“How the hell should I know, Rosamund?”
She said thoughtfully:
“He’s pretty old. Probably more or less ga ga.”
“Perhaps.”
They came to the causeway. Opposite them, serene in the sun, lay the island.
Rosamund said suddenly:
“Sometimes—things seem unreal. I can’t believe, this minute, that it ever happened….”
Marshall said slowly:
“I think I know what you mean. Nature is so regardless! One ant the less—that’s all it is in Nature!”
Rosamund said:
“Yes—and that’s the proper way to look at it really.”
He gave her one very quick glance. Then he said in a low voice:
“Don’t worry, my dear. It’s all right. It’s all right.”
II
Linda came down to the causeway to meet them. She moved with the spasmodic jerkiness of a nervous colt. Her young face was marred by deep black shadows under her eyes. Her lips were dry and rough.
She said breathlessly:
“What happened—what—what did they say?”
Her father said abruptly:
“Inquest adjourned for a fortnight.”
“That means they—they haven’t decided?”
“Yes. More evidence is needed.”
“But—but what do they think?”
Marshall smiled a little in spite of himself.
“Oh, my dear child—who knows? And whom do you mean by they? The coroner, the jury, the police, the newspaper reporters, the fishing folk of Leathercombe Bay?”
Linda said slowly:
“I suppose I mean—the police.”
Marshall said dryly:
“Whatever the police think, they’re not giving it away at present.”
His lips closed tightly after the sentence. He went into the hotel.
As Rosamund Darnley was about to follow suit, Linda said: