"I was only working for you... ."

"You be careful. Things could go badly for you."

I felt limp with horror. I leaned against the wall, my fingers clutching unconsciously at the stones of my necklace. Could it be that Philip had been cold-bloodedly murdered by a man employed by Jago to kill him! There were such people as professional murderers. But why? The answer was clear. Because Jago knew that I was the heiress to the Island. He did not want me to marry Philip because he wanted to marry me himself.

There was a second or so of silence in the dungeons and during it I heard a slight clatter as though something had fallen.

Jago heard it. "What's that?" he cried sharply. "There's someone here. Did you bring someone with you, Hawley?"

"I didn't. I swear I didn't."

"I'm going to look," said Jago. "I'm going to search every one of these dungeons."

I crouched against the wall. I should have been numb with fear after what I had heard but somehow I couldn't believe it even now. There must be some explanation of all this. It was like some absurd masque in a melodrama and I could not—I would not—believe that Jago who had said he loved me could be the man my common sense was trying to tell me he was.

He would soon discover me crouching there. I would demand: Jago, what does this mean? For God's sake explain. Hawley is your man. I know that. You sent him to London. Why? And then you came yourself.

I heard him say to Hawley: "You hold the lantern."

The light moved away and I peeped through the door. They had their backs to me and had started searching the dungeons on the other side. There was just a chance that if I were quick enough, and quiet with it, I might escape.

I waited for my chance, my heartbeats threatening to choke me, until they were as far as they could be from my dungeon. Then I slipped out silently, while their backs were still towards me, and in a flash I was up the spiral staircase. Luck had been with me. My escape had been perfectly timed and they had not seen me.

What now? I asked myself as I came out through the west door. If I could get to the main building and join Jenifry and Gwennol in the parlor I could behave as though I had not heard that revelation and have a little time to plan what I ought to do next.

I forced myself to look in at the parlor. Gwennol was reading and her mother was working gros point on a canvas. Neither of them expressed any surprise to see me; they must have presumed that I had written my letter.

I picked up a magazine and leafed through it, my mind busy.

Oh Jago, I was thinking, what does it mean? Why did I let myself be so foolish as to fall in love with you? Hadn't I heard enough? He had paid Hawley to come to London. Philip had died. What had he said about Philip's death? "Remember what happened in Philip Carrington's bedroom."

Hawley must be a professional murderer. There were such people. The real criminals hired them to commit crimes for them and paid them well for it. Hawley did not think he had been paid enough and had come to blackmail.

It was too horrible. I could not believe it. I had misconstrued what I had heard and there must be some explanation. And yet a ray of hope here—if Jago wanted the Island, why murder Philip, why not murder me?

Why did my foolish heart go on fighting against my mind? Why did I go on trying to tell myself that it was a ridiculous mistake, a misconstruction? There must be a simple explanation and I must find it because what I had heard in the dungeons this night had brought home to me one overwhelming and undeniable truth: Whatever Jago was, whatever he had done, I loved him.

Could I, Ellen Kellaway, be such a fool? I knew he wanted the Island; he had confessed that much. But that was not all. He wanted me too.

He was coming into the room now. So he had got rid of Hawley. I kept my eyes on the magazine but I could feel his gaze fixed upon me. I knew that I was flushing as he sat down beside me on the sofa.

He said: "Have you lost something, Ellen?"

I looked at him in surprise. His eyes were gleaming and there was in them an expression I could not understand. There were mingling emotions there—passion, reproach and a certain amusement. The sort of amusement a cat might feel when playing with a mouse?

He held out his hand and I stared down at it in horror, for there lay the necklace and I knew at once where he had found it. I knew what that clatter I had heard in the dungeons had been. The catch was weak; I had grasped the stones in my agitation and when I had released them the necklace dropped onto the floor. Jago, searching the dungeons, had at last come to the one in which I crouched and there on the floor lay the necklace.

So he knew I had been there. He would know what I had heard.

I took it from him and hoped my hands would not visibly tremble.

I heard myself say: "The clasp is weak."

"Where do you think I found it?" he asked, his eyes still regarding me with that odd expression.

"Where?" I asked.

"You were wearing it at dinner. Just think where you have been since."

I looked into space, foolishly trying to give the impression that I was trying to remember.

"You must remember, Ellen," he said gently. "It was the dungeons. What on earth were you doing there?"

I laughed rather shakily and was aware of Gwennol's watching me intently.

"Oh, I often wander about the castle, don't I, Gwennol?" I said.

"You're certainly fascinated by it," she answered.

"It takes courage to go to the dungeons at night," commented Jago.

"I'm not afraid," I said, looking straight at him.

He put his hand over mine and gripped it hard.

"I have a good deal to say to you," he said. "Will you come into my sanctum."

"I'll join you shortly," I said.

"Don't be long."

I thought: I must act quickly and I've not time to think what I should do. I must have time. I must digest what I have heard. I must consider the implication and suppress my absurd romantic longings.

Instead of going to my room I ran down to the hall and out across the courtyard. Slack was at the dovecotes.

"You look proper scared, Miss Ellen," he said. "Have the time come?"

I thought of Philip in his room... shot. Jago had ordered that.

No, that was too wild. I couldn't believe it. I had to talk to him. I had to listen to what he had to say. But I had been listening to Jago for a long time and whenever I was with him I believed whatever he had to tell me. No. I must get away. I must consider everything calmly, coolly, and I could not do that when he was there.

Slack was saying: "Go to the room, Miss Ellen. I'll join 'ee there. Don't be afraid. It'll be as it was with Miss Silva."

Oh Slack, I thought. What are you saying? It will be as it was with Miss Silva who had gone off in a boat and the boat came back but not Miss Silva.

"Come quick, Miss Ellen," he said. "Maybe there's no time to lose."

He took my hand and we went into the castle. Slack picked up a candle as we came through the hall and lighted it.

"Hold this candle for me, Miss Ellen," he said. I took it from him and to my surprise he lifted the lid of the settle.

"Do you want me to hide there?" I cried in amazement.

He shook his head. "You see now, Miss Ellen. This ain't no ordinary old settle."

He leaned forward and to my astonishment he lifted the base, which came up like another lid. I could see down into darkness.

"Be careful, Miss Ellen. There be steps there. Do 'ee see 'em? Go down 'em... very careful-like. I'll follow 'ee. But do take good care."

I got into the settle and lowered myself down and sure enough my feet found the steps. I went down six of them. Slack handed me the candle and followed me, after shutting the lids of the settle. We were standing side by side in what appeared to be a dark cave.

"Where are we?" I asked fearfully.

"This be a great cave which do go right under the sea. 'Tis where I brought Miss Silva when she did fly away."

"What happened to her?"

"She did live happy ever after as she told me she would. It goes down deep. It goes down and down and up again. It comes out on Blue Rock."

"How did you know about it?"

"I knew from my mother. It's what they do call a natural cave, but the entrances was made in the old smuggling days. There was a lot of smuggling done here. 'Twas a hundred years ago and more. It weren't much used since then. My mother were the daughter of the innkeeper and she knew of it from her father, who knew of it from his. They used to store the liquor down here. 'Twere a good place for it. Ships could come from France to the Island and liquor would be unloaded and stored in this place until it were safe to bring it to the mainland."

"And when we get to Blue Rock, what then?"

"The artist will help us. He helped Miss Silva. He were very kind to Miss Silva, he had a real fancy for her. He helped her."

"So that was the way she went."

He nodded. "Her went away to live happy ever after."

"And the boat was washed up."

"That were a trick like. Her weren't in it. 'Twasn't till later on a dark calm night when she did cross."

"How do you know all this, Slack?"

"Well, I helped her, didn't I? Her talked to me, her did. Happy she were at the last. She were different from what her'd ever been before. She talked to me... like talking to herself, she thought it, but she liked me to be there. I was company, sort of. Her father had been cruel to her... terrible cruel... and she thought he'd laugh at her and try to stop her if he knew ... so she ran away with her own true love."