Victoria Holt: Road to Paradise Island

"How could I trust you?"

"If I gave my word."

"What of your brother?"

"He is dead. I can't bring him back."

"I don't like violence," he said.

"Really? You surprise me."

"There was nothing violent about your brother's death. He wanted to go down with the divers. I sent him down and simply cut the ropes. We left him down there. It was very simple."

"Is that what you propose to do with me?"

"I wanted you to take the drink. That would have made it easy."

"I should have been asleep and you would have simply thrown me over. Yes, that would have been quick and easy."

"Why not drink it now?"

"It is not easy to drink to one's death."

"It has to be, you know."

Was that the sound of a boat on the sand?

"Nothing is certain," I said.

"This must be. I have thought of it since you came here the first time. Perhaps it should have happened then. But there was much to be discovered. You had the map. You told me that. I did not want the map to be found."

"So you stole it from my rooms. How?"

"Never mind. There is no map now ... and soon there will be no one who has an interest in the island."

I heard a shout from outside.

I rose and ran to the window. I wrenched it open and was out before he caught me.

Wild joy possessed me.

Milton was striding up the beach and he was not alone. Men were scrambling out of the boat.

"Milton!" I cried. "Milton!"

I ran to him. He caught me in his arms. He was laughing, but I could see it was the laughter of immense relief.

I was safe—as I always would be with him.

He took me back to the plantation. Raymond was there with Felicity, Magda and George.

I knew the whole story now and how he had arrived just in time.

As soon as he had left me that morning he had found Maria. He had conjectured that she would be the one who could most likely have stolen the map and put the pills in my milk.

He had bullied her, threatened her, reduced her to such terror that he had forced the truth out of her.

Yes, she had taken the map; she had thought it was a silly bit of old paper. Not like a jewel ... or money. She had put the pills in the milk. It was only to make Miss Mallory sleep well.

Why had she done this? Because Mr. Everton had promised her

money if she did and she was longing to join her Sabrino in Australia. The sooner she had the money the sooner she could go, and for doing this she was going to have enough to join Sabrino. Mr. Everton had promised.

But it had gone wrong and Miss Mallory had not drunk the milk. She had spilt it and left it there on the table. So she had not been paid the money... only for the map.

Magda had seen Milton coming from the hotel where he had been questioning Maria and she had told him she had seen me go off in a boat with John Everton.

That was enough. Milton knew then that I was in acute danger. They had tried to kill me last night. He had set out at once for the island bringing with him a company of men whose duty it was to keep law and order on the islands.

While enquiries were made no one was allowed to leave Lion Island and later that day Milton sent his divers down to that spot where Paradise Island should have been and they explored the sea bed. They found the island below the surface of the sea.

I did not know what the regulations were with regard to the purloining of the gold; but there was the murder of my brother to be accounted for.

In the meantime, said Milton, I needed special care and he was going to be sure that I had it.

The best way he could do that—and the only way he could do it effectively—was by marrying me immediately.

I had already talked with Raymond.

He understood. When had Raymond not understood?

He said: "I saw how it was with you two as soon as I arrived."

"Raymond," I said, "I'm sorry. You have been so good to me."

"I want you to be happy. That is the most important thing."

"No. It is just as important for you to be happy. No one deserves to be more so than you."

"I'll be all right. He is your sort. I see that. I was a little slow, wasn't I? Not adventurous ... as he is. Not forceful, not demanding."

"I love him," I said frankly. "I could never be happy without him."

"I know. So the only thing is to be happy with him."

"And you?"

"I shall take Felicity back to England."

"Take care of her. She needs a lot of care."

"I will," he promised.

And I knew he would.

There is little more to tell. I had travelled far since I had set out from England—and I don't mean in miles. I had broken with the past. I had come to some understanding of life, I supposed. I often thought that if I had not set out on that journey I would have lived peacefully in England, married, had children ... comfortably, possibly happy. But I had broken away. I had faced death on more than one occasion. I had plumbed the depths and soared to the heights. I could easily have died violently as Ann Alice had. But whatever I had endured I should always remember that it had brought me Milton. Life is like that. It is not smooth and easy—and never will be. Often one must take risks to win the great prizes.

I am married to Milton Harrington. Raymond and Felicity have left for England. I fully believe that before long they will marry. She is quite recovered and I believe very happy. I am ashamed to think that I once suspected her of trying to murder me. Magda is now married to George Callerby and we are the best of friends.

One day we shall return to England. It will be wonderful to see Granny M and Jan and be home again.

Milton knows this. He reminded me the other day of how cool and formal I was to him in the beginning.

"I remember I said to you that one day you would say to me, 4 I love you, Mr. Harrington.' You have never said just that."

"Well, it is true," I said.

"Soon we shall leave all this. We'll go home. Now that you have secured me I believe that is your next objective."

"I should love to see England again ... to be there, but, Mr. Harrington, home for me is where you are."

He seemed very satisfied with that observation.