She had closed the bedroom door behind her when she entered. Now, the folder tucked under her arm, she moved toward it. Her hand went out to the knob and then froze in mid-air.
For, soft, almost like a dream sound, something had stirred in the next room.
In one second her false feeling of security had been shattered. In spite of the bright sunlight splashing across the carpet, in spite of the soft sweetness of the summer air which drifted in through the window, the little room had taken on suddenly the stifling constriction of a trap.
After a paralyzing moment of silence, the sound came again—unmistakably. A faint creak of a floor board followed, distinctly, by the soft shuffle of footsteps.
Someone had come into the playhouse. Someone was out there beyond the door, moving around in the living room.
For a moment Kay stood absolutely still, her heart pounding. Then wildly she looked around for a place of concealment. The miniature closet was much too small. The windows, thickly screened, made escape impossible. There was nothing she could do.
The footsteps in the living room sounded again.
In a rush of anxiety that was almost panic all Kay’s thoughts focused on the securities. Even if she could not escape, she had to keep the securities safe, hide them. Her gaze took in everything in the room. The bed…! That was the only hope. She ran to it. Feverishly she tugged back the edge of the spread, pushed the folder deep under the mattress, and rearranged the cover.
She swung back to the door just in time to see it opening slowly inward. She saw a white hand, a smooth arm. Then, cool and casual, Maud Chiltern walked into the room.
She showed no surprise at seeing her younger sister nor the slightest embarrassment at being discovered on territory which Major Clifford had so definitely forbidden to them all. Beneath the smooth dark hair her face was as composed as if this were a conventional meeting over the breakfast table.
With studied incuriosity, she said: “Good morning, Kay dear. You’re up early. I hope you got something to eat.”
Kay’s first reaction had been one of overwhelming relief that the intruder was only Maud. But now, against her own desire, suspicion stirred in her. Although the reasons were still shadowy, it was Maud, normally the champion of honesty and candor, who had become the controlling force of the tacit conspiracy of silence which surrounded Ivor’s death. It had been Maud, last night at the dock, who had arranged their various stories for police consumption; Maud who, later during those harrowing moments of police interrogation, had told the most brazen and probably the most crucial lie in recounting what had passed between her and Ivor on the jetty.
Now Maud had come here to the island in spite of the police veto; Maud who never did anything unless there was a very sound reason for it.
Maud had moved to the bed. Serenely, almost absently, she smoothed a crease out of the spread where Kay had so hastily rearranged it. From her expression it was impossible to tell whether she had seen Kay slipping away from the bed as the door opened or whether the gesture had been merely the conditioned reflex action of a good housewife. Kay watched her tensely. Gilbert had been poignantly eager to keep his wife from learning about the unfortunate investment episode. Maud’s discovering the folder would be almost as awkward as having it fall into the hands of the police.
Maud straightened from the bed, her wide gray eyes beneath their steeply curved brows moving to her sister.
“Were you here for any special reasons, Kay dear?”
Hesitantly Kay said: “I just came over to—to look around.”
“That’s why I came too. The policeman at the beach went away. It seemed like a good opportunity.” In the light of her promise to the Major to keep everyone away from the island, the unscrupulousness implied in that remark was rather staggering. “Did you find anything—anything we should destroy?”
“Why, n-no.”
Maud said abruptly: “You didn’t find Rosemary’s diary?”
Kay’s fingers tightened on the clasp of her bag in which the little green book, fantastically returned to her by Dr. Thorne, still lay.
“That’s really why I came,” Maud said. “I came to make sure the diary wasn’t here.”
Kay’s suspicions flared up then. “How could it possibly be here? Ivor never reached the island last night. Or did he?”
Maud’s gaze was unwavering. “My dear, I haven’t any idea whether he reached it or not. I just came to make sure the diary wasn’t here because, from what you told me, I’d much rather it didn’t get into the hands of the police.”
Until then Kay had not really thought whether or not she should tell Maud of the diary’s return. Now there seemed everything to be gained by it.
“You needn’t worry about the police getting it.” She opened her pocketbook, took out the little green leather diary, and held it out to her sister. “Here it is.”
“Kay!” The sudden change in Maud’s expression was alarming. Her eyes, staring at the book, flickered momentarily with that blank, trapped expression which had been in Elaine’s last night. Tiny lines which Kay had never seen before settled like cobwebs around her elder sister’s mouth. “Where was it? Where— where did you find it?”
“I didn’t find it. Someone else did. Caught up in the yuccas at the edge of the swimming beach close to the dock.”
“You mean the—the mainland dock?”
“Yes. Someone must have thrown it there or tried to hide it.” Kay was watching her sister intently. “You were at the dock with Ivor, Maud. Don’t you know anything about it?”
“Me? Why, no, I…”
“You’re telling me the truth, aren’t you?” Her gaze never leaving her sister’s face, Kay slipped the diary back in her bag. “Don’t you see how useless it’s going to be if we’re not frank with each other? Before we know where we are, Major Clifford will tie us up in a hopeless snarl of contradictions. Surely I don’t have to convince you I’m trustworthy. You know what I thought about Ivor. Whatever happened last night, it’s not going to change the way I feel about you.”
“About me!” Maud was miraculously steady again. A tranquil hand pushed the dark hair from her forehead. “Does that mean you think whatever happened last night involved me?”
“How can I possibly tell? All I know is that you lied to Major Clifford. You told him you went to the dock with Ivor, saw him start off in the speedboat, and then went straight back to the house. That wasn’t true. At least I know part of it wasn’t true because I saw you going back to the house and it was a good ten minutes after the speedboat had started from the dock.”
“So you saw me. I didn’t see you. How curious.”
Maud gave a surprised little cluck. Its casualness exasperated Kay.
“Maud, you can’t be airy about this. Don’t you realize how important it is? You were alone with Ivor for at least a quarter of an hour before the speedboat started for the island. And after that you didn’t go back to the house for another ten minutes. I’ve got to know what you were doing.”
“What do you think I was doing, dear?”
“What I think doesn’t make any difference. It’s what Major Clifford will think that matters.”
“My dear, you know perfectly well what the Major would think.” Maud’s fingers played over a sweet-smelling cedar pillar on the bedstead. “He’d say I was alone with Ivor for fifteen minutes before the speedboat started.” A shadow of a smile moved around her lips. “That gave me plenty of time to hit him on the head and drag him from the beach to the boat. It was ten minutes after the boat started that I went back to the house. That gave me plenty of time to drive Ivor out into the bay, throw him overboard, and swim back. As you know, I can drive a speedboat and I’m still a fairly strong swimmer.”
It was rather devastating—that quiet, almost ironical statement of a fact which Kay had hardly dared admit even to herself.
“If ever the Major found out that I lied last night,” continued Maud, “he’d be bound to think I killed Ivor. That�
�s the sort of man he is. Particularly if he knew all the unpleasant things you’d told me about Ivor yesterday.” The little smile came again. “You think I’m being frivolous. That isn’t at all true. I’m perfectly aware of my—my position.”
“But, Maud, what are you going to do if he does find out?”
“I don’t see why he should.” Maud looked down at one of her smooth, tapered hands. “After all, you’re the only person who can prove that I was lying. I’m rather depending on you not to accuse me of it.”
“Of course I wouldn’t tell the Major anything. But you can’t depend on things like that, Maud. There might be a hundred different ways he could find out. For all you know he’s found out already.”
Maud gave a little shrug. “Then, dear, if he does find out, he’ll have to think whatever he chooses to think.”
It was very quiet in that small, sunlit bedroom. They stood there close together, facing each other. Maud’s face, so serene a moment before, was grim now, challenging. Kay felt a sharp anxiety.
“You mean that if the Major accused you of murdering Ivor you—you wouldn’t deny it.”
“No, dear. I wouldn’t deny it—to anyone.”
“Not even to me?”
Maud made a helpless little gesture with her hand. “Kay, must we go on with this? It only hurts me worse. It…”
“But you can’t leave me thinking you killed Ivor. I’ll go crazy if I have to think that all of you killed him. You, Elaine…”
“Elaine, what do you mean?”
“What do I mean?” echoed Kay. “Shall I tell you some of the things I know about Elaine? Some of the things she’s just as stubbornly secretive about as you are? Her dress, the white evening dress she was wearing last night at dinner—I saw it in Don’s cottage, ripped right across the shoulder and stained with blood. She pretended it was torn in some sort of fight with Don. Don denies it, and I believe him.”
Maud’s eyes, watching her, were slowly kindling with something that was almost horror.
“And that isn’t all. Terry saw someone swimming around the swimming beach just about the time Ivor died, someone in a silver bathing cap. Elaine’s cap. Elaine said it wasn’t she. But she lied about so many other things that there’s no reason to believe her. And it’s important, frightfully important. Because, later, when Simon and I found Ivor in the water, he—he was clutching Elaine’s bathing cap in his hand.”
“Kay!”
“Oh, don’t worry. I concealed it and I gave it back to Elaine. No one knows but me. But can’t you see now why my brain’s going around in circles? Elaine denied everything. She swore she hadn’t even spoken to Ivor last night. When I confronted her with the bathing cap she said she’d never seen it that evening. She wouldn’t tell a thing except a string of feeble, obvious lies. And now you’re holding out on me too. I don’t want to know the truth for my own sake. It’s going to be far worse knowing than not knowing. I’m trying to think of you and how I can help. Now I can’t help at all. I’m a death trap for you all because I know so much—so many little things that aren’t tied together, so many things that Major Clifford may be able to worm out of me because I’m so confused.”
Kay paused, watching her sister miserably. “Maud, dear, I don’t want to think you murdered Ivor. I don’t want to think Elaine did. But if you did, I’d sooner hear it. Anything’s better than this.”
Maud had put out a hand and was clutching the cedar bedpost, steadying herself. The color had drained from her lips. She looked drawn and pinched.
“What you just said about Elaine,” she asked jerkily, “is it really true?”
“Of course it’s true. At least I’m not adding to the chaos by lying.”
“I didn’t dream it was as bad as that.” Maud shook her head slowly. Kay had never seen her so beaten and lost. “I hoped I was going to be able to carry this thing through alone. I see now how wrong I was. You’ve got to help me.” She added with a sudden fierceness: “You’ve got to help me because of the children. Whatever happens, whatever they did, I want to take full responsibility. Because it was my fault. I’m morally guilty. Gilbert and I… if it hadn’t been for us the children would never have had Ivor in their lives.”
Her tongue came out between her teeth, moistening her lower lip. “You were right. I did lie to Major Clifford last night. I said I saw Ivor get into the speedboat alone and start off for the island. That wasn’t true.”
Every nerve in Kay’s body was keyed to snapping point now. “You mean you didn’t just talk to him on the dock and…”
“I didn’t talk to him at all. I just walked down to the dock with him. Then I left him.”
“But, why?”
“Because as soon as we reached the dock someone else came, someone who told me to go away because she wanted to talk to Ivor—alone.”
“Who—who was it?”
Maud’s gaze dropped to her hands. In a low dry voice she said: “Elaine.”
“Elaine!”
“She slipped out of the oleanders. She must have been there waiting for Ivor. When she saw me, she was startled, confused. She said: ‘Mother, please go away. I want to talk to Ivor.’ She was terribly upset, I could tell. Upset and angry.” Maud paused, adding almost in a whisper: “And she was holding something in her hand, that—that little green book. Rosemary’s diary.”
The diary…!
“I didn’t know it was the diary then, of course. I had no idea it had been stolen. It was only later when you described it on the dock that I realized. You thought Ivor had taken it from your room, didn’t you? You were wrong. It must have been Elaine.”
Of course Elaine as well as Ivor had seen the diary in Kay’s hand yesterday afternoon. From Kay’s embarrassed attempt to conceal it, she might easily have guessed that it concerned her. And after dinner she had had ample opportunity to have slipped into the room and taken it.
So Elaine had read the diary with its blistering portrait of Ivor as he really was. And she had waited to meet Ivor on the dock later. Last night in the kitchen she had sworn she had told all the truth. And she had not mentioned either of those two murderously vital facts.
Kay said quickly: “When you saw her on the dock was Elaine wearing her evening dress or her swimming suit?”
“Her white satin dress.”
“Was it torn?”
“I—I didn’t notice.”
“You would have noticed. It was torn all the way down the front.”
“Then—no. It wasn’t torn.”
“And her cheek. Was it scratched?”
Maud shook her head.
This then proved once and for all that Elaine’s feeble insistence that the dress had been torn struggling with Don was a lie. The dress had been intact, her face unscratched, at this ominous meeting with Ivor at the dock. By that time her interview with Don in the cottage was over and he was at the other side of the bay at Dr. Thorne’s house.
“And you—you left Ivor and Elaine there together?” asked Kay shakily.
“What else could I do? But after what you’d told me that afternoon about Ivor, I was worried. I didn’t go back to the house. I moved down the path out of sight, out of earshot. I didn’t want to eavesdrop but I did want to talk to Elaine as soon as Ivor left, to find out what was the matter. I waited about ten minutes or so. Then I heard the speedboat motor start, saw the boat heading off toward the island. I went straight back to the dock for Elaine.”
“And…?”
“I looked everywhere. I called her name. But she wasn’t there.”
The two sisters stared at each other bleakly. Outside the window a bee droned, the only sound, it seemed, on that small deserted island. The sunlight splashed across Ivor’s bed and Ivor’s suitcases, giving the room a strange, almost unearthly brilliance.
“Of course I thought she must have—have gone over to the island with Ivor. I went back to the house. I was terribly worried, but I didn’t want to wake Gilbert up. I went to your room, expecting you’d
be there to show me the diary. You weren’t there, of course, so I waited. I was still there when I heard voices later and came down to the dock to find you all.”
Kay was only half listening, for none of this seemed to matter much now. Only that episode at the dock mattered and it all seemed hideously clear. Elaine confronting Ivor with the diary, a quarrel… the diary thrown angrily into the yuccas… a struggle… Elaine’s dress torn, her face scratched. And then… maybe, Ivor falling, striking his head, Elaine in a panic thinking he was dead, Elaine rushing to Don in the cottage, finding him gone. Elaine changing into her swimming suit, taking her bathing cap to keep her hair dry, Elaine hysterically tugging Ivor through the water to the speedboat, starting the engine, driving out into the middle of the bay…
Kay struggled to keep that next imagined scene out of her thoughts. Elaine pushing at Ivor’s prostrate body, trying to tumble him over into the water, Ivor half regaining consciousness, Ivor fighting weakly, stretching up with his hand, tearing the cap from Elaine’s head—just before he toppled over into the water and went down, down…
And then, acidly clear, the final reel of that terrifying drama. Elaine diving out of the boat, swimming away aimlessly in terror of what she had done, later Elaine remembering the damning evidence of the silver cap, Elaine swimming back to the island to retrieve it—at all costs.
“Nobody knows Elaine was there at the dock.” The words came softly from Maud. “Nobody but you and I, Kay. And no one has got to know—ever.”
Kay could see with heartbreaking clarity into her sister’s mind then, see the fierce maternal loyalty, the unyielding determination to bear her children’s burdens and also the torturing dread of what her daughter might have done.
“I haven’t been able to talk to Elaine yet, Kay. But I will. I am entitled to know what really happened. But you see now why I had to lie to Major Clifford last night and why I shall have to let him think whatever he wants to think about me rather than have him know the truth.”
“That’s your problem, Maud.” Kay put her hand on her sister’s arm. “Whatever you decide to do you can depend on me.”
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