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“I don’t know, Meg, I’m beginning to lose heart. I’m not sure it would be better just to let the place rot to pieces. And yet—”

And yet, despite his doubts, he obviously felt a reluctance to abandon the little place.

“Could you afford it?” she asked matter-of-factly, and her uncle nodded.

“Yes, I suppose I can,” he admitted. “But that’s not really the point.” He hesitated. “I suppose it sounds idiotic, Meg, but I’ve got a feeling that there’s a jinx of some sort on the place! A threat hanging over it—” Meg’s lips parted. She was on the brink of telling him that it wasn’t just his imagination running away with him. There
was
a threat hanging over them. But even as she tried to think just how she would explain the facts to him, Uncle Andra gave himself a determined little shake.

“I’m getting superstitious in my old age!” he apologised. “Or perhaps it’s just that I’m reluctant to take on such a big thing as this has turned out to be. I don’t know. I’ll just have to think it over, Meg, give myself just a few days before I make up my mind. That’s only sensible, after all.”

Meg agreed that he was right and determined that the few days’ grace she had been given should be put to good effect. Just how she was going to set about it she didn’t know, but somehow and from somewhere, she would get to the bottom of the mystery, even if it meant tackling Hector Heronshaw face to face!

While they had been waiting for the report Meg had filled in time tackling the neglected garden. It had been hard work, but as order began to emerge, she had found it very satisfying. In particular, she had enjoyed the tremendous bonfires she had lit, for not only had they reduced the garden refuse to manageable quantities but they had dealt with all those revoltingly greasy papers that had been in the cottage. Nor had her efforts been her only source of pleasure. In Jeremy Malvern she had found a pleasant, undemanding companion, and if he was too busy a man to be able to spend much time with her during the day, that didn’t matter, because she was busy as well. But always, in the evening, he was able to find time to be with her, and as October progressed and the hotel began to empty, he had more freedom than he had had when they had first come.

But on the morning that Uncle Andra had received the report and had expressed his doubts as to going to the expense of reconditioning the cottage, Meg had felt restless. She had intended doing some more gardening, but what was the good of that when more than likely they would never see the results of her labour? She felt in a mood of irresolution and downright frustration, and though she dressed in the dungarees and gumboots which formed her working kit and drove down the lane to the cottage, she couldn’t bring herself to start work.

For a while she sat in the car. Then, suddenly, she made up her mind. She would go on strike. Instead of working, she would go exploring beyond the confines of the little garden. She would cross the small paddock which belonged to it and see how far she could get in the direction of the foothills which looked so alluring in the bright October sunlight.

Her mind made up, she wasted no more time. The paddock was terribly overgrown and still dewy wet, but dressed as she was, that didn’t worry Meg, and her spirits rose—until she reached the far side of the paddock. She
hadn’t realised it until she actually reached the spot, but now she found that her way was barred in exactly the same way as the by-road had been—a similar stout, padlocked gate and an identical notice.

“Oh, hooey!” Meg said disdainfully, and scrambled over the gate. She walked round the edge of the field so that no one could accuse her of doing any damage. One the other side of the field was a stone wall, but this presented no more hindrance than the gate had done. And now Meg found herself not in a field which had ever been cultivated but on rough, boulder-strewn ground whose only crop was heather. Best of all, she could see an entrancing little stream, sparkling and chuckling over its stony bed.

She made straight for it and finding a convenient flat stone, laid herself over it and gazed down into the bright water. It was a duck of a stream! It had everything—masses of tiny plants that tumbled over its edge to drown themselves in the stream. Birds so busy about their own affairs that they didn’t even seem to notice her, and a water rat, sunning itself on a projecting stone in mid-stream, gave her one glance from his bright eyes and then calmly continued his careful toilet. And trout. Meg had never seen trout in their natural setting and she was entranced as she watched them moving so effortlessly in the water, their scales shining in the sunshine. Instinctively her hands dipped into the clear, cold-stream—and the fish were gone! Then, idly, she picked up two little sticks and dropping them in, watched them race one another. One foundered almost immediately, the other sailed on purposefully—she wondered where it would end up—

She found two more sticks and started them off. It was a childish pastime, of course, but at that moment it suited her mood to perfection. She had not realised it before, but what she had needed was to relax in solitude, and this sanctuary which she was sharing alone with nature afforded the perfect opportunity. She decided that she wouldn’t bother to walk any further. She would surely never find anything more satisfying than this!

Then, without warning, the peace and tranquillity of the place was shattered to fragments.

“So at last I’ve caught you red-handed, have I, my lad !” a stern voice said with evident satisfaction. “Well, believe me, you’re for it! And this is just a taste of what’s coming to you!”

And with a painfully stinging slap, a strong hand descended ruthlessly on Meg’s undefended rear.

With an agonised squawk and a convulsive twist she was on her feet to face—Hector Heronshaw. Not that that surprised her. She had recognised the voice, and in any case, who else would be such a brute?

But if Meg wasn’t surprised, Hector was—though not in the least embarrassed.

“Well, well, well!” he commented with deceptive mildness. “How interesting! So equality between the sexes extends even to trespass and poaching! But that isn’t going to make any difference, my girl! I’ve caught you actually at it and I’m going to make an example of you! But wait a minute—” he peered at her in that curious intense way he had. “You’re not a Blytheburn girl! You’re—yes, you’re Miss Ainslie! That makes the situation even more interesting! ”

“Yes, I am Meg Ainslie,” Meg acknowledged as coolly as she was able. “And I was not poaching, Sir Hector!”

He ignored the fact that she knew who he was and smiled sardonically.

“Oh, come, that’s straining my credulity somewhat, isn’t it? I find you leaning over the stream at a spot known to be favoured by the trout and with your hands and arms in the water, and you say you weren’t guddling for them!”

"Well, it’s true, I wasn’t,” Meg insisted. “And—and even if I’d come to do that—which I hadn’t—I wouldn’t have had the heart to! They were enjoying themselves so much!”

He ignored that as he was apparently able to ignore anything which it didn’t suit him to hear.

“All right, so you weren’t poaching,” he said ironically. “In that case, do you mind telling me just what you were doing?”

“Enjoying myself—and playing Pooh-sticks,” Meg told him defiantly.

“Pooh-sticks?” The heavy, fair eyebrows lifted enquiringly.

“Yes—you put two sticks into the stream to see which gets to a given spot first,” Meg explained rather uneasily. Really, put into words, it did sound rather childish— and Hector Heronshaw was quick to seize on that.

“Just how old are you, Miss Ainslie?” he asked curiously.

“I was twenty-four last birthday,” Meg said coldly. “H’m! Rather an advanced age for playing childish games, isn’t it?” he suggested caustically.

“Yes,” Meg agreed coolly. “But when things get a bit worrying, there’s a therapeutic quality about doing something childish and undemanding!”

"Yes, that could be,” he admitted judicially. “And whether that’s so in this case or not, it’s evidently your story and you’re going to stick to it!”

“I am!” Meg said firmly. “Because it happens to be the truth!”

“And I can’t prove that it isn’t?” he suggested. “All right, we’ll drop the question of poaching. But you can’t deny that you’re trespassing, you know.”

“Oh, good heavens, is this your property as well?” Meg exclaimed impatiently. “Isn’t there anything that doesn’t belong to you?”

“Oh yes,” Sir Hector replied coolly. “Quite a few things, actually. But this ground—and the field you must have crossed to get here—and don’t try to deny it, because I know by the fact that your car is in the lane that you came that way—they certainly belong to me ! ”

Thoughtfully Meg scuffed a semi-circle in the ground with the toe of her gumboot.

“What a possessive person you are, to be sure! ” she said at length. “Doesn’t it ever occur to you that other people besides yourself might enjoy the beauty you’re so unwilling to share?”

“And doesn’t it ever occur to you to judge a situation by another yardstick than sheer sentiment?" he retorted. “This part of the world
is
beautiful, I grant you that!” And for a moment his face softened very slightly as if he really did appreciate its beauty. Then his expression hardened. “But it’s something else as well. It provides the means not only of my livelihood but also that of a good many other people—my tenant farmers, for instance. And I don’t intend to have our work ruined by thoughtless trespassers. Is that clear?”

“One person walking across your field!” Meg scoffed. “Although, as a matter of fact, though the crop’s been harvested, I was careful to walk round the edge.”

“That’s a point in your favour,” Sir Hector admitted judicially. “Unfortunately not everyone has been trained so well and during this last summer alone I’ve had many, many pounds’ worth of damage done to standing crops, to say nothing of sheep and cattle being harried by dogs which their owners weren’t responsible enough to put on leads! No, Miss Ainslie, it’s not good enough! And though, as you say, one trespasser might do little or no harm, multiply that one by quite a few hundreds and it’s a very different matter. And there’s only one way to stop it—make no exceptions whatever! Do you understand, Miss Ainslie?”

“Ye-es,” Meg said thoughtfully. “But I should have thought that in Uncle’s case and mine—”

“Would you? Why?” he asked, silkily smooth.

“Well, that field—” she indicated the one she had crossed with a sweep of her hand. .“You had a crop in it—grain of some sort, wasn’t it?”

“It was. So—?”

“When harvest time came, you must have needed some machinery to cut it?”

“We did. A combine harvester, to be precise. That seems to interest you. May I ask why?”

“Just—I was thinking of access to the field,” Meg explained gently. “I mean, you couldn’t bring a big machine like a combine harvester over rough ground
like this, and anyway, there’s no gate in this wall, is there? In fact, the only gate is the one that leads to the Rose Cottage paddock. So—” she shrugged her shoulders and smiled mockingly at him.

“Let’s get this right,” Sir Hector said deliberately. “You are under the impression that I am beholden to the goodwill of the owner of Rose Cottage for access to my field?”

“I am,” said Meg. “And it seems to me, Sir Hector, that neighbourliness on one side should be balanced by the same thing on the other. Don’t you think it’s a point?”

“I think it’s an attempt at barefaced blackmail,” Sir Hector told her grimly. “And one to which I have no intention of yielding!”

“No?” Meg said indifferently. “Well, it’s up to you, isn’t it?”

“Oh yes, it’s up to me,” he admitted. “And now, suppose you let me show you something. Follow me, please.”

He led the way to the wall over which she had scrambled.

“Please get up on top of it,” he requested, and held out a hand to assist her.

“Thank you, I can manage on my own,” Meg told him coldly.

“Have it your own way,” Sir Hector said indifferently. “But please pause when you get on top of it. That’s right. Now then, what do you see straight ahead?”

“The gate leading to the paddock,” said Meg.

“Exactly! And what did you focus on when you got into the field? The wall—straight ahead, because that was where you wanted to go?”

“Yes,” Meg admitted uneasily. Just what was he driving at? Then he pointed to her left and with a disconcerted gasp she saw that in that side of the wall there was a gate which she had entirely overlooked !

“The field beyond that gate is also my property,” Sir Hector said softly. “And that’s how we got the harvester in. I think you’d better stop your criminal activities
short of blackmail, Miss Ainslie! You’re not really very good at it, are you?”

“Evidently not,” Meg said shortly, and scrambled down into the field. “All right, Sir Hector, I admit it. You’re very definitely one up on me! In fact, I haven’t got a leg to stand on, so what are you going to do about it?”

He surveyed her with a disconcerting lack of interest.

“Until now, have you lived in a town?” he asked surprisingly.

“Yes, in London.”

He nodded.

“Mmm! Then, in that case, since presumably your behaviour could have been due to ignorance of country ways rather than actual vice, I’ll do no more than warn you,” he told her in a very quiet way which yet, to Meg’s ears, held a latent threat. “And my warning is this—don’t commit the same offence again, because, if you do, I promise you that you’ll regret it! Is that clear?”

“Perfectly clear!” Meg snapped furiously. “And don’t worry, I wouldn’t set foot on your beastly land again even if you begged me on bended knee! Does that satisfy you?”

“Since I certainly can’t see myself doing that, it does,” he acknowledged. “And now, if you’ll allow me, I’ll escort you off my land! ”

“There’s no need to do that,” Meg said frostily. “You can watch from here to see that I don’t do anything I shouldn’t, and frankly, Sir Hector, I’ve had enough of your company! ”

But he took no notice—as she might have known would be the case. Silently, they walked across the field until, reaching the gate to the paddock, Sir Hector pulled out a bunch of keys from his pocket and selecting one, unlocked the padlock.