"What happened to her? Where did she go?"

"That I never heard on, Miss Ellen. Be careful. The ground be rough going."

Down we went, down a steep slope below the sea. It was damp and cold and we passed little pools of water; at times my feet sank into the sand and the surface changed to rocks. Fortunately Slack was surefooted and it was clear that he knew the way.

"Now," he said, "we are beginning to go up. It's a climb now. 'Tis no more than half a mile... the distance between Kellaway and Blue Rock."

I said: "What will Mr. Manton say when he sees us?"

"He'll be ready to help 'ee get to the mainland if that be what you want."

I did not want to leave the Island. I only wanted time to think. I wanted to talk to Jago, to demand an explanation. But not just yet. I wanted a day or two to think clearly about everything, to make an attempt to piece together the evidence I had gathered, to try to stand outside the enormity of those emotions which Jago aroused in me and assess the scene dispassionately. I wanted to discover how deeply involved I was with a man who was unscrupulous and might well be involved in the murder of Philip Carrington.

That was at the heart of the matter. I could understand his passion for the Island and his desire to possess it. To keep it he must either marry me or be rid of me. I wouldn't accept the fact that he didn't love me a little. He could not act as well as that. Perhaps in time he would love me even more than the Island, I promised myself, which showed how obsessed I was by the man, since I was so ready to compromise. But if he really were caught up in the murder of Philip... that must make a difference.

I was bemused and bewildered.

If he had hired an assassin to murder Philip what were his intentions towards me? What if he did not love me at all? What if I married him? I saw myself willing everything to him and then what would he do when he had no further use for me? What did I know of Jago? That I loved him. That was all. Is it possible to love a man whom one can suspect of murder? The answer seemed to thunder in my ears: "Yes, yes, yes."

But there was one thing he was unaware of. He thought Silva was dead and Slack talked of her living happy ever after. What did that mean? She must have married the lover of whom she wrote and eloped with him. On the Island they had believed she was dead because the boat had come back empty. But if she still lived then on my death she was the next in succession. Jago did not consider this because like everyone else he thought Silva dead.

Where was Silva?

If only I knew.

"Can 'ee hear the sea now?" That was Slack. "We be nearly there."

We had been climbing steadily uphill while my thoughts had run on and now I could hear the sea. I could feel the fresh air on my face.

"We'm through," said Slack, and we were pushing our way through bushes and now were right out in the open. The wind caught at my hair, which escaped from its pins and streamed down my back.

"There be the house, look," he said. "There be a light in the window."

He took my hand and dragged me forward. As he said, there stood the house. The door was open. Slack went through calling: "Mr. Manton. Mr. Manton. I be here with Miss Ellen."

There was no answer. We had stepped into a small hall and Slack pushed open a door and we entered a room.

I felt my senses reel. There it was... the red curtains tied with gold fringe, the open brick fireplace, the rocking chair, the gate-legged table and even the "Storm at Sea" hanging on the wall.

In every detail it was there—the room which had come to me so often in my dreams.

This was a nightmare. It couldn't be real. I had strayed into the dream somewhere. The dungeons, the terrible suspicions about Jago—they were all part of it. It was a new form of the dream. I should wake at any moment.

Slack was looking at me oddly.

"Slack," I stammered, "what is this room... ? What is this place?"

He did not seem to understand. He said soothingly: "You'll be all right here. Miss Silva were ..."

My eyes were fixed on the door. It was that door which had been the center of the dream. It was not the one through which I had come, for there were two doors in this room. The slow moving of that door which had never opened but behind which I had subconsciously known was the reason for my fear.

I saw the door handle slowly turn. I could not take my eyes from it. The door was beginning to open.

This was it—the moment in the dream when the terrible sense of doom had come over me. I was terrified of what the opening of the door would reveal.

. Thoughts flashed in and out of my mind as they do in moments such as that one. It could only have been a matter of a few seconds, but time had slowed down. The fear had come to me... just as in the dream, but this was not a dream. I was now face to face with the moment of revelation. The artist! I thought. What has he to do with my life? I scarcely know him. Why should I feel this terrible fear of him?

The door opened. A man was standing on the threshold of the room. It was not the artist though. It was Rollo.

I was trembling with terror, but it was only the dream. Amazement was taking over fear. Rollo! What could Rollo possibly be doing at Blue Rock?

"Ellen!" He smiled. "How good to see you here. How did you come?"

I stammered: "I... I had no idea. ... I thought... the artist lived here."

"He's gone to London for a few days. He lent me his place. You look scared out of your wits. Sit down. Let me get you a drink."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm so bewildered. I can't think clearly."

"Come and sit down."

Slack was staring at Rollo. I heard him whisper: "Something terrible have happened to Miss Silva."

Rollo had led me to the table and made me sit down in the chair which I had seen so many times in my dreams.

I just could not believe I was awake and this was really happening.

"You must tell me everything, Ellen," said Rollo. "What happened at the castle? The boy brought you, I see."

"We came through a kind of cave."

Rollo poured something into a glass and said: "Drink this. It will steady you. I can see you've had a shock."

He put the glass into my hand but I couldn't drink anything. I set it down on the table.

I said: "There's a tunnel from here to the castle."

He did not express any surprise. "I was concerned about you," he said. "That's why I didn't want to leave the place. I felt that something was going on there and that you needed looking after. I couldn't get that affair of the boat out of my mind."

"You think someone was trying to murder me."

He nodded. "I'm sure of it," he said.

Not Jago, I thought. I won't believe it was Jago.

"I want to get away to the mainland," I said. "For a while at least."

"Of course. I'll row you over."

"I think I'll stay at the Polcrag Inn until I've thought all this over."

"It's clear, isn't it? You're the heiress to that Island, a prosperous community. It's real wealth. People will go to great lengths for the amount of money that represents, Ellen."

I laughed weakly. "I'm sorry," I said, "but I feel so bewildered ... so lost. Everything that has happened has been so strange. I... the Poor Relation to be so rich. I only recently discovered all this."

"Other people knew it and they acted accordingly."

"Why are you so kind to me suddenly?"

"I'm sorry for my past conduct. In any case, you were to be a member of our family. If Philip hadn't died... ."

I heard those words again: "What happened in Philip Carrington's bedroom... ." No, Jago, I won't believe it of you. I can't.

Rollo seemed suddenly alert.

"What's happened to the boy... the one you brought with you?"

I looked behind me. Slack was not there.

"He must be around," I said.

Rollo went to the door. I heard him calling Slack.

Now I was in the room alone I examined it with a sort of awed wonder. I went to the window and touched the curtains. This was more vivid than the dream.

What was I going to do? I should have stayed behind and talked to Jago. I would go back to him and tell him I must know the whole truth.

My mother must have been here often, for she had re-created every detail in the room in her picture. Why had it played such a part in my dreams? I was baffled.

I had found the room but of what significance was that? I had lived through the moment of doom when the door had opened and revealed Rollo.

There was something unreal even about him—something which was different. He was not the godlike creature I had seen when we were young through the eyes of his adoring younger brother. There was something different about Rollo.

The door opened and strangely enough the old feeling of fear began to creep over me.

It was Rollo again. His face distorted with angry annoyance.

"I can't find the boy... the mad boy," he said. "Where can he have got to?"

"He can't have gone back to the castle."

"Why did he run off like that? What was he saying?"

"Something about Silva. She was my half sister. He was saying something terrible had happened to her."

"What did he mean?"

"I don't know."

"He's crazy, that boy."

"I don't think so. His mind works in a strange way, that's all. He has what he calls fancies and powers."

"He's an idiot," said Rollo. "You haven't had your drink. You'll feel better for it, you know."