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“That’s your mother’s Presbyterian upbringing, I suppose …”
    It was time to change the subject. The orchestra had embarked on the last movement of Haydn’s symphony, and Bella almost surreptitiously wheeled the food trolley away.
    I said to Dart, “I consider myself conversant with most islands in the Pacific. Moreau Island I have not heard of. How come? Who gave it its name?”
    He countered with another question.
    â€œDoes the name Moreau ring any familiar bells with you?”
    I rubbed my chin.
    â€œSo happens, yes. I used to be a great admirer of the scientific romances of H. G. Wells, who wrote First Men in the Moon and The Time Machine . Wells also wrote a novel about a Pacific island, nameless as I recall, on which a Dr. Moreau practiced some unpleasant experiments on animals of various kinds. Any connection?”
    â€œYou are on Dr. Moreau’s island. This is that same island.”
    I laughed—a little uneasily, I have to admit.
    â€œCome on, Dart. Moreau’s is a purely fictitious island. Wells was writing an allegory. I can distinguish between reality and imagination, thanks.”
    â€œAn ignorant boast, Mr. Roberts. Wells may have been writing an allegory, but his island was firmly based on a real one—just like the island on which Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe was shipwrecked was based on a real one. You know, Robinson Crusoe? Just like there was a real-life equivalent of Crusoe, so there was of Moreau. The real Moreau was a gentleman of some distinction at the Edinburgh Academy of Surgery, by name Mr. Angus McMoreau. He was a pupil of Thomas Huxley—Wells met him. His life is well documented. Wells did very little to camouflage the real situation, beyond some overdramatizing. In fact, McMoreau brought a lawsuit.”
    â€œAll of which must have been over a century ago.” Dart evidently harbored some dangerous illusions. I disbelieved all he said, but thought it best to conceal my skepticism.
    â€œRight, it was over a century ago, right,” said Dart, laughing sourly. “What difference does that make? McMoreau’s experiments are still of relevance to research today. He was probing the borderland between human and animal nature, where the springs of modern man’s behavior lie. Territorial imperatives, to name but one example I expect you’re au fait with. Questions the scientific world tries to answer today by resort to piddling disciplines like paleontology and archeology, McMoreau tried to resolve through surgery. His methods were primitive but his ideas were valid.… He was a cute old nut case and no mistake.
    â€œAfter Moreau’s death, an assistant not mentioned in Wells’ novel carried on his work for a number of years. Then he passed on as well, and the inhabitants of the island were left on their own to survive as best they could. It can’t have been much of a picnic. As you know, they were hybrid stock, but some offspring were born, and they form the basis of the population as you see it today. They can trace their ancestry right back to McMoreau’s times.”
    The symphony finished. The orchestra bowed. Dart sat in his chair, staring out toward the lagoon as he finished speaking.
    â€œIn the Second World War, Japanese forces invaded most of the Pacific, including this island. No permanent detachment was based here. Then, after the Japanese surrender, knowledge of the island came into American hands. Its native name is Narorana, by the way. Which means private. A scientific detachment was sent to investigate and—”
    He paused. Something in the courtyard outside had caught his eye. He bowled over to the window. I also went to look, so impressed was I by the look of absolute fury on his face.
    Bella alone was to be seen. She stood against the palisade. For a moment I thought she was talking to herself; then it became apparent that she must be speaking to someone on the other side of