Skeleton Island by Gladys Mitchell

Author:Gladys Mitchell [Mitchell, Gladys]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781477869109
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2014-03-18T07:00:00+00:00

One pair knee-length drawers

One pair brown brogue shoes

One pair grey flannel trousers

One tweed sports jacket

One belted raincoat.

It had also been noted that nothing had been found in the pockets of jacket or trousers, and there was a further note to the effect that the garments had been identified as the property of one Ronald Ferrars, a master at Castle Hotel School and now reported missing, and that they were being retained by the police.

The convict’s story went on to say that he had changed into these clothes immediately and then, deciding that his luck was too good to last, had bundled up his own clothes, stolen out again, put down the torch more or less where he had found it, thrown his prison clothes into the quarry, and then had put as much ground as he could between himself and the lighthouse tower. He had kept to the road, had seen a light in a cottage, and, emboldened by acute hunger and his own changed appearance, had knocked at the door and told a story which got him food and a mug of cocoa, and directions as to the best way to get to the mainland. It was not yet eight o’clock at night, so his appearance had occasioned neither suspicion nor alarm, and his account of how he had fallen on rough ground and twisted his ankle was accepted without surprise. He was even given the address of a man with a motor-cycle and sidecar who would give him a lift as far as the town. The self-contained islanders of the small village obviously did not know either that a convict had escaped or that the island hotel had been taken over by the school. Fortified by the meal, unwilling to risk discovery by asking for the lift, but sustained by that particular brand of unthinking optimism which makes many criminals what they are, he had set out northwards, but retained enough commonsense not to risk his luck a third time. He walked and rested until morning. From the quarry in which the prisoners worked he had often seen the ruined keep on the cliff-top above the broken ground which eventually led down to Laura’s cove, and he decided to take shelter in it.

From daybreak onwards his story coincided with that of Laura. As soon as dawn broke and the mist began to lift, he had discovered, as she had, a dangerous but possible means of circumventing the purpose of the barbed wire. He had gained first the gatehouse, then the interior of the keep, and, lastly, the little hidey-hole—probably the remains of a medieval garde-robe—in which he had been found.

Just as he had decided to sneak out and try his luck, he had heard Laura, but had not seen her. He did not realise that he had lost the handkerchief, but he heard her go away. He had climbed down into the courtyard and possessed himself of her ashplant, but he thought, from the weight of the stick, that she was a powerful man, so he decided to wait where he was until the coast was clear.

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