"I should love that."

"Can you rise early enough? The boats will be a little way out where the beds are. They will start at sunrise."

"I shall be there."

"At sunrise," he repeated.

The next morning I rose early and went round to the south side of the island. I saw the men on the shore. I knew several of them because I had seen them on the plantation.

I said: "Is Mr. Harrington here?"

One of the men—Jacob—nodded out to the boat which was rocking gently to and fro in the water.

"Mr. Harrington's going down today," he said.

"What?... Diving himself?"

"Oh yes, he'll dive."

I stood there watching. I could see several figures in the boat. One was taller than the others so I presumed that to be Milton.

"How long do they stay down there?" I asked.

"Not long, Missie Lady. Couldn't stay long. Can't breathe for long. One minute about all time."

One of the men said: "Gemel he stayed six minutes once."

"Gemel very great diver. He stayed too long once though. Tried to break the record."

"What happened to him?"

"Can't live long down there, Missie Lady, not without air."

"You mean he died?"

"Diving dangerous work. That why they get money for it... lots of money."

"But Mr. Harrington has gone down."

"Master... he can do anything ... better than anyone else."

"What is that noise I hear?"

"That's the shark charmers."

"Sharks! There are sharks in these waters?"

"Sometimes they come close. But they won't come while the shark charmer's there."

I felt a twinge of anxiety. I had no faith that those mournful ditties would deter the sharks.

I said: "Has any man ever been taken by a shark?"

"Oh yes... there have been."

"Then where was the shark charmer? What was he doing at the time?"

"There always be accidents, Missie Lady."

"How do they go down?"

"You see the man at the side of the boat? He's working with one of the divers. They work in pairs... one goes down and the other watches the cord that's tied to the diver."

"It seems very hazardous to me."

I was suddenly afraid as I stood there watching. He had gone down because I was here. He had wanted to prove again his ability to do everything better than anyone else. I thought angrily: I suppose he thinks he is going to return with his pearl of great price!

Pictures forced themselves into my mind. I imagined a monster shark appearing. I pictured the rope which was attached to him breaking. I saw him in my mind's eye down there gasping for breath.

"Let him be safe," I prayed. "Let him come back ..."

I knew then how much he mattered to me. I just wanted him to be safe. Nothing else seemed to matter in that moment. I was arguing with myself. I have to go away. I have to go back to England and I shall marry Raymond, good, kind Raymond. But please God, let him be safe.

I might have known he would be all right.

I stood there rather angrily as the boat came in. He sprang out and ran to me. He was glowing with health.

"You came then?" he said.

"I expected to find you on the shore not at the bottom of the sea."

"It was exhilarating," he said.

"Did you find the fine pearl?"

"Probably. They have to be sorted out. You look a little distraught."

"I've been talking to the men about diving. It's dangerous."

"There is an element of danger in most enterprises."

"And particularly so in this."

"Perhaps it is rather specially hazardous. So you are rather pleased to see me back on dry land?"

"Of course I am."

He took my hand and pressed it. "Don't worry. I'll always turn up. I'll always be there."

There was triumph in his grin. I had betrayed myself.

ECHOES FROM THE PAST

It was two days later. I had breakfasted and had taken my favourite seat on the terrace overlooking the waterfront. I seemed to have made a habit of sitting there at this time of day. Later I would go to Felicity's room and see how she was.

The scene never failed to interest me. It was constantly changing, never the same.

As I sat there a man came along. I had seen him on the previous day and guessed he was a visitor to the hotel. He was obviously English and as he passed my chair he said: "Good morning. ,, "Good morning," I replied.

He hesitated. "May I sit here?"

"Please do."

He took the chair close to mine.

"I have seen you around," he said. "Are you enjoying your stay here?"

"Oh yes, very much."

"The noise those people make down there! They don't seem to be able to do anything without shouting and laughing."

"Yes. It's amusing to watch."

"You come from England, do you?"

"Yes."

"I'm from Australia."

"Not so very far away."

"No. It's very convenient really."

There was silence for a few moments.

Then he said: "I have heard that you have been asking about a Mr. Philip Mallory."

I was alert. "Why yes," I said eagerly. "Did you know him' , "

"I can't say I knew him. I called in here... it must have been about two years ago. I spoke to him then ... just as I am speaking to you now."

"He was my brother," I said.

"Really!"

"Yes. I am Annalice Mallory. Did you ever hear anything about my brother?"

"Hear anything about him? No. I just spoke to him on one or two occasions. Then I went home. I did come back some months later and oddly enough I mentioned him and was told that he had gone away."

"Nobody seems to know where."

"I had one or two conversations with him. He told me something about an island he was going to visit."

"Yes... yes... that was so."

"He seemed to set great store on finding it. Apparently he had made some attempt to and had been disappointed."

I was feeling more and more excited. This man was telling me more than anyone so far.

I said: "We never heard what happened to my brother. We waited and waited for news of him but we heard nothing."

"That must have been terrible for you."

"If only I could find out what happened to him. If only I could find this island..."

"These seas have been well charted. It shouldn't be difficult."

"It seems this island is not where we thought it was."

"Have you come here to look for the island?"

"I really came to see if I could find out anything about my brother. I want to know what happened to him."

"How long is it since you last heard?"

"Two years."

"That's a long time."

"People here knew him. I have talked to them, but they can't tell me any more than you have. They met him. They talked to him. But he seems to have talked to you more than he did to most for he did tell you about the island."

"Well, that's all I can say. I suppose naturally he would talk to me. He was just out from England and I'm English, too, although I live in Australia. We just got talking and it slipped out about the island."

"And you can't remember anything else?"

"There was nothing else. We just sat and talked for half an hour or so one or two mornings. That's all."

I was disappointed. It was the same as I had heard again and again.

"My name is John Everton," he said. "I hope you did not mind my speaking to you."

"Not at all. I am very interested to hear any little detail about my brother."

"I wish I could be of help."

We talked about the island and after a while I left him.

The next morning he approached me again.

He said: "I've been thinking a lot about what we said. This island ... It is intriguing, I find."

"It's non-existent apparently."

"How can you be sure of that?"

"Because I've actually been out to look for it and there is nothing where it should be."

"Did you have a map then?"

"Yes, I had a map."

"Depicting this island?"

"Yes."

"Well, then it must be there."

"It's a very old map ... or rather a copy of one."

"Where did you get this map? It seems so extraordinary that the place should be marked on a map and not be there."

"It is the copy of a map which was found in my home."

"Found in your home! What... ? Forgive me. I am being too inquisitive."

"No... certainly not. We found this map in our house. It had been there for a hundred years or thereabouts. The island was marked on it."

"Do you have this map?"

"I have my copy of it."

"Could I... would it... Would it be asking too much to let me see it?"

"Of course not. I'll go and get it."

When I brought the map down to him he studied it with close attention.

"And that's the island," he said, pointing to it. "The Paradise Island."

"That is just the name which was given to it by the man who made the original map."

He looked at me with puzzlement in his eyes.

"It's a long story," I said. "The map was found in our house when some alterations were made. That was what gave rise to all this. My brother wanted to find the island."

"And so he came out here ..." He put his finger on the island. "It is clearly there. I have sailed these seas and I am sure that there is no such island. The map must be at fault. Are you sure this is the actual map which was found in your house?"

"It is an exact replica. I made it."

"yoamadeit?"

"Yes, from the one which was found."

"It's an excellent job."

"My family have been map makers for a very long time. I learned a little about it. I can assure you it is an exact copy."

"How very interesting!"

He gave the map back to me.

He said: "I really do find this most intriguing. I wish I could be of help to you."

"It has been very pleasant talking."

Conversation drifted on to other matters and I bade him farewell and left him.

He seemed to make a ritual of these morning talks for the next day he came up again.

"I feel so excited," he said. "Something has occurred to me. I woke up at five this morning with this idea. That is the time for my ideas. I've had my best then. I wonder what you will think of it."

"Do tell me."

"It's about the map and the island. The map is in error. I wonder who made it in the first place."

I hesitated, then I said: "It was made by a man who was shipwrecked and thrown up on an island. He stayed there for a while and when he was fishing off the island he was caught in a storm and almost drowned. He drifted for a while and was picked up by a ship. Then he made the map."

"Good heavens! That explains a lot."

"You mean there was no island. He was just suffering from a form of hallucination. We have thought of that."

"That might have been so, of course, but I wasn't thinking of that. He made his map from memory. That could explain it. He could be miles out."

"Yes, that is a possibility. But after this group there are no islands for hundreds of miles."

"But what if his island was one of these?"

"How could it be? These are marked clearly on the map."

"There is an island ... a little apart from these by several miles. Four of them are close together, but this one is some distance apart."

"You mean Lion Island? The one which belongs to the mining people?"

"I mean that one, yes."

"But that is marked on the map. There are the four islands and the fifth one apart."

"Exactly, but the shipwrecked man could have been thrown up on that island and thought he was a long way from this group."

I hesitated and he went on: "Don't you think it would be worth investigating?"

"That island belongs to someone."

"Why not pay a visit? The people there might know something about the history of the island."

"Do you think I might do that?"

"I don't see why not. Look here, I'm enormously interested. I've been thinking about it since five this morning. It's a calm day. Why don't I take you over. I could get a boat and we could leave right away."

I considered" this. Why not? I had nothing to do this morning. Milton would call in the evening. I was sure that Felicity would be all right. I did not believe for one moment that Lion Island was the Paradise Island, and even if it were it must have changed completely now and how could I prove it? But I had promised myself that I would follow every clue, however remote it seemed.