Free Appleby on Ararat by Michael Innes Page A

most disturbing – we have found” – Hoppo, now close to the fire, glanced from Glover to Diana as if for aid – “we have found her garments.”
    “What?”
    “Means her clothes.” Glover spoke huskily and abruptly. “Half way up the east range we found her clothes in a heap. Disagreeable – whichever way one looks at it, you know. All her clothes.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Or at least so Mrs Kittery thinks probable.”
    “It is to be hoped,” said Hoppo, “that it is an aberration merely.” He sat down and looked about him for food. “Speaking confidentially – or rather speaking openly , for that is the better phrase – I have some ground for supposing – that is to say I am inclined to think – that Miss Curricle’s mind has – um – been running increasingly in certain channels, regrettable channels–”
    “Gone off her head, in fact.” Glover interrupted abruptly. “No need to make a mouthful of it. Poor lady gone through great hardships. And these things happen. Mrs Kittery here – woman of the world – face facts–” And Glover became inarticulate in his turn.
    Diana was unfolding a small bundle. “Here’s her slip. And here–”
    Hastily Appleby gave her a long drink. “I understand what you mean. Miss Curricle has her own ideas on how one must come to live if thrown on a desert island. And a certain measure of nudism might be one of the particulars.” He paused. “Has any of you thought of another explanation?”
    “Of course we have. And seen something like evidence, too.” Glover picked up a yam and held it suspended while he finished what he had to say. “We went on and got to the top of the range. And down in a farther valley we saw a column of smoke. It looked as if it might come from a fairly big fire.”
    “The sort of fire,” said Diana, “on which one could – could imagine an enormous pot.” She took up a stone and neatly uncased the pigeon. “A pot – to face facts, as the colonel says – with Miss Curricle inside.” For a moment Diana looked quite sad. “And, John – has anything happened to you?”
    For answer he drew a brand from the fire and led them over to the wash-place. For a moment they stared at the footprint in silence. “Mrs Kittery,” Glover asked doubtfully, “might it be yours?”
    Diana shook her head. Appleby spoke. “The relation of the big toe to the others is not that of a foot that has been habitually confined to a shoe. Look how naturally it has come down with a gap between – much as a European hand might come down. And I have another piece of news. Unumunu was killed by a person or persons with a remarkable knowledge of the island and the currents about it.” He recounted his experiments. “You see, the body was so disposed of that the chances were about forty to one in favour of its drifting straight out to the ocean. Unumunu would just have disappeared and we should never have known how.”
    “Savages!” said Hoppo. “Oh dear, oh dear!”
    “Much better than the suspicion that the devilry was our own affair,” said Glover.
    “And,” said Diana, “it gives Mr Hoppo scope. I can think of another book. Mr Hoppo’s Heathen . John, they will be heathen, won’t they?”
    “Assuredly.” Appleby led the way back to the fire. “Did anything further happen on the range?”
    Glover shook his head. “It was too late to go on, even if we had not had Mrs Kittery to consider. We should have been caught by darkness on impossible ground. But tomorrow–”
    “ A common fate .” Diana, staring wide-eyed into the fire, pronounced the words with great emphasis. “I’m sorry to interrupt. But it’s just occurred to me. A common fate. That’s what you say when the same thing happens to people – isn’t it?”
    They assured her that it was.
    “Well, what I mean is that the same thing hasn’t happened to Ponto and Miss Curricle. And it’s odd, I think. I mean, if Miss Curricle is for the pot why go to ever