Читать «И никого не стало» онлайн - страница 78

She sat down and picking up her diary began to write in it in a clear flowing hand.

One must pass the time.

Suddenly she stiffened to attention. She had heard a sound. It was, she thought, a sound like breaking glass. And it came from somewhere downstairs.

She listened hard, but the sound was not repeated.

She heard, or thought she heard, stealthy sounds of footsteps, the creak of stairs, the rustle of garments—but there was nothing definite and she concluded, as Blore had done earlier, that such sounds had their origin in her own imagination.

But presently she heard sounds of a more concrete nature. People moving about downstairs—the murmur of voices. Then the very decided sound of someone mounting the stairs—doors opening and shutting—feet going up to the attics overhead. More noises from there.

Finally the steps came along the passage. Lombard’s voice said:

‘Vera. You all right?’

‘Yes. What happened?’

Blore’s voice said:

‘Will you let us in?’

Vera went to the door. She removed the chair, unlocked the door and slid back the bolt. She opened the door. The two men were breathing hard, their feet and the bottom of their trousers were soaking wet.

She said again:

‘What’s happened?’

Lombard said:

‘Armstrong’s disappeared…’

VII

Vera cried:

‘What?’

Lombard said:

‘Vanished clean off the island.’

Blore concurred:

‘Vanished—that’s the word! Like some damned conjuring trick.’

Vera said impatiently:

‘Nonsense! He’s hiding somewhere!’

Blore said:

‘No, he isn’t! I tell you, there’s nowhere to hide on this island. It’s as bare as your hand! There’s moonlight outside. As clear as day it is. And he’s not to be found.’

Vera said:

‘He doubled back to the house.’

Blore said:

‘We thought of that. We’ve searched the house, too. You must have heard us. He’s not here, I tell you. He’s gone—

clean vanished, vamoosed…’

Vera said incredulously:

‘I don’t believe it.’

Lombard said:

‘It’s true, my dear.’

He paused and then said:

‘There’s one other little fact. A pane in the dining-room window has been smashed—and there are only three little soldier boys on the table.’

Chapter 15

I

Three people sat eating breakfast in the kitchen.

Outside, the sun shone. It was a lovely day. The storm was a thing of the past.

And with the change in the weather, a change had come in the mood of the prisoners on the island.

They felt now like people just awakening from a nightmare. There was danger, yes, but it was danger in daylight. That paralysing atmosphere of fear that had wrapped them round like a blanket yesterday while the wind howled outside was gone.

Lombard said:

‘We’ll try heliographing today with a mirror from the highest point of the island. Some bright lad wandering on the cliff will recognise SOS when he sees it, I hope. In the evening we could try a bonfire—only there isn’t much wood—and anyway they might just think it was song and dance and merriment.’

Vera said:

‘Surely someone can read Morse. And then they’ll come to take us off. Long before this evening.’

Lombard said:

‘The weather’s cleared all right, but the sea hasn’t gone down yet. Terrific swell on! They won’t be able to get a boat near the island before tomorrow.’