7_2

Later, sitting around the table again, they listened to Stokes as he ate cold beef sandwiches.
“Last year I returned from an expedition” he spoke between hungry mouthfuls, “from Guiana in South America.”
“Where is that?” Reverend Butler asked.
“It’s between the Amazon and Orinoco rivers” Stokes replied. “Both of which are far greater than any rivers we have here in Europe. The whole region is covered in a dense jungle, which runs the length of the entire continent. Guiana itself is bigger than France, Spain, Italy and all the lands of Germany combined.
He reached for his mug of ale, before settling into his story.
“It first came to my attention when I read of the exploits of Sir Walter Raleigh. Even then it was a land of romance where the genius of commerce sought to realize the discovery of ancient cities filled with the gold of long dead empires. The place more or less saw an end to Raleigh.”
Bailey and Arkwright exchanged surprised glances, neither expecting Stokes to be the kind of man who talked about a land of romance.
“The region I visited had only passed into British rule in seventeen ninety six and it was still a region filled with superstition and mystery. One local custom in Maccassenna where I stayed was to offer up human sacrifices to the Jaguar god.”
“The Jaguar god?” Bailey asked in a voice which failed to see the relevance of Stokes story.
“The local tribes believed that a god lived nearby, and although this god walked as a man during the day, at night he would appear as a Jaguar. They used to disembowel their victims, whilst still alive and then leave them still alive in the jungle for the Jaguar god to feast upon.”
No one spoke as they digested this information.
“I bagged fourteen Jaguars whilst I was at Maccassenna though” Stokes continued as he produced a long slim cigarillo. “And I never saw one which would leave a bite mark such as this.”
“So what you’re suggesting…” Bailey asked. “Is that some one on this island has a beast of some kind and they are feeding it?”
“I suggest nothing Sir” Stokes replied. “I am merely relating an experience I once had. The fact of the matter is that I have never seen any bite mark which corresponds to the marks on that sheep’s head. I don’t know what killed those people, or even all these sheep, but I know it’s not a cat. Not even a tiger. And it certainly wasn’t a man which ripped that sheep in half.”Silence fell over them as they all pondered the various animals they knew of.

Meg Tyler had moved with her two remaining daughters into Margaret Hampton’s front room. The sailor McKee had been taken back to the mainland by Doctor Farrell and the room had been the only place they could go to at such short notice.
Fred Hampton had not liked it, but he had long since learned never to deny his wife her wishes. As quiet and easy going as she seemed, Margaret Hampton always got what she wanted.
De Hogue found both women standing on the door step, talking to the neighbours in the low outraged tones of angry women. Confronted with so many agitated faces, he suggested they might go else where and talk. Meg Tyler examined him with a critical eye, but went along with him to sit on a bench under a nearby tree.
“Do you know how the fire started?” de Hogue asked.
“I were asleep” she replied. “The first I knew of it was when Emily came and woke me.”
“Which one is Emily?”
“Emily is the oldest of my grand children”
De Hogue lifted his head. He sensed a heaving anger just below the surface of Meg Tyler’s calm and carefully he spoke.
“I have already heard a rumour that the fire was set”
“Aye.” She nodded. “They reckon it were Jack Kirby.”
“What do you think?”
“Kirby has been after us before.”
“Why?”
She turned to regard him with all the guarded criticism of a woman facing an ignorant man. It was obvious though that de Hogue was no fool, and she saw right away that he already knew the answer, but wished to hear it confirmed.
He would go through the correct motions because of the type of man he was, checking his suspicions, then acting on the information he gathered. If he had reasonable evidence or even an over riding suspicion against Kirby he would arrest him, but until then he would do nothing.
“Jack Kirby is a monster. He’s made advances to all three of my girls, and none of them would have him.” She flung her arm wide, her eyes suddenly flashing with anger at him and all men. “There’s not one woman on this island that does not know exactly who and what Jack Kirby is!”
“So do you think Kirby might have set fire to your cottage last night?” de Hogue ignored her manipulations.
“I don’t know. But if the fire was set, then I don’t know of any one else who it was more likely to be!”
“Where will you live now?” de Hogue asked.
The question all but silenced her. She had opened her mouth to further accuse Kirby, but now here eyes lost their focus and she fell to contemplating the ground.
“I don’t know” she answered in a small voice. That cottage was all I owned.
“You still own the land?”
She nodded bitterly. What use was the land by itself though when she couldn’t afford to rebuild her home?Norris approached them.