阳光下的罪恶19

VIt was some five minutes later that Patrick Redfern said:

“Going for your row this morning, Miss Brewster? Mind if I come with you?”

Miss Brewster said heartily¹:

“Delighted.”

“Let’s row right round the island,” proposed Redfern.

Miss Brewster consulted her watch.

“Shall we have time? Oh yes, it’s not half past eleven yet. Come on, then, let’s start.”

They went down the beach together.

Patrick Redfern took first turn at the oars². He rowed with a powerful stroke. The boat leaptforward.

Emily Brewster said approvingly:

“Good. We’ll see if you can keep that up.”

He laughed into her eyes. His spirits had improved.

“I shall probably have a fine crop of blisters³ by the time we get back.” He threw up his head,tossing back his black hair. “God, it’s a marvellous day! If you do get a real summer’s day inEngland there’s nothing to beat it.”

Emily Brewster said gruffly:

“Can’t beat England anyway in my opinion. Only place in the world to live in.”

“I’m with you.”

They rounded the point of the bay to the west and rowed under the cliffs. Patrick Redfernlooked up.

“Any one on Sunny Ledge⁴ this morning? Yes, there’s a sunshade. Who is it, I wonder?”

Emily Brewster said:

“It’s Miss Darnley, I think. She’s got one of those Japanese affairs.”

They rowed up the coast. On their left was the open sea.

Emily Brewster said:

“We ought to have gone the other way round. This way we’ve got the current against us.”

“There’s very little current. I’ve swum out here and not noticed it. Anyway we couldn’t go theother way, the causeway wouldn’t be covered.”

“Depends on the tide, of course. But they always say that bathing from Pixy Cove⁵ is dangerousif you swim out too far.”

Patrick was rowing vigorously still. At the same time he was scanning the cliffs attentively⁶.

Emily Brewster thought suddenly:

“He’s looking for the Marshall woman. That’s why he wanted to come with me. She hasn’tshown up this morning and he’s wondering what she’s up to. Probably she’s done it on purpose.

Just a move in the game—to make him keener.”

They rounded the jutting⁷ point of rock to the south of the little bay named Pixy’s Cove. It wasquite a small cove, with rocks dotted fantastically about the beach. It faced nearly northwest andthe cliff overhung it a good deal. It was a favourite place for picnic teas. In the morning, when thesun was off, it was not popular and there was seldom anyone there.

On this occasion, however, there was a figure on the beach.

Patrick Redfern’s stroke checked and recovered.

He said in a would-be casual tone:

“Hullo, who’s that?”

Miss Brewster said dryly:

“It looks like Mrs. Marshall.”

Patrick Redfern said, as though struck by the idea.

“So it does.”

He altered his course, rowing inshore.

Emily Brewster protested.

“We don’t want to land here, do we?”

Patrick Redfern said quickly:

“Oh, plenty of time.”

His eyes looked into hers—something in them, a na?ve pleading look rather like that of animportunate dog, silenced Emily Brewster. She thought to herself:

“Poor boy, he’s got it badly. Oh well, it can’t be helped. He’ll get over it in time.”

The boat was fast approaching the beach.

Arlena Marshall was lying face downwards⁸ on the shingle⁹, her arms outstretched. The whitefloat was drawn¹⁰ up nearby.

Something was puzzling Emily Brewster. It was as though she was looking at something sheknew quite well but which was in one respect quite wrong.

It was a minute or two before it came to her.

Arlena Marshall’s attitude was the attitude of a sunbather¹¹. So had she lain many a time on thebeach by the hotel, her bronzed body outstretched and the green cardboard hat protecting her headand neck.

But there was no sun on Pixy’s Beach and there would be none for some hours yet. Theoverhanging cliff protected the beach from the sun in the morning. A vague feeling ofapprehension came over Emily Brewster.

The boat grounded on the shingle. Patrick Redfern called:

“Hullo, Arlena.”

And then Emily Brewster’s foreboding took definite shape. For the recumbent figure did notmove or answer.

Emily saw Patrick Redfern’s face change. He jumped out of the boat and she followed him.

They dragged the boat ashore¹² then set off up the beach to where that white figure lay so still andunresponsive near the bottom of the cliff.

Patrick Redfern got there first but Emily Brewster was close behind him.

She saw, as one sees in a dream, the bronzed limbs, the white backless bathing dress—the redcurl of hair escaping under the jade¹³ green hat—saw something else too—the curious unnaturalangle of the outspread arms. Felt, in that minute, that this body had not lain down but had beenthrown….

She heard Patrick’s voice—a mere¹⁴ frightened whisper. He knelt down beside that still form—touched the hand—the arm….

He said in a low shuddering¹⁵ whisper:

“My God, she’s dead….”

And then, as he lifted the hat a little, peered at the neck:

“Oh, God, she’s been strangled…murdered.”

 

分享到：