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behind it and think they can cast me as a minor victim in their little series …”
    â€œIt’s not pretty, what you’re thinking.”
    â€œIt’s as vicious an idea as I ever had.” David sounded cheerful.
    But Consuelo said, “Davey, you are awful mad?”
    He nodded.
    Consuelo was silent. Finally she roused and said, “There’s a lot of money some place, and money, you know, is a gladsome thing. I know a lawyer …”
    â€œI knew you’d spark up on this,” said David gratefully.
    Consuelo said, “I never thought I was a vindictive woman, but he should have let me in.”

Chapter 3
    As Consuelo had predicted, the guard at the Colony gates knew her smart red Ford and made no question when David drove through. Around the Colony Cove the houses were heaped, clinging and jutting from the slopes, each beautifully designed and stunningly executed. Life within the Colony and on its private crescent of sand must, he thought, be golden altogether. But he wound to his right, all through this to the other side of the cove, and ascended along a switchback road toward the shelf cut into the hill.
    Opposite a three-car garage there was a wide paved apron and he parked there. The shelf itself was above him still, by a few feet, and he could not see the house. An iron fence crossed between the corner of the large garage and the high bluff of the hill. The place was quite a fortress. David thought to himself of knights and dragons and imprisoned maidens and was somewhat amused. He strode to the gate, which was locked, saw the telephone in its box. A female voice answered, “Yes?”
    â€œI’m calling on Miss Shepherd,” said he crisply. “David Wakeley.”
    â€œA moment, sir.” The voice reacted to his assurance with respect.
    But it was a long moment. David stood by the gate and he could hear the surf on the rocks at the foot of the headland. He was not high, perhaps no more than fifty feet, but by turning his head over his left shoulder he received a stunning panorama of coast and ocean. Staring back entranced, he heard no one approaching until a woman said softly, “Mr. Wakeley?”
    Startled, he looked around. “I am Malvina Lupino. You came to see Sarah? Did she make the appointment?”
    â€œHow do?” said David, cheerful and assured. “Surely Miss Shepherd is here?”
    â€œShe’s on the beach. I’m sorry.”
    â€œThen how do I get to the beach?” David smiled at her.
    â€œBut you can’t get to our beach,” the woman said. “I can’t really … If you would call on the telephone perhaps a little later …?”
    This woman, standing the other side of the patterned iron, was tall. David was a tall man but she made him assert his size. He fixed his feet and became immovable and persistent. “I teach at Lowell College,” he said rather bluntly as if he felt it high time she realized who he was. “As a matter of fact, I’d like very much to talk to Mr. Fox, or perhaps to you, about Miss Shepherd.”
    â€œProfessor Wakeley. Of course,” Malvina said in her smooth purring voice. She began to do things to the gate. “Grandfather never sees anyone without prearrangement but of course … Sarah’s teacher … If there is anything I can do. You must understand,” she went on, unlocking the gate, “our reasons for this sort of thing. Grandfather is old and frail and we protect him from even the least surprise, lest we lose him entirely.”
    â€œI promise not to shout or throw things,” David said, a little shocked. “But I do want to talk to someone who is concerned about Sarah.”
    â€œWe are all concerned about Sarah,” she said softly, letting him in.
    They walked together up some steps. David drew a sharp breath. The low house lay on the edge and its barrier, and certain walls, enclosed this garden paved, in part,