Midsummer's Eve (54 page)

“I hope they remembered to surrender the ten per cent.”

“Oh yes, they did. They never forgot. As soon as a transaction was made the knackers received their due. Well, the men married. They each had a son, and when the boys were old enough they told them the secret of their wealth, and they brought them into the mine so that when they were dead their sons could go on mining gold. So they did and in time the two men died and there were only the sons.”

“I can guess what’s coming.”

“What?”

“They didn’t pay their dues.”

“That’s right. They said: ‘Why should we? We do the work.’ They never saw the knackers. They just had to take the commission and leave it there. But it was always gone on their next visit. They made up their minds that it was a fantastic story and their fathers must have been mad to throw away so large a proportion of the profits. They did not work hard as their fathers had; they gambled and drank too much and they went only to the mine when they needed to replenish their coffers. And then one night they went to the mine and all the gold was gone. There was nothing there. It had returned to being an old Scat Bal.”

“Well, it served them right, didn’t it? They should have kept to the bargain … particularly when dealing with people who can produce gold out of a tin mine and cut off supplies when they are being cheated!”

“You are very skeptical, I think.”

“Never mind, I liked the story. There are two morals in this one. Don’t be afraid for if you are bold you will prosper. That is shown by the two men investigating the knocking; and then: Don’t cheat … especially if your victim is more powerful than you are.”

I laughed at him.

I said: “If Uncle Peter buys an estate and you manage it, I wonder where it will be.”

“I have to make up my mind,” he said. “There are so many possibilities. What I shall do I think is look for some obliging knackers and ask them to find me a gold mine.”

“You are never really serious, are you?”

“Yes, sometimes, very serious.”

We were silent for a while. I inhaled the strong moorland air and was happy.

When I look back at that day, I think it was the end of my happiness.

In spite of my imaginings about Grace Gilmore she returned to Cador as she had arranged. I saw her in the sewing room on the morning after she came back. I had a dress which I rather liked and I thought it was too short. I wondered if it were possible to let it down without spoiling it.

I felt then that there was a restrained excitement about her, and I wondered what had happened when she visited her aunt.

I asked her if she had had a pleasant visit. For a moment she looked startled. Surely she could not have forgotten.

She said: “Oh yes … thank you, Miss Angelet. Very pleasant.”

“I suppose your aunt was very interested to hear you had come to Cador.”

“She seemed pleased that I had found a place.”

“Mama was very pleased with the alpaca.”

“I am very happy about that.”

“Is your aunt a dressmaker, too?”

“Oh no, no.”

“I thought perhaps it ran in the family. Miss Semple who used to do dressmaking here had a mother who was a dressmaker … and so was her grandmother, I believe.”

She said: “I am sure I can make a good job of this hem, Miss Angelet.”

I had the impression that she thought I was prying and my mother had told me as well as the servants that that was forbidden. She knew how interested I was in people and how I could not rest until I had discovered what I wanted to know about them.

I said: “Thanks, Miss Gilmore. I’ll leave the dress with you.”

I left then but I continued to think about her.

The very next day we heard about the escaped convict.

I had been riding with Ben and we had gone out as far as the Pencarron Mine. He seemed to have become interested in mines since I had told him the story of the knackers’ gold.

When we came back we rode down to the harbor. He wanted to look at the sea.

As we came through the town we saw a little knot of people gathered together staring at something fixed to the wall. We went close. It was a poster.

I saw Jim Mullens, one of the fishermen whom I knew well, and I called to him: “What’s all the fuss about, Jim?”

“Oh, Miss Angel, there be a terrible to-do. It’s this here convict who has got out of Bodmin Jail. Real dangerous they say he be.”

I dismounted and led my horse forward. Ben did the same.

We saw the rather crude drawing of a man. He had strongly marked brows under a pair of wild-looking dark eyes and thick dark curly hair.

“This man is Dangerous” said the big black words on the poster.

I read on. He was one Mervyn Duncarry and he had been about to go on trial for murder when he had escaped from Bodmin Jail.

Mrs. Fenny was there having left her cottage to be closer to the excitement.

“This be a shocking thing,” she said. “We could all be murdered in our beds.”

The Misses Poldrew stood by. I heard the whispered words. “He assaulted the poor young thing before he strangled her. He deserves to hang twice over … and here he is … He could be in Poldorey this minute …”

The Misses Poldrew would have to make a double check under their beds this evening, I thought.

There was a little about this dangerous man. He had broken out of jail during the night and could be anywhere in the Duchy. Ports were being watched. The public should keep a look out. If they thought they saw him they should not attempt to approach him, but report it at once.

We mounted our horses and rode through the town.

“He’ll soon be found,” said Ben. “He can’t get far with everyone on the alert for him.”

At luncheon we talked about him.

“He’ll hang for this,” said my father. “It is sad for he is apparently quite a well-educated young man. He was a tutor.”

“Looking after children!” cried my mother. “How terrible.”

“He suddenly seemed to go mad. It was some girl in the village. A child of about ten …”

My mother avoided looking at me. She was about my age … this poor girl who had been assaulted and murdered.

My mother said fiercely: “I hope they catch him … soon. He deserves everything he gets … and more. Why do people do such things?”

“It’s a madness,” said my father. “He must have become suddenly insane.”

“Perhaps he could be cured,” I suggested.

“Perhaps, and perhaps not,” said Ben. “And who would ever know that he was cured? It might break out again and someone else be murdered.”

“Yes,” agreed my mother. “It seems that eliminating such people is the only way. He won’t get far,” she added. “No fear of that.”

When luncheon was over Ben said to me: “What about a ride this afternoon?”

“I’d like that,” I replied eagerly.

“You said you were going to show me that pool.”

“Oh yes. Branok.”

“The bottomless pool where the bells are heard when some disaster is about to occur.”

“Yes,” I giggled. “It’s one of those places … like the moor. You can laugh but you can feel it when you are there.”

“Right. In half an hour?”

When I went down to the stables Ben was already there, mounted.

He said: “I’ve just had a command from John Polstark. He wants me to go out with him and look at one of the cottages.”

I was disappointed. “So you can’t come.”

“It won’t take very long. Are you ready to go? I believe the cottage is somewhere near the pool. You go on. Wait for me there.”

I brightened. “I’ll do that.”

And so innocently happy I rode out to the pool, not realizing that life was never going to be the same again.

It was a warm day with just a light coolish breeze. I reached the pool. How silent it was! There was no one about. There rarely was here. I listened intently. I almost felt I could hear the tinkle of bells. It was easy to fancy such things in such a place.

I felt a desire to touch the water. It shimmered in the sunshine. It was still though; there was not a ripple on the surface. I halted my horse and, slipping off her back, looked round for somewhere to tether her. She was docile enough, but I did not want her to wander.

I patted her and said: “Just for a while. Ben will be here soon.”

I went down to the pool and trailed my hand in the water. I half wished that I could hear the bells; and yet I should have been terrified if they had begun to peal. How would they sound under water? Muffled, I supposed. I should be rather frightened but only because I was alone.

My horse whinnied.

I stood still without turning round. “It’s all right, Glory,” I said. “He’ll soon be here … then you’ll be free … though he might want to walk for a while.”

I heard a footstep.

“Ben,” I called. I looked round, but it was not Ben.

“Good afternoon,” he said. He was a youngish man in his early twenties, I imagined. He smiled pleasantly. “I’ve lost my way. Perhaps you could direct me.”

“I expect so. I live round here.”

“Not at that magnificent house I passed?”

“Was it on a cliff?”

“Yes. Like a castle.”

He had come closer and was looking at me intently. He had thick eyebrows and dark curly hair.

“That’s Cador,” I told him. “It’s my home.”

“Congratulations. It must be wonderful to live in such a place. It is certainly very fine.”

“It’s very old, of course.”

“I guessed so.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Is there a good inn?”

“There is the Fisherman’s Rest. It’s very small. There was the King’s Arms. That was an old coaching inn … but there was no business after the railways came, and it closed down. There is only really the Fisherman’s Rest.”

“You’re a nice little girl,” he said and he came closer to me.

It was then that I felt the first twinge of fear. He seemed to change suddenly. I had thought that he was a student … exploring the countryside. Now I was not so sure.

“Thank you,” I said as coolly as I could and started to walk past him, but he caught my arm.

“You’re frightened,” he said. “Why?”

“No … no,” I stammered. “I … I just have to go.”

“Why?” he cried shaking me.

A terrible thought came into my mind. I remembered the poster. I looked at his face. His eyes now looked wild; they seemed to bore right into me. I thought: It’s the escaped prisoner … and I’m here … alone with him. I wanted to cry out but my mouth was dry and no sound came. My heart was beating so fast that I thought I should suffocate.

I heard myself say shrilly: “Who are you?”

He did not answer. I moved backwards. I was very close to the water.

He advanced too. He had changed. He was no longer the pleasant student. There was a dreadful light in his eyes. His pupils seemed to be distended.

He said: “I like little girls.” And he laughed horribly. “I like them when they are nice to me.”

“Yes … yes,” I said, trying to sound normal and wondering if I could slip past him and run … and run.

He gripped my arm. I tried to wrench it free, but he laughed again in that frightening way. Then he put a hand out and touched my throat.

“No, no,” I screamed. “Go away. Let me alone.”

It was the wrong thing to have done. As I tried to dodge past him he caught me by the shoulder.

“Let me go,” I sobbed. “Let me go.”

Panic had seized me. I could not think. I was only aware of his closeness … his motives, which I only half understood but which I knew ended in death.

I was young; I was agile; but he was a grown man and stronger than I. I knew that if he caught me I was doomed.

I heard myself screaming at him. He put up a hand and covered my mouth. I kicked and he freed me. I ran. I was trying to reach Glory, but how could I get away in time? He would catch me before I had a chance to untie her.

I started to run on but he caught me and I fell. I was sobbing with fear and screaming at the top of my voice. Who would hear me? Few people came to the pool.

He was loathsome. He was horrible. He nauseated me. He was pulling at my clothes. I kicked and struggled and I think I hurt him for he called out in sudden pain, cursing me. He gave me a blow at the side of my head which set up a singing in my ears. I felt blood in my mouth.

“No … no … no,” I sobbed.

I had never fought like this before. I knew that my life depended on my ability to defend myself. I was sobbing like a baby calling for my mother and my father. Oh, if only they knew what was happening to their beloved daughter. What
would
happen to me? I should be found … dead … another victim.

There was a lot of fight in me. I saw blood on his face and the more I fought the more angry he became.

I could not go on much longer. I felt my strength failing me. I had no idea how long this struggle had gone on, but I knew that for me it was a losing battle.

I prayed, I think. One always does, if only subconsciously, on such occasions. It is at times like this one that one believes in God … because one has to.

And … as if by a miracle my prayers were answered.

I heard my name. “Angel.” It seemed to come from a long way off. “For God’s sake, Angel.”

And there was Ben.

My assailant was on his feet. I saw Ben running towards us. He was still calling my name. “Angel, Angel. Oh
no …
”

The murderer was lunging towards him, but Ben was ready. I watched, too stunned to move for a moment. I just lay there. I saw the man strike out at Ben … but Ben parried the blow and came at him. He hit him hard between the eyes. The man staggered and fell. I got to my feet and rushed to Ben.

He held me tightly in his arms. “Angel … dearest Angel … Are you all right? Oh … my God.”

“I’m all right now, Ben. I’m all right now you are here.”

He stared at me … the blood on my face … I knew there was blood on my clothes. I could not imagine what I looked like.

We turned to gaze down at the man.

“It’s the one,” said Ben. “It’s the wanted man.”

“I thought he was you,” I said. “He asked me the way … and he seemed quite normal. Then suddenly he changed. He got hold of me and I couldn’t get away. Ben … oh, Ben.”