As I stood hesitating, I saw a fishing boat come slowly into the little bay below me. I immediately became aware that I was sharply silhouetted against the sky line. Although the crew down there were too far away to see my features, a wave of panic sent me down on my hands and knees out of sight.
This was it. I was in a hell of a jam. I had known all along at the back of my mind that I was walking into trouble by getting infatuated with Helen, and now I had walked into it.
As I crouched down, I imagined the expression that would come on Sherwin Chalmers's heavy, tough face when he heard the news that his daughter and I had arranged to stay at a villa in Sorrento, and his daughter had fallen over a cliff.
He would be certain we had been lovers. He might even think I had got tired of her and had pushed her off the cliff.
This thought shook me.
There was a possibility that the police might think that too. So far as I knew, no one had seen her fall. I couldn't prove the exact time I had arrived here. I had come out of the crowded train, just one among a hundred other travellers. I had left my suitcase with the station clerk, but he saw different faces every hour of the day, and it wasn't likely he would remember me. There was no one else. I couldn't recall meeting anyone on the long walk up from Sorrento. No one anyway who would be likely to swear to the exact time I had arrived on the cliff head.
A lot depended, of course, on the time when Helen died. If she had fallen within an hour or so of my arrival, and if the police suspected that I had pushed her over the cliff, then I would really be in a bad position.
By now I had worked myself into quite a state of nerves. My one thought was to get as far away from here as I could without being seen. As I turned to make my way down the path, I
stumbled over Helen's camera case that I had dropped when I had caught sight of her.
I picked it up, hesitated, then made to heave it over the cliff, but stopped in time.
I couldn't afford to make a single mistake now. My fingerprints were on the case.
I took out my handkerchief and wiped the case over carefully. I went over the case four or five times until I was satisfied I hadn't left a trace of any prints. Then I tossed the case over the cliff.
Turning, I moved swiftly back down the path.
By now the light was fading. The sun, a great fiery ball, drenched the sky and sea in a red glow. In another half-hour it would be dark.
I kept on, barely glancing at the lone white villa I had seen on my way up, but noticing that lights were showing at three or four of the windows.
My panic subsided a little as I continued to hurry along the path. I felt bad about leaving Helen, but I was certain she was dead, and I told myself I had to think of myself.
By the time I reached the garden gate, I had got over the first shock of her death and my mind was functioning again.
I knew the right thing to do was to call the police. I told myself that if I made a clean breast of it, admitted I was going to live with the girl for a month, and explained how I had come upon her body, there was no reason why they shouldn't believe me. At least, they couldn't catch me out in a lie. But if I kept quiet, and by some unlucky chance they got on to me, they would be justified in suspecting that I was responsible for her death.
This reasoning would have convinced me if it were not for the new job: I wanted to run the foreign desk more than I wanted anything else in this world. I knew I wouldn't get the job if Chalmers learned the truth. I would be mad to throw away my future by telling the police the truth: that way I had everything to lose. If I kept quiet, and had some luck, there was a good chance I would get away with it.
It wasn't as if there had been anything between us, I told myself. I wasn't even in love with the girl. It had been a stupid, irresponsible impulse. She had been more to blame than I. She had encouraged me. She had arranged everything. According to Maxwell, she was a practised siren. She had a reputation for making trouble for men. I'd be a fool not to try and save myself. Having got all that off my chest, I calmed down-Okay, I thought, I've got to make certain no
one ever knows I've been here. I've got to establish an alibi for myself.
By now I had reached the gate that led through the garden to the villa. I paused there to look at my watch. The time was half-past eight. Maxwell and Gina believed right now that I was in Venice. There wasn't a hope of getting from here to Venice to-night. My only chance to establish an alibi was to get back to Rome. With any luck, I could get there by about three in the morning. I would go to the office early the following morning, and make out I had changed my mind about going to Venice and, instead, had stayed in Rome to finish a chapter of a novel I was writing.
It wasn't much of an alibi, but it was the best I could think of at the moment. The point was that it would be easy for the police to prove that I hadn't been to Venice, but impossible for them to prove that I hadn't spent all day in my pent house apartment. I had a private stairway to the apartment and no one ever saw me enter or leave.
If only I had brought my car! It would have been simple to get to Rome if I had the car. I didn't dare take the Lincoln convertible which I could see as I rounded the bend in the garden path.
The village woman whom Helen had hired to run the villa was certain to know Helen had brought the car. If it were missing, the police might jump to the conclusion that Helen's death hadn't been accidental.
I would have to walk to Sorrento, and then try for a train to Naples. I had no idea what time the last train left Sorrento for Naples, but I thought it more than likely that by the time I had covered the five long miles on foot, the last train would have gone. I knew there was an elevenfifteen from Naples to Rome, but I had still to get to Naples. Once again I looked at the Lincoln convertible. I fought down the temptation to take it. Whatever I did, I must not complicate this set-up more than it was already.
As I moved around the car and towards the drive, I looked back at the dark, silent villa and I got a shock.
Had I imagined the flash of light that had appeared from within the lounge?
Moving quickly and silently, my heart hammering, I crouched down behind the car.
I stared at the lounge windows for a long moment, then I saw again the gleam of white light which immediately disappeared.
I waited, breathing hard, as I peered over the hood of the car.
Again the light appeared. This time it remained on longer.
Someone was in the lounge with a flashlight!
Who could it be?
Not the woman from the village. She wouldn't need to creep around like this in the dark. She would have turned on the lights.
I was now really rattled. Keeping low, I moved away from the car, across the tarmac, away from the villa until I reached the comforting cover of a huge hydrangea shrub. I got behind this, then peered back at the villa.
The light was moving around the lounge as if the intruder in there was searching for something.