The Pengellys were knowledgeable about what was going on in the neighborhood and would be as likely to know the whereabouts of Fenwick as anyone. I decided I would go to the inn and see what I could discover.

I would rather enjoy rowing myself over, and as the sea was very calm and I was now well practiced, I thought it would be a good opportunity to do so. Once I had rowed to the mainland and back I should feel competent enough to do it often.

I set off in the Ellen and when I, in due course, reached the mainland I went straight to the inn, where I found Mrs. Pengelly and asked her if she could spare a few moments, as I had something I wished to say to her.

She brought out the inevitable homemade wine and saffron cakes, and over them I asked if she had any idea where I might find Mr. Fenwick.

"You be thinking of him who worked up at the castle for Mr. Charles Kellaway."

"Yes, my father's secretary-valet."

"Well, he did leave, you know, when your father died."

"That's not very long ago. Where did he go? Did you hear?"

"Why yes, I did. He retired to a little cottage down in Fallerton."

"Where is that?"

"Oh, 'tis but six or seven miles from here. I did hear he were a market gardener of sorts—growing vegetables and flowers and such-like."

"I want to go and see him."

She looked alarmed.

"I want to talk to him about my father."

She shook her head. "Your father were very ill at the end, Miss Ellen. 'Twould only distress you, maybe, to hear how very ill."

"I naturally want to hear about my family. It seems so difficult to get people to tell me."

"Well, I can't tell 'ee much, Miss Ellen. I was away seventeen years ago. When your mother went, there weren't nothing for me to stay for."

"I understand he was rather an unhappy man. My mother left him... ."

"She couldn't abide the Island, that was what. She used to say she was like a prisoner there."

"You must have known Silva."

"Oh yes, Miss Silva. She were a strange girl."

"How old was she when you left?"

"Well, I reckon she were about thirteen years old. I couldn't be sure, but it seemed so. There was no doing naught with her. She were wild-like—used to go out in the wind and lose herself for hours so we'd think something had happened to her. Seemed like she wanted to put us all in a turmoil. We did our best, your mother and I, and when you came along we thought she'd be better. She were, in a way. She were fond of you. But your father wouldn't see her. He wouldn't have her near him. I never knew such a thing. Sometimes I'd hear her sobbing and I'd go and try and comfort her. Then she'd get up and dance around and laugh at me. She'd shout: 'Do you think I care for him, you silly old woman!' My dear life, that were a time!"

"It was very strange that she should go off as she did."

A wary look came into Mrs. Pengelly's eyes and I was reminded forcibly of her son. I realized that even if she knew something about Silva's strange disappearance she was not going to tell me and in any case I was obsessed at the moment by the thought of finding Fenwick.

"I'll have one of the horses and go to Fallerton," I said. "What was the name of his house, do you remember?"

"I can't tell 'ee that, Miss Ellen, but Fallerton be naught but a village. If you get there and ask, someone will be bound to know."

As I was about to leave the inn, Michael Hydrock rode in.

"Hello, Miss Kellaway, what a pleasant surprise!" he said.

"I'm just off to Fallerton," I told him.

"Fallerton! That's on my way. I'll come with you."

"I thought you were going into the inn."

"Just for a little refreshment, which I can well do without."

"Please don't let me interrupt your morning."

"My dear Miss Kellaway," he said with a smile, "even if it were an interruption there couldn't be a more pleasant one."

He had turned his horse and walked him up to mine.

"I know a shortcut to Fallerton," he said. "I'll be able to show you."

It would have been churlish not to accept his company, which, had it not been for those unfortunate scenes with Gwennol and Jenifry, I should have been very happy to do. Well, they would both be on the Island today, so I could give myself up to the pleasure of Michael's company.

"Where do you want to go in Fallerton?" he asked. "It's only a small village."

"So I heard. I want to find a Mr. Fenwick."

"Fenwick.... There was a Fenwick who worked at the castle at one time."

"That's the Fenwick I'm looking for. I want to talk to him about my father."

"I believe he was a secretary-valet to your father for many years and your father left him enough to get this place at Fallerton. At least that was what I heard."

"I find so few people ready to talk about my father and naturally I want to hear. It seems so odd not to have known one's own father when he was alive. He never seemed to take any interest in me."

"Your mother had taken you away, hadn't she?"

"Yes, but it still seems strange that he should never have tried to get in touch with me. After all I am his daughter."

"I have heard that he had rather an unforgiving nature."

"What I hear of him is not very pleasant."

"Would it therefore be better to let sleeping dogs lie?"

"I don't feel like that. I have a burning desire to know."

"Well, let's see if we can find this place in Fallerton."

It was very pleasant riding across the country which he knew so well. All his life this had been his home ground. Fallerton was just outside his estate, he told me, otherwise he could have given me more information about Fenwick.

We soon came to Fallerton. It was, as Mrs. Pengelly had said, a small village. There was merely a short street in which a few houses clustered together, and one or two outlying cottages.

We saw a man with a horse and cart which was filled with hay. He was fixing his horse's nose bag and as we passed Michael called to him: "Do you know a Mr. Fenwick hereabouts?"

The man looked up and immediately showed that respect which Michael inspired on all occasions.

"Well Sir, if you do mean John Fenwick as took Mulberry Cottage, he have gone."

"Now where would Mulberry Cottage be?" asked Michael.

"Just follow the street and turn right for a hundred yards and you'll see Mulberry. A bit of land there is to that place. He took over the market garden. The vegetables was good and the flowers fine but he just took off and went. Told some of 'em 'tweren't his line at all. He'd been working up at Kellaway Castle for years and he weren't cut out for it, he said. So he sold the place and went off."

"Do you have an idea where?" "No Sir. I ain't got no idea."

"I wonder if anyone round here would have."

"I dunno. They might know at the inn. He'd been there pretty often, so I'm told."

We thanked our informant and went to take a look at Mulberry Cottage. The grounds seemed flourishing and a rosy-faced woman came to the door. Yes, Mulberry Cottage had belonged to Mr. Fen-wick. They'd bought it from him and they been here this last six months. They'd taken the market garden which she understood he'd taken over from the previous owner. No, she had no idea where he had gone. All she knew was that he wasn't there now.

Michael thought it would be a good idea if we went to the inn where we could refresh ourselves and ask questions.

We found the inn with the old sign creaking over the door: The Corn Dolly. We went inside; there were no other guests and we ordered cider to drink and whatever they had to offer us to eat. There were pasties, of course, and squab and lammy pies as well as cold meats.

When the innkeeper's wife brought us hot pasties and cider Michael asked her if she knew the whereabouts of a Mr. John Fen-wick.

"Oh, you do mean him as was up at Mulberry," she said. "He didn't stay long. 'Tweren't the life for him. He was more of a clerk like."

"He used to come in here quite a lot, I believe."

"Oh yes, he were a regular. He reckoned our cider were the best he ever tasted. Had a fancy for my pasties too, the same as you be having now ... he did."

I said I was not surprised, which pleased her; but she couldn't help us over Mr. Fenwick as she had no idea where he had gone.

"Not a very profitable morning," said Michael ruefully. "Never mind, we'll find him in time. I'll make inquiries. It shouldn't be too difficult. What do you think of the old Corn Dolly?"

"It's charming and what an odd name."

"You saw the sign as we came in?"

"Yes, it looked like a bundle of corn tied up to look like a doll."

"That's exactly what it is. At the end of the harvest they make these corn dollies and hang them around the place. Did you see the one in the hall as we came in? They're supposed to bring a good harvest next year."

"It reminds me in a way of the Polcrag Inn. The open fireplace... the oak beams."

"They haven't an earthenware lamp like this," said Michael, picking up an object from the center of the table. It was shaped like a candlestick. "See this hole at the top?" he went on. "A cupful of oil can be poured through that and then they insert a wick which they call a purvan. I like to see them keeping up the old customs. You don't see many of these Stonen Chills about now."

I picked it up and examined it. I said it was quaint but my mind was really on Fenwick and I was bitterly disappointed that our search had been fruitless.