They silently moved into the steamy jungle. Even though the going was rougher, they stayed off the main path but kept it on their left and in sight. A few minutes later the jungle opened up improbably onto English farmland. There were vast acres of crops. And what crops. Wheat heads the size of American maize. Vegetables were twice normal size and perfectly shaped, with hardly a blemish. They hung heavy on their stalks, ready to be picked. The air blew clean and moist.
Beyond the verdant fields, they saw a building. It held a glimmer of pomp, luxury, and ostentation in its structure. It was grand, with numerous bow windows to allow generous light of day. The front was a tad showy, even palatial, with unneeded Corinthian columns. It exuded the strange confidence of the normal here on this abnormal island.
Penny seized one of the bursting heads of grain and whistled in admiration. “I don’t get it. Does he want to kill us or feed us?”
“I don’t care which. Let’s keep going.” Malcolm hurried along a path between high stalks of corn and glistening apple trees.
The stalks far ahead rustled like dry bones and there was a strange grunting. Malcolm motioned Penny quickly to the left, keeping whatever it was upwind from them. Down a long narrow row, a hulking shape of flesh and metal appeared. A gorilla thrust its broad frame into view, walking heavy on its steel knuckles. Its large head swept the area. When it turned toward them, they could see that its jaws and ragged teeth were made of dark iron, like a cruel hunter’s trap. A guttural snort sounded as it paused, its nostrils flaring wide. The breeze swept the smell of oil and animal musk toward them. It moved on, with the whir of grinding gears and rapidly shifting pistons. Sunlight glinted off the metal lining its spine.
When they finally emerged from the field, Penny spat. “That woman is sick. What she does to those poor creatures isn’t right. That’s not what the Maddy Boys were about. They would be horrified at what she’s done here.”
“Write a letter to the dean later.” Malcolm reached the manicured lawn at the rear of the expansive building; the first door they tried was unlocked.
“Trusting fellow,” Penny commented dryly. “Or maybe it really is a spa. Looks like one. Bit off the beaten track though.”
Malcolm and Penny found themselves in something of a coffee room, empty but complete with orderly chairs and tables, all clean and set. The interior was dim and comforting. The hearth was unlit though that might have been due to the warm air of the island rather than disuse. They cautiously moved to the door and went into the vacant hallway. The radiant sitting rooms of the main floor were empty so they climbed upstairs to where they assumed the patient wings and any residents were located.
Crouching on the top step, Penny spied a man in a white coat. They watched him walk to the end of the hall and enter a room. They padded quickly down the corridor, noting numerous private rooms lining both sides. All were empty. They crept to the last room where voices spoke softly. When footsteps came toward the door, Malcolm and Penny darted out of sight.
The man in the white coat walked past and as soon as he went downstairs, they peeked into the last room. Jane’s father lay in a clean bed, partially covered with a stark white sheet. At their entrance, he turned his head to regard them.
His brow creased in confusion, but then recognition lit his face. “Captain Perry!”
Malcolm smiled gently at the elderly man, recalling that the addled Mr. Somerset had once confused him with Jane’s fiancé, who had died while in service to the navy. “Mr. Somerset, I’m Malcolm MacFarlane.”
“MacFarlane?” Panic started to settle in Mr. Somerset’s eyes. Then it passed like a sudden storm. “Oh yes, the man who enjoys poetry. Jane’s acquaintance from church.”
“Well, that’s right, sir. You have remarkable recall.”
Penny raised a bemused eyebrow at Malcolm but remained quiet. She pushed the door nearly shut and stayed there as a lookout.
Mr. Somerset regarded Malcolm in a beseeching manner. “Have you seen Jane?”
Malcolm’s eyes narrowed. “She’s not here with you? On the island?”
“Island?” The old man seemed more disoriented than before. Though for someone in his condition, anyplace other than his home would be befuddling. “She comes to see me every day even though she is very busy here.”
“She is all right?”
Mr. Somerset attempted to rise from his bed. “Has something happened to her?”
“No, Mr. Somerset,” Malcolm hurriedly assured the confused man. “I want to see her. Is she about?”
“She should be at prayer.” Mr. Somerset leaned forward so he could see out the window next to his bed. He gestured toward a simple rectangular stone building just off the side of the manor house. It was about twenty feet square with a single door and no windows. “In the chapel. She prays a great deal. For me, I know. She worries so.”
The old man’s flash of clarity about his daughter touched Malcolm. He looked into the troubled eyes, which were struggling against vacancy. “She cares for you, sir.”
“She should pray for herself, Captain Perry.”
Malcolm felt compelled to pat the man’s gnarled hand. Then he glanced at Penny. “Can we get down from here?”