While the Light Lasts - Agatha Christie [37]
‘Why, now, it’s odd your saying that–’
‘You have, then?’
‘As I say, it’s odd your saying that. Snuffboxes–there’s at least four of them I can’t lay my hand on anywhere.’
‘Four of them!’ cried Fenella, ‘that must be it! We’re on the track. Let’s go out in the garden and look about.’
‘There’s nothing there,’ said Mrs Skillicorn. ‘I’d know if there were. Your Uncle couldn’t have buried anything in the garden without my knowing about it.’
‘Points of the compass are mentioned,’ I said. ‘The first thing we need is a map of the Island.’
‘There’s one of that desk,’ said Mrs Skillicorn.
Fenella unfolded it eagerly. Something fluttered out as she did so. I caught it.
‘Hullo,’ I said. ‘This looks like a further clue.’
We both went over it eagerly.
It appeared to be a rude kind of map. There was a cross on it and a circle and a pointing arrow, and directions were roughly indicated, but it was hardly illuminating. We studied it in silence.†
‘It’s not very illuminating, is it?’ said Fenella.
‘Naturally it wants puzzling over,’ I said. ‘We can’t expect it to leap to the eye.’
Mrs Skillicorn interrupted with a suggestion of supper, to which we agreed thankfully.
‘And could we have some coffee?’ said Fenella. ‘Lots of it–very black.’
Mrs Skillicorn provided us with an excellent meal, and at its conclusion a large jug of coffee made its appearance.
‘And now,’ said Fenella, ‘we must get down to it.’
‘The first thing,’ I said, ‘is direction. This seems to point clearly to the north-east of the Island.’
‘It seems so. Let’s look at the map.’
We studied the map attentively.
‘It all depends on how you take the thing,’ said Fenella. ‘Does the cross represent the treasure? Or is it something like a church? There really ought to be rules!’
‘That would make it too easy.’
‘I suppose it would. Why are there little lines one side of the circle and not the other.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Are there any more maps anywhere?’
We were sitting in the library. There were several excellent maps. There were also various guide books descriptive of the Island. There was a book on folklore. There was a book on the history of the Island. We read them all.
And at last we formed a possible theory.
‘It does seem to fit,’ said Fenella at last. ‘I mean the two together is a likely conjunction which doesn’t seem to occur anywhere else.’
‘It’s worth trying, anyhow,’ I said. ‘I don’t think we can do anything more tonight. Tomorrow, first thing, we’ll hire a car and go off and try our luck.’
‘It’s tomorrow now,’ said Fenella. ‘Half-past two! Just fancy!’
III
Early morning saw us on the road. We had hired a car for a week, arranging to drive it ourselves. Fenella’s spirits rose as we sped along the excellent road, mile after mile.
‘If only it wasn’t for the other two, what fun this would be,’ she said. ‘This is where the Derby was originally run, wasn’t it? Before it was changed to Epsom. How queer that is to think of!’
I drew her attention to a farmhouse.
‘That must be where there is said to be a secret passage running under the sea to that island.’
‘What fun! I love secret passages, don’t you? Oh! Juan, we’re getting quite near now. I’m terribly excited. If we should be right!’
Five minutes later we abandoned the car.
‘Everything’s in the right position,’ said Fenella, tremulously.
We walked on.
‘Six of them–that’s right. Now between these two. Have you got the compass?’
Five minutes later, we were standing facing each other, an incredulous joy on our faces–and on my outstretched palm lay an antique snuffbox.
We had been successful!
On our return to Maughold House, Mrs Skillicorn met us with the information that two gentlemen had arrived. One had departed again, but the other was in the library.
A tall, fair man, with a florid face, rose smilingly from an armchair as we entered the room.
‘Mr Faraker and Miss Mylecharane? Delighted to meet you. I am your distant cousin, Dr Fayll. Amusing game all this, isn’t it?’
His manner was urbane and pleasant, but I took an immediate dislike to