If I died, he would be very rich. He had married me knowing that I was the granddaughter of a millionaire; he had brought me back to my grandfather, and it must have occurred to him that I would become his heir. He needed money for Pendorric, and Roc and I were partners so that my fortune would make certain that Pendorric remained entirely ours. This was all true; and whether I died or not, Pendorric was safe.

I refused to look beyond that; but I did believe that some one had locked me into the vault in the hope that I should not be discovered until I was dead.

That brought me back to the all-important question: Who?

I thought back over everything that had happened and my mind kept returning to the day when Roc had first come to the studio. My father must have known who he was as soon as he heard his name—there could not be many Pendorrics in the world—yet he had not told me. Why?

Because my grandfather had not wanted me to know. Roc was to report on me first, take pictures of me. I smiled ruefully. That was typical of my grandfather’s arrogance. As for Father, he had probably done everything he did for what he would believe to be my good. And the day he died? Roc had seemed strange that day. Or had he? He had come back to the studio and left my father to bathe alone. And when we knew what had happened had he seemed . relieved, or had I imagined it?

I must stop thinking of Roc in this way, because if I was going to find out who was seeking to harm me I must look elsewhere. There had been an occasion when I had taken the dangerous cliff path after the rain, and the warning had been removed. I remembered how uneasy I had felt then. But it was Roc who had remembered the path and dashed after me. It was reassuring to remember that. But why should it be reassuring? Because it showed that Roc loved me and wanted to protect me; that he could not possibly have had a hand in this. But of course I knew he hadn’t.

Who, then?

My mind went at once to those women in whom, I believed he had once been interested . perhaps still was. One could never be quite sure with Roc. Rachel? Althea? And what of Dinah Bond?

I remembered that she had once told me that Morwenna had been locked in the vault. What of the conversation I had heard between Morwenna and Charles? Oh, but it was natural that they should talk of my inheritance, that they should be pleased because Roc had married an heiress instead of a penniless girl. Why should Morwenna want to be rid of me? What difference could it make to her?

But if I were out of the way my fortune would go to Roc and he would be free to marry . Rachel . Althea?

Rachel had been there when we had talked about the bride in the oak chest; and if I could believe Dinah Bond, she had, long ago, locked Morwenna in the vault. She had known where to get the key; but there was only one key and Roc had that; it was an enormous key that hung in his cupboard, and the cupboard was kept locked. When they had unlocked the vault they had had to find Roc first because he had the only key.

Rachel had known this and she had managed somehow, all those years ago, to get the key from Roc’s father’s cupboard. Rachel, I thought.

I had never liked her from the moment I had first seen her.

I was going to watch Rachel.

Morwenna said that such an experience was bound to have shocked me, and I ought to take things easily for the next few days. She was going to see that Hyson did.

” I’d rather it had been Lowella who was locked in with you,” she told me one day when I came out of the house and saw her working on the flower-beds on one of the front lawns.

“Hyson’s too sensitive as it is.”

“It was a horrible experience.”

Morwenna straightened up and looked at me. ” For both of you. You poor dear! I should have been terrified.”

A shadow passed across her face and I guessed she was remembering that occasion, so long ago, when Rachel had locked her in and refused to let her out until she made a promise.

Deborah came out of the house.

“It’s a lovely day,” she said.

“I’m beginning to wonder what my own garden is looking like.”

” Getting homesick?” asked Morwenna. She smiled at me. ” Deborah’s like that. When she’s on Dartmoor she thinks of Pendorric, and when she’s here she gets homesick for the

“Yes, I love both places so much. They both seem like home to me. I’ was thinking, Favel, this horrible affair … it’s been such a shock, and you’re not looking so well. Is she, Morwenna?”

” An experience like that is bound to upset anyone. I expect she’ll have fully recovered in a day or so.”

” I thought of going to the moor for a week or so. Why not come with me, Favel? I’d love to show you the place.”

” Oh … how kind of you!”

Leave Roc? I was thinking. Leave him to Althea? To Rachel? And how could I rest until I had solved this matter? I must find out who had a grudge against me, who wanted me out of the way. No doubt it would be very restful to spend a week with Deborah, but all the time I should be longing to be back in Pendorric.

” As a matter of fact,” I went on, ” I’ve got such lots to do here .. and there’s Roc….”

” Don’t forget,” Morwenna reminded Deborah, ” they haven’t been married so very long.”

Deborah’s face fell. ” Well, perhaps some other time—but I thought that you needed a little rest and …”

” I do appreciate your thinking of it and I shall look forward to coming later on,” ” I wish you’d take Hyson,” said Morwenna. ” This business has upset her more than you think.”

” Well, I must take dear Hyson,” replied Deborah. ” But I did so want to show Favel our old home.”

I laid my hand on her arm. ” You are kind, and I do hope you’ll ask me again soon.”

” Of course I shall. I shall positively pester you until you accept.

Were you going for a walk? “

“I was just going over to Polhorgan. There are one or two things I have to see Mrs. Dawson about.”

” May I walk with you?”

” It would be a great pleasure.”

We left Morwenna to her flowers and took the road to Polhorgan. I felt rather guilty about refusing Deborah’s invitation and was anxious that she should not think me churlish.

I tried to explain to her.

” Of course I understand, my dear. You don’t want to leave your husband. As a matter of fact I’m sure Roc would protest if you suggested it. But one day perhaps later on you’ll come for a week-end when he has to go away. He does sometimes, on business, you know. We’ll choose our opportunity. It was just that I thought, after that”

She shivered.

” If it hadn’t been for you we might be there still.”

“I’ve never ceased to be thankful that I happened to go into the graveyard. It was just that I was determined to search every square inch. And when I think how chancey it was I shudder. I might have walked right round the vault and you might not have heard me, nor I you.”

” I don’t like thinking of it … even in broad daylight. It’s so extraordinary, too, that Roc says the door wasn’t locked … only jammed. I must say I feel a little foolish about that.”

” Well, of course a door could get jammed.”

” But we were so desperate. We hammered with all our might. It seems incredible. And yet there’s only the one key and that was locked in Roc’s cupboard.”

” So,” she went on, ” the only one who could have locked you in would have been Roc.” She laughed at the ludicrous idea; and I laughed with her.

“There used to be two keys, I remember,” she went on. ” Roc’s father kept one in the cupboard there where Roc keeps it now.”

” And who had the other?”

She paused for a few seconds, then she said: “Barbarina.” We were silent after that and scarcely spoke until we said good-bye at Polhorgan.

I had never enjoyed going to Polhorgan since my grandfather’s death.

The place seemed so empty and useless without him; it had an air of being unlived-in, which I always think is so depressing—like a woman whose life has never been fulfilled. Roc often laughed at me for my feeling about houses; as though, he said, they had a personality of their own. Well, at the moment Polhorgan’s personality was a negative one. Of course, I thought, if I filled it with orphans who had never seen the sea, had never had any care and attention, what a different house it would be!

Idealistic dreams! I could hear Roc’s voice. ” Wait until you see how the bureaucrats are going to punish you. This is the Robin Hood State, in which the rich are robbed to help the poor.”

I didn’t care what difficulties I should encounter, I was going to have my orphans—if fewer than I had first dreamed of. Mrs. Dawson came out to greet me.

” Good morning, madam. Dawson and I were wondering if you’d come; and as you have, would you be pleased to take a cup of coffee in our sitting-room? There’s something on our minds….”

I said I should be delighted to, and Mrs. Dawson told me she would make the coffee at once and send for Dawson.

Ten minutes later I was in the Dawsons’ comfortable sitting-room, drinking a cup of Mrs. Dawson’s coffee.

Dawson had some difficulty in getting to the point, which I quickly perceived was an elaboration of the suspicions which had occurred to him the night my grandfather died.

” You see, madam, it’s not easy to put into words. A man’s afraid of saying too much … then again he’s afraid of not saying enough.”

Dawson was the typical butler. Dignified, and self-assured, he was the type of manservant my grandfather would have insisted on having, because he was what Roc would have called a cliche butler in the same way that my grandfather was the cliche self-made man.