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Or
rather
,
two
clues
.
They
were
hanging
from
the
branch
of
a
pine
tree
near
the
gate
down
into
the
center
of
the
path
,
some
six
feet
from
the
ground
,
swinging
a
little
in
the
wind
,
innocent
and
idle
,
touched
by
sunlight
.
One
was
a
doll
.
The
other
was
a
human
skull
.
The
skull
hung
from
a
black
cord
,
which
passed
through
a
neat
hole
drilled
in
the
top
,
and
the
doll
from
a
white
one
.
Its
neck
was
in
a
noose
.
It
was
hanging
in
both
senses
.
About
eighteen
inches
high
,
clumsily
carved
in
wood
and
painted
black
,
with
a
smiling
mouth
and
eyes
naïvely
whitened
in
.
Around
its
ankles
were
its
only
"
clothes
"
—
two
wisps
of
rag
,
one
ivory
,
the
other
indigo
.
I
recognized
them
as
the
fabrics
"
Lily
"
had
worn
the
second
weekend
.
The
doll
was
her
,
and
said
that
she
was
evil
,
she
was
black
,
under
the
white
she
so
often
wore
.
I
twisted
the
skull
and
made
it
spin
.
Shadows
haunted
the
sockets
,
the
mouth
grinned
grimly
.
Alas
,
poor
Yorick
.
Disemboweled
corpses
?
Or
Frazer
…
The
Golden
Bough
?
I
tried
to
remember
.
What
was
it
?
Hanging
dolls
in
sacred
woods
.
I
looked
round
the
trees
.
Somewhere
eyes
were
on
me
.
But
nothing
moved
,
the
dry
trees
lay
in
the
sun
,
the
scrub
in
the
lifeless
shadow
.
Once
again
fear
,
fear
and
mystery
,
swept
over
me
.
The
thin
net
of
reality
,
these
trees
,
this
sun
.
I
was
infinitely
far
from
home
.
The
profoundest
distances
are
never
geographical
.
In
the
light
,
in
the
alley
between
the
trees
.
And
everywhere
,
a
darkness
beneath
.
What
it
is
,
has
no
name
.
The
skull
and
his
wife
swayed
in
a
rift
of
the
wind
from
the
sea
.
Leaving
them
there
,
in
their
mysterious
communion
,
I
walked
fast
away
.
Hypotheses
pinned
me
down
,
as
Gulliver
was
pinned
by
the
countless
threads
of
the
Lilliputians
.
All
I
knew
was
that
I
ached
for
Julie
,
I
was
mad
for
her
,
the
world
that
day
had
no
other
meaning
;
so
I
strode
down
to
the
school
like
some
vengeance
-
brewing
chieftain
in
an
Icelandic
saga
,
though
with
always
the
small
chance
in
mind
that
I
should
find
Julie
waiting
for
me
.
But
when
I
flung
my
door
open
,
I
flung
it
open
onto
an
empty
room
.
Then
I
felt
like
going
to
Demetriades
and
trying
to
wring
the
truth
out
of
him
;
forcing
him
to
come
with
me
to
the
science
master
.
I
half
decided
to
go
to
Athens
,
and
even
got
a
suitcase
down
from
the
top
of
the
wardrobe
;
then
changed
my
mind
.
Probably
the
fact
that
there
were
another
two
weeks
of
term
to
run
was
the
only
significant
one
;
two
weeks
more
in
which
to
torment
us
.
Finally
I
went
down
to
the
village
,
straight
to
the
house
behind
the
church
.
The
gate
was
open
;
a
garden
green
with
lemon
and
orange
trees
,
through
which
a
cobbled
path
led
to
the
door
of
the
house
.
Though
not
large
it
had
a
certain
elegance
;
a
pilastered
portico
,
windows
with
graceful
pediments
.
The
whitewashed
facade
was
in
shadow
,
a
palest
blue
against
the
evenings
sky
’
s
pale
blue
.
As
I
walked
between
the
cool
,
dark
walls
of
the
trees
Hermes
came
out
of
the
door
.
He
did
not
seem
in
the
least
surprised
.
I
said
in
Greek
,
"
Is
the
young
lady
here
?
"
Then
he
did
look
surprised
,
glanced
past
me
,
as
if
expecting
her
to
appear
.
After
a
moment
he
said
,
"
Why
?
"
"
Is
she
here
?
"
He
raised
his
head
.
No
.
I
gave
him
a
close
scrutiny
.
He
said
,
"
Where
is
she
?
"
"
You
have
her
suitcase
?
"
"
Inside
.
"
"
I
want
to
see
it
.
"
He
hesitated
,
then
led
the
way
in
.
An
airy
,
bare
hall
,
a
fine
Turkish
carpet
on
one
wall
;
an
obscure
coat
of
arms
,
rather
like
an
English
funeral
hatchment
,
on
another
.
I
saw
through
an
open
door
the
crates
Hermes
had
brought
from
Bourani
.
It
was
apparently
his
own
room
.
A
small
boy
came
to
the
door
.
Hermes
said
something
to
him
,
and
the
boy
gave
me
a
solemn
brown
stare
,
then
retreated
.
Hermes
walked
up
the
stairs
,
where
doors
led
to
left
and
right
from
a
transverse
landing
.
He
opened
the
left
-
hand
one
.
I
found
myself
in
an
island
room
.
A
bed
with
a
folkweave
bedspread
,
a
floor
of
polished
planks
,
a
chest
of
drawers
,
a
fine
cassone
,
some
pleasant
watercolors
of
island
houses
.
They
had
the
clean
,
stylish
,
shallow
look
of
architectural
perspectives
,
and
though
they
were
unsigned
I
guessed
that
they
were
Anton
’
s
.
Hermes
threw
open
the
shutters
of
the
west
-
facing
window
.
Julie
’
s
suitcase
stood
at
the
foot
of
the
bed
.
On
top
of
the
chest
of
drawers
was
a
small
bowl
of
flowers
;
on
the
windowsill
a
wet
kanati
,
the
porous
water
jug
Greeks
put
in
their
windows
to
cool
both
air
and
water
.
A
nice
,
simple
,
welcoming
little
room
.
Without
looking
at
Hermes
I
picked
up
the
case
and
put
it
on
the
bed
,
then
without
much
hope
tried
the
catches
.
But
they
opened
.
Clothes
,
underclothes
,
a
blue
sundress
,
two
pairs
of
shoes
,
a
bikini
,
toilet
things
.
"
What
are
you
looking
for
?
"
I
said
,
"
Nothing
.
"
I
ruffled
through
the
contents
of
the
case
,
and
became
embarrassed
.
I
couldn
’
t
turn
it
out
and
examine
each
thing
separately
,
as
I
felt
tempted
.
There
were
two
or
three
books
at
one
corner
.
A
text
of
the
Palatine
Anthology
.
I
flicked
it
open
.
Julie
Holmes
,
Girton
.
Some
of
the
poems
had
little
marginal
notes
,
English
equivalents
,
written
in
her
neat
handwriting
.
A
Greene
novel
.
Underneath
that
,
an
American
paperback
on
witchcraft
.
A
place
had
been
marked
by
a
letter
.
I
slipped
it
halfway
out
of
the
envelope
.
It
was
the
one
from
her
mother
I
had
read
before
.
I
looked
at
Hermes
.
Almost
certainly
he
was
genuinely
ignorant
.
There
was
no
reason
why
he
should
have
been
told
she
wasn
’
t
coming
.
He
also
had
been
deceived
.
Ten
minutes
later
I
was
in
the
radio
office
on
the
ground
floor
of
the
customs
house
,
and
handing
in
my
form
.
MISS
JUNE
HOLMES
,
HOTEL
GRAND
BRETAGNE
,
ATHENS
.
CHARLOTTE
.
URGENT
.
CHARLOTTE
.
JULIE
.
I
went
the
next
day
,
Monday
,
to
meet
the
noon
boat
.
There
was
no
sign
of
June
.
But
an
hour
later
,
at
lunch
,
I
found
there
had
been
something
for
me
on
it
;
a
letter
from
Mrs
.
Holmes
.
It
was
on
the
same
headed
paper
I
had
seen
only
the
day
before
;
posted
in
Cerne
Abbas
on
the
previous
Tuesday
.
DEAR
MR
.
URFE
,
Of
course
I
don
’
t
mind
you
writing
,
I
’
ve
passed
your
letter
on
to
Mr
.
Vulliamy
,
who
is
headmaster
of
our
primary
,
such
a
nice
man
,
and
he
was
very
excited
by
the
idea
,
I
think
having
pen
pals
in
France
and
America
is
getting
rather
old
hat
anyway
,
don
’
t
you
.
I
’
m
sure
he
will
be
getting
in
touch
with
you
.
I
’
m
so
glad
you
’
ve
met
Julie
and
June
and
that
there
’
s
someone
else
English
on
the
island
.
It
does
sound
so
lovely
.
Do
remind
to
write
.
They
are
awful
about
it
.
Yours
most
sincerely
,
CONSTANCE
HOLMESTuesday
came
;
again
I
went
down
to
meet
the
boat
;
and
again
June
was
not
on
it
.
I
felt
restless
,
futile
,
unable
to
decide
what
to
do
.
In
the
evening
I
strolled
up
from
the
quay
to
the
square
of
the
execution
.
There
was
a
plaque
there
against
the
wall
of
the
village
school
.
The
walnut
tree
still
stood
on
the
right
;
but
on
the
left
the
iron
grilles
had
been
replaced
by
wooden
gates
.
Two
or
three
small
boys
played
football
against
the
high
wall
beside
it
;
and
it
was
like
the
room
,
that
torture
room
,
which
I
had
gone
to
see
when
I
came
back
from
the
village
on
the
Sunday
evening
—
locked
,
but
I
went
round
outside
and
peered
in
.
It
was
now
used
as
a
storeroom
,
and
had
easels
and
blackboards
,
spare
desks
and
other
furniture
;
completely
exorcized
by
circumstance
.
It
should
have
been
left
as
it
had
been
,
with
the
blood
and
the
electric
fire
and
the
one
terrible
table
in
the
center
.
Perhaps
I
was
overbitter
about
the
school
during
those
days
.
The
examinations
had
taken
place
;
and
it
promised
in
the
prospectus
that
"
each
student
is
examined
personally
in
written
English
by
the
native
English
professor
.
"
This
meant
that
I
had
two
hundred
papers
or
so
to
correct
.
In
a
way
I
didn
’
t
mind
.
It
kept
other
anxieties
and
suspenses
at
bay
.
Wednesday
came
.
Once
again
I
met
the
boat
,
in
vain
.
I
half
hoped
for
a
letter
,
but
that
was
in
vain
,
too
.
I
decided
on
a
course
of
action
.
I
would
wait
till
the
weekend
;
if
I
had
heard
nothing
by
then
,
I
would
go
to
Athens
Wednesday
had
been
a
sultry
day
with
a
veiled
sun
,
a
sort
of
end
-
of
-
the
-
world
day
,
very
un
-
Aegean
.
That
night
I
sat
down
for
a
really
long
session
of
correcting
.
Thursday
was
the
deadline
for
handing
in
papers
to
the
assistant
headmaster
.
The
air
was
very
heavy
,
but
about
half
-
past
ten
I
heard
distant
rumbles
.
Rain
was
mercifully
coming
.
Half
an
hour
later
,
when
I
had
worked
about
one
-
third
of
the
way
through
the
pile
of
foolscap
,
there
was
a
knock
on
the
door
.
I
shouted
.
I
thought
it
was
one
of
the
other
masters
or
perhaps
one
of
the
sixth
-
form
leavers
who
had
come
cadging
advance
results
.
But
it
was
Barba
Vassili
.
He
was
smiling
under
his
white
walrus
moustache
;
and
his
first
words
made
me
jump
from
my
desk
.
"
Sygnomi
,
kyrie
,
ma
perimeni
mia
thespoinis
.
"
"
Excuse
me
,
sir
,
but
a
young
lady
is
waiting
.
"
"
Where
?
"
He
indicated
the
gate
.
I
was
tearing
on
a
coat
.
"
With
blonde
hair
?
"
"
A
very
beautiful
young
lady
.
She
is
English
?
"
But
I
was
past
him
and
running
down
the
corridor
.
I
called
back
to
his
grinning
face
—
"
To
phos
!
"
—
to
make
him
turn
out
the
light
.
I
leapt
down
the
stairs
,
out
of
the
building
and
raced
along
the
path
to
the
gate
.
There
was
a
bare
bulb
there
above
Barba
Vassili
’
s
window
;
a
pool
of
white
light
.
I
expected
to
see
her
standing
in
it
,
but
there
was
no
one
.
The
gate
was
locked
at
that
time
of
night
,
since
the
masters
all
had
passkeys
.
I
felt
in
my
pocket
and
remembered
that
I
had
left
mine
in
the
old
jacket
I
wore
in
class
.
I
looked
through
the
bars
.
There
was
no
one
in
the
road
,
no
one
on
the
thistly
wasteland
that
ran
down
to
the
sea
fifty
yards
away
,
no
one
by
the
sea
.
I
called
in
a
low
voice
.
But
no
quick
shape
appeared
from
behind
the
walls
.
I
turned
exasperatedly
.
Barba
Vassili
was
coming
slowly
down
through
the
trees
.
"
Isn
’
t
she
there
?
"
He
seemed
to
take
ages
to
unlock
the
side
gate
we
used
.
We
went
out
into
the
road
and
looked
both
ways
.
He
pointed
,
but
doubtfully
,
down
the
road
away
from
the
village
.
"
That
way
?
"
"
Perhaps
.
"
I
began
to
smell
a
rat
.
There
was
something
in
the
old
man
’
s
smile
;
it
was
ten
past
eleven
;
the
thundery
air
,
the
deserted
road
.
And
yet
I
didn
’
t
care
what
happened
;
as
long
as
something
happened
.
"
Can
I
have
your
key
,
Barba
?
"
But
he
wouldn
’
t
let
me
have
the
one
in
his
hand
;
had
to
go
back
inside
his
lodge
and
rummage
and
find
another
.
He
seemed
to
be
delaying
me
;
and
when
he
at
last
came
with
another
key
,
I
snatched
it
out
of
his
hand
.
I
went
quickly
down
the
road
away
from
the
village
.
To
the
east
lightning
shuddered
.
After
seventy
or
eighty
yards
,
the
school
wall
right
-
angled
inland
.
I
thought
she
might
be
just
round
the
corner
of
it
.
But
she
wasn
’
t
.
The
road
did
not
go
much
more
than
quarter
of
a
mile
farther
;
beyond
the
wall
it
looped
inland
a
little
to
cross
a
dried
-
out
torrent
.
There
was
a
small
bridge
and
,
a
hundred
yards
to
the
left
of
that
,
a
chapel
,
which
was
linked
to
the
road
by
a
tall
avenue
of
cypresses
.
The
moon
was
completely
obscured
by
a
dense
veil
of
high
cloud
,
but
there
was
a
gray
Palmeresque
light
over
the
landscape
.
I
came
to
the
bridge
and
called
again
in
a
low
voice
.
"
June
?
Julie
?
"
I
hesitated
,
torn
between
following
the
road
and
going
back
towards
the
village
.
Then
there
was
a
sound
:
my
name
.
I
ran
up
between
the
cypresses
,
black
spindles
against
the
opaque
cloud
.
After
forty
yards
or
so
there
was
a
movement
to
my
left
.
I
whirled
round
.
She
was
standing
behind
one
of
the
largest
trees
:
a
dark
dress
,
headscarf
,
a
cardigan
draped
over
her
shoulders
;
all
dark
except
for
the
white
oval
of
the
face
.
"
Julie
?
"
"
It
’
s
me
.
June
.
Thank
God
you
’
ve
come
.
"
I
went
to
her
.
She
looked
back
,
round
towards
the
road
.
"
What
on
earth
’
s
wrong
?
"
"
I
think
I
’
m
being
followed
.
"
"
Where
’
s
Julie
?
"
"
Isn
’
t
she
here
?
"
"
Haven
’
t
you
seen
her
?
"
"
Not
since
Friday
.
Oh
God
.
"
She
let
her
head
sink
;
and
suddenly
I
was
intensely
suspicious
again
;
both
voice
and
movement
were
overwrought
.
"
Where
’
ve
you
been
?
"
She
looked
up
,
as
if
surprised
.
"
In
Athens
.
"
"
But
this
extraordinary
hour
?
"
"
I
didn
’
t
get
here
till
dusk
.
And
I
…
well
,
I
was
frightened
.
"
I
searched
her
face
,
pale
against
the
black
foliage
.
She
was
playing
a
part
;
and
not
very
well
.
I
glanced
down
towards
the
road
;
the
whitewashed
corner
of
the
school
wall
.
Then
back
at
her
.
"
Why
didn
’
t
you
wait
at
the
gate
?
"
"
I
panicked
.
He
was
gone
such
a
long
time
.
"
She
had
the
amateur
liar
’
s
habit
of
looking
earnestly
into
one
’
s
eyes
.
"
Who
’
s
following
you
?
"
"
Two
men
.
They
stopped
when
I
got
to
the
school
.
"
"
Where
’
s
Julie
?
"
My
voice
was
curt
;
no
nonsense
.
"
I
thought
you
’
d
know
.
I
had
a
telegram
.
"
"
That
was
from
me
.
"
"
I
had
two
.
"
"
Two
!
"
She
nodded
.
"
One
said
’
Anne
.
’
She
told
you
what
we
arranged
?
I
was
to
stay
in
Athens
.
And
then
yours
.
They
both
came
on
Sunday
night
.
So
I
knew
one
must
be
false
.
I
didn
’
t
trust
yours
,
because
it
didn
’
t
sound
like
Julie
.
So
I
stayed
in
Athens
.
"
There
were
telltale
little
pauses
between
the
sentences
,
as
if
she
had
to
have
each
one
accepted
by
me
before
going
on
.
I
stared
at
her
.
"
Where
was
this
other
telegram
from
?
"
"
Nauplia
.
"
Silence
;
she
sensed
my
incredulity
.
"
What
happened
here
at
the
weekend
?
"
I
went
,
very
quickly
,
through
the
events
of
the
Sunday
.
She
said
,
"
How
horrible
.
Oh
how
I
wish
we
’
d
never
got
involved
in
all
this
.
"
It
sounded
even
more
artificial
.
In
the
darkness
she
looked
hallucinatorily
likejulie
and
I
reached
down
to
touch
her
wrist
.
She
turned
away
;
then
tensed
.
There
were
footsteps
on
the
road
.
Three
men
were
walking
slowly
along
it
.
People
,
villagers
,
masters
,
often
strolled
to
the
end
of
the
road
and
back
in
the
evening
,
for
the
coolness
.
But
she
gave
me
a
scared
look
.
I
didn
’
t
trust
June
one
inch
;
I
knew
she
was
lying
.
Yet
lying
as
a
soubrette
lies
,
much
more
out
of
mischief
than
malice
.
She
whispered
.
"
Maurice
said
he
would
see
me
on
Sunday
.
In
Athens
.
But
I
haven
’
t
seen
a
soul
.
And
then
yesterday
I
somehow
guessed
that
you
had
sent
the
other
telegram
.
"
"
How
did
you
get
here
?
On
the
boat
?
"
But
she
avoided
that
trap
.
"
I
found
a
way
by
land
.
By
Kranidi
?
"
Occasionally
thalassophobic
parents
used
that
route
—
it
meant
changing
at
Corinth
and
taking
a
taxi
from
Kranidi
and
then
hiring
a
boat
to
bring
one
across
from
the
mainland
;
a
full
day
’
s
journey
;
and
difficult
if
one
didn
’
t
speak
good
Greek
.
"
But
why
?
"
"
I
know
I
’
ve
been
followed
everywhere
in
Athens
.
And
I
’
ve
seen
Joe
.
"
"
Where
?
"
"
On
Monday
.
He
was
in
a
car
outside
the
Grande
Bretagne
.
As
soon
as
he
saw
me
he
drove
away
.
"
I
didn
’
t
believe
it
;
she
was
simply
telling
stories
.
I
hesitated
,
nearly
called
her
bluff
,
changed
my
mind
.
Crossing
the
avenue
I
peered
cautiously
round
a
cypress
on
that
side
.
The
three
were
calmly
strolling
on
,
their
backs
to
us
;
the
grayish
strip
of
road
,
the
low
black
scrub
.
In
a
few
moments
they
went
round
the
bend
and
out
of
sight
.
June
came
beside
me
.
I
turned
to
her
.
"
I
’
ve
put
the
whole
business
in
the
hands
of
the
police
.
"
"
The
police
?
"
I
could
tell
I
had
caught
her
off
-
balance
;
then
remembered
that
my
own
lies
had
to
be
convincing
.
"
Only
today
.
I
expect
they
’
ve
been
looking
for
you
in
Athens
.
