We start immediately."
Chapter 9
For the second time that morning Patrick Redfern was rowing a boat into Pixy's Cove.
The other occupants of the boat were Hercule Poirot, very pale with a hand to his stomach, and Stephen Lane.
Colonel Weston had taken the land route.
Having been delayed on the way he arrived on the beach at the same time as the boat grounded.
A Police Constable and a plain clothes sergeant were on the beach already.
Weston was questioning the latter as the three from the boat walked up and joined him.
Sergeant Phillips said: "I think I've been over every inch of the beach, sir."
"Good, what did you find?"
"It's all together here, sir, if you like to come and see."
A small collection of objects was laid out neatly on a rock.
There were a pair of scissors, an empty Gold Flake packet, five patent bottle tops, a number of used matches, three pieces of string, one or two fragments of newspaper, a fragment of a smashed pipe, four buttons, the drumstick bone of a chicken and an empty bottle of sun-bathing oil.
Weston looked down appraisingly on the objects.
"H'm," he said. "Rather moderate for a beach nowadays! Most people seem to confuse a beach with a public rubbish dump!
Empty bottle's been here some time by the way the label's blurred - so have most of the other things, I should say.
The scissors are new, though.
Bright and shining. They weren't out in yesterday's rain!
Where were they?"
"Close by the bottom of the ladder, sir. Also this bit of pipe."
"H'm, probably dropped by some one going up or down. Nothing to say who they belong to?" "No, sir. Quite an ordinary pair of nail scissors.
Pipe's a good quality briar - expensive."
Poirot murmured thoughtfully: "Captain Marshall told us, I think, that he had mislaid his pipe."
Weston said: "Marshall's out of the picture.
Anyway he's not the only person who smokes a pipe."
Hercule Poirot was watching Stephen Lane as the latter's hand went to his pocket and away again.
He said pleasantly: "You also smoke a pipe, do you not, Mr Lane?"
The clergyman started. He looked at Poirot.
He said: "Yes. Oh, yes.
My pipe is an old friend and companion."
Putting his hand into his pocket again he drew out a pipe, filled it with tobacco and lighted it.
Hercule Poirot moved away to where Redfern was standing, his eyes blank.
He said in a low voice: "I'm glad - they've taken her away..."
Stephen Lane asked: "Where was she found?"
The Sergeant said cheerfully: "Just about where you're standing, sir."
Lane moved swiftly aside. He stared at the spot he had just vacated.
The Sergeant went on: "Place where the float was drawn up agrees with putting the time she arrived here at 10.45. That's going by the tide. It's turned now."
Weston said: "Photography all done?" "Yes, sir."
Weston turned to Redfern. "Now then, man, where's the entrance to this cave of yours?"
Patrick Redfern was still staring down at the beach where Lane had been standing. It was as though he was seeing that sprawling body that was no longer there. Weston's words recalled him to himself.
He said: "It's over here."
He led the way to where a great mass of tumbled down rocks were massed picturesquely against the cliffside. He went straight to where two big rocks, side by side, showed a straight narrow cleft between them.
He said: "The entrance is here."
Weston said: "Here? Doesn't look as though a man could squeeze through."
"It's deceptive, you'll find, sir.
It can just be done."
Weston inserted himself gingerly into the cleft.
It was not as narrow as it looked. Inside, the space widened and proved to be a fairly roomy recess with room to stand upright and to move about.
Hercule Poirot and Stephen Lane joined the Chief Constable. The others stayed outside.
Light filtered in through the opening, but Weston had also got a powerful torch which he played freely over the interior.