A Caribbean Mystery (Miss Marple 15)

‘That he didn’t.’

‘You don’t know when he hid the stuff – whether it was lately or long ago?’

Mrs Skillicorn shook her head.

‘Well,’ I said, trying to rally. ‘There are two possibilities. Either the treasure is hidden here, in the actual grounds, or else it may be hidden anywhere on the Island. It depends on the bulk, of course.’

A sudden brain-wave occurred to Fenella.

‘You haven’t noticed anything missing?’ she said. ‘Among my Uncle’s things, I mean?’

‘Why, now, it’s odd your saying that –’

‘You have, then?’

‘As I say, it’s odd your saying that. Snuffboxes – there’s at least four of them I can’t lay my hand on anywhere.’

‘Four of them!’ cried Fenella, ‘that must be it! We’re on the track. Let’s go out in the garden and look about.’

‘There’s nothing there,’ said Mrs Skillicorn.

‘I’d know if there were. Your Uncle couldn’t have buried anything in the garden without my knowing about it.’

‘Points of the compass are mentioned,’ I said.

‘The first thing we need is a map of the Island.’

‘There’s one on that desk,’ said Mrs Skillicorn.

Fenella unfolded it eagerly. Something fluttered out as she did so. I caught it.

‘Hullo,’ I said.

‘This looks like a further clue.’

We both went over it eagerly.

It appeared to be a rude kind of map. There was a cross on it and a circle and a pointing arrow, and directions were roughly indicated, but it was hardly illuminating. We studied it in silence.

‘It’s not very illuminating, is it?’ said Fenella. ‘Naturally it wants puzzling over,’ I said. ‘We can’t expect it to leap to the eye.’

Mrs Skillicorn interrupted with a suggestion of supper, to which we agreed thankfully.

‘And could we have some coffee?’ said Fenella. ‘Lots of it – very black.’ Mrs Skillicorn provided us with an excellent meal, and at its conclusion a large jug of coffee made its appearance.

‘And now,’ said Fenella, ‘we must get down to it.’

‘The first thing,’ I said, ‘is direction. This seems to point clearly to the north-east of the Island.’

‘It seems so. Let’s look at the map.’

We studied the map attentively. ‘It all depends on how you take the thing,’ said Fenella. ‘Does the cross represent the treasure? Or is it something like a church? There really ought to be rules!’

‘That would make it too easy.’

‘I suppose it would. Why are there little lines one side of the circle and not the other.’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Are there any more maps anywhere?’

We were sitting in the library. There were several excellent maps. There were also various guide books descriptive of the Island. There was a book on folklore. There was a book on the history of the Island. We read them all.

And at last we formed a possible theory. ‘It does seem to fit,’ said Fenella at last. ‘I mean the two together is a likely conjunction which doesn’t seem to occur anywhere else.’

‘It’s worth trying, anyhow,’ I said. ‘I don’t think we can do anything more tonight. Tomorrow, first thing, we’ll hire a car and go off and try our luck.’

‘It’s tomorrow now,’ said Fenella. ‘Half-past two! Just fancy!’

Early morning saw us on the road. We had hired a car for a week, arranging to drive it ourselves. Fenella’s spirits rose as we sped along the excellent road, mile after mile.

‘If only it wasn’t for the other two, what fun this would be,’ she said. ‘This is where the Derby was originally run, wasn’t it? Before it was changed to Epsom. How queer that is to think of!’

I drew her attention to a farmhouse. ‘That must be where there is said to be a secret passage running under the sea to that island.’

‘What fun! I love secret passages, don’t you? Oh! Juan, we’re getting quite near now. I’m terribly excited. If we should be right!’

Five minutes later we abandoned the car. ‘Everything’s in the right position,’ said Fenella, tremulously.

We walked on.

‘Six of them – that’s right. Now between these two. Have you got the compass?’

Five minutes later, we were standing facing each other, an incredulous joy on our faces – and on my outstretched palm lay an antique snuffbox.

We had been successful!

On our return to Maughold House, Mrs Skillicorn met us with the information that two gentlemen had arrived. One had departed again, but the other was in the library.

A tall, fair man, with a florid face, rose smilingly from an armchair as we entered the room.

‘Mr Faraker and Miss Mylecharane? Delighted to meet you. I am your distant cousin, Dr Fayll. Amusing game all this, isn’t it?’

His manner was urbane and pleasant, but I took an immediate dislike to him. I felt that in some way the man was dangerous. His pleasant manner was, somehow, too pleasant, and his eyes never met yours fairly.

‘I’m afraid we’ve got bad news for you,’ I said. ‘Miss Mylecharane and myself have already discovered the first “treasure”.’

He took it very well. ‘Too bad – too bad. Posts from here must be odd. Barford and I started at once.’

We did not dare to confess the perfidy of Uncle Myles. ‘Anyway, we shall all start fair for the second round,’ said Fenella. ‘Splendid. What about getting down to the clues right away? Your excellent Mrs – er – Skillicorn holds them, I believe?’

‘That wouldn’t be fair to Mr Corjeag,’ said Fenella, quickly. ‘We must wait for him.’

‘True, true – I had forgotten. We must get in touch with him as quickly as possible. I will see to that – you two must be tired out and want to rest.’

Thereupon he took his departure. Ewan Corjeag must have been unexpectedly difficult to find, for it was not till nearly eleven o’clock that night that Dr Fayll rang up. He suggested that he and Ewan should come over to Maughold House at ten o’clock the following morning, when Mrs Skillicorn could hand us out the clues.

‘That will do splendidly,’ said Fenella. ‘Ten o’clock tomorrow.’ We retired to bed tired but happy.

The following morning we were aroused by Mrs Skillicorn, completely shaken out of her usual pessimistic calm.

‘Whatever do you think?’ she panted. ‘The house has been broken into.’

‘Burglars?’ I exclaimed, incredulously. ‘Has anything been taken?

’

‘Not a thing – and that’s the odd part of it! No doubt they were after the silver – but the door being locked on the outside they couldn’t get any further.’

Fenella and I accompanied her to the scene of the outrage, which happened to be in her own sitting-room. The window there had undeniably been forced, yet nothing seemed to have been taken. It was all rather curious.

‘I don’t see what they can have been looking for?’ said Fenella.

‘It’s not as though there were a “treasure chest” hidden in the house,’ I agreed facetiously. Suddenly an idea flashed into my mind. I turned to Mrs Skillicorn. ‘The clues – the clues you were to give us this morning?’

‘Why to be sure – they’re in that top drawer.’ She went across to it. ‘Why – I do declare – there’s nothing here! They’re gone!’

‘Not burglars,’ I said. ‘Our esteemed relations!’ And I remember Uncle Myles’s warning on the subject of unscrupulous dealing. Clearly he had known what he was talking about. A dirty trick!

‘Hush,’ said Fenella, suddenly, holding up a finger. ‘What was that?’ The sound she had caught came plainly to our ears. It was a groan and it came from outside. We went to the window and leaned out. There was a shrubbery growing against this side of the house and we could see nothing; but the groan came again, and we could see that the bushes seemed to have been disturbed and trampled.

We hurried down and out round the house. The first thing we found was a fallen ladder, showing how the thieves had reached the window. A few steps further brought us to where a man was lying.

He was a youngish man, dark, and he was evidently badly injured, for his head was lying in a pool of blood. I knelt down beside him.

‘We must get a doctor at once. I’m afraid he’s dying.’

The gardener was sent off hurriedly. I slipped my hand into his breast pocket and brought out a pocket book. On it were the initials EC.