The Twenty-Third Man by Gladys Mitchell Page A

in principle. He cannot, however, be taken . He must be sent . As a public-spirited and enlightened man, you will appreciate that you and your wife must remain here, pending some result of our inquiries.’
    ‘Yes, yes, of course. But the boy must go. For one thing, his life may not be safe. It seems to me that, but for his naughtiness in going to the cave in the first place, the subsequent substitution of Emden’s body for that of one of the kings would never have been discovered.’
    ‘The bandits know of the substitution, of course, because it was they who discovered the mummified body after it had been tumbled down the mountain-side. All the same, I think it very unlikely that they would have reported the matter, as Clement did. I understand your feelings perfectly well. By all means get the boy away from here, although, if he has told all he knows, I do not think he can be in any physical danger.’
    ‘I am greatly concerned for his safety, none the less.’
    Theodora Drashleigh did not share these fears. She even went so far as to reproach her husband for wishing to make Clement (as she expressed it) into a nincompoop.
    ‘But, my dear,’ said Mr Drashleigh, ‘if the boy’s life is in danger –’
    ‘It can’t be, Pentland! Clement is a high-spirited, naughty boy, but he knows no more than he has told us. I am sure of it. And he is not to be allowed to run away from danger, real or fancied. It would stunt his spiritual growth. You know our compact. You must abide by it. You promised.’
    ‘Very well, Theodora. All I say is that you are taking an unwise risk and must accept the responsibility it entails.
    He sought Dame Beatrice and begged her to add her arguments to his own. She set out his point of view clearly to Mrs Drashleigh, but Clement’s foster-mother was not to be persuaded.
    ‘Clement is in no danger. It’s to be inferred that everything that he knows about this distressing business he has confided to us,’ she insisted. ‘Are you really thinking of interesting yourself more deeply in the affair? I refer to what you told Señor Ruiz.’
    ‘More deeply?’
    ‘Well,’ put in Pentland Drashleigh apologetically, ‘one cannot help but know of your alter ego , you know.’
    ‘I have no alter ego . I am, first and last, a psychologist. I could even tell you why you wish to take Clement away from this island and why your wife wishes him to stay.’
    ‘I have no concern but the boy’s safety. My wife has no concern but the proper development of his character.’
    ‘Pull devil, pull baker,’ murmured Dame Beatrice in her beautiful voice. Drashleigh looked startled.
    ‘I assure you we are wholly at one over Clement!’ he said hotly. ‘We see him steadily, we see him whole.’
    ‘It is just as well to see him steadily. I will answer your question before we tread on dangerous ground. I meant what I said. I propose to solve the problem of Mr Emden’s death.’
    This (to begin with, at any rate) was, from her point of view, in the nature of an intellectual exercise, for she had no idea and did not, at that stage, intend to formulate one, of what she would do when she discovered the identity of the murderer. Information, mostly of a negative kind, was soon forthcoming, and did not, at first, seem helpful. The first conversation in which she joined was between Caroline and Mrs Angel.
    ‘I knew ,’ said Caroline. ‘That day we went to the cave, I knew something was wrong. Badly wrong. Terribly wrong. And it was soon proved.’
    ‘Are you psychic, Mrs Lockerby?’ Mrs Angel leaned forward with an avid and unpleasant expression upon her once-lovely countenance.
    ‘Psychic? I’ve never thought so until now, but, really, it was the most extraordinary feeling, and it left me thoroughly unnerved. Dame Beatrice will bear me out.’
    ‘Certainly. The fall of rock, no doubt, is the incident to which you refer,’ said her leering sponsor.
    ‘I could no more have gone any further along that road than