Aunt Dimity and the Deep Blue Sea

“Two,” Peter replied. “They were designed to blend in with the deep carving around the edge of the tablet. They were so cleverly concealed, in fact, that I passed over them three times before I realized what they were. Once I’d found them, what else could I do but try them?”

 

 

“Of course you had to try them,” roared Sir Percy. “Only possible thing to do.Tell ’em what happened next.”

 

“The tablet popped open,” Peter said. “I couldn’t believe my eyes. I released the latches, and one side of the tablet rose an inch or two from the ground. I examined the opposite edge and discovered that it was hinged. But the most remarkable thing about the tablet was its weight. The stone slab should have weighed a ton, but it was no heavier than a packed suitcase. As soon as it was open, the howling stopped. The wind, you see, was streaming up the staircase and leaking out around the tablet, making a—”

 

“Yes,” Sir Percy intervened, “I think we can work the trick out for ourselves, dear boy. Skip ahead to the staircase.”

 

“Well,” said Peter, “when I saw the staircase, I had to find out where it went.”

 

“Naturally,” said Damian, a bit sourly.

 

Peter’s face reddened and he ducked his head, but he carried on despite his embarrassment. “You know what I found down in the cave, so I needn’t describe it. Did you explore the three tunnels?”

 

“We did,” Damian answered.

 

“Then you know about the two dead ends,” said Peter. “What you don’t know is that I followed the tunnel to the sea and . . . well . . . I decided to have a go at climbing the cliffs.”

 

Cassie calmly reached across the space between their chairs and punched him, hard, on the shoulder. Peter flinched and grimaced but uttered no word of complaint. He must have agreed with me that he was getting off lightly. If Bill had ever tried such a harebrained stunt, I would have rewarded him with more than a punch on the shoulder.

 

“It was an imbecilic thing to do,” Peter acknowledged, glancing timidly at Cassie. “But the tide wasn’t high enough yet to reach the ledge and it wasn’t completely dark out, so it didn’t seem all that risky at the time. Once I reached the mouth of the cavern, I found that a staircase had been carved into the cliff.The steps were badly eroded, but there were enough of them to get me up to the coastal path.”

 

A rumbling chuckle sounded from Sir Percy.

 

“You’ll love the next part,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at me and Damian. “Go on, Peter, tell them what you did next.”

 

Peter looked as though he would have given anything to avoid telling us what he did next, but he drank another drop of brandy and soldiered on.

 

“I didn’t want anyone to fall down the staircase by accident,” he said, carefully avoiding our eyes, “so I went back to the ruins and closed the tablet.”

 

The moment of stunned silence that followed was shattered by Sir Percy’s robust guffaws.

 

“Told you it was a wonderful story, didn’t I?” he said happily. “You run off to rescue the lad, and he seals you up all right and tight in a cave filled with skeletons! Simply marvelous! Haven’t enjoyed anything so much since Tufty Wiggins dropped a water balloon on the bishop.”

 

I waited stoically while Sir Percy quaked with mirth. Damian ate another sandwich and refilled our cups with cocoa. Cassie smiled vaguely, as though her mind was on other things. Peter studied the floor.

 

“Ah,” Sir Percy sighed, mopping his streaming eyes. “Forgive me. I promised that there would be no interruptions, but I couldn’t help myself. Pray continue, young Peter.”

 

“The fog was beginning to shift when I reached the coastal path,” said Peter, still staring at the floor, “so I climbed a hill and watched it for a while before walking back to the pub. When I got there, Mrs. Muggoch collared me to warn me about the journalist. She seemed to know all about our troubles with the press.”

 

“I imagine everyone does,” said Sir Percy, with a complacent nod. “Newspapers do reach Erinskil, and your disguises weren’t impenetrable.”

 

“She was very sympathetic,” Peter said.

 

“Of course she was,” said Sir Percy. “She’s a good-hearted woman. She wouldn’t want to see you and Cassie persecuted.”

 

“That’s exactly what she told me,” said Peter, “at great length. I was so grateful to her for getting rid of the journalist that I just let her go on and on.”

 

“We understand,” said Sir Percy. “We’re familiar with Mrs. Muggoch’s wagging tongue.”

 

Peter smiled wanly. “I eventually managed to extricate myself and go upstairs, where I found Cassie, Kate, and Elliot. Cassie became hyster—” He glanced cautiously at her and promptly rephrased his statement. “Cassie was justifiably upset with me, and it wasn’t until we’d calmed her down that Kate was able to explain that you two had gone looking for me.”

 

“I tried to ring you, Damian,” said Cassie, “until I found your mobile in the pocket of your blazer.”

 

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