under a big sunshade. The heat was intense. The cicadas were making a great noise and now and then I heard the call of the fig-bird.

He said: "So you have discovered almost nothing about your brother's disappearance."

I shook my head. "Some people remembered him. He came and stayed here. Then he went away. That is really all 1 have found out."

"It was a long way to come for such a small reward and it has brought you no nearer to what you sought. ,,

I shook my head.

"You've changed. And so has Felicity for that matter. Do you think she will ever be the same again?"

"I think she could in certain circumstances."

"You mean if she went back home."

"I mean if she had someone to care for her... someone loving and tender... someone who would show her that marriage was not what she endured with that man."

"I am so glad you were with her. She said she did not know what she would have done without you."

"It was a terrible experience for us both."

"Yes. It has changed you, too. Are you longing to come home?"

I hesitated.

"No," he said. "You're not. The life here fascinates you in a way. I believe I can understand that."

"Raymond," I told him, "you are the most understanding man in the world."

"And have you been thinking about... us?"

"A great deal."

"And are you still unsure?"

I was silent again.

He said: "I think I understand. That man is in love with you. isn't he?"

"Well, yes ... He implies he is."

"And you?"

I said: "I don't know. You were so good to me. It was wonderful to know you when we were so desolate about Philip. And then ... you arranged everything for me ... so that I could do what I wanted to do. No one could have been kinder."

"I see."

"Do you, Raymond?"

He nodded. "Let's leave it, eh? Let's wait awhile. My arrival was so unexpected. I wish I could have let you know I was on the way."

"Life has been so strange. I have been worried about Felicity. Your coming has made all the difference to her."

"I've known her since she was a child."

"She told me. She is almost herself now. It's miraculous ... the difference in her."

"She will get better. I'll take charge of that."

"When do you want to go back?"

"Very soon."

I nodded. Then I told him about my meeting with Magnus Perrensen. "You remember ... the man who was mentioned in the journal. This is his great-grandson."

"What an extraordinary coincidence."

"When you consider all the facts it is not so very extraordinary. The family knew the story of Ann Alice and the island. The original Magnus came looking for the island, then settled in Australia and did some gold mining very successfully apparently. They then acquired this island. It was the nearest to that one for which they were looking. You see it is all quite logical when you look at it that way."

"It is strange that you should have met him."

"Yes, that was by chance, of course. But you can imagine how bewildered I was... and still am by all this."

"And you have not seen him since?"

"It is only really a short time ago. He said he would ask me to visit him or he would come here. I believe he will."

"I see. Annalice, let us wait a day or so. Perhaps you will know how you feel by the time the next ship leaves."

"A week?"

"Perhaps I could wait another week. But that would be the limit, I think. I have some business to do in Sydney. That was supposed to be the purpose of my coming out."

"Supposed to be?"

"Well, naturally I wanted to see what was happening to you. When I had that letter I was deeply concerned about Felicity. I thought from the first that she was a little unsure about that marriage."

"Yes. She rushed into it."

"I can't understand what possessed her."

I looked at him steadily. "She was really in love with someone else," I said.

He frowned and did not answer. Could it be that he who was so understanding about the affairs of others could be so obtuse about his own?

There was a silence of some duration. Then he said: "Well, all we can do is wait. In a few days ... perhaps ..."

I said nothing to that, and then after a while: "What a noise those cicadas make!"

Now I was wondering what he was feeling. Having basked in the torrid atmosphere of Milton's emotions 1 found Raymond cool and practical. His kiss had been gentle and swift. He knew Milton was in love with me and he would realize that Milton would not be the man to indulge in overmuch restraint. What did he see of my feelings for Milton? How obvious was that? And how much would it mean to

him if I decided to marry Milton and stay in Cariba? His calm, his serenity, which I had found so comforting, might mean that his feelings did not go as deep as some people's—Milton's, for instance. I was not sure.

How strange that, in my state of bewilderment, I was not even sure of Raymond.

There were times when I began to wonder whether I had dreamed up that visit to Lion Island. I heard nothing more from Magnus Perrensen. I had thought he would come to Cariba. It was only a few days, I supposed, but it seemed longer.

After John Everton had brought me back to Cariba I had not seen him. I wondered whether he had left. I thought that after our acquaintance he would surely have said goodbye.

Then next morning I did see him. He was sitting on the terrace talking to Maria, the chambermaid. Maria talked to anyone when she had a chance. She was even more garrulous than the rest of the staff.

So John Everton had not left.

I considered the idea of asking him to row me over to Lion Island. But I could scarcely go without an invitation. It would come. I was impatient.

Milton had not suggested coming to the hotel for dinner that evening; nor had he invited us to the plantation. I felt this was due to Raymond's presence.

I missed him. I was restless. I should have to make a decision soon. I had been drifting along in a pleasant state of euphoria. I had refused to look at the facts. I had just wanted to go on enjoying my relationship with Milton and putting decisions aside.

Now I had to make up my mind. Was I going to sail away with Raymond and Felicity, or was I going to stay with Milton?

I knew what I wanted to do. My feelings for Raymond had changed and that was due to Felicity. If I had not come into their lives none of this would have happened. Perhaps if I were not there Raymond would marry Felicity and she would be happy. And him? I had convinced myself that his feelings did not go as deeply as some people's do; that was why he was able to face the world so serenely.

Soon it would be sunset and that lurid red light would colour the scene. The sea would turn pale pink and the sky blood-red. I should never grow accustomed to the sunset and I always waited for the moment when that great red ball seemed to drop below the horizon. It was spectacular and never quite the same twice.

I was restless and I decided to take a walk along the waterfront.

As I walked down marvelling at the colourful sky and sea I saw smoke some way inland.

I stopped to look at it and as I did so it spiralled upwards. I saw a great flame and then more smoke. Something was on fire. My heart began to beat uncertainly for the direction from which the smoke was coming was the plantation.

The plantation was on fire!

A terrible fear came over me. Milton was there. I could not think of anything but that I had to find him. I had to assure myself that he was safe.

I went to the stables. I mounted my horse and in my flimsy dress rode bareback to the plantation.

I was right. The place was on fire. I could hear men shouting. I had never seen such a sight. It was like an enormous tower of fire and the flames were racing through the canes. I saw men standing round the edges with buckets of water, rats and a mongoose scuttled out of the burning mass.

I tried to make my way to the house.

"Keep away," shouted one of the men.

"Mr. Harrington," I cried. "Where is he? I have to find him. Where ... ?"

Then I saw him. He was coming towards me. I ran to him and he caught me in his arms and held me fast.

I cried out in relief: "You're safe. Thank God. I thought... I was terrified. I couldn't have borne it if... "

"Does it matter so much?" he said.

"You know."

He held me tightly. "You're committed now, you know. You've betrayed yourself."

He was laughing with triumph.

I looked at him in amazement. "Your plantation is on fire ... and you stand here..."

He said: "This is the happiest moment of my life. Look at you. Distraught. Tearful. In a state of panic ... and all because you feared you had lost me. Let this be a lesson to you."

"How can you ... now ... at such a time ..."

"It is really very amusing. This is a great joke. It is the best joke I ever heard."

"You are mad."

"With joy. My love loves me. Look. She deserts all even the saint himself ... to ride to me ... because she thinks I am in danger. Come into the house. I want to tell you something."

"Your plantation is burning down "

"I want to tell you how much I love you."

"I don't understand you. Don't you care. You are losing everything."

"What would that matter if I gained my love... which I have. You can't go back on this. You stand betrayed. You have revealed yourself. Admit it."

"Milton ..."

"Well, let me tell you. The plantation is not burning down. Tomorrow all the canes will be cut the easier for the fire. This is what we call a field burning."

"You mean you deliberately set the place on fire?"

He nodded. "It's a periodic exercise. When the time is ripe we put a torch to the green sugar. It burns the cane to clear it so that it will be easier to cut in the morning."

"So it was all planned."

"It needs very careful planning. Waiting for the wind to be in the right direction... watching all the time... cutting firebreaks round the fields. We have to be on the watch all the time. If it got out of hand it could be disastrous. It could even destroy the whole of the island."

I was so relieved I could only laugh.

"And you rode out to save me ... just like that. Oh Annalice, my darling Annalice, this is surely the happiest moment of my life."

"You said that before."

"Well, it is worth repeating. I shall always remember it. The day she came to me ... If you could have seen the fear on your face... and all for me."

I could only cling to him laughing, I think, rather hysterically.

"I was so frightened," I said.

He kissed me. "And now you have no doubts."

I shook my head.

"You are going to stay with me. You let him know."

"I think he knows already."

"I am going to give you a drink and take you back to the hotel."

"They will be wondering what has become of me. I'll go back alone. You have to be here to make sure the fire is kept under control."

"There are men here to do that. They know what has to be done." He looked out. "It's almost over now. The blackened stalks will cut well tomorrow. The operation was a success ... the greatest success I have ever known. Come along. I'm going to take you back in the carriage. I'll send your horse back tomorrow. You can't ride as you are. No saddle. How very indecorous. And all for me. I am so happy tonight. Tell me how very scared you were."

"You know."

"I saw it in your face. There was that other time. Do you remember when I went pearl diving?"

"I remember it well."

"You did not like my going down to the sea bed, did you?"

"I thought of sharks."

"I promise I won't dive for pearls when we are married."

I touched his face lightly. "You are a very forceful man," I said.

"Well, you are no meek Griselda yourself. After all it's you I have fallen in love with and you with me. Just as we are ... warts and all, as they say. I wouldn't have one little bit of you changed and that's the truth."

"Nor I," I said.

"Come, take this. It will do you good. You were very shaken, you know."

"Yes, 1 do know that."

"Riding through the night ..."

I sipped the drink and he sat beside me and put his arm about me. I felt suddenly happy. It was as though this evening everything had been resolved.

He drove me back in the carriage.

They had been wondering what had happened to me.

I explained and Milton went into some detail about the way in which they burned the canes every now and then when it was necessary to make cutting easier.

"Annalice was so worried on my account. She thought I was in my burning plantation and dashed over ... just as she was ... on horseback. I think she was going to plunge in and haul me back to safety."

"I don't know what I was going to do," I said. "I thought the whole place was on fire."

"Won't you stay and dine with us?" asked Raymond.

"Thanks, no. I must get back to make sure everything is all right. It's under control but one never knows. It's a tricky business."

"I can understand that."

"I should retire early if I were you," said Milton to me. "Take a little coconut milk before you go to sleep. It's very soothing. I'll tell Maria to take it up to your room."

He was already assuming a proprietorial air. I wondered if the others noticed it. I did not care if they did. I was experiencing a kind of exultation. Tomorrow I must speak to Raymond. I would explain and I was sure he would understand.

Milton left. "I'll see you tomorrow evening. I'll give you the day to set everything in order," were his parting words.

He meant of course my speaking to Raymond.

I wanted to talk to him. I even thought of doing so that evening. But I could hardly do so with Felicity there; and now that he had arrived she did not go to her room early as she had done before. She wanted to be where he was all the time.

I was glad. I felt everything could work out neatly after all. Raymond would go home and take Felicity with him. And in time... perhaps before very long... they would marry. I saw how suited they were to each other. Raymond needed someone to lean on him, that he might take care of her; and Felicity needed Raymond because he was the only one in the world who could wipe out memories of her terrible experiences.

I was happier than I had ever been, I think, on that night.

I was absent-minded during dinner and I retired early. The first thing I saw when I opened the door was the glass of milk on my table.

I smiled. He had spoken to Maria then. I did not want the milk, but it was his wish that I should take it and just because of that I would, I supposed.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I saw there was a smudge on the bodice of my dress. No one had mentioned it. My hair was a little loose too. My eyes were bright though. I looked slightly dishevelled but very happy.

I undressed, thinking of the next day. I must speak to Raymond as soon as I was alone with him. I would make him see that what had happened was inevitable. He would understand; and there would be Felicity waiting to comfort him. I think he loved Felicity more deeply than he realized. He had been so concerned for her, so eager to look after her.

Yes, it was all working out very satisfactorily indeed.

I undressed and brushed my hair.

I saw the milk by the side of my bed and remembered Milton's face, the brightness of his eyes which shone so blue in his sunburned face, his triumphant pleasure because I had betrayed my true feelings.

I picked up the glass and took a sip.

There was something rather sickly about coconut milk at times. I set it down again. I had no inclination to drink it.

I sat up in bed for a while thinking of the fire and that moment when I had seen him coming towards me.

I took more of the milk. I thought it tasted a little strange. I put it

down and in doing so spilt some on the table. I got out of bed to find a cloth and when I came back to the table I saw that there was some sediment in the milk on the table.

I had never noticed that before.

I wiped the table. I was beginning to feel amazingly sleepy. I got into bed. The room was slipping away from me. I lay down and must almost immediately have fallen into a deep sleep.

THE DISCOVERY

Usually I awoke early, but the next morning it was the sound of Maria in my room which brought me out of a heavy sleep. I felt a twinge of alarm. Something had happened to me. My limbs felt leaden and I found I could arouse myself only with the utmost effort.

Maria was standing by my bed. She was looking at me in some consternation.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"Yes, I think so. I slept very heavily."

I sat up in bed and put a hand to my head. Memories of yesterday came back to me. The fire... Milton ... my arriving back at the hotel.

"I feel strange," I said.

I remembered Milton's saying that he would tell Maria to take up some milk for me. I turned my head. There was nothing on the table, and it looked as though the wood had been freshly polished.

"You did not drink your milk," said Maria.

"I drank some of it."

"You spilt some. I cleaned up."

"Thank you."

"Would you like hot water now?"

"Yes, please."

When she had gone I got out of bed. I felt vaguely light-headed. Something had happened to me last night. I had been emotionally shaken. I shall never forget that moment when I had seen the fire and how I had ridden through that acrid atmosphere and heard the crackling of the flames. I could still see the terrified rats scuttling frantically away from the burning canes.

It had upset me more than I had realized at the time. Mostly it was the horror of thinking something terrible had happened to Milton... and the joyous discovery that it was nothing at all.

Then the milk.

Oh yes, the milk. What an extraordinary thing to happen! Of course Maria would take it away and wash the glass. It was her job to keep the room in order.

I sat on the bed thinking... and I was still thinking when she came back with the hot water.

I washed and dressed.

There was a knock on my door.

It was Felicity. She looked at me in some surprise.

"Oh ... you're just up."

"I overslept."

"That is unlike you. I have had breakfast downstairs with Raymond on the terrace. I want to show him the island. Will you come with us?"

"Not this morning. I have a slight headache. You two go on your own."

She could not hide her pleasure at the prospect.

"It must have been all the excitement of last night. That fire and everything... and you riding off like that."

"Yes," I said. "I expect so."

She went out.

How different she was! She had changed completely. If ever anyone was in love that was Felicity. Raymond must see it. It was so obvious. And he cared for her... deeply.

I sat down trying to cast off this feeling of vagueness. What was the matter with me? I had never felt like this before.

I must have been in a very drowsy state because I did not think immediately of the milk and it was only after I had been downstairs and had a late breakfast on the terrace that I remembered it.

The milk! I had taken only a little... and there had been a sediment.

I could not remain on the terrace and went back to my room.

I kept thinking: The milk. The sediment. Could it really be that someone had put something in the milk?

Why? To send me into a deep sleep? For what purpose? But I had only taken very little of the milk. If such a small amount could have such an effect on me, what would have happened if I had drunk the entire glassful?

I used to dissolve Felicity's pills in milk. That was the best way to take them, the doctor had said.

An alarming thought came to me. I went to the drawer. The bottle was there. With trembling fingers I unscrewed the top. There were only six pills in the bottle.

But only a few days ago I had looked at them and there had been ten!

I felt dizzy. Where were those four pills? I asked myself. I saw my reflection in the mirror. Pale face, eyes wide with speculation... alarming, horrible.

Someone had put those pills in my milk. Had I drunk all the milk where should I be now? Someone had tried to kill me.

I was remembering what the doctor said. One had been enough to give Felicity a good night's sleep. Never more than one a day, he had said. Two might not be exactly dangerous but it was not advisable to take them. More than that would be fatal.

And someone had put four pills in my milk!

I tried to think back. Milton had told Maria to bring my milk. I had found it waiting there when I came up. Maria? But why should Maria want to harm me? She had been very friendly. I had generously rewarded her for her services which had delighted her. She had seemed eager to look after me. She had been inquisitive, it was true. I had seen her examining my clothes, but that was natural curiosity.

Not Maria!

Felicity? Oh no. Gentle Felicity, Felicity who was frightened of so many things. She would never attempt murder. Murder? Surely no one was trying to murder me. But if I had taken four of those pills it would have been the end of me. Suppose I had. It could so easily have happened. If I had not become drowsy so quickly I might well have drunk the rest of the milk. I had thought it tasted peculiar ... but things here often did. I might at this moment ... be dead.

But Felicity? Impossible. But if I were not here Raymond would surely turn to her. She loved him wholeheartedly. He was everything to her. To see the miraculous change in her since he had come proved that. And I stood between them ... so she thought. Would she go to such lengths? How easy it would have been! She knew of the existence of the pills. She did not know where I kept them, but she would know they must be somewhere in my room and she had had plenty of opportunities to find them. I had been away from the hotel so much, leaving her in her room. How easy it would have been for her to discover their hiding place!

No, I could not believe that.

Another thought struck me.

Magda Manuel. I could imagine her planning murder more easily than Felicity. Magda? She had a reason to want me out of the way and again it was a man. How far had her relationship with Milton gone? Did she hope to marry him? Had there been some understanding between them before I came? But how could she come into the hotel... into my room. She had not been there last night when the pills were put into the milk. She could have paid one of the servants

... The more I thought of it the more possible it seemed ... She knew the island. She knew the ways of the islanders.

I felt light-headed, unsure how to act.

Well, here I was, alive and well, and rapidly throwing off the effects of a night of heavy drugged sleep. True, I had a slight headache ... nothing to take much notice of...

On the other hand I might say to myself: You had an eventful evening. You suffered a great shock. You thought the plantation was on fire. You rode over to it in a state of terrible fear. The reaction was tremendous when you saw him there. You accepted the truth. You committed yourself to action which you had been putting off for weeks. It was quite an experience and you exhausted yourself... emotionally. You slept deeply. And the milk? Imagination. Little pieces of coconut might be in the milk. That was your sediment.

It was all imagination.

But the missing pills? That was another matter.

You miscounted.

Ten? And then six? Had it been one less, even two, I might have accepted that. But four.

Yes, there were the pills to account for.

I sent for Maria.

I said: "You brought the milk up to my room last night."

"Why yes," she answered. "I put it by your bed. Mr. Harrington he say you should have it to make you sleep well."

"Did you bring it straight to my room from the kitchen?"

"But yes," she said, with an air of surprise at such a question.

I looked at her steadily and her eyes full of the habitual laughter met mine steadily.

I was sure Maria was innocent of any crime.

"You took the remains of the milk away," I said.

"But yes... this morning. You did not want last night's milk beside you."

"Some of it was spilt."

"It was nothing ... just a little. I wipe up."

"I see."

What could I say? How could I ask her if she had put pills into my milk? She would go down and tell them about it. They would think I had gone mad.

I said: "That's all right, Maria "

I wanted to dismiss the matter from my mind but 1 could not forget the pills in the bottle. 1 took it out and looked at it again. Only six left.

I replaced it and as I did so, I thought: The map was there in the

drawer... and that is missing. Where is the map of the island? Someone must have taken it. And whoever took it would have seen the bottle of pills there, for they were together.

I had another search for the map.

Maria came up to make my bed and do the room. I was sitting there waiting for her.

"Maria," I said, "have you seen a map of mine?"

"A map?"

"Yes ... a map. Not very big. Like this." I showed her with my hands. "I've lost it."

"On the terrace. I saw you show a map to someone once. That was a long time ago."

I thought: They watch us all the time.

"No, I didn't lose it then. I thought it was here in my room and I can't find it now."

"I look," she said.

"I've looked everywhere."

"I find. Mrs. Granville she lose her scarf. Cannot find. Not in her room. I found ... under the bed." She laughed as though that was a great joke. "I find map," she added.

No, I could not suspect Maria.

I left her and went downstairs. I sat there for a while wondering whether I should go to Milton and tell him what I feared.

He would immediately think I had spoken to Raymond and made it clear that I was going to marry him, Milton. If I told him what had happened he would want me to leave the hotel and go to his house. I smiled. Well, I should feel safe there.

John Everton strolled by.

"Good morning," he said. "How are you?"

"Well, thank you. And you?"

"Very well."

He did not stop.

I sat there brooding. What if the pills had dropped out of the bottle? I had taken them out to count them. I could have dropped four of them then. It was hardly likely but such things did happen. Those four pills might be lying in the drawer. How foolish I should look if I said that someone had put pills into my milk—and then they were discovered. And the map? Had I put that somewhere myself?

To say the least I had been in an excited state ever since my experiences at the Granville house. I might have been careless... absent-minded; and now, after having been concerned in an act of violence, was I allowing my imagination to run amok?

Magda was coming up from the waterfront. She saw me and waved.

My first thought was: She has come to see if I am dead.

However she expressed no surprise to see me sitting there. Then of course she wouldn't. If she was clever enough to arrange my death she would certainly be able to control her feelings.

"Good morning. How nice to see you," she said.

"You're very early."

"I came with my cook to shop. He's gone on to the market. I thought I'd call and see you."

"How nice of you!"

"Are you well?" She was looking at me intently and I felt my suspicions rise.

"Yes, thank you, very well."

"I'm giving a dinner party tomorrow night and I want you to come. I'm asking Milton, of course, and I wonder if your friend would feel well enough. I hear you have another friend staying at the hotel. Perhaps he would like to come too."

"He is out now and so is Mrs. Granville. I will tell them of your invitation when they come in."

"It is something of a celebration."

"Really?"

"Yes. My engagement to George."

"Oh." I felt deflated. If she were going to marry George why should she want me out of the way?

"Well, it's the sensible thing to do. I wonder we didn't before."

"He is a very charming man," I said.

"I think so, too."

"I am sure you will be very happy."

"Then you will come?"

"I shall be delighted to."

"And ask your friends. I'm going up to the plantation to ask Milton when we've been to the market. I'd better be off now. I have a good deal to do. I'm glad I saw you. Au revoir."

I went back to my room. Maria had finished and was gone.

So Magda was going to marry George. I saw how foolish I was to have suspected her. Moreover, how could she have put the pills into my milk. There were only two people who could have done that. Maria or Felicity.

I wondered about Felicity. I had always thought she was rather ineffectual. Yet was she? What had really happened on the balcony that night? He had left me and gone down to drink. Then he went in to her. She said she had come to the end of her endurance. She had picked up the gun and threatened to shoot herself. Had she, or had she threatened to kill him?

She had never been able to shoot straight. But perhaps ... My imagination was running on, playing tricks. I could see it all so clearly. Her fear, her loathing... and there he was lumbering towards her ... drunk. I could imagine her rushing to the balcony. Did she shoot? Did she do it deliberately? I could not blame her if she did. But did she?

Whatever the reason, murder was murder and I reckoned that no one who had committed it—however provoked—could ever be quite the same again.

Was that how it had happened?

That shot had saved her possibly from a life of degradation and misery. Just one shot... Now ... four pills could save her from a lifetime of frustrated longing; they could give her a lifetime with Raymond.

He loved her, I knew, in his quiet way.

Oh, it was fitting very well.

I wanted to go to Milton, but something held me back. I did not want to talk even to him of my suspicions of Felicity. My common sense made me reject them as ridiculous fantasy. But Felicity did have a reason to wish me out of her way... just as she had to be rid of William Granville.

There was a difference. He had been bestial towards her. I was her friend. How often had she said she did not know what she would have done without me? But I stood between her and what she wanted most in life.

It was impossible to think of Felicity as a murderess—that quiet, gentle girl. But what do we know of the hidden parts of people's minds. How well do we know each other?

I went back to my room. I turned out the drawer. Could those pills have been caught up in my gloves or scarves? I went through everything thoroughly. I searched for the map. What had happened to it? It was evident that someone had gone through my possessions.

Why should the map have disappeared? I could not accuse Felicity of taking that.

It was all very mysterious. I thought: I will go over to Milton, but not yet. Magda would be there.

What would that matter? She was going to tell him of her celebration dinner. What did a man feel about a woman with whom he had had a very special relationship when she had decided to marry someone else?

I felt simple ... ignorant of the world. There was so much I had to learn, and what I had learned since I left England was how little I knew.

I thought: I will go to him this afternoon, after the intense heat of the day is over.

I went out to the terrace. The sounds of the harbour seemed some way off. I sat down, my thoughts in a maze of speculation.

I saw Magda among the stalls. Her cook was with her—a very tall man in blue trousers and a white shirt against which his skin shone like ebony. They were bargaining, after the custom of shoppers.

I watched them idly for a moment. Then I saw Milton.

Magda had turned to him. She held out her hand. He took it and I saw them laughing together.

Then he left her and was making his way to the hotel.

I ran down to meet him, relief flooding over me.

"I'm so glad you've come," I said.

"What a pleasant welcome! Have you settled things with Raymond?"

I shook my head.

"I have had no opportunity. Felicity is there all the time. They have gone off together. She is in love with him and in a way he is with her. I don't think it is going to be so very difficult."

"Are you all right, Annalice?"

"Why do you ask?"

"You look pale, strained ..."

I said: "I want to talk to you. Something strange happened. Shall we sit on the terrace?"

When we were seated I told him about the milk. He was stunned. I had never seen him at a loss for words before. When he spoke he said: "You are sure... about those pills?"

"I've looked everywhere. I am sure I can't have been wrong. If it had been one missing ... or even two, I might have thought I had miscounted, but four..."

"Four! That could have been fatal!" He had turned very pale and he looked at me with such deep feeling that I felt the ordeal was worth while to see him thus. K "It looks as though someone wanted to put me into a deep sleep."

"Why?"

"Something I had in my room. Someone who knew nothing about the power of the pills ..."

He shook his head. "What could anyone possibly have wanted. They could easily have broken in without going to such lengths."

"The map was taken."

"The map of the island? It was taken last night?"

"No... no. Before that. I had already missed it. It was at the back of a drawer where the pills were."

"The map," he repeated. "That's odd." Then he went on: "You're not staying another night in that hotel."

"But where... ?"

"In my house, of course."

"But what about Felicity and Raymond?"

"They can stay here ... or come if they like. There's room for them. But you are coming."

"Oh, Milton, I'm so glad you know. I was hesitating about coming to you. I felt it sounded so silly. I want to be very careful of what I say."

"Why should you have to be careful?"

"Because I think it may have been Felicity. You see, there is a reason. She thinks I will marry Raymond and she loves him... intensely. She came through that terrible shock. I don't quite know what happened on the balcony that night, but it unbalanced her. There was a time when I thought she might have lost her reason. I would never have thought she could do a thing like this except for that."

"Felicity," he said slowly. "And the map. You don't think she stole that?"

"Oh no. That would not concern her."

He was silent and I went on: "I feel so unsure. I may have imagined all that about the milk. You see, I thought there was some sort of sediment... and I thought afterwards it might have been the pieces of coconut. You know what the milk is like. I had had a very strange evening ... the fire and all that. I was worn out... emotionally as well as physically. I think I may have fallen naturally into a deep sleep."

"And the pills? How do you account for those?"

"They may have dropped out of the bottle when I last opened it. It was opaque and I had taken them out to count. I could have dropped them onto the floor. They could have been swept up."

"Wouldn't you have noticed?"

"I should have thought so, but I am trying to look at this from all possibilities."

"And the lost map?"

"There are all sorts of ways I might have lost that. It was some time ago when I couldn't find it. It doesn't seem to have anything to do with all this."

He said: "I shan't rest until you are up at the plantation. Pack your things and come now."

"I must wait and see Felicity. I'll have to explain. I want to be very careful about this. If it is Felicity she needs very gentle treatment. I know her well. It could be something that snapped inside her brain. I do want to go very quietly on this."

He nodded.

"But you are not going to spend another night in the hotel."

"You are certainly taking charge of me," I said with a faint smile.

"I'm taking care of you. Isn't that what I'm going to do from now on? I see what you mean about Felicity. We'll play it quietly ... but with the utmost care. When they come back you'll tell them you are coming up to the plantation tonight. If they want to stay here let them. You are coming. That is certain."

I said: "I want to. I should be afraid to sleep in that room again."

"Come back with me now."

I shook my head. "I must give them some explanation. I don't want this to seem too strange ... too important. I'll think of something plausible. And I'll get Felicity at least to come with me. I feel I have to watch over her."

"Have you seen her this morning? Did she act strangely?"

"Only to be surprised that I was not up. I am really worried about her. How I wish everything was settled. I am sure Raymond would take her back to England... and they could be married. They'd be very happy together."

"You can't run people's lives for them, you know. They have to find their own way. I'm going now. I have one or two things I have to do. I'm expecting you before sundown. If you don't come, I shall come over to fetch you."

"Oh Milton, I'm so glad you know."

He held my hands firmly and kissed me.

"I'll take care of you always," he said, "for the rest of our lives."

I watched him until he had disappeared. I caught sight of Magda who was still wending her way through the stalls with the tall cook.

"Miss Mallory!"

It was John Everton.

"Oh... hello," I said.

"I'm glad I found you. I've got a message for you. It's from that man on the island."

"Oh?" I was alert immediately.

"The man who brought it couldn't find you."

"I was down here."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Well, he saw me and remembered me and gave me the message to give to you when I saw you. It was that you should go to Lion Island as soon as you could. Mr. Perrensen has something of the utmost importance to tell you. The messenger had to go back but I said if I could find you I would take you over as soon as you were ready to go. I said I would. I'll take you now if you like. I could get a boat easily."

"That would be troubling you."

"Oh. I have nothing to do. Holidays don't really suit me. I like to be doing something all the time. It will be a nice trip for me."

"If you are sure ..."

"I am indeed. Could we leave now 0 "'

"Yes. I'll go and get my sun hat."

"You'll need it. I'll be waiting here. Don't be longer than you can help. We want to get back before the heat of the day."

I went up to my room and got my hat. I had been waiting for something like this since I had met Magnus Perrensen. I forgot my lethargy. He had something important to tell me. Perhaps I was on the verge of finding what I had come for. Perhaps he had news of Philip. In the excitement of everything that had happened. I had forgotten the quest which had brought me here.

John Everton went ahead of me to the boat. Magda was still at the market. She turned suddenly and saw me. She waved.

Then John Everton helped me into the boat and we were off.

"Not such a bright day as the last time." he said. "The wind isn't in the right direction either, so it will take a little longer to get there."

"Let us hope there's no mist." I said.

"The wind would soon clear that."

I could see the reclining lion getting nearer and nearer. Now it was looming over us and the sandy beach was in sight. He took the boat in and. leaping out. helped me to disembark.

"Here we are. It didn't take so long after all."

We went over the sand to the house. At the top of the steps Magnus Perrensen was waiting.

He took my hands and smiled warmly. "Thank you for coming so promptly."

"I was eager as soon as I heard. You have news for me?"

"Yes. that's so. Come along in. We'll be comfortable."

The strange uncanny feeling was creeping over me. Being with him took me back to the journal. Phrases of .Ann .Alice's seemed to go on and on in my brain.

"We'll have a drink." he said. "They'll bring it to us."

He took me into the room with the french windows overlooking the sea.

"I have wanted to come to Cariba so often since we last met." he said. ".And I wanted to ask you to come here. But there was something I had to make sure of first. I wanted to wait until I could tell you of my discovery."

"I am all eagerness to hear."

"First the drink ... This is a very special concoction made by my

servant. He is very clever with such things. You will like this. It is refreshing."

I tried it. "Thank you," I said. "I do want to hear..."

"Yes, I know. There is an island."

"You have found it! Where is it? How far out was the map?"

"The map was correct," he said.

"But ..."

"Yes, I know you went there with the gentleman of Cariba, and there was nothing there. But you didn't look closely enough. It's understandable. You shall know everything. Nothing shall be kept from you. I do admire you so much. You are so vital. Far more so than most women. You are adventurous. You have set out on a journey round the world to look for your lost brother. You are a romantic too. The journal touched you deeply, didn't it? I believe there were times when you thought you were Ann Alice. And when you first met me ... admit it ... for a moment you thought you were back in the past. You thought I was the young lover who had promised to take you away from that sinister house. You did, didn't you? Confess it."

"Of course I never mistook my own identity."

"Oh, but I believe there were times when you thought you were Ann Alice reborn. That moment when I took your hand and said ... What did I say? At last you have come.' That sent shivers down your spine. I know. I saw it."

"Oh well, perhaps. I am longing to hear about the island. You say the map is correct."

"Do drink up. It is so refreshing."

I took another sip. I was beginning to feel a little uneasy. He was acting so strangely. It seemed as though he was mocking me in a way. He was different from the man he had appeared to be at our last meeting.

"Tell me where the island is," I said.

"At the bottom of the sea."

I gave a startled exclamation. In a flash of revelation I remembered being in the boat with Milton, looking back at the lightish green water, that patch of a different colour in an expanse of blue. Had it meant that at that spot the land was closer to the surface of the sea? Could that be the meaning of the difference in colour?

"There is a simple answer," he was saying. "Eighty or so years ago there was a change in the weather pattern ... just for one year. Most countries experienced excessive and unusual heat. A certain amount of ice at the poles melted and flowed into the oceans. Several lands suffered floods. It was even felt here, nearer the equator, though in a lesser way and some islands became just rocks jutting out of the

sea, others were completely submerged. That is what happened to our island."

"Oh. I see it all now. I have heard about the possibility of that happening. Someone was talking about it..."

"In connection with the island?" he asked quickly.

"Oh no... just generally."

I saw John Everton walk past the window and it struck me as strange that he had not come into the house with me.

"Is he a friend of yours?" I asked.

"He works for me."

"But ... I did not think he knew you. I thought we came here by chance..."

"He brought you ... on my orders."

"You mean the first time?"

"Yes."

"Then why did he pretend that he did not know you?"

"You're going to hear everything in time. You are not drinking."

"I am not really thirsty."

"It is not unpleasant, is it?"

"No, very nice."

"You will find it so refreshing."

"I thought at first that you might have news of my brother."

"Oh, of course, your brother."

"Do you know anything of him?"

"He came here. He was a very inquisitive young man, and observant, too. He was very like his sister. And quite knowledgeable. He knew a great deal about charts and the sea. He guessed the island was submerged."

"So you met him?"

"He noticed the colour of the sea. It is not always like that. It happens only in certain climatic conditions. Sometimes there is no indication at all."

"So Philip discovered it ... "

"It was discovered long ago."

"But when I last saw you ..." I stared at him. He raised his glass and indicated that I should do the same.

I hesitated. Why was he so eager for me to drink? I had learned a lesson on the previous night. I believed I should not drink thoughtlessly for a long time.

There was something very odd about this. The manner in which he looked at me, the way he spoke, not giving clear answers to my questions. I was beginning to feel very uneasy indeed. It occurred to me that he might not be quite sane.

He looked so cold. His eyes were blue—so were Milton's. But how different! I felt an intense longing for Milton's protective presence and something like terror because an expanse of water divided us.

"I believe you have something to tell me about my brother."

"I know where he is."

I rose. "Take me to him."

"All in good time."

"What is this all about? Why are you so mysterious? Why don't you tell me outright?"

"I wish you would relax and drink. Then we could chat happily."

"No," I said, "I won't drink. I don't want to drink. I am not thirsty. All I want is news."

"Well, I'll tell you where your brother is. He is on the island."

"But the island..."

"Yes, it is at the bottom of the sea."

"You mean Philip is..."

"He's there ... or what the fishes have left of him."

I said: "I want to go. I don't know what you are planning to do, but I don't want to stay here a moment longer."

"That is not very polite. What would Ann Alice say to that?"

"You have brought me here for a purpose. I want to know what."

"So you shall ... I wish you had taken the drink. It would have been so much easier for you. I like you. You are very attractive. I don't think Ann Alice was as attractive as you are. She would have lacked your fire. You are a young woman of great spirit. You like everything to go your way. I think it was most commendable of you to come on this quest. That is why I have decided that you shall discover what you came for... before you join your brother."

"What?"

He nodded. "Not yet, though. You know the love of those two was never consummated. Did you know that? Ann Alice was a simple girl. My great-grandfather was a worthy young man, idealistic at that time. He changed. I daresay Ann Alice would have changed. People do. Circumstances change them. Don't you agree?" i> "I want your man Everton to take me back immediately."

"This is my island. I have not gone to such pains to bring you here that you shall go when the whim takes you. I like that idea of going back in the past. I like to think of myself as the young map maker coming to England and falling in love with the beautiful young girl. You have to go, but before that I want a little make-believe. We will play the lovers ... We will enjoy what they had not the opportunity to ... or perhaps the courage. Conventions were very rigid in those days ... so are they now, but here on this island 1 make the laws."

"I think you are mad/' I said.

"No. quite sane. I have told you that I admired you from the moment I saw you. You walked straight into the lions den, didn't you? You are rather careless. You are just like your brother. He was very gullible. He wanted to send divers down. He wanted to go himself. I had the equipment here. I took him ... and I came back without him. He knew too much ... discovered too much ... just as I was afraid he would."

I stared at him in horror. Then I looked about me. He followed my gaze.

"Sea all round." he said. "There is no way out. If you had taken the drink you would have been pleasantly drowsy ... that was how it should have been. I should have made love to you quietly ... tenderly, just as my great-grandfather would have done with Ann Alice. But you are stubborn. You refuse to drink."

I said: "Did you try to kill me last night?"

"It is not for you to ask questions. And you may drink now. It would be better so. I want a sweet acquiescent mistress. I want her to be as Ann Alice would have been. You will fight. I can see that. Ann Alice would never have fought her lover."

I said: "You are mad."

"No, not at all. Everything I do is founded on logic. You are a danger to me as your brother was. You came to find him. Well, that is what you have done. So now you are going to join him."

"Do you imagine that you can kill me as you did my brother. He was unknown here. I am not. There are people who will want to know what has become of me."

"The big man of Cariba? That is taken care of. The boat will be found... broken. Everton will disappear and so will you. That will be indisputable evidence. Someone must have seen you leave with Everton."

"And they will know that he was taking me here."

"Why should they? No one knows of his connection with me."

"I have already told several people of that other occasion when he brought me over."

"That would not mean that he brought you here a second time."

"They will know that would be the only reason why I should go in a boat with him."

"You quibble. No one will know that you came here."

I was trapped. I thought. He means every word he says. He is cold and calculating. Why did I ever find the journal? If I had not Philip would be at home now ... and I should never have met Milton.

"Milton. Milton." I said his name over and over again to myself. Where are you now? If only I could reach you ... in thought...

I was trying to think clearly. I would not be missed for hours. Felicity and Raymond would come back and wonder where 1 was. Would they be anxious? They might think I had gone to the plantation for luncheon. Would anyone have seen me go off with John Everton. Magda had waved to me as I was about to get into the boat, but would she think of mentioning it... not until it would be too late.

It would not be until evening that they would realize that I had disappeared. If I could run down to the shore ... get into the boat... row myself back to Cariba. How could I escape him?

I thought: He is mad. He is as obsessed by the past as I was. I had felt myself caught up in it— and so had he. Ann Alice had brought her tragedy to me just as his great-grandfather had caught him into his life.

When I looked into his cold blue eyes I thought I was looking at death.

And how I longed to live! I wanted to be with Milton forever. I wanted to enjoy that life he had talked of... going home to England, having children. I had wanted that for a long time ever since in my heart I had known that I loved him—but never had that seemed clearer to me than now.

Perhaps if I called to him. I felt my whole being trying to reach him. It must find some response. He must sense that I was in danger. Milton, Milton, where are you now? He would be there on the plantation supervising the cutting of the scorched canes. Milton ... Soundlessly I called to him.

I wanted to cling to life. Every moment was important.

There was something coldly dedicated about this man. He was enjoying the scene too much to want to bring it to a speedy conclusion. There was no heat of passion in him, no over-riding sexual desire; it was to be a sort of ritual, a culmination of the story of Ann Alice and her lover.

If I could keep him talking ...

"You promised to explain," I said. "You said I deserved to know."

"Well?"

"What is the secret of the island? Why do you want no one to know that it is there under the sea?"

"I will tell you," he said. "My great-grandfather, lover of Ann Alice, came out here searching for it. He never found it; but he was caught up in the fever of the search for gold. Gold, you see. There was gold on the island ... so much gold that it was everywhere. He became obsessed by gold ... and he found it in Australia. He became moderately wealthy. He married there and had a son... my grand-

father who followed in his father's footsteps. But a gold mine is not a bottomless pit. The gold runs out. The affluence fades. My grandfather was no longer young when he went in search of the island. To find the island was an obsession in my family ... as it became with your brother and yourself."

"Yes?" I prompted. I was looking for some way of escape. Could I get out of this room? Where could I hide. I suppose in moments of acute danger one's senses become more alert. My ears were straining. Did I imagine I heard the sound of movement... something out there...

He was intent on his story. "My grandfather bought this island to be near where he believed that other island might be. He made it his object in life to find the island... and he did. He sent divers down there. It was true about the gold. It seemed... inexhaustible. For fifty years we have been bringing up that gold."

"That is why you are one of the few successful gold miners in Australia. The gold comes from the island."

He nodded.

"It doesn't belong to you."

He shrugged his shoulders. "We do not want people prying into our affairs."

"You mean someone might try to get a share of the gold? Does it belong to you? I don't believe that it does ... by law ... "

"It belongs to my family," he said firmly. "And it is going to remain in my family. That is why we cannot have clever little spies probing around."

"I am beginning to understand."

"It is very clear... and logical, you must admit."

I blinked, I saw a ship close to the island. I did not betray my exultation. He would not be able to see out of the window from where he sat. I must go on talking as though I had seen nothing. I must keep his attention focussed on me. The relief was almost unbearable. Someone was coming.

Surely some of his men had seen the ship. How many men were there on the island besides Magnus Perrensen and John Everton? The divers, I supposed; they would be necessary to bring up the gold, and the servants. There must be quite a few of them.

I said: "Suppose I offered to go away and say nothing about the island?"

"How could I trust you?"

"If I gave my word."

"What of your brother?"

"He is dead. I can't bring him back."

"I don't like violence," he said.

"Really? You surprise me."

"There was nothing violent about your brother's death. He wanted to go down with the divers. I sent him down and simply cut the ropes. We left him down there. It was very simple."

"Is that what you propose to do with me?"

"I wanted you to take the drink. That would have made it easy."

"I should have been asleep and you would have simply thrown me over. Yes, that would have been quick and easy."

"Why not drink it now?"

"It is not easy to drink to one's death."

"It has to be, you know."

Was that the sound of a boat on the sand?

"Nothing is certain," I said.

"This must be. I have thought of it since you came here the first time. Perhaps it should have happened then. But there was much to be discovered. You had the map. You told me that. I did not want the map to be found."

"So you stole it from my rooms. How?"

"Never mind. There is no map now ... and soon there will be no one who has an interest in the island."

I heard a shout from outside.

I rose and ran to the window. I wrenched it open and was out before he caught me.

Wild joy possessed me.

Milton was striding up the beach and he was not alone. Men were scrambling out of the boat.

"Milton!" I cried. "Milton!"

I ran to him. He caught me in his arms. He was laughing, but I could see it was the laughter of immense relief.

I was safe—as I always would be with him.

He took me back to the plantation. Raymond was there with Felicity, Magda and George.

I knew the whole story now and how he had arrived just in time.

As soon as he had left me that morning he had found Maria. He had conjectured that she would be the one who could most likely have stolen the map and put the pills in my milk.

He had bullied her, threatened her, reduced her to such terror that he had forced the truth out of her.

Yes, she had taken the map; she had thought it was a silly bit of old paper. Not like a jewel ... or money. She had put the pills in the milk. It was only to make Miss Mallory sleep well.

Why had she done this? Because Mr. Everton had promised her

money if she did and she was longing to join her Sabrino in Australia. The sooner she had the money the sooner she could go, and for doing this she was going to have enough to join Sabrino. Mr. Everton had promised.

But it had gone wrong and Miss Mallory had not drunk the milk. She had spilt it and left it there on the table. So she had not been paid the money... only for the map.

Magda had seen Milton coming from the hotel where he had been questioning Maria and she had told him she had seen me go off in a boat with John Everton.

That was enough. Milton knew then that I was in acute danger. They had tried to kill me last night. He had set out at once for the island bringing with him a company of men whose duty it was to keep law and order on the islands.

While enquiries were made no one was allowed to leave Lion Island and later that day Milton sent his divers down to that spot where Paradise Island should have been and they explored the sea bed. They found the island below the surface of the sea.

I did not know what the regulations were with regard to the purloining of the gold; but there was the murder of my brother to be accounted for.

In the meantime, said Milton, I needed special care and he was going to be sure that I had it.

The best way he could do that—and the only way he could do it effectively—was by marrying me immediately.

I had already talked with Raymond.

He understood. When had Raymond not understood?

He said: "I saw how it was with you two as soon as I arrived."

"Raymond," I said, "I'm sorry. You have been so good to me."

"I want you to be happy. That is the most important thing."

"No. It is just as important for you to be happy. No one deserves to be more so than you."

"I'll be all right. He is your sort. I see that. I was a little slow, wasn't I? Not adventurous ... as he is. Not forceful, not demanding."

"I love him," I said frankly. "I could never be happy without him."

"I know. So the only thing is to be happy with him."

"And you?"

"I shall take Felicity back to England."

"Take care of her. She needs a lot of care."

"I will," he promised.

And I knew he would.

There is little more to tell. I had travelled far since I had set out from England—and I don't mean in miles. I had broken with the past. I had come to some understanding of life, I supposed. I often thought that if I had not set out on that journey I would have lived peacefully in England, married, had children ... comfortably, possibly happy. But I had broken away. I had faced death on more than one occasion. I had plumbed the depths and soared to the heights. I could easily have died violently as Ann Alice had. But whatever I had endured I should always remember that it had brought me Milton. Life is like that. It is not smooth and easy—and never will be. Often one must take risks to win the great prizes.

I am married to Milton Harrington. Raymond and Felicity have left for England. I fully believe that before long they will marry. She is quite recovered and I believe very happy. I am ashamed to think that I once suspected her of trying to murder me. Magda is now married to George Callerby and we are the best of friends.

One day we shall return to England. It will be wonderful to see Granny M and Jan and be home again.

Milton knows this. He reminded me the other day of how cool and formal I was to him in the beginning.

"I remember I said to you that one day you would say to me, 4 I love you, Mr. Harrington.' You have never said just that."

"Well, it is true," I said.

"Soon we shall leave all this. We'll go home. Now that you have secured me I believe that is your next objective."

"I should love to see England again ... to be there, but, Mr. Harrington, home for me is where you are."

He seemed very satisfied with that observation.