“By the way, we’re Tregorran … Marie and Caroline.”

“I’m Noelle Tremaston, and this is Marie-Christine du Carron.”

“Tremaston! That’s a good old Cornish name. A good one indeed. You must be related to the Tremastons.”

“Who are the Tremastons?”

“Who are the Tremastons!” Caroline looked at Maria and they laughed. “The family up at the Big House. Sir Nigel and Lady Tremaston. It’s half a mile out of the town. The Tremastons have been here for hundreds of years.”

Marie-Christine’s look said: I told you we ought to come here. This is getting more exciting every minute.

I could see that she had made up her mind that these were my hitherto unknown relations.

The Tregorrans went on to talk of the Tremastons. The garden fete was held on their lawn. It was in aid of the church. If it were wet, they all went into the house. That was exciting. They almost hoped for rain on fete days. The place was like a palace … like a castle.

Talk continued until we arrived at Bodmin. In a flurry of excitement, we alighted. The Misses Tregorran had not finished with us yet.

They took us to where the fly was waiting.

“Oh, there you are, Jemmy,” said Miss Caroline Tregorran.

“Have a good visit, miss? And how was Miss Sarah and the children?”

“All well, Jemmy, thank you. Now you are to take these two ladies to the Dancing Maidens.”

“Yes, miss.”

“They’ve come all the way from London.” She smirked slightly, implying that because of this we might need special care. “If they haven’t room at the Dancing Maidens, you must bring them back to Bodmin and try the Bull’s Head, or if they can’t oblige, go to the Merry Monarch. They are travelling on their own, and haven’t been to Cornwall before.”

“I’ll be doing that, miss,” said Jemmy.

She turned to us as we were getting into the fly. She said: “Mention at the Dancing Maidens that the Misses Tregorran sent you. Then they’ll look after you.”

“You have been so kind to us,” I said. “It was great good luck to meet you on the train.”

They went their way, glowing with satisfaction: and we drove out of the station to the Dancing Maidens.

The landlord at the Dancing Maidens certainly had a room for friends of the Misses Tregorran. He told us that he had looked after many friends of those ladies and there had been satisfaction on both sides.

The inn was of grey Cornish stone, and over the door hung the sign depicting three stone figures which could, by a stretch of the imagination, be said to be dancing.

I guessed it to have been built in the seventeenth century. The rooms were fairly spacious but low-ceilinged, and the windows were small; there was a general air of antiquity about everything which Marie-Christine and I found interesting.

The landlord took us to our room, in which there were two single beds, a wardrobe, a table on which stood a basin and ewer, another small table and two chairs.

We were agreeably surprised to be settled so soon, thanks to the Misses Tregorran.

The landlord told us that if we could be ready in half an hour there would be a meal awaiting us in the dining room. I said that would be very agreeable.

As we were talking, hot water was brought up, and when he left us we laughed together.

“It is all so exciting,” said Marie-Christine. “How glad I am we came!”

She went to the window.

“It’s eerie,” she said. “The sort of place where strange things could happen.”

I joined her. We were looking out over moorland. A slight wind ruffled the grass and here and there boulders jutted out of the earth. Some little way off were the stones which bore enough resemblance to the sign over the inn door to tell us that they were the Dancing Maidens.

I pointed them out to Marie-Christine, who gazed at them in awe.

“What are they supposed to be? Were they turned to stone? Perhaps because they were dancing … when they shouldn’t have been.”

“What a terrible punishment for such a small misdemeanour!”

“People did things like that in the old days. Look at the Greeks. They were always turning people into things … flowers and swans and things like that.”

We were laughing. It was the laughter of anticipation. Whatever vital facts we discovered, this quest was going to be interesting.

“Come on,” I said. “We must dash. That meal will be waiting for us in half an hour.”

There was hot soup, cold roast beef with potatoes in the jackets. This was followed by treacle tart.

“We shall certainly not starve here,” I commented.

We were served by a plump maid, whom we discovered was Sally. She was inclined to be talkative, which suited us very well.

She regarded me with something like awe. I soon realized why.

“You be Miss Tremaston,” she said. “You must belong to the Big House.”

I said: “I had never heard of the Big House until today. So I cannot claim that honour.”

“Well, everyone do know the Tremastons in these parts, and I never heard tell of any other by that name who wasn’t the family like.”

“I’ve always lived in London, apart from when I was in France for some time.”

Sally looked at Marie-Christine and nodded.

Marie-Christine said: “Do you know a place called Meningarth?”

“Meningarth?” repeated Sally vaguely. “Now where would that be to?”

“It’s near Bodmin,” I said.

“This be not far from Bodmin, and I can’t say I’ve ever heard of it.”

“Are you sure?” asked Marie-Christine appealingly.

“I can’t recall it, miss.”

When she left us, Marie-Christine said: “It’s odd that the Misses Tregorran hadn’t heard of it … and now Sally …”

We were a little deflated. I was wondering where we could go from here. The point of our visit was to find Ennis, whose surname we did not know, and now no one seemed to have heard of the village where he lived.

Marie-Christine said: “We’ll have to think what we are going to do. We’ll have to ask everyone. Someone will surely have heard of the place.”

After the meal, we went for a little walk. We crossed the moor and made our way to the Dancing Maidens.

Marie-Christine was right. There was a strange eeriness about the moor. We stood beside the maidens. They were the size of humans, and when one stood close, one could imagine their suddenly coming to life.

Marie-Christine shared this feeling.

She said: “I’m sure they could tell us where Meningarth is.”

We laughed. We said goodbye to the stone maidens and made our way back to the inn.

“After all,” said Marie-Christine, “we can’t expect to find everything at once.”

We had better luck in the morning when we met the landlord’s wife.

She greeted us warmly when we came downstairs. A delicious smell of frying bacon and coffee filled the inn.

“Good morning to ‘ee,” she said. “You be Miss Tremaston and friends of the Misses Tregorran. We are very happy to have ‘ee come to the Dancing Maidens.”

“We met the Misses Tregorran on the train,” I told her. “They were very kind.”

“They be nice ladies. I do the breakfasts myself. What would you like to eat?”

We decided on scrambled eggs with crisp bacon, which tasted as good as it smelt.

She was a garrulous woman, and in a short time she was telling us that she had been brought up in the inn, which had belonged to her father. “Jim … my husband … he took over and it was still my home. All my life I’ve lived at the Dancing Maidens.”

“You will know this place as well as anyone,” said Marie-Christine. “Perhaps you can tell us where Meningarth is?”

We were both watching her earnestly, and our hearts sank at the look of puzzlement in her face. Then she said: “Oh, you’d mean Mr. Masterman’s place. You must do. It’s Garth. Mind you, it was Meningarth at one time … but it hasn’t been called that for ten years or more.”

Marie-Christine was beaming at her.

“So now it is just called Garth!” she said encouragingly.

“That be so. I remember now. ‘Twas in the October gales … terrible gales we do get here October month. You should hear the wind sweeping across the moor. It whistles like the devil calling sinners from their graves, they say. It must be all of ten years ago. Terrible they were that year. We had damage at the inn. Meningarth had it worse … being more exposed like. It took the roof off of the place … tore up the gate and flung it a quarter of a mile away. It took months to put it right. The gate was finished. They had to put up a new one … and when it was up, it didn’t have Meningarth on it like the old one. They’d made a mistake and put just Garth. Nothing was done about it … and people stopped saying Meningarth. It was just plain Garth.”

“We used to have friends who knew the people there,” said Marie-Christine glibly.

“Oh … him … he keeps himself to himself. Him and his dog. Fond of music. Plays the violin or something.”

“That must be Ennis …” began Marie-Christine.

“Ennis Masterman … that be he.”

“We might call on him,” I said. “How do we get there?”

” Tis a tidy step from here. A good couple of miles, I’d say. Do you ladies ride a horse?”

“Yes,” we said eagerly.

“Well, we get a lot of call from people staying here for a horse. So we have one or two. We hire them out for the day mostly. We could suit you, I reckon. We’ve got a couple of nice little mares … not too frisky. They know the moor, too. It can be quite a tricky place.”

“You could direct us to Garth, I’m sure,” I said.