Free Nothing Like Blood by Leo Bruce

flash. We can’t have this.”
    â€œYou don’t think there’s any danger in the situation?”
    To my surprise she did not dismiss this. “I don’t know,” she said. “I shall have to
feel
that.”
    â€œAbject fear is always dangerous,” I said rather pompously.
    â€œBeast at bay? Yes, I know. I suppose the most ordinary person could do something desperate and violent out of fear. What do you think of the Gee-Gees?”
    â€œI scarcely know them.”
    â€œI’ve always thought them rather pets, but then I’ve always quite liked everyone at Cat’s Cradle. In different ways, of course. Even Lydia Mallister.”
    We were interrupted there by Mrs Derosse’s return and soon afterwards those guests who were lunching in the house began to gather.
    The idea that Christine had brought sunlight into the house has been borne out by the weather, which has suddenly turned Mediterranean. After a patchy summer with a July that I could only call chilly, it seems that August will go out in placid splendour. The winds round this house on a headland have been strong and various untilnow, but they seem to have dropped in deference to the golden sunlight. I am very pleased, of course, and amused by the coincidence of this coming at the time of Christine’s arrival, so that Miss Godwin and Miss Grey can both say: “You’ve brought the fine weather with you, anyhow!”
    But this evening something happened which I disliked very much. I overheard a conversation. Only once or twice in my life has this happened to me by accident and I have never, needless to say, sought deliberately to overhear.
    It was so warm and still that after dinner I went into the garden, which is on the more sheltered side of the house and in weather like this is delightful. I must say that Mrs Derosse is lucky in her employees, for Smithers the gardener seems as good as the Jerrisons. There was plenty of starlight and a thin new moon—would it be a harvest moon?—but the light was not sufficient to allow me to do anything but just sit quietly. I had almost dropped off to sleep when I heard voices.
    For a moment I did not know whose they were or just where they were coming from. They were disembodied voices, as it were, sadly calling across the night. Then I realized that they were rising to me from the terrace below. On this, the south side of the house, the garden goes down in terraces almost to the beach. The speakers’ heads were not twenty feet from mine but, because they were lower and there was a rocky slope rising from where they stood, they had the illusion of being very much alone. Few people know how clearly voices carry upwards on a still night.
    I recognized them after a moment—Steve Lawson and Sonia Reid.
    â€œWon’t listen,” she was saying. “Doesn’t believe I’ve got it and anyway it’s too late now.”
    â€œBut it’s not. It’s never too late. We can prove they knew.”
    â€œI said that. Wants to see it.”
    â€œBluffing … You’ve
got
to get it, do you hear? You’ve damn well got to! If not …”
    A little of Sonia’s spirit seemed to return. “If not,
what?
” she asked defiantly.
    â€œIf not, you know what I shall do.”
    â€œYou wouldn’t. I know you wouldn’t. I’m not afraid of that.”
    â€œI damn well would! You’ve got to get it and get it at once …”
    This, I thought, is where I came in. How should I take myself out of earshot? They were coming up the steps to where I was sitting and if I stood up and walked away they would see me. I thought the best thing was to greet them as soon as they came in sight as though it was the first I knew.
    â€œHullo! “I said, “you two popped up like someone from the underworld. Is there a way right down to the beach there?”
    Sonia’ kept her head. “Hullo, Mrs Gort! Yes,