Виктория Холт - Lord of the Far Island

He was that Hawley who had been valet to the Carringtons, the man who had made me uneasy when he had watched Philip and me in the Park.

I sat still, staring at the sea. What could it mean? What connection was there between Jago and Hawley—for I was sure it was he—the man who had worked for the Carringtons? I wondered about Bessie, who had been in love with him, and what had been the outcome of that affair. But most of all I wondered how the man was concerned with Jago.

There was no simple explanation that I could think of, but a terrible uneasiness assailed me. I had not, as I had thought, turned my back on the old life when I had come to the Island—Philip's death, Hawley, Jago and everything that had happened since was connected with what had gone before.

Jago had certainly been angry to see Hawley. And Hawley? There had been something about his manner which had been a little cringing and yet truculent. That he was afraid of Jago was obvious, but on the other hand Jago was so angry at the sight of him that he might have something to be afraid of too. He must have known that he was coming because he had been at the cove to meet him; and the man was to come that night to the dungeons. Why to the dungeons? Because Jago was anxious that Hawley should not be seen. Not be seen by whom? By me perhaps. I was the one who had seen him before and knew that he had worked in the Carrington household. What would Jago say if he knew that I was already aware that Hawley had come to the Island?

Where is all this leading? I asked myself desperately. What had Jago to do with those horrifying events in London? What did he know of Philip's death?

Philip found shot. It was not by his own hand, I knew it. I was certain of it. Didn't I know Philip as well as it was possible to know anyone? Philip did not kill himself and if he did not then someone else killed him.

Why? Did Jago know the answer?

This was becoming a nightmare. I could not shut out pictures which kept coming into my head. Jago at the Carrington soiree. He had walked in without an invitation because he knew I was there. He wanted to see the family I was marrying into. He could easily have found out what he wanted to know about the Carringtons.

For what purpose had he been in the empty house in Finlay Square? His explanations had not rung true at the time. Now they seemed more implausible than ever.

And Philip had died. Suicide, they said.

But it wasn't suicide; and if that was so, then it was murder.

And Hawley? What did he know about it? He had come here to ask something of Jago and they were going to meet in the dungeons.

There was only one thing to be done. I must be there, but neither of them must know it. They would talk frankly together and I must hear what was said, so I must be hidden there somewhere unseen. It was the only way in which I could uncover the truth and begin to unravel this terrifying mystery in which I was entangled.

The day dragged past and it seemed as if the evening would never come.

I put on a dress of biscuit-colored silk and because Jago always looked to see if I was wearing the necklace of multicolored Island stones, I decided to wear it. Not that he would notice tonight perhaps; he would surely be preoccupied with his coming meeting in the dungeons with Hawley.

As I fastened the necklace I noticed once more that the clasp was not very strong, but it would hold.

Jago did notice the necklace. He said, at dinner, how becoming it was on that colored silk. He talked about the various stones which could be found on the Island and said that he thought it would be a good idea to start up an industry in cutting them and making them into ornaments. Even so, I sensed that his thoughts were elsewhere. It was ten minutes to nine o'clock when dinner was over. Gwennol and Jenifry went into the parlor to take coffee. Jago did not join them and I murmured something about having a letter to write.

I did not go to my room but slipped straight out of the castle and quietly made my way across the courtyard to the west door. A terrible fear came to me that Hawley might already be at the dungeons, in which case I should be discovered.

It was a bright night, for there was a full moon which touched the castle walls with an eerie light and I felt very uneasy as I hurried through the west door and down the spiral staircase to the dungeons.

I had been there only once before. It was not the sort of place one would make a point of visiting often. Moreover, there was something so repelling about it that even on that other occasion when Gwennol had been with me, my inclination had been to get away as quickly as I could.

I stood in the circular courtyard which was surrounded by doors and looked about me. I remembered from that first visit that behind each of the doors was a cavelike dungeon in which Kellaways had kept their captives of the past.

I pushed open a door and looked inside one. This was one with a small barred window high in the wall. There was a faint shaft of moonlight filtering through that window which was enough to show me the moist walls and the earth floor. It was very cold and smelled unwholesome. Nevertheless, I went farther in and half closed the door.

I waited for what seemed a long time and it must have been precisely at nine o'clock when I heard footsteps on the spiral staircase and the creaking of the courtyard door as it was pushed open.

Through the crack in the door I saw a faint ray of light. Jago was carrying a lantern.

"Are you there?" he shouted.

There was no answer.

I cowered into my dungeon and asked myself what Jago's reaction would be if he discovered me there.

Footsteps at last.

"Well, here you are," said Jago. "What do you mean by sending a message that you were coming here?"

"I had to see you," said Hawley. "Times are hard. I'm in debt and I need money."

"You were paid for what you did. What's your purpose, Hawley?"

"I just want a little something, that's all. I did a good job for you."

"You did a job and were paid for it. That's the end of it. I'm no longer employing you. You made a pretty good mess of it too, I must say."

"It wasn't easy," said Hawley. "I wasn't used to valeting."

"All good experience for you," said Jago.

"After all the trouble I got into ..."

"That was your own fault."

"I might have been accused of murder."

"You weren't. There was a verdict of suicide, wasn't there?"

"It could have been different. Think what I had to do. I had to get friendly with that girl, the maid, and find out what your young lady was doing. Then I had to get the key cut for you. That was a tricky job."

"It was child's play," said Jago.

"I wouldn't call it that when a man was killed."

"You should have managed better than you did. Now listen, Hawley, you came here to make trouble. Or so you think. You're saying: 'You pay me or else... .' There's a name for that and it's blackmail, and that's something I would never accept."

"You wouldn't like the girl to know... ."

"There, you see. The blackmailer's talk! I won't have it, Hawley. I tell you I won't have it. You know what we do with people here who break the law? Offenders like you? We put them in prison... in these dungeons. They don't like it. There's something about the place. Perhaps you sense it. By God, Hawley, I tell you this: I'll lock you up here and hand you over to the courts for the blackmailer you are. You wouldn't like that"

"I don't think you'd like some things to come out, Mr. Kellaway. You wouldn't want that to happen.... The young lady ..."

"One thing I wouldn't allow to happen," interrupted Jago, "is give way to blackmail. You've been on the mainland, have you? You know that Miss Kellaway is here. You've been hearing gossip. I hope you haven't been adding to it, Hawley. But if you think you can come here and try to blackmail me, you've made a big mistake. Remember what happened in Philip Carrington's bedroom."