We searched the library, and men Jessica said: “But it was hi the hall. I was about to go out into the garden when you came, Mr. Hamforth, and we stood in the hall for a while. It was after you had given me the letter that we came into the library.”

I led the way to the hall and we searched everywhere, but we could not find the letter.

“It’s very strange,” I said, and the terror was growing in me. “At least, you both saw the letter. How was it worded?”

They looked at each other.

“It was written in a hand I did not recognize,” said Jessica. “It asked Mr. Hamforth to come and make arrangements for the funeral of Mrs. Menfrey.”

“There must have been a signature,” I insisted.

“It was, I thought, written by Mr. Menfrey’s secretary,” said Mr. Hamforth.

“By Mr. Lister?”

“It was not written by Mr. Lister,” put in Jessica. “I know his handwriting well. It was signed for B. Menfrey, and there was an initial which I couldn’t read.” ‘I looked from Mr. Hamforth to Jessica.

Who had done it and why? Could it be that someone had chosen this macabre way of warning me?

Bevil came back from London that night. I was hi bed but not asleep. I had been lying awake, going over the events of the day. I kept seeing Mr. Hamforth’s horrified and bewildered face and Jessica’s, not smiling now, but as unfathomable as ever.

Bevil came into the bedroom.

“Wake up, Harriet. I’ve some exciting news. Balfour has invited me to a weekend party. There’ll be several others there.”

“That’s wonderful. But … have you heard about Ham-forth?”

“Hamforth? What’s Hamforth got to do with the Prime Minister’s invitation?”

“Nothing. He came today to measure me for my coffin.”

“What!”

I explained.

“Good God! Who would do such a thing?”

“I should like to know that There was a letter, but Jessica Trelarken put it down somewhere ... and it was lost.”

“But what was the idea?”

“First the clock stopped … and now this. It’s evident mat I’m the victim.”

“Harriet, for God’s sake, don’t even think such a thing.”

“It seems as though someone’s warning me.”

“Well get to the bottom of this nonsense. Ill go and see Hamforth tomorrow.”

“He can tell you no more. If we could find the letter … But, you see, Jessica had it … and lost it It seems so odd.”

“She must have been as unnerved as you.”

“At least they hadn’t come to measure her for her coffin.”

“What a macabre notion of a joke. My poor Harriet.” He had his arms round me soothingly. I wanted to lie against him, to sob out my fears.

He put out the light and came to bed, and we talked for a long time about the Hamforth affair and of what the Prime Minister’s invitation could mean.

Bevil went to Lansella the next day. I didn’t go. I couldn’t bear to face everyone who I knew would be talking about my “death.” I would wait awhile, I promised myself, until the talk had died down.

Fanny came in with my breakfast tray. She said I shouldn’t hurry to get up.

She looked extraordinarily drawn. I was sure that the Hamforth shock had frightened her as much as it had me.

“Fanny,” I said, “you mustn’t worry.”

“Worry!” she said. “I’m well nigh out of my mind for wondering what’s the right thing to do-“

“Do you think we ought to tell about the lemon barley? Everything seems different now.”

“You needn’t worry about that,” said Fanny nodding at the tray. “I went down to the kitchen and cooked it myself.”

“Oh, Fanny, I’m safe while you’re here.”

“I wouldn’t let no harm come to you.”

“You see, Fanny. I’m being warned. Who would warn me?”

Her face screwed as though she were going to cry.

“Did someone stop the clock to warn me? Did they send that letter to Hamforth’s to warn me? Then it looks as if whoever did these things wants me to be prepared. It wouldn’t be the same one who wanted me dead, would it?”

She spread out her hands and stared down at them, shaking her head.

Suddenly she stopped and looked at me sharply. There’s something I’ve got to tell you. It’s that Miss Trelarken. You can always tell. I can see it in her face. It does something to a woman. I know, I tell you.”

“Know what?”

“I went into her room this morning. The little boy came down to the kitchen before she was up. I took him back, and she was there without her dress. In her petticoat she was. She always wears those full skirts, but in her petticoat you could see.”

I stared at Fanny.

“I swear it’s true,” she said, “that Miss Trelarken is going to have a child.”

“Fanny, it’s not possible.”

“I’d say it was.”

“No,” I said. “No.” I felt sick with the horror of it I couldn’t bear to read the suspicions and conclusions in Fanny’s eyes. “It was growing so like that other story that it was becoming like a nightmare. The pregnant governess. The wife in the way. What had she said? “They would hate each other. They would want to murder each other.”

It couldn’t be so. I had become obsessed by the governess story. And then suddenly I remembered how she had stood dose to me on the parapet before she had fainted.

It was true, of course. Jessica Trelarken, like the governess in the story, was going to have a child.

Evil thoughts crowded into my mind. Was the ghost on the island, seen by the girls, Bevil—keeping a secret tryst with his mistress? Hadn’t he always used the island for his youthful adventures? I imagined the desperation of lovers, the whispered conversations, the hopes, the fears. And then … the poisoned lemon barley. Jenny had died through taking arsenic, which she had presumably procured through her theatrical friends. And Jessica? I knew now that her complexion, so perfectly smooth, so fresh yet somehow translucent, was like Jenny’s had been. Did Jessica have arsenic in her possession, as Jenny had had? How could she get it? Easily. Her father would use it in making up his medicines, and a quantity of it could have been in his dispensary at the time of his death. Jessica would have known what it was. She would have read of Jenny’s experiments and might well have tried some herself. What was more natural than that a woman who saw the effect of her beauty on all around her should attempt to enhance it?

If Jessica had arsenic hi her possession, it was reasonable to suppose that some belonging to her had found its way into my lemon barley.

She had hankered after my position when she came to Menfreya—and now perhaps, if Fanny were right, she desperately needed it And how could she attain it while I stood there to prevent her?

Was Jessica trying to kill me?

Then who had warned me? Surely someone who knew what she was trying to do. But then why not tell me simply. Why go to such lengths as stopping the clock and sending the undertaker to measure me for my coffin?

There was only one answer. Whoever was trying to warn me did not want to disclose his—or her—identity.

A’Lee’s mischievous face came into my mind. Could it be? He had always been my friend. Perhaps he had seen them on the island. Was he not the one who had brought them over on the night they had been caught there? The thoughts whirled around and Fanny sat by my bed, frowning as she pulled at the corners of her apron.

Luncheon was a quiet meal that day. I shared it with Sir Endelion and Lady Menfrey; they were subdued, as we had all been since the Hamforth affair. Jessica had lunch in the nursery with Benedict for which I was glad; I was sure if I saw her my looks might betray the suspicions which Fanny had started in my mind. William Lister did not join us; he was busy in the study, and Bevil had not returned from Lamella. I supposed that the new development hinted at by the Prime Minister’s invitation was being discussed.

I went back to my room after luncheon. Menfreya was quiet at that hour. The servants were all in their own quarters; my parents-in-law were resting. Jessica remained in the nursery with Benedict, and William was at work.

There was a knock on my door, and Fanny came in.

She said: “I’m going over to the island. Would you come with me? I did want to talk to you about some of the work over there. Besides …”

I had talked to Fanny a great deal about my projects for the island house, and she bad been wholeheartedly in favor. I guessed she would be a great help to me when I started my holiday scheme. Perhaps, I thought, she wanted to discuss something with me, but it was more likely that she wanted me to be with her.

“Put on a warm coat,” she said. “The wind’s that chilly. Here. Wrap yourself up welt You go on ahead. Ill catch up.”

Before I had reached the shore she was with me. We pushed out the boat and rowed over.

I smiled sadly at her and said: “Fanny, the fact is you don’t want me out of your sight, do you?”

“That’s about it,” she said. “But there’s things I want you to see over there.”

I tried to draw my thoughts away from fears and think of the summer when the house would be full of children. It seemed a long way in the future.

“I could put up six little beds in the big front bedroom,” I said; “and then there are the other bedrooms. The island will seem a paradise to them. We shall have to make a rule that they don’t attempt to row themselves to the mainland without an adult though.”

Fanny was nodding, pleased to see my thoughts moving in a new direction.

As we walked up to the house Fanny said: “When I was hi the kitchen the other day I noticed this here cellar. You can lift up one of the stone flags. You’d hardly notice it was any different from the others … unless you knew. But that was the idea, of course. You come along and I’ll show you.”