It was over the drawing-room and nearly as large.
It was furnished in the Italian style, and as is the present way more like a sitting-room than a bedroom.
There were fine Paninis on the walls and one or two handsome cabinets.
The bed was Venetian and beautifully painted.
'That's a couch of rather imposing dimensions for a widow lady,' he said facetiously.
'It is enormous, isn't it?
But it was so lovely, I had to buy it.
It cost a fortune.'
His eye took in the bed-table by the side.
There were two or three books on it, a box of cigarettes, and on an ash-tray a briar pipe.
Funny!
What on earth had Betty got a pipe by her bed for?
'Do look at this cassone.
Isn't the painting marvellous?
I almost cried when I found it.'
'I suppose that cost a fortune too.'
'I daren't tell you what I paid.'
When they were leaving the room he cast another glance at the bed-table.
The pipe had vanished.
It was odd that Betty should have a pipe in her bedroom, she certainly didn't smoke one herself, and if she had would have made no secret of it, but of course there were a dozen reasonable explanations.
It might be a present she was making to somebody, one of the Italians or even Albert, he had not been able to see if it was new or old, or it might be a pattern that she was going to ask him to take home to have others of the same sort sent out to her.
After the moment's perplexity, not altogether unmingled with amusement, he put the matter out of his mind.
They were going for a picnic that day, taking their luncheon with them, and Betty was driving him herself.
They had arranged to go for a cruise of a couple of days before he left so that he should see Patmos and Cos, and Albert was busy with the engines of the caique.
They had a wonderful day.
They visited a ruined castle and climbed a mountain on which grew asphodel, hyacinth, and narcissus, and returned dead beat.
They separated not long after dinner and Carruthers went to bed.
He read for a little and then turned out his light.
But he could not sleep.
It was hot under his mosquito-net.
He turned and tossed.
Presently he thought he would go down to the little beach at the foot of the hill and bathe.
It was not more than three minutes' walk.
He put on his espadrilles and took a towel.
The moon was full and he saw it shining on the sea through the olive-trees.
But he was not alone to have thought that this radiant night would be lovely to bathe in, for just before he came out on to the beach sounds reached his ears.
He muttered a little damn of vexation, some of Betty's servants were bathing, and he could not very well disturb them.
The olive-trees came almost to the water's edge and undecided he stood in their shelter.
He heard a voice that gave him a sudden start.
'Where's my towel?'
English.
A woman waded out of the water and stood for a moment at its edge.
From the darkness a man came forward with nothing but a towel round his loins.
The woman was Betty.
She was stark naked.
The man wrapped a bathrobe round her and began drying her vigorously.
She leaned on him while she put on first one shoe and then the other and to support her he placed his arm round her shoulders.
The man was Albert.
Carruthers turned and fled up the hill.
He stumbled blindly.