"I am astonished that my life is so interesting to you. One thing I ask you. Please don't upset Jamie by letting him know you have discovered his secret. Remember it is his."
"Yes," she said, still smiling. "Let's all keep our secrets, eh?"
DISCLOSURES
During the days which followed I did not want to meet people. I knew that the great topic of conversation throughout the neighbourhood would be the search of the mine shaft and the return of Gwennie.
I did hear certain comments and it amazed me how those who had been so certain that Gwennie's body would be found in the mine shaft now declared they had never suspected foul play for one moment and they had guessed all the time that she had gone off somewhere without saying.
I did not go to Landower. I did not want to see Gwennie and I was afraid of seeing Paul. I just wanted to shut myself away for a little while. All that had happened had been a great shock to me and that was partly because I had suspected that Paul, driven beyond endurance, might have killed her. It was a terrible accusation to make against the man one loved; and it taught me something about myself. Even if he had, I should have been ready to shield him.
Because of my immature dreams into which I had set Paul during the time I was growing up, because of my infatuation for Jeremy Brandon, I had sometimes wondered how deep my love for Paul had gone. I was in no doubt now. I loved him for ever and ever.
But our case seemed hopeless and I must come to some decision about my life. I had Livia and I had Tressidor. Livia and I could leave, but could I leave Tressidor? Could I sell it? The ancestral home of the Tressidors. But I was not really one of them. My mother had merely married into the family and my father was not one of them either.
What did I owe Tressidor? I ought to get away. What life could I ever build up here? Moreover there was this niggling fear in my mind. Suppose what I had imagined had happened, actually did. It could so easily I believed, for would it have been so unusual, so unexpected? Many—including myself—had believed it could happen.
These were more grim thoughts.
Cousin Mary, I said to myself, If you are watching me now, if you know what is happening here, you will understand. I know what this place meant to you. I know that you wanted me to carry on ... and it was what I wanted. It meant a good deal to me. But I can't stay here, and I feel that what has happened has been a sort of rehearsal, a warning. It has brought home to me so clearly what could be. How can anyone go on enduring this state of affairs? How near to murder can ordinary people come? Perhaps if they are goaded beyond endurance . . . Cousin Mary, would you understand?
I thought: I will go to London. I will talk to Rosie . . . and perhaps Jago. They might help me decide.
Livia wanted to go to Landower to play with Julian. "The two of them are so good together," said Nanny Loman. "Julian is like a big brother to her. I've never seen two play together like those two do."
So Nanny Loman took Livia over to Landower.
When she came back she found an early opportunity of talking to me.
She said: "Mrs. Landower's gone off again."
"Gone off?"
"Off on her travels."
"Oh, where this time?"
"She hasn't said."
"She seems to like these mystery tours. I hope she has taken her comb with her this time. Did you find out?"
"As a matter of fact I did. It appears she has taken it."
"Then all is well," I said.
Gwennie had been away a week. I had seen Paul and we went together into the woods where we could talk in peace.
"I wonder where she has gone this time," I said.
"She was so amused at the last upheaval. I suppose she thought she would do it again."
"Nobody seems excited about it this time."
"Well, you can't play the same trick twice."
I said: "I've been thinking a great deal. I am beginning to wonder whether I ought after all to sell up here and get right away."
"You can't do that."
"I could, and sometimes I think it is the only solution."
"It's defeatism."
"It is a retreat from something which could become intolerable for us all."
"That last affair shattered you, didn't it? I think you really believed I had hit her on the head with a blunt instrument and thrown her down the mine shaft."
I was silent, then I said: "I'm afraid, Paul. This is getting out of hand. She will never let you go."
"I could leave."
"Leave Landower ... for which you would always crave. It's different with Tressidor. I wasn't brought up in it. I'm not even a Tressidor. I just have the name because my mother happened to be married to one. I don't feel the ties of a home which has always been mine and my family's."
"You would leave me."
"Only because I have a feeling that it could be dangerous to stay."
"People live with these situations."
"Yes, that's true."
"Then couldn't we compromise? We can't have what we want but need we lose everything?"
"We have gone over that ground before. I could become your mistress. That's what you mean. But between us there is more than a physical relationship. It would not satisfy either of us completely. We should hanker for the really stable things ... the things that matter . . . home, family, the honourable life, the honest life. We live in glass houses, as it were. We are watched all the time. And sooner or later . . . the explosion would come. I saw it all so clearly when they were exploring the mine ... I have to think, Paul. I have to make up my mind."
He did not try to persuade me this time. There was nothing to be said. We had said it all before.
We walked through the trees, close . . .
And I thought: It is the only way.
I rode out to the moor.
Gwennie had still not returned and there was no news of her. No one seemed to think that strange.
I wondered where she was this time. Had she gone to Scotland to make further enquiries into poor Jamie's past or was she investigating someone else? But it might be that she had gone away out of mischief. She had been so amused by all the speculation.
How desolate it seemed on the moor! How different from the last time I had seen it with the crowd of morbid sightseers gathered there!
I felt an impulse to walk on the springy turf so I tethered my horse to a boulder and did so. I felt I wanted to go near to the mine and almost involuntarily my footsteps led me towards it.
How lonely it was!
I was near the edge now. Suppose I were to see a black dog or a white hare, what should I do?
The wind moaned a little as it ruffled the grass where it grew tall and I noticed that several clumps of gorse were in bloom.
Suddenly I heard the wheels of a trap and the clip-clop of a horse's hoofs. I looked up and recognized it at once as my own trap. That meant that someone had taken it into Liskeard to get some purchases, I imagined.
The driver had seen me and pulled up.
He called to me: "Miss Tressidor."
It was Jamie.
"Hello, Jamie. Have you been into the town?"
He alighted and, patting the horse, whispered something to it. Then he came towards me, Lionheart at his heels.
"Oh, Miss Tressidor, what are you doing near the mine?"
"I was just having a walk."
"You shouldn't go so close."
"I was just wondering whether I should see the black dog . . . and here is Lionheart instead."
The dog came to me and gave a friendly bark, wagging his tail. I stooped and patted him. He ran close to the mine.
"Have you just been shopping?"
"Just to get one or two things. The trap is handy."
"It would be impossible without," I said. "It's a lovely day."
"Too sultry. There's thunder in the air."
"Who told you that? The bees?"
"There's nothing they don't know about weather."
"Of course. What's t
he matter with Lionheart?"
The dog was standing on the very edge of the mine, barking.
"Come away," called Jamie. His voice was sharp. "Lion, this instant. Come."
Lionheart came slowly with his tail between his legs. Jamie stooped and patted him.
"Don't you go near the mine, there's a good dog."
Lionheart looked regretfully back to the mine and for a moment I thought he was going to disobey orders.
"Well," said Jamie, "I reckon I'd better be getting back. Up you go, Lion. And Miss Tressidor. I wouldn't linger about on the moors if I were you."
"Why, Jamie?"
"You were too close to the mine. It seems to have a sort of fascination for you."
"I suppose it does. It's all the talk about it. Goodbye, Jamie."
I watched the horse trot away and I walked slowly back to where my horse was tethered thinking that there was something different about Jamie. He was not quite himself.
I decided that I would call on him. I wondered if something was worrying him. Was something wrong with the bees or perhaps some of the animals?
He was as delighted to see me as ever and set about making tea.
"Jamie," I said, when he sat down beside me and poured out from the brown earthenware pot, "is anything wrong?"
"Why do you ask, Miss Tressidor?"
"I just felt there might be something."
He looked at me steadily for a few moments and then he said: "Donald has been back."
"Donald! Your brother. The one who ..."
He nodded. "Yes, Miss Tressidor. Donald has been back . . . been here."
"Oh, Jamie, and you hoped he would never find you."
"He's been here," he repeated.
"Has he caused trouble?"
"I'm afraid he will."
"What does he want?"
"He's just found me out."
"Where is he now?"
"He's gone."
"He can't do you any harm."
"He can, Miss Tressidor. He can finish everything."
"No, Jamie. We won't let him do that."
"You don't know Donald."
"Only what you've told me about him."
"Donald's wicked. I don't want him here, Miss Tressidor. He'll spoil everything . . . everything I've built up since I've been here."
"He can't ... if we won't let him."
He was silent for a while.
"Donald's a murderer," he said. "I always knew he had it in him. When he was a boy . . . I've seen him hurt things. Kill things . . . little animals. It used to come over him. He couldn't help it, I think. He just wanted to kill. Little furry things . . . white mice, rabbits . . . things like that. Pets we had. He'd love them for a bit and then you'd find one of them dead. It was this urge to kill."
"We won't allow him to upset you, Jamie. You're settled here now. You've got your home in the lodge and everything is satisfactory."
"I've never told you about it, Miss Tressidor, but if I had told anyone it would have been you ... or Miss Mary. She was good to me and so have you been."
"Would you like to tell me about it? Tell me why you are so afraid of him. I promise you he can't harm you."
"Well, you see, he was married. He married Effie. I loved Effie."
"You mean you both loved the same girl?"
He was silent. "Poor Jamie," I went on, "and she married Donald."
He nodded. "People change. Effie was a bright girl . . . full of fun. She liked going out and about . . . dancing and things like that and when they were married they couldn't do it. Money . . . things like that . . . you understand?"
"Yes," I said, "I understand."
"She went on and on ... years of it. She was never satisfied . . . she was wishing they never married. Nag . . . nag . . . and one night Donald picked up a poker and hit her on the head and pushed her downstairs. It was murder and Donald did it. But they couldn't prove it. Not proven. That was what they said and Donald went free."
"How long ago was that, Jamie?"
"Ten years."
"And all that time Donald hasn't been near you."
"I got away. I couldn't stand it. I was afraid of Donald. I knew, you see. I remembered that little white mouse we had. I remembered how he couldn't help himself when the mood was on him. And I didn't want to see Donald . . . ever again. I knew there could only be peace for me if Donald were not around."
"And now he's come here?"
"Yes, he came."
"When was this?"
"Some days ago."
"And did he go away again?"
"Yes, I told him to go. I said, 'Don't come here any more.' I said, 'You're dead to me. I can't do with you here, Donald, you'll spoil my life." "
"Is it as bad as that? He is your brother."
"You don't know Donald. He's quiet for a time and you think it's all right and then ... the wickedness comes out. Donald must never come here . . . not in my home ... no, no."
"I understand. But where has he gone now?"
Jamie shook his head.
"And he's discovered where you are. That's what's worrying you."
Jamie nodded. "You see, he came back."
I said: "You're overwrought, Jamie. You're making too much of this. You're afraid he's going to harm your animals . . . Lionheart, Tiger and your waifs and strays. Look here, if he comes again, send for me. I'll come and see what we can do."
"You're so good to me," he said.
I left him then. Poor Jamie, he felt so strongly about his brother. I supposed one would about someone who had committed a murder.
There was still no news of Gwennie. I tried not to think of her but I could not get her out of my mind. That she was mischievous I knew. She had been very intrigued by all the drama her absence had aroused. But would she go away again? She would know that she could not provoke that sort of speculation again and so soon.
I wanted to go into the town to do some shopping and on these occasions I took the trap. It was early afternoon and I went to the stables to tell them to get it ready for me.
This they did and in a short time I was driving along the country lanes, my thoughts still busy as they had been for some time with the future. I could not make up my mind what it held for me. I would wake in the morning saying I must do one thing and by midday I had decided against it.
I must leave Cornwall, I would say. And then, No, no. I could never leave.
And so it went on.
I chatted awhile in the shops. Everyone knew about the return of Gwennie and the fact that the mine had been explored. They still talked of it.
"A storm in a teacup, that were, Miss Tressidor."
I agreed it was.
"She's not like the likes of we," said the postmistress. "She'm a foreigner, right from up north. They has some funny ways up there."
I supposed I was also a foreigner; but at least I had the name of Tressidor.
I went back to the stables and as I was about to get out something caught my eye. It glittered and was protruding from under the seat. I stooped and picked it up. It was a comb—a comb I had seen before—a small Spanish type with a row of brilliants decorating the top.
Gwennie's comb!
In the Tressidor trap! How had it got there?
There was one thought which persisted in my mind. If Gwennie's comb was in the trap, Gwennie must have been there, too.
I was bewildered. I could not think how it came to be there. I put it in my pocket and went to find the head groom.
I said: "Who used the trap last?"
He scratched his head. "Afore you, Miss Tressidor?" he asked.
"Yes, before me."
"Well, I don't know as anyone . . . unless it was Jamie McGill."
"Yes, he did. I saw him on the moor."
"So he would have been the last, I'd reckon."
"Did Mrs. Landower ever travel in it?"
"Mrs. Landower? Her have been away . . . and have been this past week or so."
"Yes, I know. But I
wondered if someone gave her a lift."
"Not as I know of."
"All right," I said. I put my hand in my pocket. The prongs of the comb stuck in my fingers. I felt sick.
I went to my bedroom and took out the comb. I could see her taking it from her hair and looking at it.
"I wear it often . . . but not always," she had said.
How had it come to be in the trap?
I decided to call on Jamie.
I saw him in the garden as I approached. He was among the hives and the bees were buzzing round him.
I called out to him.
"Good day, Miss Tressidor."
"Are you busy?"
"No. Go into the house. I'll be with you in a moment."
I went in and sat down and within a few minutes he came in.
"Jamie," I said, "when did you last use the trap?"
He looked puzzled and I went on: "I know you had it the day we met on the moors. But when did you before that, and did you give Mrs. Landower a lift?"
"Mrs. Landower? I heard she'd gone away."
"I wondered because I found this in the trap."
"What is it?"
"It's her comb. It's strange that it should be there. I wondered if you gave her a lift somewhere . . . before she went away."
"A lift?" he repeated.
He looked strange. He was staring straight ahead of him.
I said: "Are you all right, Jamie?"
He just went on staring ahead and repeated: "A lift?"
"Jamie, sit down. What is the matter? Do you know how Mrs. Landower's comb could come to be in the trap?"
"You know, don't you, Miss Tressidor?" he said.
"Know what?"
He had a glazed look on his face which gave him an odd expression which I had never seen before. He was like a different person.
"Jamie," I said, "you look strange ... not yourself . . . what is it?"
He leaned across the table and repeated: "You know."
"I know what?"
"You know this isn't Jamie."
"What do you mean?"
But understanding dawned on me and I felt my heart miss a beat and then begin to hammer in my chest.
I said: "You're . . . Donald."
A sly look came into his face. I had never seen Jamie look like that.
"Yes," he said, "I'm Donald."
I stood up in alarm. All my senses were warning me to get away . . . quickly. I felt: This man is mad. Jamie was right. He is a danger.