A Hero for Leanda

on the north side. Conway left Leanda to do the unpacking and strolled out onto the veranda for a preliminary reconnaissance. From somewhere at the end of the house came sounds of singing, and high, cackling laughter. That, presumably, was the kitchen. To the right there was a storeroom; to the left, two more bedrooms, both unoccupied. The Franklins ’ own room must be on the other side of the house, which was probably just as well. Conway went on round to the front, where Tom Franklin had set out chairs in the shade of a big mango and was busy with a cocktail shaker.
    “Well, this is certainly a delightful spot you’ve picked,” Conway said, gazing around. “Swimming pool almost on your doorstep. Tennis court, too, I see... What’s the wooden building through the trees?”
    “That’s the servants’ annex,” Franklin said. “We prefer not to have them in the house at night—they’re a noisy lot .“
    “Aha! And the other one?” Conway motioned toward a white bungalow, just visible through the palms, a hundred yards or so away to the right.
    “That!—oh, that’s where the emperor lives.”
    Conway grinned. “It’s a pretty long spit!”
    “Not long enough, old boy. I don’t know why they couldn’t have sent him to the Seychelles —he could have had Makarios’ old quarters there. But there’s no accounting for these Whitehall wallahs.”
    “How is it there are two bungalows so close together?” Conway asked. “Were they both part of the same estate ?“
    “That’s right,” Franklin said. “I sold that one to a chap named Cornwallis-Smith, who wanted a weekend place, and then he died and it fell empty and it was still empty when Kastella was sent out here. H. E. thought it was just the place for him, and that was that.”
    “Does he really bother you much?”
    “Kastella? No, not really—it’s just that he can’t help throwing his weight about, he’s that sort of fellow, and occasionally we’re the target because we’re near.”
    “Do you ever talk to him?”
    “No, there’s a ban on that—H. E. won’t allow any unofficial contacts. Not that I’d want to, anyway! Baker comes down and has a game of chess with him now and again, and of course he’s got his sergeant to talk to.”
    “His bodyguard?”
    “I suppose you could call Bates that, though there’s no real supervision. Bates is more like an aide.”
    “It must be pretty lonely for the chap, all the same.”
    “I dare say it is. He often looks pretty glum, mooning up and down the beach.”
    “Doesn’t he do any work? I thought H. E. said something about him working on a constitution.”
    “Oh, yes, he’s doing that—he takes a deck chair down to the beach and sits there under a tree for hours, writing away....” Franklin added ice to the mixture in the shaker. “By the way, how was your room? Think you’ll be comfortable?”
    “It feels like the Ritz after what we’ve been used to,” Conway said.
    “Good... I can hardly wait to hear all about your adventures. After lunch we must have a good old powwow.”

    Lunch—a perfectly served meal of avocado pear, turtle soup with sherry, and curried chicken—in fact had to be slept off, according to the custom of the house. Afterward, the four of them sat out under the tree and talked. Franklin was genuinely interested in Thalia and her voyage and plied Conway with questions. When that subject was exhausted Conway asked him about coconuts, and Franklin took him off to show him a bit of the estate and give him a short course on the running of the copra industry. Tea followed, and then more drinks, and some characteristic island talk over dinner about the laziness, dishonesty and immorality of the native population, and how it was a great mistake to educate them because then they all wanted to become clerks instead of working in the plantations.
    It wasn’t until they were alone together that night that Conway had a chance to tell Leanda the news he had gleaned about Kastella during the day. She looked worried.
    “We’ve had a lot of luck getting here,” she said, “but what happens now? How on earth are we going to contact him?”
    “Frankly,” Conway said, “I don’t know.”
    “Have you any idea where he sleeps?”
    “Not a clue. I asked all the questions I dared—I didn’t want to seem too curious.”
    “Couldn’t you slip out after dark and do a bit of investigating?”
    “I could slip out, all right, and I might be able to find out where