“Photography all done?” asked Weston.
“Yes, sir.”
Weston turned to Redfern.
“Now then, man, where’s the entrance to this cave of yours?”
Patrick Redfern was still staring down at the beach where Lane had been standing. It was as though he was seeing that sprawling body that was no longer there.
Weston’s words recalled him to himself.
He said: “It’s over here.”
He led the way to where a great mass of tumbled-down rocks were massed picturesquely against the cliff side. He went straight to where two big rocks, side by side, showed a straight narrow cleft between them. He said:
“The entrance is here.”
Weston said:
“Here? Doesn’t look as though a man could squeeze through.”
“It’s deceptive, you’ll find, sir. It can just be done.”
Weston inserted himself gingerly into the cleft. It was not as narrow as it looked. Inside, the space widened and proved to be a fairly roomy recess with room to stand upright and to move about.
Hercule Poirot and Stephen Lane joined the Chief Constable. The other stayed outside. Light filtered in through the opening, but Weston had also got a powerful torch which he played freely over the interior.
He observed:
“Handy place. You’d never suspect it from the outside.”
He played the torch carefully over the floor.
Hercule Poirot was delicately sniffing the air.
Noticing this, Weston said:
“Air quite fresh, not fishy or seaweedy, but of course this place is well above high water mark.”
But to Poirot’s sensitive nose, the air was more than fresh. It was delicately scented. He knew two people who used that elusive perfume….
“Weston’s torch came to rest. He said:
“Don’t see anything out of the way in here.”
Poirot’s eyes rose to a ledge a little way above his head. He murmured:
“One might perhaps see that there is nothing up there?”
Weston said: “If there’s anything up there it would have to be deliberately put there. Still, we’d better have a look.”
Poirot said to Lane:
“You are, I think, the tallest of us, Monsieur. Could we venture to ask you to make sure there is nothing resting on that ledge?”
Lane stretched up, but he could not quite reach to the back of the shelf. Then, seeing a crevice in the rock, he inserted a toe in it and pulled himself up by one hand.
He said: