Evil Under the Sun - Agatha Christie [56]
“Don’t worry, my dear. It’s all right. It’s all right.”
II
Linda came down to the causeway to meet them. She moved with the spasmodic jerkiness of a nervous colt. Her young face was marred by deep black shadows under her eyes. Her lips were dry and rough.
She said breathlessly:
“What happened—what—what did they say?”
Her father said abruptly:
“Inquest adjourned for a fortnight.”
“That means they—they haven’t decided?”
“Yes. More evidence is needed.”
“But—but what do they think?”
Marshall smiled a little in spite of himself.
“Oh, my dear child—who knows? And whom do you mean by they? The coroner, the jury, the police, the newspaper reporters, the fishing folk of Leathercombe Bay?”
Linda said slowly:
“I suppose I mean—the police.”
Marshall said dryly:
“Whatever the police think, they’re not giving it away at present.”
His lips closed tightly after the sentence. He went into the hotel.
As Rosamund Darnley was about to follow suit, Linda said:
“Rosamund!”
Rosamund turned. The mute appeal in the girl’s unhappy face touched her. She linked her arm through Linda’s and together they walked away from the hotel, taking the path that led to the extreme end of the island.
Rosamund said gently:
“Try not to mind so much, Linda. I know it’s all very terrible and a shock and all that, but it’s no use brooding over these things. And it can be only the—horror of it, that is worrying you. You weren’t in the least fond of Arlena, you know.”
She felt the tremor that ran through the girl’s body as Linda answered:
“No, I wasn’t fond of her….”
Rosamund went on:
“Sorrow for a person is different—one can’t put that behind one. But one can get over shock and horror by just not letting your mind dwell on it all the time.”
Linda said sharply:
“You don’t understand.”
“I think I do, my dear.”
Linda shook her head.
“No, you don’t. You don’t understand in the least—and Christine doesn’t understand either! Both of you have been nice to me, but you can’t understand what I’m feeling. You just think it’s morbid—that I’m dwelling on it all when I needn’t.”
She paused.
“But it isn’t that at all. If you knew what I know—”
Rosamund stopped dead. Her body did not tremble—on the contrary it stiffened. She stood for a minute or two, then she disengaged her arm from Linda’s.
She said:
“What is it that you know, Linda?”
The girl gazed at her. Then she shook her head.
She muttered:
“Nothing.”
Rosamund caught her by the arm. The grip hurt and Linda winced slightly.
Rosamund said:
“Be careful, Linda. Be damned careful.”
Linda had gone dead white.
She said:
“I am very careful—all the time.”
Rosamund said urgently:
“Listen, Linda, what I said a minute or two ago applies just the same—only a hundred times more so. Put the whole business out of your mind. Never think about it. Forget—forget… You can if you try! Arlena is dead and nothing can bring her back to life… Forget everything and live in the future. And above all, hold your tongue.”
Linda shrank a little. She said:
“You—you seem to know all about it?”
Rosamund said energetically:
“I don’t know anything! In my opinion a wandering maniac got on to the island and killed Arlena. That’s much the most probable solution. I’m fairly sure that the police will have to accept that in the end. That’s what must have happened! That’s what did happen!”
Linda said:
“If Father—”
Rosamund interrupted her.
“Don’t talk about it.”
Linda said:
“I’ve got to say one thing. My mother—”
“Well, what about her?”
“She—she was tried for murder, wasn’t she?”
“Yes.”
Linda said slowly:
“And then Father married her. That looks, doesn’t it, as though Father didn’t really think murder was very wrong—not always, that is.”
Rosamund said sharply:
“Don’t say things like that—even to me! The police haven’t got anything against your father. He’s got an alibi—an alibi that they can’t break. He’s perfectly safe.”
Linda whispered:
“Did they think at first that Father—?”
Rosamund cried:
“I don’t know what they thought! But they know now that he couldn