“Where are you staying?”

“With friends.”

He was disposed to be extraordinarily taciturn, and seemed to be embarrassed by my questions.

“I hope they keep poultry,” I remarked. “A diet of new-laid eggs and the occasional slaughtering of an old cock will be decidedly agreeable soon from all I hear.

“By the way,” I said, when we were back in the hotel, “have you heard that Miss Beddingfeld is alive and kicking?”

He nodded.

“She gave us quite a fright,” I said airily. “Where the devil did she go to that night, that’s what I’d like to know.”

“She was on the island all the time.”

“Which island? Not the one with the young man on it?”