The Treasure at Poldarrow Point (An Angela Marchmont Mystery) by Clara Benson Page B

morning?’
    ‘It was an adventure,’ said Barbara. ‘Things are so deadly dull most of the time. I am glad I came here, Angela,’ she said suddenly. ‘I’m having such fun. You’re not dull, like the Ellises. You don’t get all cross and bothered if I turn up late for lunch, or if I get into a scrape. I thought they’d never let me out of my room again at Easter after I ran their car into a tree. It was only the tiniest little dent—hardly noticeable at all, but you’d have thought I’d run over Great-Aunt Cicely and squashed her flat, the way they went on. Besides, if you don’t want people taking your motor-car without permission you should lock it away.’
    Angela’s eyes had opened wide, but before she could speak, she heard a male voice calling her name from the bottom of the garden, and she looked up to see George Simpson, who was just then passing behind the cottage. He stopped for a moment or two and was introduced to Barbara, who said:
    ‘It’s no use trying to get down to the beach now—the tide’s too high.’
    ‘Yes,’ replied Simpson, ‘I was halfway down the path before I realized that I had left my walk too late.’
    ‘Or too early,’ said Barbara. ‘You can always try again this evening. There should be a bit of a beach by six o’clock, I think.’
    He smiled.
    ‘Tides and other forces of nature are always something of a difficulty for town-dwellers such as myself, who are used to being able to arrange matters to their own convenience in their daily lives,’ he said. ‘I have been here for almost two weeks now, and I still forget that I can’t go where I please, when I please. Mother Nature is not to be trifled with.’
    ‘That’s true enough,’ agreed Barbara. ‘I got into a bit of trouble only this morning because of it.’
    ‘Oh? I understand that you have been searching for a secret tunnel. Did you find it?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Barbara shortly. She glanced at Angela, uncertain as to whether she ought to tell him about it. For her part, Angela was unsure as to whether she was permitted to tell Barbara that Mr. Simpson could be trusted, and why, and she hesitated. Simpson came to their rescue.
    ‘You don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to,’ he said to Barbara. ‘I shall understand. A secret is no longer a secret if you tell other people about it.’
    ‘Oh yes,’ said Barbara. ‘Then I shall keep it to myself if you don’t mind too dreadfully.’
    ‘Not at all,’ he said, then took his leave and walked slowly back up the path.
    ‘I say,’ said Barbara, as she watched him retreat. ‘He’s rather jolly, isn’t he? Is he a friend of yours?’
    ‘Just an acquaintance,’ said Angela, who was also watching him. ‘I met him the other day. He is staying at the hotel.’
    ‘I believe you like him,’ said Barbara suddenly.
    ‘What?’
    ‘You do, don’t you? You like him.’
    ‘Of course I like him,’ said Angela, slightly flustered. ‘He’s very nice. You saw for yourself.’
    ‘That’s not what I meant.’
    ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. And by the way,’ said Angela, deflecting attention from herself by going on the attack, ‘what exactly were you doing to crash the Ellises’ car into a tree?’
    Barbara saw she had been caught.
    ‘Oh, it was just an accident,’ she said airily. ‘Honestly, Angela, it could have happened to anyone. I mean, they should have cut that tree down years ago—Gerald said so himself. It was nothing, truly.’
    ‘I see,’ said Angela, and was about to press further, but Barbara forestalled her by escaping into the house. Angela followed her shortly afterwards, and they sat in separate rooms for the rest of the afternoon to avoid any conversation that might prove mutually awkward.

FOURTEEN
    ‘Here we are!’ announced Barbara brightly when Clifford Maynard opened the door to them the next morning. ‘We’ve come to look for the treasure—and we mean to find it, too!’
    Miss Trout