This Rough Magic (30 page)

We clambered down the stairway, and I shone the light forward into the cave.

This was large, but not awesomely so. At the end where we stood the roof was not so very high – perhaps twenty feet; but as the torchlight travelled further, it was lost in the shadows where the roof arched upwards into darkness. There, I suppose, would be the funnelled cracks or chimneys which carried the fresh air into the upper caves, and through which Adoni had first detected the existence of the one where we now stood. Further along the ledge there were recesses and tunnels leading off the main cave, which promised a good choice of bolt-hole should the need arise. The walls were of pale limestone, scoured and damp, so that I guessed that with the wind on shore the sea must find its way in through more of the cracks and crevices. Now the deep vat of sea-water at our feet lay still and dead, and the place smelt of salt and wet stone.

Miranda gripped my arm. ‘Down there! Shine the light. Down there!’

I turned the torch downwards. At first I could see
nothing but the rich dazzle as the water threw back the beam, then the light seemed to soak down through the water like a stain through silk, and I saw the bottom, a jumble of smooth, round pebbles, their colours all drained by the torchlight to bone-white and washed green and pearl. Something moved across them, a whip of shadow flicking out of sight into a crevice.

‘See?’ Miranda crouched, pointing. ‘In under the ledge, where the stones have been moved. There!’

I saw it then, a corner like the corner of a big book, or box, jutting out from among the pebbles. It looked as if the object, whatever it was, had been thrust well under the ledge where we stood, and the stones piled roughly over it.

I kneeled beside Miranda, peering intently down. Some stray movement of the sea outside had communicated itself to the pool, and the water shifted, shadows and reflections breaking and coalescing through the rocking torchbeam. The thing was coloured, I thought, and smooth-surfaced; a simple mind conditioned by Sir Julian’s stories might well have thought it was a book: myself, I took it for the corner of a box with some sort of a label. Vaguely, I could see what might be lettering.

‘You see?’ Miranda’s whisper echoed in the cave.

‘Yes, I see.’ Any thoughts I might have had of braving the eel and the icy water to get at the object died a natural and unregretted death. Even if I could have dived for the thing, and lifted it, I couldn’t have climbed the four smooth feet of overhang out of the pool without a rope.

‘It is a book, yes?’

‘It could be. But if it is, I don’t think you’ll find it’s a very old one. The only way it could be kept down there is if it was wrapped in polythene or something, and that means—’

I broke off. Something had made a noise, some new noise that wasn’t part of the cave’s echo, or the faint whispers of the night that reached us through the invisible fissures in the cliff. I switched the light out, and the darkness came down like a candle-snuffer, thick as black wool. I put a hand on the girl’s arm.

‘Keep very still. I heard something. Listen.’

Through the drip of water on limestone it came again; the sound of a careful footstep somewhere in the passage above.

Here he came. Dear God, here he came.

Miranda stirred. ‘Someone coming. It must be Adoni back already. Perhaps—’

I stopped her with a touch, my lips at her ear. ‘That won’t be Adoni. We mustn’t be found here, we’ve got to hide. Quickly …’

I took her arm, pulling her deeper into the cave. She came without question. We kept close to the wall, feeling our way inch by inch till we came to a corner, and rounded it safely.

‘Wait.’ I dared a single brief flash of the torch, and breathed relief. We were in a deep recess or blocked tunnel, low-roofed, and filled with long-since-fallen debris, that burrowed its way back into the cliff above the water-level.

I put the light out. Slowly, carefully, and almost
without a sound, we slithered our way into cover, deep into a crevice under a wedged block of limestone, flattening ourselves back into it like starfish hiding from the pronged hooks of the bait-fishers.

Not a moment too soon. Light spread, and warmed the cave. I was too deeply tucked back into the cleft to be able to see more than a curved section of the roof and far side of the main cave, but of course I could hear very clearly, as the cave and the water magnified every sound; the tread of boots on rock; the chink as the powerful torch was put down somewhere and the light steadied; the man’s breathing. Then the splash of something – whether his body or something else I couldn’t tell – was let down into the pool.

A pause, while the water lapped and sucked, and the breathing sounded loud and urgent with some sort of effort. Then a different splashing noise, a sucking and slapping of water, as if something had been withdrawn from the pool. Another pause, filled now with the sounds of dripping, streaming water. Then at last the light moved, the slow footsteps retreated, and the sea-sounds of the disturbed pool, slowly diminishing, held the cave.

I felt Miranda stir beside me.

‘He has taken the book.
Could
it not be Adoni, Miss Lucy? Perhaps he has come back to get the book for Sir Gale? Who else would know? Shall I go—?’

‘
No!
’ My whisper was as urgent as I could make it. ‘It’s not Adoni, I’m sure of that. This is something else, Miranda … I can’t tell you now, but trust me, please. Stay here. Don’t move. I’m going to take a look.’

I slid out of the cleft and switched on the torch, but kept a hand over the glass, so that the light came in dimmed slits between my fingers. I caught the gleam of her eyes watching me, but she neither moved again nor spoke. I inched my cautious way forward to the main cave, to pause at the corner of the ledge, switch off the torch, and listen yet again. There was no sound but the steady drip of water, and the faint residual murmur from the pool.

Flashing the light full on, I knelt at the edge, and looked down.

As I expected, the pile of stones had been rudely disturbed, and, as far as I could judge, had dwindled in height. But there must have been more than one of the rectangular objects there, for I could see another corner jutting from the cobbles at a different angle from the one that had been visible before. And there on the ledge leaning against the wall as if waiting for him to come back, was an iron grapple, a long hooked shaft which dripped sluggishly on to the limestone.

I stood up, thinking furiously. So much for that. Adoni had been right; here was the key we were wanting, the clue to Godfrey’s murderous business. And it was surely simple enough to see what I ought to do next. I had no means of telling what proportion of his cache Godfrey had taken, or if he would come back tonight for the rest; but in either case, nothing would be gained by taking the appalling risk of following him now. If he came back, we might meet in the passage. If he didn’t – well, the rest of the ‘proof’ would still be safely there for Max when he arrived at last.

And so, let’s face it, would I …

I was hardly back in my niche before we heard him coming back, the light growing and brightening before him up the limestone walls. The performance was repeated almost exactly; the plunge of the grapple, the grating haul through the pebbles, the withdrawal, the pause while the water drained … then once more the light retreated, and we were left in blackness, with the hollow sucking of the troubled pool.

‘Wait,’ I whispered again.

As soon as I got to the main cave I saw that the grapple had gone. I crouched once more on the streaming rock and peered down. As I expected, the pile of pebbles had settled lower, spreading level as what it had hidden had been dragged away. The pool was empty of its treasure.

No need, this time, to stop and think. The decision was, unhappily, as clear as before. I would have to follow him now. And I had better hurry.

In a matter of seconds I was back beside Miranda. ‘You can come out now. Quick!’

She materialised beside me. Her breathing was fast and shallow, and she was shivering. She was still taut and bright-eyed, but the quality of her excitement had changed. She looked scared.

‘What is it, Miss? What is it?’

I tried to sound calm and sure. ‘The “books” have gone, and it was Mr Manning who took them, I’m sure it was. I have to see where he puts them, but he mustn’t see us. D’you understand,
he mustn’t see us
… I’ll explain it all later, but we’ll have to hurry now. Come on.’

We heaved ourselves up the last of the Giants’ Staircase, and crept from angle to angle of the passage, lighting the way warily, and stopping at each corner to listen ahead. But nothing disturbed us, and soon we were at the mouth of the cleft, cautiously parting the junipers. The air smelt warm and sweet after the cave, full of flower-scents and the tang of bruised herbs; and a breeze had got up and was moving the bushes, ready to mask what sounds we made.

We edged down, feeling our way, through the tangle of bushes and young trees. Although no moon was visible, the sky was alight with stars, and we went quickly enough. I dared not make for the path, but pushed a cautious way, bent double, above one arm of the zigzag from which I thought we should be able to see the boat-house, and at length we came to the end of the ridge where honeysuckle and (less happily) brambles made thick cover between the young limes.

We were just above the boat-house. Its roof was silhouetted like a black wedge against the paler sea beyond. I thought, but could not quite make out, that the landward door stood open.

Next moment it shut, softly, but with the definite
chunk
of a spring-locking door. A shadow moved along the boat-house wall, and then he came quietly up the path. We lay mouse-still, hardly breathing. He rounded the corner below us, and came on up, with a quick, stealthy stride whose grace I recognised, and next moment, as he passed within feet of us, I saw him clearly. He had changed from the light clothes of the afternoon, and now wore dark trousers, and a heavy
dark jersey. He carried nothing in his hands. He went straight on past us, and his light tread was lost in the movements of the breeze.

In the heavy shadow where we lay I couldn’t see Miranda, but I felt her turn to look at me, and presently she put out a hand and touched my arm. The hand was trembling.

‘Miss – Miss, what
is
it?’

I put a hand over hers, and held it. ‘You’re quite right, it’s not just a case of being caught trespassing, it’s something much more serious, and it might be dangerous. I’m sorry you’re in it, too, but I want your help.’

She said nothing. I took a breath, and tightened my hand over hers.

‘Listen. I can’t tell you it all now, but there have been … things have been happening, and we think … Mr Max and I … that they have something to do with your brother’s accident. Adoni thinks so, too. We want to find out. Will you just trust me and do as I say?’

There was a pause. Still she didn’t speak, but this time the air between us was so charged that I felt it vibrate like a bow-string after the shaft has gone.

‘Yes.’

‘You saw who it was?’

‘Of course. It was Mr Manning.’

‘Good. You may be asked … what is it?’

‘Look there.’ She had moved sharply, pointing past me up the cliff to where, above the black trees, a light had just flashed on. The Villa Rotha.

I felt my breath go out. ‘Then he’s safe there for a bit, thank God. I wish I knew the time.’

‘We dare not shine the torch?’

‘No. I should have looked before. Never mind. It looks as if he’s put those things in the boat-house; I wish to heaven I dared go down and take a look at them … he did say he was going out tonight, and
not
with the boat, but he might only have been putting me off so that he’d be able to go to the cave. He may hang around here all night … or he may have been lying, and he’ll come down again and take the boat, and that will be that.’ I stirred restlessly, watching that steady square of light with hatred. ‘In any case, the damned thing’s locked. Even if …’

‘I know where the key is.’

I jerked round to peer at her. ‘
You do
?’

‘Spiro told me. There was an extra key which was kept underneath the floor, where the house reaches the water. I know the place; he showed me.’

I swallowed. ‘It’s probably not there now, and in any case …’

I stopped abruptly. The light had gone out.

Minutes later, we heard the car. That it was Godfrey’s car there could be no manner of doubt; he switched on her lights, and they swept round in a wide curve, lancing through the trees and out into space, to move on and vanish in the blackness over the headland as the engine’s note receded through the woods. There was a brief, distant thrumming as he accelerated, then the sound died, and there was darkness.

‘He’s gone,’ said Miranda, unnecessarily.

I sat up. I was furious to find that my teeth were chattering, and clenched them hard, pushing a hand
down into the pocket where Leo’s gun hung heavy and awkward against my thigh. Two things were quite certain; I did not want to go anywhere near Godfrey Manning’s boat-house; and if I didn’t, I should despise myself for a coward as long as I lived. I had a gun. There was probably a key. I had at least to try it.

‘Come on, then,’ I said, and pushed my way out of cover and dropped to the path, Miranda behind me. As we ran downhill I gasped out instructions. ‘You must get straight back to the house. Can you get into the Castello?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then go there. That way, you’ll see them as soon as they get home. But try to telephone Adoni first … Do you know where he might be?’

‘Sometimes he eats at Chrisomalis’, or the Corfu Bar.’

‘Then try them. If he’s not there, some of his friends may know where he’ll be. He may have gone down to the harbour to wait, or even to the police … Try, anyway.’

We had reached the boat-house. I stopped at the door, trying it … futilely, of course: it was fast locked. Miranda thrust past me, and I heard her fumbling in the shadows round the side of the building, then she was beside me, pushing the cold shape of a Yale key into my hand.