go?”
We had emerged in a field of alang-alang, bordered on three sides by quickset of coral-bean and hibiscus, behind which lay rough pasturage, and on the other by a sheer drop into the river. A grass-cutter’s track led perilously near the edge to a movable section of hedge. Crossing terraces of short turf, we soon found ourselves back on the path from which we had deviated with such unforeseen consequences earlier that afternoon.
Presently we passed near the hollow where lurked the entrance to the cave. “I know a great secret passage. Would anyone care to explore?” Our merriment at Hector’s announcement was a trifle forced, I felt. But yes, given the opportunity and more clement weather, I doubted if I would be able to suppress the urge to venture in the cave once more. It contained a mystery that cried out to be solved. I wanted to know the origin of the offering.
Thus musing, we came to another giddy conglomeration of cracked bamboos and wire, suspended high above the surging river. We all three marched across without batting an eyelid between us, though I remembered that I had been rather hesitant in negotiating this particular span previously. Ten minutes later, we were on the main road.
A minibus hove in view and I hailed it.
“What’s this?” scorned Hector. “Can’t stand the pace?”
“Have a care,” I said, “Hermione only stepped off the plane this morning. I know it seems like half a lifetime ago.”
“Right you are,” Hector nodded. “Of course, absolutely right.” Then turning towards his sister; “Forgive me: it must have been a strain. We could all do with a ride.” It was the first nice thing he had said to her.
Later, sitting in the spacious dining-room of the good Hotel “Shampoo” a great array of queerly coloured cakes and buns spread on the table before us, we indulged in reminiscence.
“There was somebody there. There had to be someone,” said Hermione. “I’d go back like a shot to find out who it was. How is it that we saw no one? I’m sure that joss-stick was lit only a few minutes before we came across it. What do you think?” She looked at us both in turn.
But neither Hector nor I could come up with an explanation. And we let it go at that. I should say I let it go at that. The problem was that I was obliged to return to England in only a couple of days’ time. My holiday was up. Otherwise I should have been only too eager to return to the cavern and make it yield its secret.
After tea we adjourned to our respective quarters to clean ourselves up, rest, and put on some dry clothes. This had been my second sodden meal in 24 hours. First we agreed to rendezvous at the Beggars’ Bush for dinner.
Chapter IV
An Unexpected Visitor
DINNER THAT NIGHT was a joyous affair. Having shared such an extraordinary experience, and together courted almost certain death by drowning, the mood at our table was anything but restrained. Our jubilant humour undoubtedly had its effect on the other diners, and I suspect that the daily take of the Beggars’ Bush exceeded the norm quite handsomely. And while the relief afforded by our reprieve may have enhanced the appetite, I cannot recall having sampled a finer bill of fare in any other eatery at any other time. However, the evening did not pass without incident, in the form of an unexpected visitation, which imparted a tremulous note of disquiet to the proceedings.
We were seated in an alcove of the dining-room, which with its tall columns and high ceiling, rather resembled the foyer of a great theatre, while the toing and froing of patrons to the snug upstairs, and strains of music drifting down, tended to heighten the analogy. If it could be construed to include the publican and his gramophone, the source of entertainment resided exclusively in the tavern on top.
“You know,” Hector was saying, with that bland lack of diffidence which marks the born aristocrat, “our achievement today ranks with the explorations and discoveries immortalized in literature by such as Dumas, Verne, or Haggard. Really, someone should write about it: it would make the best kind of fiction.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” demurred Hermione: “what did we actually discover apart from a smelly old cave; and what did we achieve besides bloody near getting ourselves drowned?”
“Speak for yourself, deary!” retorted Hector. “You may have a remarkable talent for making light of the most desperate crises, but do not underrate our adventure or belittle the roles played by all involved, yourself included.”
“Fair praise for faint heart,” returned his sister facetiously. “But what, I should like to know, have we accomplished, or rather what do we have to show for it, other than a couple of cracked ribs and a sore bum?”
“Nothing wrong with my bum, I can assure you. What I’m trying to say, you wretched wench, is that we have experienced something truly out of the ordinary, and there’s no doubt that it has changed us all. We don’t need to pull down our knickers or proffer a handful of pink pearls to prove it.”
I felt it was time for me to intervene. I believed that Hector was right of course, while Hermione was indulging in unnecessary self-depreciation, both as a measure of defensiveness and as a ploy to unsettle her interlocutor. It was part of the perennial syndrome in the battle of wits between worldly-wise brother and sister.
“Now look here!” I placed my hand on Hermione’s. “There’s no doubt that we’ve had a pretty close call, and I for one am more than mildly elated at having come through virtually unscathed. Cause enough for celebration I think. And what if we don’t have anything to show for our adventure besides the odd bruise? I’m convinced that we made a very important discovery, and I don’t think we need to prove it: certainly not to anyone else. In fact I’m inclined to keep the whole thing under our collective hat.” And I continued at some length in similar vein, concluding that we had far more than sufficient reason to order up another bottle of champagne.
“To our further adventures,” I declared, raising my glass and looking hard at Hermione. Her smile, through the spray of fine bubbles, was simply dazzling. Heady stuff, and never mind the fizz!
“It’s a pity you’re going back to England so soon,” she said. “It would be fun if we could go back to the cave and explore it thoroughly before you leave. Why can’t we have another crack at it tomorrow? You still have a day left.”
She was a game one, I will say that. The problem was that the following day was my last full day on the island, and I had arranged to have lunch with friends on the coast and to spend the night in a hotel there, so as to be near the airport for my departure early the next morning. There was no way for me to bow out of these commitments.
“Why don’t you two go on a recce anyway,” I suggested, “and if you come across anything interesting, perhaps you could contact me and let me know?”
“It wouldn’t be fair to go without you,” Hermione said.
“Nonsense!” I replied, “of course you should go. I jolly well would if I were in your shoes. The only thing is,” I went on, “the place might still be flooded; or there could be a further deluge. Either way you would have to be
extremely cautious, and it wouldn’t be a bad idea if.....” I
was about to recommend taking along certain vital equipment, when I was interrupted by our waiter, who was standing at my side, holding out a crumpled plastic shopping bag.
“What on earth.....?” I began, then: “Good God!” Inside the bag were my binoculars. The truth was that I had completely forgotten about them: which was very odd. Normally, I would not have dreamt of going anywhere without them, and I should have noticed at once had they for any reason been mislaid. Presumably all the excitement of that abnormally dramatic day had distracted me to the point of mental amnesty. Still, it was weird. There was no other word for it.
“Where did these come from?” I asked the servant, who, by way of answer, pointed to a slight hunched figure, scarcely discernible, standing in the shadow of the entrance-way below.
“Who’s