The Twenty-Third Man by Gladys Mitchell Page B

I could have made myself walk into a furnace. I was completely terrified. I’ve never felt like it before, and I certainly don’t want to have a repetition of it. It was bad enough to go back to the cave, but it was certainly preferable to taking that dreadful mountain road,’ declared Caroline.
    ‘But you didn’t go into the cave, of course?’ inquired Dame Beatrice. ‘You rested where we had picknicked, I suppose.’
    ‘As a matter of fact,’ Caroline admitted, ‘I did take a peep into the cave. I persuaded myself that it was idiotic to think that one of the kings had moved.’
    ‘And was it?’
    ‘Was it what?’
    ‘Idiotic to think that one of the kings had moved.’
    ‘I’ve no idea. What do you think?’ It was a strangely defensive answer.
    ‘I am like the youth in the poem. My thoughts are long, long thoughts. Also, in this case, my will is the wind’s will.’
    ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
    ‘That does not disconcert me.’
    ‘Telham,’ said Caroline quickly, ‘thinks that the bandits murdered Mr Emden.’
    ‘What have they gained, I wonder?’
    ‘I suppose, if they did do it, they robbed the body.’
    ‘We cannot tell. No inventory was taken, before the murder, of the contents of Emden’s pockets. But, if he was murdered by bandits, the motive could only have been robbery, as you say. I thought, though, that the bandits preferred to hold their prisoners to ransom.’
    ‘He’d lived here a long time, though, hadn’t he? He may have made enemies.’
    ‘Two months is not a long time.’
    ‘He seemed like one of the islanders.’
    ‘He was probably a romantic. I see him as a Stevensonian figure. I think I will go and talk to Señor Ruiz.’
    ‘Is it true that Emden tried to compromise Luisa Ruiz?’
    ‘I heard something about it.’
    ‘If he did, you surely need not look elsewhere for a motive; and Ruiz would have had knowledge of the cave of dead men.’
    ‘So had we all.’
    ‘We?’
    ‘Emden was murdered after the Alaric docked, you know. Does that suggest nothing to you?’
    ‘There is such a thing as coincidence.’
    ‘You have taken the words out of my mouth. I must certainly speak to Señor Ruiz.’
    The proprietor of the Sombrero was in his private sanctum. This was a room reminiscent of a monastic cell. It had a door into the lounge and another into a tiny, ground-floor bedroom. Dame Beatrice knocked at the door which led into the lounge. Ruiz opened it, and, not surprised, it seemed, by the visit, stood aside, bowed, and indicated that she was to enter. The room contained a large crucifix confronted by a prie-dieu. There were also an armchair, a small chair, a table, a telephone, and a bookcase which housed a complete set of the Encyclopaedia Britannica .
    ‘You wish to complain about my hotel, Doña Beatrice?’ asked the square-faced, dark-visaged proprietor of the Sombrero; but he smiled as he spoke, his previous passion forgotten.
    ‘By no means. I find the arrangements excellent. It is upon another matter that I would like to speak to you.’
    ‘About Señor Emden, no doubt. You will have realized that I had cause to dislike him. I know of your work. You will wish to know what I can tell you about his death. It is little. Did you determine the time when he died?’
    ‘Yes, but approximately only. From what I saw in the cave, I should say that he had been dead for about four days.’
    ‘In other words, he must have been killed the day after your ship docked and you came to my hotel?’
    ‘Exactly. At what time of day I could not determine.’
    ‘You will wish to know how I conducted my affairs on that day.’
    ‘I wish to know whether Mr Emden’s papers were in order.’
    ‘We are not anxious here to make difficulties.’
    ‘I see. Had he a passport?’
    ‘That, yes.’
    ‘Please conduct me to the room he occupied. I should like to see that passport.’
    ‘You wish to ascertain from which country he came? I can tell you that. He carried an English