Problem at Pollensa Bay. Агата Кристи

      ‘Look here, if Betty isn’t going to dine with us—I think I’ll go back to the Mariposa. They did ask me to dine …’

      ‘Oh, Basil—’

      The boy gave her an exasperated look, then ran off down the steps.

      Mrs Chester looked eloquently at Mr Parker Pyne.

      ‘You see,’ she said.

      He saw.

      Matters came to a head a couple of days later. Betty and Basil were to have gone for a long walk, taking a picnic lunch with them. Betty arrived at the Pino d’Oro to find that Basil had forgotten the plan and gone over to Formentor for the day with Dolores Ramona’s party.

      Beyond a tightening of the lips the girl made no sign. Presently, however, she got up and stood in front of Mrs Chester (the two women were alone on the terrace).

      ‘It’s quite all right,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t matter. But I think—all the same—that we’d better call the whole thing off.’

      She slipped from her finger the signet ring that Basil had given her—he would buy the real engagement ring later.

      ‘Will you give him back this, Mrs Chester? And tell him it’s all right—not to worry …’

      ‘Betty dear, don’t! He does love you—really.’

      ‘It looks like it, doesn’t it?’ said the girl with a short laugh. ‘No—I’ve got some pride. Tell him everything’s all right and that I—I wish him luck.’

      When Basil returned at sunset he was greeted by a storm.

      He flushed a little at the sight of his ring.

      ‘So that’s how she feels, is it? Well, I daresay it’s the best thing.’

      ‘Basil!’

      ‘Well, frankly, Mother, we don’t seem to have been hitting it off lately.’

      ‘Whose fault was that?’

      ‘I don’t see that it was mine particularly. Jealousy’s beastly and I really don’t see why you should get all worked up about it. You begged me yourself not to marry Betty.’

      ‘That was before I knew her. Basil—my dear—you’re not thinking of marrying this other creature.’

      Basil Chester said soberly:

      ‘I’d marry her like a shot if she’d have me—but I’m afraid she won’t.’

      Cold chills went down Mrs Chester’s spine. She sought and found Mr Parker Pyne, placidly reading a book in a sheltered corner.

      ‘You must do something! You must do something! My boy’s life will be ruined.’

      Mr Parker Pyne was getting a little tired of Basil Chester’s life being ruined.

      ‘What can I do?’

      ‘Go and see this terrible creature. If necessary buy her off.’

      ‘That may come very expensive.’

      ‘I don’t care.’

      ‘It seems a pity. Still there are, possibly, other ways.’

      She looked a question. He shook his head.

      ‘I’ll make no promises—but I’ll see what I can do. I have handled that kind before. By the way, not a word to Basil—that would be fatal.’

      ‘Of course not.’

      Mr Parker Pyne returned from the Mariposa at midnight. Mrs Chester was sitting up for him.

      ‘Well?’ she demanded breathlessly.

      His eyes twinkled.

      ‘The Señorita Dolores Ramona will leave Pollensa tomorrow morning and the island tomorrow night.’

      ‘Oh, Mr Parker Pyne! How did you manage it?’

      ‘It won’t cost a cent,’ said Mr Parker Pyne. Again his eyes twinkled. ‘I rather fancied I might have a hold over her—and I was right.’

      ‘You are wonderful. Nina Wycherley was quite right. You must let me know—er—your fees—’

      Mr Parker Pyne held up a well-manicured hand.

      ‘Not a penny. It has been a pleasure. I hope all will go well. Of course the boy will be very upset at first when he finds she’s disappeared and left no address. Just go easy with him for a week or two.’

      ‘If only Betty will forgive him—’

      ‘She’ll forgive him all right. They’re a nice couple. By the way, I’m leaving tomorrow, too.’

      ‘Oh, Mr Parker Pyne, we shall miss you.’

      ‘Perhaps it’s just as well I should go before that boy of yours gets infatuated with yet a third girl.’

      Mr Parker Pyne leaned over the rail of the steamer and looked at the lights of Palma. Beside him stood Dolores Ramona. He was saying appreciatively:

      ‘A very nice piece of work, Madeleine. I’m glad I wired you to come out. It’s odd when you’re such a quiet, stay-at-home girl really.’

      Madeleine de Sara, alias Dolores Ramona, alias Maggie Sayers, said primly: ‘I’m glad you’re pleased, Mr Parker Pyne. It’s been a nice little change. I think I’ll go below now and get to bed before the boat starts. I’m such a bad sailor.’

      A few minutes later a hand fell on Mr Parker Pyne’s shoulder. He turned to see Basil Chester.

      ‘Had to come and see you off, Mr Parker Pyne, and give you Betty’s love and her and my best thanks. It was a grand stunt of yours. Betty and Mother are as thick as thieves. Seemed a shame to deceive the old darling—but she was being difficult. Anyway it’s all right now. I must just be careful to keep up the annoyance stuff a couple of days longer. We’re no end grateful to you, Betty and I.’

      ‘I wish you every happiness,’ said Mr Parker Pyne.

      ‘Thanks.’

      There was a pause, then Basil said with somewhat overdone carelessness:

      ‘Is Miss—Miss de Sara—anywhere about? I’d like to thank her, too.’

      Mr Parker Pyne shot a keen glance at him.

      He said:

      ‘I’m afraid Miss de Sara’s gone to bed.’

      ‘Oh, too bad—well, perhaps I’ll see her in London sometime.’

      ‘As a matter of fact she is going to America on business for me almost at once.’

      ‘Oh!’ Basil’s tone was blank. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘I’ll be getting along …’

      Mr Parker Pyne smiled. On his way to his cabin he tapped on the door of Madeleine’s.

      ‘How are you, my dear? All right? Our young friend has been along. The usual slight attack of Madeleinitis. He’ll get over it in a day or two, but you are rather distracting.’

       The Second Gong

      Joan Ashby came out of her bedroom and stood a moment on the landing outside her door. She was half turning as if to go back into the room when, below her feet as it seemed, a gong boomed out.

      Immediately Joan started forward almost at a run. So great was her hurry that at the top of the big staircase she collided with a young man arriving from the opposite direction.

      ‘Hullo, Joan! Why the wild hurry?’

      ‘Sorry,