“I see,” said Evelyn thoughtfully. “But there was nothing really to worry anyone in Major Palgrave’s death, was there?”
“No of course there wasn’t. But it’s a kind of shock when somebody dies suddenly.”
He looked so desperate and defeated that Evelyn’s heart smote her. She put her hand on his arm.
“Well, I hope you know what you’re doing, Tim, but if I could help in any way—I mean if I could go with Molly to New York—I could fly with her there or Miami or somewhere where she could get really first-class medical advice.”
“It’s very good of you, Evelyn, but Molly’s all right. She’s getting over it, anyway.”
Evelyn shook her head in doubt. She turned away slowly and looked along the line of the terrace. Most people had gone by now to their bungalows. Evelyn was walking towards her table to see if she’d left anything behind there, when she heard Tim give an exclamation. She looked up sharply. He was staring towards the steps at the end of the terrace and she followed his gaze. Then she too caught her breath.
Molly was coming up the steps from the beach. She was breathing with deep, sobbing breaths, her body swayed to and fro as she came, in a curious directionless run. Tim cried, “Molly! What’s the matter?”
He ran towards her and Evelyn followed him. Molly was at the top of the steps now and she stood there, both hands behind her back. She said in sobbing breaths: “I found her . . . She’s there in the bushes . . . There in the bushes . . . And look at my hands—look at my hands—” She held them out and Evelyn caught her breath as she saw the queer dark stains.
They looked dark in the subdued lighting but she knew well enough that their real colour was red.
”What’s happened, Molly?” cried Tim.
“Down there,” said Molly. She swayed on her feet. “In the bushes . . .”
Tim hesitated, looked at Evelyn, then shoved Molly a little towards Evelyn and ran down the steps. Evelyn put her arm round the girl.
“Come. Sit down, Molly. Here. You’d better have something to drink.”
Molly collapsed in a chair and leaned forward on the table, her forehead on her crossed arms. Evelyn did not question her any more. She thought it better to leave her time to recover.
“It’ll be all right, you know,” said Evelyn gently. “It’ll be all right.”
“I don’t know,” said Molly. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know anything. I can’t remember. I—” She raised her head suddenly. “What’s the matter with me? What’s the matter with me?”
“It’s all right, child. It’s all right.”
Tim was coming slowly up the steps. His face was ghastly. Evelyn looked up at him, raising her eyebrows in a query.
“It’s one of our girls,” he said. “What’s-her-name—Victoria. Somebody’s put a knife in her.”
14
INQUIRY
MOLLY lay on her bed. Dr. Graham and Dr. Robertson, the West Indian police doctor stood on one side, Tim on the other. Robertson had his hand on Molly’s pulse. He nodded to the man at the foot of the bed, a slender dark man in police uniform. Inspector Weston of the St. Honore Police Force.
“A bare statement—no more.” the doctor said.
The other nodded.
”Now, Mrs. Kendal—just tell us how you came to find this girl.”
For a moment or two it was as though the figure on the bed had not heard. Then she spoke in a faint, far-away voice.
“In the bushes—white . . .”
“You saw something white—and you looked to see what it was? Is that it?”
“Yes—white—lying there—I tried—tried to lift—she—it—blood—blood all over my hands.”
She began to tremble.
Dr. Graham shook his head at them.
Robertson whispered: “She can’t stand much more.”
“What were you doing on the beach path, Mrs. Kendal?”
“Warm—nice—by the sea—”
“You knew who the girl was?”
“Victoria—nice—nice girl—laughs—she used to laugh—oh! and now she won’t— She won’t ever laugh again. I’ll never forget it— I’ll never forget it—” Her voice rose hysterically.
“Molly—don’t.” It was Tim.
“Quiet— Quiet—” Dr. Robertson spoke with a soothing authority. “Just relax, relax. Now just a small prick—” He withdrew the hypodermic. “She’ll be in no fit condition to be questioned for at least twenty-four hours,” he said. “I’ll let you know when.”