"It was those Cringle boys, I assume," said Malcolm.

I thought I had been silent long enough so I cut in: "I was at Cringles' and one of the boys said his cat was trapped in the barn and asked me to help him free it. He took me to the barn and there was ..."

"It was a scarecrow, dressed like Saul," said Malcolm.

"How ... horrible!" cried Emerald.

"He was hanging there ..." I said.

"And he had one of Saul's old caps on," added Malcolm. "I must say it was realistic until the thing turned and you saw the face. It was a nasty shock."

"I should think so. That's why you've been so quiet, Susannah."

"The Cringles have got to put all that behind them," Malcolm put in. "They've got to stop blaming you ... us ... for what happened. Saul wasn't in his right mind, if you ask me." He was looking at me steadily. "The reason he did it may be known to some ... but let it rest, I say."

"Yes," said Emerald, "they should let it rest. The subject makes my head ache."

She then began to talk of a new recipe she had for headaches. She thought it very effective. "There's rosemary in it. Now you wouldn't think that had restful properties, would you?"

I started to talk animatedly about herbs and all the time I was saying to myself: I must find out what Susannah was doing at the time of Saul Cringle's death. That she was involved in it I was sure.

We got through luncheon and Emerald went to her room to rest. I did not ask what Malcolm was doing, but I went to my room with the intention of looking through some of the castle papers.

I wished I could shut out the memory of that horrible hanging figure.

I had avoided reading Esmond's diaries. I had felt reluctant to do so and had laughed at my scruples, which seemed incongruous in one who was perpetrating an imposture which was growing more and more like a criminal act.

At times I had the desire to pack a bag and disappear, leaving a note behind. ... To whom? To Malcolm, telling him that Susannah was dead and I had stepped into her shoes. I had no right here and was going away.

But where to? What should I do? I would quickly be without the means to support myself. Perhaps I could do what I should have done in the beginning: stay with the Halmers until I could find some sort of post.

I could not stay in my room. I felt stifled. So I went out and across the fields to the woods. And there I lay down on the spot where I had stood long ago with Anabel and looked at the castle.

The intensity of my feeling amazed and alarmed me. I was caught in the spell of the castle. I would never willingly give it up. If I did I would yearn to be back forever.

It had bewitched me. I realized that it must have had the same effect on Susannah. She had been ready to marry Esmond to get it; and from what I had heard of Esmond it was becoming increasingly clear to me that she could never have been in love with him. She would have that mild, teasing affection for him which I had associated with her and Philip.

I kept imagining her going into Esmond's room, naked beneath her robe. I sensed his bewilderment and delight. Poor Esmond!

And Susannah? She wanted to be admired, adored. I had been aware of that from the first. I wondered why she had stayed so long on the island. Because of Philip, of course.

Somehow in the shadow of the woods I felt safe. It was as though the spirit of my father and mother hovered over me. I thought back to the first moment of temptation and wondered why I who had hitherto been so law-abiding should have become involved in this trickery. I tried in vain to make excuses for myself. I had lost all whom I had loved. I was without means to support myself. Life had dealt me a cruel blow and then ... this had presented itself to me. Carrying it out had drawn me out of that depression from which I had felt I could never escape. It had made me forget for moments my parents and all that I had lost. But there is no excuse, I told myself.

And yet, as I lay there in the shadow of the trees, I knew that if I had the chance to go back I would do it all over again.

I was startled by the crackle of undergrowth. Someone was close. My heart started to beat uncertainly as Malcolm came through the trees.

"Hello," he said. "I saw you come this way." He threw himself down beside me. "You're upset, aren't you?" He went on scrutinizing me earnestly.

"Well," I temporized, "it was rather an upsetting experience."

He looked at me quizzically. "In the old days ..." he began and stopped. I waited apprehensively for him to go on.

"Yes?" I couldn't stop myself prompting him although I was feeling so uneasy.

"Oh, come, Susannah, you know what you were like. Pretty heartless. Cynical too. I should just have thought you would have looked on it as a sort of practical joke."

"A joke! That!"

"Well, perhaps even you would have balked at that. But I wouldn't have expected you to have the vapors."

"I had no such thing."

He laughed. "An exaggeration. But Garth used to say, 'Susannah's armor-plated throughout. She'll go through life unscathed by the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. Not that she'd ever let it be outrageous to her.' Do you remember that?"

"Oh, Garth," I said evasively.

"I agreed with him, you know. But it now looks as though that thing in the barn pierced the armor."

I yawned. "I think I should get back."

"Well, you were never very fond of my company, were you?"

"Must you harp on the past?"

"I feel the inclination to because you seem to be different somehow."

"People often seem different after you haven't seen them for a long while."

"Do I?"

"I'll tell you later when I've had time to make up my mind."

I stood up.

"Don't go yet, Susannah," he said.

I stood waiting while he looked at me with that puzzled expression in his eyes which destroyed my peace of mind.

"I wanted to talk to you," he added.

"What about?"

"The estate, of course. You'll have to be serious now."

"I am serious."

"Since you've been away I have been here a good deal with Jeff ... and Esmond. Esmond asked me to help. The estate needs a lot of care and attention ... particularly care, if you know what I mean. You're dealing with people... . You have to care about them and their troubles."

"I know that."

"I never thought you realized it."

"It seems you thought a lot of odd things about me."

He had leaped to his feet and was standing very close to me. I found his proximity distinctly disturbing.

"Now you are back, do you want me to go?" he asked.

I don't know what possessed me then. It might have been some spirit of adventure in me. I knew very well that his arrival had put me into imminent danger. But he excited me. Perhaps I was a true adventurer and the thought of danger added a zest to my life. In any case I heard myself saying: "N-no. I don't want you to go ... yet."

He gripped my hand and held it firmly for a second or so.

"All right, Susannah," he said. "I'll stay. I want to, you know, even now you've come back."

I turned away. I was trying to fight some foolish emotion which would not be suppressed. It was extraordinary, the effect this man had on me.

We walked back to the castle together and we went on talking about the estate.

He did not appear at dinner that evening. He left word that he was dining with Jeff Carleton. I was disappointed yet faintly relieved. It was restful to be alone with Emerald, for she made few demands on me.

She was a little scathing about Malcolm. "He's getting everything out of Jeff," she said. "He's got into the way of acting as though the castle were his over the last years when my poor dear Esmond was so poorly."

"Poor Esmond," I said tentatively. "He never really got over that first illness."

She nodded. "I'll never forget how ill my poor boy was that first time. But you remember as well as I do."

"Oh yes... ."

"So ill he was, I didn't see how he could survive and it was painful to watch him. I was with him as much as my own health would allow. And then that recovery ... and the horrible affair of Saul Cringle which shook as all so badly. Then you ... going off to your father."

"You bring it all back so vividly," I said.

"It's something I shall never forget. It's my belief that, after that illness of Esmond's, Malcolm had hopes. He really believed he must be the next. Your grandfather was a mischievous man. I believe it amused him to let Malcolm hope. He always loathed his brother and he said once that Malcolm was the image of him. I wondered what he said to Malcolm on the quiet. It wouldn't surprise me if he raised his hopes ... so when Esmond was ill he naturally thought ..."

"He would," I said.

"He was here a great deal while you were away. He did more on the estate than Esmond did. Esmond was glad to leave it to him. Poor lamb, he must have been feeling weak at the time."

"Poor Esmond," I said again.

"You shouldn't have left him so long, Susannah."

"No, I shouldn't."

I changed the subject by asking about her backache and as usual that never failed to absorb her interest. When I retired to my room I was feeling quite wide awake.

There was something I really must do. I must abandon my remaining scruples and read what Esmond had written about that period when he was taken so ill and Saul Cringle had died, and Susannah had left the castle to go in search of her father.

I undressed, got into bed and took the diaries with me.