“I’ll consider it. I am sure I shall be able to come up with something.”

She put out her tongue at me and laughed. She was so happy and I knew it was because I was safe and back with her.

She went on: “I am longing to hear more of the enemy.”

“You are thinking of that silly old feud. Jowan Jermyn is not an enemy.”

“He will have heard by now of your adventure. News travels fast here. We may be something of a backwater, but our communication service is superb. I have discovered that lots of people here are related to each other—many sisters and cousins are working for the various people around. So news is circulated quickly. Most things we do are recorded as soon as they take place. We are all living in glass houses, so that adventure of yours on the cliffs will be headline news, or would be if they had newspapers. Mr. Jermyn will know of it by now and gnashing his teeth because he was not the one to make the gallant rescue.”

“What nonsense!”

“Promise me you’ll go and see him tomorrow…when I am having this ridiculous rest of mine…you go to the meeting place and see if he is there. You must promise me. In my condition I have to be humored.”

We were laughing again.

“And when you come back, I want you here with me…to tell me every detail.”

I promised.

The next afternoon, true to my promise to Dorabella, I decided I would go to the field and see if Jowan Jermyn were there. I did not believe Dorabella was right in believing that he would already have heard of my adventure, but he might know that I had been in Cornwall for a few days. In any case, there was no harm in riding to the field. If he were not there, I would just ride around and tell Dorabella that I had kept my promise.

I went to the stables. Jack was not there. A young man was grooming one of the horses. I had seen him before and I knew he was Seth. He was about nineteen or twenty and had large gray eyes which seemed to be looking at something the rest of us could not see. I had heard that there was something strange about Seth. He was “piskymazed,” said some. “Something missing in the top story,” said others. He was always referred to as Poor Seth, but all admitted that he had a way with horses.

I said: “Good afternoon, Seth.”

He nodded in acknowledgment and went to Starlight’s stall. He was muttering something to her, patting her as he led her out. I noticed the loving way he touched her and I saw her response. Oh, yes, he had a way with horses.

He started to saddle her. Then suddenly, he looked at me with those strange eyes and said: “Be careful, Miss. What did happen yesterday…”

He had a slurred way of speaking, as though his tongue were too big for his mouth, and I had some difficulty in hearing him.

“Master Gordon…” he said. “If ’e ’adna been there…”

“Oh, yes,” I said. “He saved my life. There was no way I could have escaped from the cove if he hadn’t come to help me.

“ ’Twere ’er again, Miss.”

“Her?”

“Her from over Jermyn’s.”

I looked puzzled.

He went on dealing with Starlight, murmuring to her as he did so.

“ ’Tis the curse, Miss. ’Er drowned herself, didn’t ’un. ’Twere ’er. She be after folk at Tregarland’s. Women…’er wants ’un with her …so ’er comes back to get ’un.”

This sounded like garbled nonsense to me. He was “piskymazed.” Poor boy. But I wanted to know what was in his mind.

“Tell me, Seth,” I said. “What do you know about her…coming to get them?”

“ ’Er drowned, didn’t ’er? It was ’cos of Tregarland’s. ’Er’s doing to them what was done to ’er. There were Mr. Dermot’s first wife…her from the Sailor’s Rest.”

“What of her, Seth?”

“ ’Er went down to the sea…and that baby went with her. That’s what her wanted.”

“Her?” I repeated.

“ ’Er from Jermyn’s. ’Er ’ave it in for Tregarland women…well, ’er would, wouldn’t ’er?”

“But she is dead, Seth. How could it be?”

He looked at me in amazement. “ ’Er comes back, don’t ’er? I seen ’er.”

“You’ve seen her! But she’s dead.”

“She come back and ’er got the first Mrs. Tregarland, didn’t ’er? ’Er beckoned her into the sea. I seen ’er. Then…Miss…the sea nearly got you.”

“I’m not a Tregarland, Seth.”

“Aye…but your sister be. That’s close enough for ’er.”

Poor Seth. He was indeed crazy. But now he had saddled the horse and she was ready for me.

“Thank you, Seth,” I said, smiling.

“She be a good ’un,” he said. He patted Starlight lovingly. “You be a good ’un,” he said in her ear and she rubbed her nose into his hand.

I rode out of the stables, wondering what was going on in Seth’s muddled mind.

I made my way to the field. There was no one there and I felt deeply disappointed. I was about to ride away when I hesitated. After all, there had been no fixed arrangement. I looked at my watch. It was about five minutes earlier than last time.

I dismounted and, tethering Starlight to a tree, I sat down, leaning against a hedge. I was still thinking about Seth and how pleasant it would be to talk to Jowan Jermyn when I saw him riding toward me.

He pulled up sharply.

“Oh,” I said, “so you came.”

“Naturally. I came yesterday and the day before.”

“I am sorry. But it wasn’t a definite arrangement, was it?”

He shook his head. “Well, now you are here, it’s cider time once more. Let’s see, it was the Horned Stag last time. This time it shall be the Lion’s Head. That’s in another fishing village slightly smaller than Poldown, similar and yet different. I think you will like it. May I say how pleased I am to see you.”

“And I you.”

“That is nice to hear. Would you like to go now?”

I had risen to my feet and he helped me mount Starlight and soon we were riding out of the field.

“Did you have an interesting time in London?”

“Very interesting, thank you. And you…here?”

“Much as usual. We go westwards. It’s about four miles along the coast. Will that suit you?”

I said it sounded good.

He asked about Dorabella and we talked lightly as we rode along. Often we had to go in single file through narrow lanes so it was not possible to hold much of a conversation.

We climbed fairly high and then descended into the fishing village to the Lion’s Head on the sea front.

There were stables where we could leave the horses and we did this and went into the inn parlor.

There was a similarity between these hotels and it would be hard to distinguish one from another. There was the traditional inglenook and the cosy, intimate atmosphere.

We sat down and he ordered cider.

“You’ll find little difference in that, either,” he said. “I expect it all comes from the same source.”

When we were alone he went on: “Congratulations! I heard you have been snatched from the jaws of death.”

I laughed. “Dorabella was right…”

“In what way?”

“She said you would have heard of it through the local news service.”

“But of course. I was told at breakfast this morning by one of the servants. He has a dramatic touch. ‘That there Miss what’s-her-name, you do know, sir, the new one’s sister up at Tregarland’s, ’er had a near shave ’er did. Caught in that there cove. You do know how easy that can be, sir, the way that old tide do come in there…all of a rush like. And what was ’er doing down there? Didn’t know nothing about tides seemingly.’ ”

His reproduction of the accent was very good. I laughed and he sat back surveying me.

“The reporting is fairly accurate,” I said. “I was caught by the tide.”

His face was grave now. “It could have been dangerous,” he said.

“I know now. I just didn’t think of it.”

“Very remiss of you.”

“Well, it was an experience.”

“I believe someone said, ‘Experience is the name we give to our mistakes.’ ”

“It could only have been Oscar Wilde. It’s true, of course. But our mistakes do teach us not to repeat our follies.”

“Well, then, it was not in vain.”

“Gordon Lewyth was wonderful.”

“I am sure he was. Quite a feat, I imagine, on that cliff face.”

“It was a great good fortune for me that he happened to be passing and saw me.”

He looked at me intently and said: “That was his good luck. I wish it had been mine.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

“Poor Lewyth. He’s in an invidious position.”

“He is devoted to Tregarland’s.”

“Yes, but the place will never be his. A pity. He’s done more for it than anyone. James Tregarland…”

“That’s old Mr. Tregarland?”

“Yes. He was letting the place run to ruin. He was not meant for the land. He’s clever, they say. He used to be something of a wit, I believe. He spent hardly any time here. He was always in London. Something of a gambler. He married late in life…a charming lady, by all accounts, but he wasn’t the sort to settle down. He just married for the sake of the family—so I’ve heard. His wife provided the required son, Dermot, and after a year or so, she died. Then the Lewyths came. She was a good-looking woman…some vague family connection, it was said, and with her her young son. Things settled down for a while, but James Tregarland was never one for the land. It was lucky that when Gordon grew up he could take over. He saved the place from disaster…just in time. Such estates can stand one indifferent generation but no more, so it was like a miracle that Gordon could take over and so efficiently. Though it is all for Dermot’s benefit.”

“Dermot has the same indifference.”

“It seems so. They should thank Heaven for Gordon.”