later the front door opened. “Come in,” she urged again. “Tell me everything.”
Nick followed Eleanor in, but he said, “Not tonight, if you don’t mind, Mrs. Stearns. Eleanor’s had a long, hard day, and I’ve been gripping the steering wheel with all my might and main for what seems like hours.”
“You both look frozen, and your hair’s wet. Come in by the fire, and I’ll make hot chocolate. The instant kind, it won’t take a jiffy.”
Eleanor realised her hair had collected moisture from the fog and was dripping down her neck. She had been too chilled to notice it. The sitting room, furnished with slightly worn prize pieces from the LonStar shop, was warm and welcoming. She and Nick exchanged a look and sank into chairs by the flickering driftwood fire.
Nick rubbed his eyes. “I don’t believe I’ve blinked once since we hit the fog.” He stretched.
“I’m very glad you were driving.”
Jocelyn reappeared. “Have you eaten?”
“Yes, thanks, Joce. Very well, with the Prthnavis.”
“Only, there’s soup. Plenty of it, as Timothy’s not coming home.”
“What?” Nick exclaimed. “Don’t tell me the vicar’s stuck out in this fog somewhere on his scooter!”
“No, no. He was called out before it rolled in and they rang to say he’d stay the night.”
“Good. I can’t say I fancied having to go and look for him.”
The kettle whistled and Jocelyn disappeared again.
“Cocoa, and then home,” Eleanor said firmly. “I’m not staying up half the night talking.”
“Scumble warned us not to talk.”
Joce was back, with a tray. “Did I hear That Man’s name?” She handed out mugs of hot chocolate.
Gratefully warming her hands on the mug, Eleanor said, “The inspector told us we mustn’t tell anyone about what’s happened.”
“In the first place, I am not ‘anyone.’ In the second place, I already know most of it. If I’m left in ignorance of the rest, how can I help?”
Nick grinned, shaking his head. “I rather think Scumble would be much happier without our help, Mrs. Stearns.”
“I daresay. However, it is our duty to aid our fellow man, even if he’s a Hindu or a detective inspector.”
Once Jocelyn had rationalised her desire to interfere as her duty, nothing could stop her, and Eleanor wasn’t about to try.
Besides, she had the glimmerings of an idea of how she and Jocelyn might be able to help. The police search for the cave could not start until the fog lifted, but once they got going, it would be speeded up if the area they had to search was narrowed down. The sort of people who … The sort of people … The thought slipped away.
“Eleanor!” Nick rescued the tipping mug from her hand. “You’re half asleep. Come on, let’s head for home. We’re going to have to take it really carefully.”
“Eleanor, you’d better spend the night.”
“I’d love to, but I left Teazle at home.”
“Nicholas will let her out, won’t you, Nicholas.” It was a command, not a question, let alone a request.
“Of course,” Nick said meekly. “I’ll give her a Bonio and she can spend the night with me.”
“We’ll talk in the morning,” promised—or threatened—Jocelyn.
* * *
Eleanor was awoken early by daylight filtering through the blue-striped cotton curtains of the Stearnses’ spare room. The room faced west so the morning sun didn’t shine in, but the light was not the grey gloom of a foggy day. A flood of relief swept over her. She would not have to embark upon the awkward embassy she had envisioned undertaking in the slim hope of speeding the search for the cave.
She stretched, a necessary precursor these days to getting out of bed, especially a bed other than her own. Stiffly, she clambered out, stretched again, and padded barefoot to the window.
The rising sun gleamed on the windows of the houses opposite and the lantern of the Crookmoyle lighthouse at the top of the slope beyond them. But when Eleanor looked down the
Nick followed Eleanor in, but he said, “Not tonight, if you don’t mind, Mrs. Stearns. Eleanor’s had a long, hard day, and I’ve been gripping the steering wheel with all my might and main for what seems like hours.”
“You both look frozen, and your hair’s wet. Come in by the fire, and I’ll make hot chocolate. The instant kind, it won’t take a jiffy.”
Eleanor realised her hair had collected moisture from the fog and was dripping down her neck. She had been too chilled to notice it. The sitting room, furnished with slightly worn prize pieces from the LonStar shop, was warm and welcoming. She and Nick exchanged a look and sank into chairs by the flickering driftwood fire.
Nick rubbed his eyes. “I don’t believe I’ve blinked once since we hit the fog.” He stretched.
“I’m very glad you were driving.”
Jocelyn reappeared. “Have you eaten?”
“Yes, thanks, Joce. Very well, with the Prthnavis.”
“Only, there’s soup. Plenty of it, as Timothy’s not coming home.”
“What?” Nick exclaimed. “Don’t tell me the vicar’s stuck out in this fog somewhere on his scooter!”
“No, no. He was called out before it rolled in and they rang to say he’d stay the night.”
“Good. I can’t say I fancied having to go and look for him.”
The kettle whistled and Jocelyn disappeared again.
“Cocoa, and then home,” Eleanor said firmly. “I’m not staying up half the night talking.”
“Scumble warned us not to talk.”
Joce was back, with a tray. “Did I hear That Man’s name?” She handed out mugs of hot chocolate.
Gratefully warming her hands on the mug, Eleanor said, “The inspector told us we mustn’t tell anyone about what’s happened.”
“In the first place, I am not ‘anyone.’ In the second place, I already know most of it. If I’m left in ignorance of the rest, how can I help?”
Nick grinned, shaking his head. “I rather think Scumble would be much happier without our help, Mrs. Stearns.”
“I daresay. However, it is our duty to aid our fellow man, even if he’s a Hindu or a detective inspector.”
Once Jocelyn had rationalised her desire to interfere as her duty, nothing could stop her, and Eleanor wasn’t about to try.
Besides, she had the glimmerings of an idea of how she and Jocelyn might be able to help. The police search for the cave could not start until the fog lifted, but once they got going, it would be speeded up if the area they had to search was narrowed down. The sort of people who … The sort of people … The thought slipped away.
“Eleanor!” Nick rescued the tipping mug from her hand. “You’re half asleep. Come on, let’s head for home. We’re going to have to take it really carefully.”
“Eleanor, you’d better spend the night.”
“I’d love to, but I left Teazle at home.”
“Nicholas will let her out, won’t you, Nicholas.” It was a command, not a question, let alone a request.
“Of course,” Nick said meekly. “I’ll give her a Bonio and she can spend the night with me.”
“We’ll talk in the morning,” promised—or threatened—Jocelyn.
* * *
Eleanor was awoken early by daylight filtering through the blue-striped cotton curtains of the Stearnses’ spare room. The room faced west so the morning sun didn’t shine in, but the light was not the grey gloom of a foggy day. A flood of relief swept over her. She would not have to embark upon the awkward embassy she had envisioned undertaking in the slim hope of speeding the search for the cave.
She stretched, a necessary precursor these days to getting out of bed, especially a bed other than her own. Stiffly, she clambered out, stretched again, and padded barefoot to the window.
The rising sun gleamed on the windows of the houses opposite and the lantern of the Crookmoyle lighthouse at the top of the slope beyond them. But when Eleanor looked down the
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