The Mask of the Enchantress

Letters from the Past

The next morning Jeff Carleton came to the castle. He had his own house about half a mile from the castle walls. It had been the residence of the estate manager for generations and it was very pleasant, for Jeff knew how to make himself comfortable. He was a bachelor with a very efficient couple to look after him. Janet said he lived better than we did at the castle, for he didn't have to put up with so many drafts.

Jeff was a man well satisfied with life. He was deeply involved in the castle but not to the point of idolatry. If he had gone to another such estate, in a very short time he would have been as absorbed by it as he was by Mateland. The fact was that Jeff was a very normal man who liked to arrange life to his taste and live it accordingly. We were lucky to have such a good manager.

He had come over to say that he was arranging for the thatcher to call on Granny Bell the following morning. I said I would ride over to tell her.

"That'll please her," he said. "Shell appreciate your telling her. They like to know someone's interested in them."

It was on occasions like this that I felt almost happy. I wanted to do the best I could for these people, to make life easier for them. I wanted to be able to say to myself: I may be masquerading as someone else but at least I am doing more good than she would.

It didn't excuse me, I knew, but it was something in my favor.

So I rode out in high spirits and almost felt like bursting into song as I looked at the hedgerows and green fields and felt the soft breeze on my cheeks.

I came to Granny Bell's cottage, tethered my horse and knocked at the door. There was no answer so I walked in, for the door was on the latch.

I stepped into the living room. Everything was quiet. The table was covered with a woolen cloth; the clock ticked solemnly on the shelf over the fireplace with the old cloam oven at its side.

"Mrs. Bell," I called, "are you at home?"

This room led into the bedroom. I knew the layout of these cottages now and that Granny Bell used the back room on the ground floor as her bedroom as she could not easily manage the stairs.

I knocked on the dividing door. I heard a low sound and, pushing open the door, went in. Granny Bell was lying on the bed; she looked white and strained and was clutching at her chest.

"Mrs. Bell," I cried, "what's wrong?"

She turned her eyes on me and I could see that she was in pain.

"I'm getting the doctor at once," I said, and was gone.

I rode as fast as I could to Dr. Cleghorn. I knew where it was, for I had passed his residence many times. Anabel and my father had both talked of that house; it was the one where he used to practice all those years ago. By good fortune I found Dr. Cleghorn in and we rode back to the cottage.

Granny Bell was out of pain now. He made her lie very still and said she was not to move. He was going to get the district nurse to come and see her.

"Is there anything I can do?" I asked.

"Nothing really. Just make sure she doesn't try to get up. She must not move. The nurse will come to her and, if everyone keeps an eye on her, that's the best thing to be done."

When we were outside he said: "Not much chance of a recovery, I'm afraid. She's had a heart condition for a long time. And she's an old woman. I give her a few months at most and she'll not get up from that bed."

"Poor old lady," I replied. "We must make sure she does not lack anything."

The doctor looked at me strangely. "It's good of you, Miss Mateland," he said. "It will help her if people call. She needs attention. We want a hospital badly. The nearest one I know is twenty miles off. There was talk of having one here once... ."

Yes, I thought, I know. But that hospital was built on an island miles away and destroyed by the Grumbling Giant.

I went back into the cottage and waited for the district nurse. When she came I left and went back to the castle for luncheon. Malcolm was there and I forgot to be nervous. We talked of Granny Bell.

"Cleghorn told me you'd called him," said Malcolm. "He said she would be dead if you hadn't."

I felt immensely gratified.

"I shall go along to see her this afternoon," I said. "They'll have to leave the roof now until she's a bit better. We can't have them doing it while she's ill."

"I'll pass the news to Jeff and he can hold up the work," said Malcolm.

"Oh, please do," I replied.

That afternoon I set out for the Bell cottage and I had not gone far when Malcolm came riding up to me.

"I'm just going to see Granny Bell," I explained.

"I shall come with you."

"As you wish," I replied, trying not to appear too enthusiastic.

"You've certainly taken what I said to heart," he commented.

"What did you tell me?"

"That people need the personal touch. They need to know you think of them as human beings."

"I was well aware of that before," I retorted.

"You gave no sign of it before you went away."

"We grow up, don't we? Even you were a little careless when you were young."

He looked at me searchingly. "I often wonder what happened while you were away," he said.

"I saw something of the world. Travel broadens the mind, they say."

"And changes the character, it seems."

"You do bear grudges, don't you?"

"Not in the least. I'm ready to forgive the new Susannah all the sins of the old."

I thought then: He suspects. He must.

He was looking at me closely and I knew I flushed under his scrutiny.

I said quickly: "Something will have to be arranged about Granny Bell."

"Never fear," he said, smiling. "We'll put our heads together."

We arrived at the Bell cottage where Granny Bell was too ill to notice us, yet she seemed comforted by our presence.

The district nurse looked in. She said she thought someone ought to be in the cottage all day. "Perhaps the Cringles could spare Leah," she added.

"Oh yes, that's a good idea," I cried with enthusiasm. I noticed Malcolm was watching me intently. "Don't you agree?" I asked to hide my embarrassment

"Excellent idea," he said.

"If the Cringles make any difficulties tell them Leah will be paid for her services," I went on. "She can come to the castle for her money."

"That's a great relief," said the nurse. "I can look in twice a day, but in her condition she needs someone here at least throughout the day. Thank you, Miss Mateland. I'll go straight to Leah."

"I'll stay here till you return with her," I said.

"We'll stay," corrected Malcolm.

When the nurse had gone I said: "There's no need for you to stay."

"I want to," he replied. "I'm interested."

I burst out: "I wish you wouldn't keep looking at me as though I'm some freak."

"Not a freak," he said. "It's just the miraculous change that I can't get over. I like it, of course. I like it very much, but it just puzzles me."

I shrugged my shoulders with assumed impatience. "I have responsibilities now," I said.

Leah came shyly into the cottage. I liked her. She was different from the rest of her family. I had previously sensed she was in what was called "trouble" and now I was sure of it.

I said: "Come in, Leah. You know what we want you to do."

She looked from me to Malcolm and I could see she was more in awe of him than she was of me, which pleased me.

"Nurse told me," she said.

"So you know we want you to stay here and give Mrs. Bell the medicine Dr. Cleghorn has prescribed. If she takes a turn for the worse you can get help quickly. Have you some needlework you can do?"

She nodded and I laid a hand on her shoulder. I was longing to ask her to confide in me. I gathered that few people would have confided in Susannah but there were times when I forgot who I was supposed to be, which was foolish, for with every day Malcolm was growing more and more suspicious. I was aware of the manner in which he kept looking at me. Very soon he would be asking me questions which I should be unable to answer. He gave the impression sometimes that he knew I was deceiving everyone and he was biding his time, waiting for me to betray myself utterly.

"Well," he said as we came out of the cottage, "you handled that rather well. It was as though you have been managing estates all your life."

"I'm glad you think so."

He took my arm as we went towards the horses. I stiffened and would have withdrawn myself but I thought I could not do so without making the incident seem too important.

"The ground is rough here," he said, explaining the affectionate gesture. "It's easy to slip."

I did not speak and when we reached the horses he gave my arm a little squeeze and as he helped me mount he was smiling warmly but the puzzlement in his eyes was as strong as ever.

Malcolm dined with us that night. So did Jeff Carleton.

The conversation dwelt on castle matters, which bored Emerald. She tried to engage one of us in conversation about her interesting illnesses and Dr. Cleghom's treatment of them, but when each of us was buttonholed by her it was easy to see we listened with only one ear.

"Dr. Cleghorn says Mrs. Bell can't possibly survive," said Jeff. "She would be dead already but for your timely arrival at the cottage, Miss Susannah. You brought him just in time. However, he says she has been a creaking door for a long time and she can't last more than a few months with all the care in the world. Her cottage will be vacant. There will be the question of who is to have it."

"Who do you think is the most deserving case, Jeff?" asked Malcolm.

"Well, there are the Baddocks. They want to get away from her father's place. There's not enough room there for them. The cottage would come in handy for them and Tom Baddock is a good worker."

"Have you said anything about it to him?" asked Malcolm.

"No, but I know he wants it. No one can say anything until Granny Bell has gone."

"Certainly not," I said. "It would seem as though we were trying to shuffle the old lady out of the way."

"The cottages are really meant for the workers," Jeff reminded me.

"Well, Mrs. Bell's husband worked for us. It seems hard that they have to lose their homes as well as their husbands."

"It's a matter of business," Jeff pointed out. "The cottage is part of the wages. Mr. Esmond let Mrs. Bell stay and so she stayed."

"It was quite right," I said somewhat hotly.

"Of course." Malcolm supported me.

"That's all right," said Jeff, "but it couldn't do the estate much good to have all the cottages occupied by women who had lost their husbands."

"Well, according to the doctor, poor Mrs. Bell won't be here much longer," said Malcolm, "and the question is are the Baddocks going to have the cottage?"

"Let's leave the matter until the cottage is really vacant," I said firmly. "I don't like this talking about Granny as though she is dead already."

I was flushed, I knew, and a little vehement. I kept thinking of being poor and old and rather a nuisance to everybody.

"And," I went on, "don't say a word to the Baddocks. They'll talk and I don't like it. We'll shelve the matter of the cottage until it is really ready to be handed over to someone."

We talked of other matters. Once or twice I caught Malcolm's eyes on me. He was smiling and I felt a brief moment of happiness.

I called on Granny Bell the next day. Leah was there sewing. She hastily pushed what she was doing under a garment on her lap and pretended to be working on that She was blushing deeply and I thought how pretty she was.

"How has she been?" I asked.

"She does nothing, miss. Just lies there."

"I'll sit with her for a while," I said. "Put your needlework down and go to the farm. You could bring some milk. Tell them to charge it to the castle. It'll stretch your legs a bit."

Leah rose obediently and put her sewing on the table. She went out swiftly and silently. She reminded me of a fawn.

Granny Bell lay still, with her eyes closed. I looked about the cottage and thought of her coming there with Mr. Bell years ago newly married, starting a new life, rearing two children who had in time married and gone far away. The clock ticked noisily and Granny breathed heavily. I rose and went to the pile of needlework which Leah had laid on the table. I turned it over and saw what I had expected. She had pushed the little garment she had been stitching out of the way as I came in.

Oh, my poor child! I thought. Sixteen years old and about to become a mother. No husband and only a terrible self-righteous family to turn to.

Poor little Leah! How I wished I could help her! I will, I promised myself. I will somehow.

I went to the bed and Granny opened her eyes and looked at me. A flicker of recognition appeared there.

"Miss Su ... Su ..." she murmured.

"Yes," I said, "I'm here. Don't try to talk. We're taking care of you."

She stared at me, her eyes expressing the wonderment she could not voice. "Bl ... Bl ..." she muttered.

"Don't talk," I begged.

"B-bless you."

I took her hand and kissed it and something like a smile touched her lips.

"No ... not M-Miss ..."

Not Miss Susannah. That was what she meant. Susannah had never concerned herself with sick old women. She did not sit by their bedsides. I knew I was acting out of character but I didn't care. I so longed to comfort her. I wanted to tell her that we had arranged for the thatcher to come and mend the roof, that everything was going to be taken care of and the last years of her life should be spent without worry.

I think I conveyed that by my presence there.

She kept hold of my hand and we were sitting thus when Leah returned with the milk.

"You could heat a little," I said, "and see if she would take some."

Leah went into the kitchen and lighted the spirit lamp. Granny had fallen asleep and I went out with Leah.

"That's right, Leah," I said.

She lifted her eyes to my face, those big doelike eyes that were so haunted by fear.

"You're good, Miss Susannah," she said, "whatever they say. You're not like you used to be. ... You're not the same... ."

She did not know how disturbing her words were.

"Thank you, Leah," I said. "I should like you to tell me if there is anything wrong. If you are in need of help ... I want to help all the people on the estate... . Do you understand?"

She nodded.

"Well then, Leah, is anything wrong? You're worried about something?"

She shook her head. "I'm all right, miss."

I left her to give the milk to Granny Bell and rode back to the castle.

I was different. I cared about people. Susannah had never cared for anyone but herself. And they were beginning to notice this difference.

At dinner that night Emerald said she must write to Garth. It was a long time since she had heard from him.

I wondered about Garth. I had seen several references to him. All I knew of him was that he was the son of Elizabeth Larkham, who had been Emerald's companion in the old days. She had been a widow and Garth was her only son.

Then I forgot about him. I was so absorbed by the problem of Granny Bell and her cottage and Leah Cringle and her trouble.

I had fears of Leah's taking some violent action. I did not see how she could face a family like hers; she did not seem to be equipped to rebel against them. I had visions of her drowning herself in the stream which ran through the castle grounds, looking like Ophelia with flowers in her hair. Or finding some other means of ending her life. I had tried to talk to her several times but could make no headway. She always insisted that nothing was wrong.

Then two mornings later when I went to the cottage it was to find that Granny Bell was dead.

No one talked of anything then but Granny Bell. The district nurse came to lay her out and Jacks the gravedigger dug her grave. I went to the funeral and Malcolm came with me. I realized that there again I had surprised them all. Susannah had never been to funerals on the estate, though Esmond had now and then. He had often promised to go and when he did not attend would go along afterwards to tell the bereaved family what had prevented him. It might not have been the truth but it mollified them to a certain extent because it showed that he knew what was due the dead.

So I created quite a stir by going and I was glad, for my presence and that of Malcolm seemed to add to the ceremony simply because those who attended thought it did.

I felt tears in my eyes as I listened to the clods of earth falling on the coffin and thought of poor old Granny. At least she was at peace at last.

Malcolm took my arm as we walked away.

"You're really affected," he said.

"Who wouldn't be?" I replied. "Death is awe-inspiring."

"I know some who wouldn't, and who would find the death of anyone with whom they were not personally involved quite boring. That is just how you would have been once, Susannah."

He gripped my arm tightly and turned me round so that I was facing him. Moments like that were really frightening. I felt he must be on the point of telling me I was a cheat and a fraud.

"I often wonder ..." he began.

"What?" I asked faintly.

"Susannah, what has happened to change you? You've become so ... human."

"I always belonged to the species, you know."

"Flippancy solves nothing."

"Well, let me tell you I am just the same as I ever was."

"Then you put on a very good show of being something else."

"Oh, I was young and careless, I dare say."

"It was not a matter of youth and carelessness. You were ... a monster."

I pretended to ignore that. I went on: "Poor Granny! She was a good woman. She did her duty here all those years and was so grateful for living in that dark little cottage and being able to make ends meet."

He was silent and appeared to be deep in thought, which was disquieting.

As we went back to the castle neither of us spoke very much.

The next morning there was a caller at the castle to see me. It was a young man called Jack Chivers. He was employed by several of the farms, working when he was needed.

I saw him in the small parlor which led from the hall. He stood before me, nervously twirling his cap round.

"I had to speak to you quick, Miss Susannah," he said. "I want to know whether I have a chance of Mrs. Bell's cottage."

"Oh, but ..." I began. "Well, it is all but decided."

His face fell. "Then I'm sorry to have troubled you, miss," he said, and turned away.

There was something so despairing about the droop of his shoulders that I detained him. I noticed that he was about eighteen years old and good-looking.

I said: "Just a moment. Don't go yet. Why are you so anxious to have the cottage?"

"I want to get married, miss."

"Well," I told him, "you can wait awhile, can't you? There'll be other cottages in due course."

"We can't wait," he muttered. "Thank you, miss. I just thought there might be a chance."

"You can't wait," I said. And then: "Tell me who you are going to marry."

"Leah Cringle, miss."

"Oh," I said; and then: "Sit down a moment."

He sat down and I looked at him steadily. "Leah is going to have a baby, is that it?" I asked.

He flushed to the roots of his hair. Then he grinned, but it was not a grin of pleasure. Embarrassment and panic would describe it better.

"Yes, miss, that's about it. If we had a place to go to we could get married."

"Can't you get married without the cottage?"

"There'd be nowhere for her ... Leah would have to stay at Cringles' farm. Life wouldn't be worth living for her. The only way is for us to get married on the sly ... and then go into a cottage together."

"I see," I said. "Yes, I do understand. The roof has to be thatched, you know. You would want the place done up a bit."

He was staring at me incredulously.

I went on: "I can see how difficult it would be for Leah at Cringles' farm. I suppose I ought to say you should have thought of this before... ."

"I know, miss. You always ought to ... but somehow you don't. She's awful pretty and one day she was crying. Something had happened. Something's always happening at Cringles'... . It's all prayers and doing so much good and making everybody miserable. And then ... afore I knew what was happening ... and once it had begun it went on. I love Leah, miss, and she loves me and there's nothing we want more than our little baby... ."

I felt a great lump in my throat. I don't care what Jeff says, I thought. I don't care what Malcolm says. I'm the Queen of the Castle.

"All right," I said. "You shall have the cottage. There's no sense in delay. Get married and move in. You can clean it up, can't you? Better say nothing until you and Leah are married. The Cringles are odd people."

"Oh, miss, do you mean it?"

"I mean it. The cottage is yours. Go and tell Leah and don't forget it's a secret ... as yet."

"Oh, miss," he said, "I dunno what to say."

"In that case, say nothing. I know how you feel, so you have no need to tell me."

I rode straight over to Jeffs house. Malcolm was there. Malcolm was often there. One would have thought the castle was his by the way he concerned himself in its affairs.

I blurted out right away: "I've settled the business of the Bell cottage. Jack Chivers is having it."

"Jack Chivers!" cried Jeff. "He's only a boy. The Baddocks come before him."

"The Baddocks will have to wait. Jack Chivers is having it."

"Why?" demanded Malcolm.

I turned to him. "The castle estate is mine," I said. "I am the one who makes the decisions. I have already told Jack Chivers that he can have the cottage."

"But it seems unreasonable," said Jeff soothingly.

"In fact there is a very good reason why he should have it. Leah Cringle is going to have his baby. They want to get married right away. They need the cottage."

Both of the men were staring at me.

"Imagine Leah Cringle's living with those dreadful parents of hers," I went on passionately. "To say nothing of the old grandfather. Of course, she can't. I have a strange feeling that if something isn't done she will do away with herself. It's up to me to look after these people. Leah and Jack Chivers are going to have the cottage and there is an end of the matter."

I could see that both men thought it was foolish to allow a woman to make decisions. She responded to the urge of the heart and they, being shrewd businessmen, knew that the head should always rule.

I laughed inwardly. It was for them to remember that I was the one who commanded.

The next day I went over to the cottage and as I stood in the bedroom I heard the door open cautiously. I went down the stairs. Jack Chivers was standing there with Leah. They were looking round with rapturous wonder. The transformation in Leah was miraculous. I had never seen anyone express greater happiness.

And I had done this.

I experienced one of those supremely happy moments which come rarely and are usually brief when they do.

"Come to inspect your new home?" I asked.

Leah ran to me. Then she did a strange thing. She knelt and, taking my skirt by the hem, she lifted it to her lips and kissed it.

"Leah," I said, fighting back my emotion, "get up at once. Tell me, are you going to change the wallpaper?"

During the next few weeks I was really happy, which meant that I could go for several hours at a stretch without remembering the sight of that devastated island and the terrible sense of loss for my loved ones; and at the same time I did not brood on the enormity of this masquerade which I had undertaken and ask myself how I could ever have been drawn into it.

The reason was that I was beginning to be more and more involved in the affairs of the castle estate. I relished the involvement. I felt I had been born to do just that. If only I had been in truth Susannah, how contented I could have been!

I was delighted to see the change in Leah; she was a beautiful girl and happiness accentuated her beauty. She and Jack Chivers were in a state of bliss. They spent every spare moment in the cottage getting it ready; the roof had been thatched and the place was beginning to look very different from the way it had during Mrs. Bell's occupation. I found some curtains in the castle which could be cut down and fitted to the windows. Leah's gratitude shone out of her eyes.

Of course there was some opposition and particularly from the Baddocks. It seemed, was the comment, that some people were rewarded for their sins and the righteous sent empty away.

Jeff Carleton agreed with that. I don't think Malcolm did. However, it was my will and, whatever anyone thought about it, they could do nothing.

I managed to placate the Baddocks by promising them the next cottage which fell vacant and they were, to a certain extent, mollified.

I was discovering a new talent in myself. I had always been interested in people. I understood them because I could put myself in their place; and this stood me in good stead. I was beginning to win confidences and this was quite an achievement, for Susannah had been very unpredictable—showing friendship one day and seeming to be unaware of people's existence the next. But I was winning through. I knew this by the way they discussed their problems with me and that I was beginning to erase the impression Susannah had made on them and replace it with my own.

Not only did it please me to be able to help, but always at the back of my mind was the thought: Is it so bad if I can do good to them? If I can make them happier than they would have been under Susannah, can it be so wicked? It did not alter the fact that it was fraud, but I could do some good through it. Susannah was not here to enjoy this so I was not taking anything away from her. But this should be Malcolm's.

Malcolm! He was constantly in my thoughts. Ever since the day when I had said that Jack Chivers should have the cottage Malcolm and I had spent a good deal of time in each other's company.

Jack Chivers and Leah Cringle were married. I went to the wedding and to my surprise Malcolm came.

The church was almost empty. None of the Cringle family was there. They were still showing their disapproval because of the circumstances.

"Let them stay away," I whispered to Malcolm. "It's a happier occasion without them."

"As usual you are right," he answered.

I was so delighted to see Leah come down the aisle on Jack's arm, her fawnlike eyes radiant with happiness. She saw me there and tears welled into her eyes. I thought she was going to stop in her progress and come and kiss the hem of my skirt.

Outside the church we congratulated them.

"Oh, Miss Susannah," said Leah, "'twouldn't have happened but for you. I can't never do enough for you."

"Well, here you are, Leah. Mrs. Chivers now. You're going to live happy ever after."

"That's a command," put in Malcolm. "A command from Miss Susannah, and you know they always have to be obeyed."

Leah hardly looked at him. She was so shy. But her great doelike eyes were fixed on me.

When she and Jack went off arm in arm to the cottage, I stood for a few moments looking after them. Malcolm, I suddenly realized, was watching me.

"Susannah," he said softly.

I was afraid to look at him, for I guessed I should betray the emotion I was feeling.

"You've really made their cause your own, haven't you?" he went on. "I dare say they will ask you to be godmother when the baby arrives."

I did not answer.

He came a little closer. "They seem pleased with life," he mused. "There's a great deal to be said for marriage. Do you agree with me, Susannah?"

"Oh yes ... of course."

"You contemplated it once yourself ... you and Esmond."

I was silent. I was aware that I was on very dangerous ground.

"Susannah," he continued, "there are things I want to know."

"I think we should be getting back to the castle," I said quickly.

He had taken my arm. "What's the matter, Susannah?" he asked. "What are you afraid of?"

"Afraid!" I laughed, and hoped my laughter sounded convincing. "What are you talking about? Come along. I must get back now."

"There's something I have to discover," he added.

I was sure then that he suspected me. I started to walk very quickly, and he kept close beside me but he said no more.

When I was ready to leave for the rounds that afternoon he was waiting for me.

"Mind if I accompany you?" he asked.

"Of course not ... if you want to."

"I want to very much," he replied.

Strangely enough, he said nothing more to disturb me and I felt really happy that afternoon. I found great pleasure riding beside him in the sunshine. I tried to forget that I was here under false pretenses. I tried to believe that I really was Susannah, a Susannah who cared about helping people and found happiness doing so.

We went past the Thorns' cottage but did not call.

I said: "Miss Thorn has spent many years looking after her disagreeable old mother."

"A fate reserved for numbers of women."

"It's not fair," I said. "I'm going to do something for her if I can."

"What?"

"I've discovered Miss Thorn is full of anxieties. Think of the life she leads! Oh, I do wish I could make her happy."

We had ridden some way round the estate and entered the woods. To me they would always be enchanted woods because of that episode in my childhood.

"Let's rest here awhile," said Malcolm. "It was always my favorite spot."

"Mine too," I said.

"There's a wonderful view of the castle from here. It looks like something out of a painting."

We tied up our horses and stretched out on the grass.

This was the nearest I had come to contentment since my parents had died; and the realization suddenly came to me that I could find happiness again. There was something else I had learned. My happiness was not entirely due to what I had been able to do on the estate. It was because of Malcolm.

He reminded me of my father. He was after all a distant connection. There was a strong streak of Mateland in him. I told myself that friendship with Malcolm supplied something that I needed to fill the terrible gap in my life.

He said suddenly: "How beautiful it is! Do you know, Susannah, this to me is the most beautiful spot in the world."

"You love the castle."

"Yes. You too."

"There is something enthralling about a castle," I added. "One thinks of all that has happened there. Just to look at it transports one back as far as the twelfth century and a hundred years later when the first Matelands came."

"You're well versed in the family history."

"Aren't you?"

"I am. But you ... Susannah ... you used to be so different."

That phrase always filled me with apprehension. "Was I?" I said faintly.

"I disliked you intensely as a child. You were a selfish little brat."

"Some children are."

"You were particularly so. You believed that the whole world existed to feed Susannah's whims."

"Was I really as bad as all that?"

"Worse," he said emphatically. "Even later... ."

"Yes?" I prompted, my heart beating faster.

"Since you came back from Australia I've been astounded. All that drama over the Chiverses' cottage and poor little Leah."

"There's nothing very unusual about it," I said. "It's a sad human story that repeats itself again and again."

"It's Susannah's part in it that's so unusual. You really cared, didn't you? And you've won little Leah's eternal gratitude."

"It was so little I did."

"You showed Jeff Carleton that you were in charge."

"Well, I am, am I not? He knows that."

"He knows it now."

"I suppose you think that a woman should not be in this position!"

He was silent for a while. Then he said: "It depends on the woman."

"And you think this woman is worthy?"

"Completely so," he answered gravely.

We were silent for a while; then I said: "Malcolm ... you thought when Esmond died this would come to you... ."

"Yes," he said, "I thought it likely."

"And you wanted it. You wanted it badly."

"Yes. I did."

"I'm sorry, Malcolm."

He laughed. "Sorry! Of course you mustn't be. It's what's called fate. I never really thought your grandfather would leave the management of the estate to a woman. He must have been very fond of you."

"You've done a great deal for the castle. I wish ..."

"Yes, what do you wish?"

I didn't answer that. I could not tell him what was in my mind. So I said: "I suppose you will be going away. We shall miss you ... Jeff and I."

He leaned towards me and put his hand over mine.

"Thank you, Susannah. I might be persuaded to stay."

My heart began to beat fast. What was he hinting? Could he possibly mean that he and I would marry ... as Susannah and Esmond had intended to?

He was watching me intently. I thought, The moment has come. If he asks me to marry him I shall have to tell. And what would he think if he knew that I was a cheat and a fraud?

I heard myself say: "But you have your own life. What do you do when you are not here?"

He looked at me in puzzlement and I realized at once what a mistake I had made. Of course Susannah would have known what he did.

After a pause he said: "Well, you know Stockley has to be managed. Tom Rexon is a good manager fortunately. That's why I can always leave things to him. If there is a major decision to be made he can get in touch. Otherwise he's completely capable."

So his home was Stockley. I wondered where. I must be careful not to betray myself. It was so easy to take a false step and I saw that I had just made one. I had halted the flow of conversation. What had he been about to say? Whatever it was, he was not going to say it now.

He talked of Stockley and the difference between his estate and that of the castle. "It hasn't the fascination of the castle, of course, but I love the old place. After all, it's mine."

And as I lay there listening to Malcolm I realized that I was making my position more complicated than ever because I was falling in love with him.

The idyl continued. Each morning we rode together. There was one occasion when my horse lost a shoe and we had to take her to a blacksmith. While we were waiting for the horse to be shod we went into the nearby hostelry and drank cider and ate hot bread with cheese. Food had rarely tasted so good and I was once more poignantly reminded of the time when I had picnicked in the woods with my parents and had had three wishes. If only I could have three wishes now. I should wish that... no, not that I was Susannah, but that I could be made the rightful heiress of the castle, and Malcolm could fall in love with me, and the third would be that I could forget the tragedy of Vulcan Island.

That was absurd. I would never forget but I might with good luck superimpose another image over the past. I might find the present and the future so enthralling that I should never be tempted to look back and long for the days before the disaster.

Why should I wish for these things to happen to me? I didn't deserve them. I had committed a mighty fraud and must not complain if I had to pay for my wickedness.

But how happy I could have been if things were different.

That day, I remember, we discussed the case of Emily Thorn.

I had at last broken through that reserve of hers and made her admit her fear.

I had cornered her in her kitchen only the day before. She had been so nervous. She said she would make me a cup of tea and I sat in the kitchen talking to her. Just as she had opened the tea caddy there was the sound of knocking from above. She had looked flustered, frustrated and anxious.

She dropped the caddy and the tea was spilled all over the table.

"Oh dear," she said, "what an idiot I am! Mother is right."

"It's nothing," I said. I took the caddy from her hands and spooned up some tea which had spilled onto the table.

"Go and see what your mother wants," I said. "I'll make the tea."

She went away and when she came back I had made the tea.

"Is anything wrong?" I asked.

"No. She only wanted her lemonade. She must have heard someone down here, Miss Susannah."

I could believe that. If she thought her daughter was with a visitor she would want to interrupt them.

Because Miss Thorn was distraught I came closer to her that morning over the cup of tea than I had ever been able to before.

She had been a lady's maid. She had enjoyed that

"I had a lovely lady," she said. "She had lovely hair and I knew just how to make it look its best. She used to be ever so pleased with me. She'd give me dresses and ribbons and things like that. Then she got married and I could have gone with her, but Mother wanted someone to look after her so I had to come home."

Poor Miss Thorn, whose only glimpse of joy had been to dress another woman's hair and receive her castoff garments.

I then discovered the real source of her anxiety. That her mother made her life a burden was clear, as was the fact that she was condemned to look after her for the rest of her life. That she accepted, but when her mother died where would she go? She would have to find a post and somewhere to live. How could she do that? She would be getting old herself.

I said to her: "There's no need to worry. While your mother lives, things must remain as they are, but you must not be afraid that you will be turned out of the cottage before we have found something else for you. Who knows? I might decide I would like a lady's maid."

And as we sat in the inn I told Malcolm what I had said. He looked at me searchingly for a long time.

"This is not the way to run an estate successfully, you know, Susannah," he said.

"It's the way to run it happily," I replied. The change in Miss Thorn is miraculous."

"You're behaving like a fairy godmother."

"What's wrong with fairy godmothers?"

"It's all right when they have magic at their fingertips."

"I have ... to a certain extent. I mean I have the means to help these people solve their problems."

Then he leaned forward and kissed the tip of my nose.

I drew back. He raised his eyebrows and said: "I couldn't help it. You looked so lovely, glowing with virtue." He put his elbows on the table and regarded me quizzically. "Tell me, Susannah, what happened in Australia?"

"Why do you ask?"

"It must have been something tremendous. Like St. Paul on the road to Damascus. You've changed. You've changed so utterly."

"I'm sorry but . . ,"

"Sorry! It's not a matter for sorrow. It's one for rejoicing.

You've become a new Susannah. You've become aware... . You've become vulnerable. I always thought you had a skin like an armadillo. All you wanted was your own way. But something must have happened in Australia... ."

"I found my father, of course."

He was looking at me steadily and I was growing more and more uneasy.

"Now I come to think of it, you don't even look the same. I could almost believe ... But then I don't believe in fairy stories. Do you?"

I thought of three wishes in an enchanted wood and hesitated.

"You do!" he cried. "Some old witch came to you, did she? She said: "I'll make you what you would like to be and in exchange I'll take your soul.' Oh, Susannah, you haven't bartered your soul, have you?"

I could not meet his eyes. But I was thinking, Yes, perhaps I have.

"Don't let anything change you back, Susannah. Please stay as you are."

I just sat there looking at him and I knew then that I was in love with Malcolm Mateland. I felt exhilarated and then despair came to me as the hopelessness of my situation came home to me.

I was a cheat. I was afraid. This was nothing more than a masquerade. I must not let myself become too deeply enmeshed.

But what was the use? I already was.

A few more days passed. I saw Malcolm on every one. Janet noticed. I think I must have betrayed my feelings for him. She was very observant and sometimes made me very uneasy, for I fancied she watched me closely; but I had to admit that she had helped me out with her gossip on more than one occasion.

There was nothing subservient about Janet. She regarded herself as highly privileged and one entitled to speak her mind.

She said: "You and Mr. Malcolm are becoming very friendly. I reckon that's a good thing, if you ask me."

"I didn't ask you, Janet," I said. "But I suppose all friendship is a good thing."

"You remind me of someone I used to know very well. Always got an answer. Well, I reckon friendship is a good thing but when it's between such as you and Mr. Malcolm, it's a little bit more good than most."

"Oh?" I said.

"Well, what I mean is, you've got the castle and he wanted the castle, and he could be a great help in managing it... and I reckon if you're quite fond of each other ..."

"Janet, you presume too much," I said.

"All right, all right," she placated. "Perhaps I do speak out of turn. But it could be a good thing and there's no gainsaying that It could solve a lot of things and that's nice in itself."

So Janet had noticed. I wondered if others had too.

My nature was such that I would seize on an optimistic turn of affairs. I thought to myself, If Malcolm loved me, if I married Malcolm, if he shared the castle with me, what harm would have been done? I could let him take charge of things. I could always remember that he was the rightful owner. Could I, in such circumstances, forget my guilt? A wrong would have been righted. I would stand beside him, help him in what he wanted to do. It would be as it should have been on Susannah's death. It would just be that the heir of the castle had married me and thus I had become its mistress.

It seemed as though the gods of good fortune were offering me forgiveness on a plate.

It was a lovely euphoric experience. It made me feel that I was at liberty to fall in love with Malcolm, to marry him if he asked me and to live in peace for the rest of my life.

Perhaps in ten years' time when we had grown together and we had our children, I would confess to him. By then there would be no question of his not understanding and he would forgive me readily.

Oh, it was a happy solution. It seemed possible that it could come about.

We laughed together; we worked together; and I was happy. We discussed the castle constantly—what should be done and how we should do it. It was almost as though we were a partnership.

One day he said to me: "Have you ever thought of marrying now that Esmond is dead?"

I turned away. I dared not look at him. I knew that his feelings towards me were quite different from those he had had for Susannah, but that whenever we were on the point of getting to a closer understanding he would be repelled by some mystery he sensed between us. He could not believe in the change which had apparently come over Susannah and, while his emotions drew him to me, his common sense warned him against me. I think that sometimes he believed I would revert to the old ways and was asking himself whether I was playing a game of pretense. How right he was! And how often I considered making a confession. But I was afraid of losing him. I wanted to bind him so close to me that he could not escape, even if what I had done did fill him with horror. The force of my emotions was strong, as I believed his could be, but the guilt in me and the distrust in him lay between us like a two-edged sword.

I murmured: "Marriage is something not to be undertaken lightly. You, who have never married, agree with that, I am sure."

"I certainly have always felt it was a state into which one should not enter lightly. Esmond's death would have been a terrible blow to you. Was it?"

I turned my head away, feigning emotion.

"He was besotted about you," he went on. "I always felt sorry for him. You were so different then. Like another person. I should have been envious ... now."

I raised my eyes to his face. I so much wanted him to put his arms about me and tell me he loved me.

He took me by the shoulders and shook me slightly.

"Something happened, Susannah!" he cried. "What? For God's sake tell me."

I wanted to confess then. I dared not though. I was as unsure of him as he was of me.

"My father died," I said quietly. "It was a great shock... ."

He dropped his arms. He didn't believe me. That was not what he wanted to hear.

With a gesture of exasperation he released me.

He said no more, but I assured myself that one day ... soon ... he would. Perhaps he would ask me to marry him and then what should I do? Dare I confess?

Then I began to reason with myself. Why should there be need for confession? In marrying me he would automatically share the castle.

Why shouldn't that be the answer? Fate was offering me a way out.

Perhaps I should have known that was too good to be true. Life does not work out as smoothly as that.

I found the letters in a bureau in Susannah's room. It was a beautiful eighteenth-century piece which I had admired from the moment I saw it. It had several drawers which I used for the papers and diaries I had from Esmond's room.

I often went through these. They had been invaluable in teaching me about people on the estate and I found it very useful to study them.

I was in a state of euphoria, having spent almost the entire day in Malcolm's company. I had called in at the Chiverses' cottage and heard that all was well there; I saw that the curtains from the castle looked very grand and realized that they were a source of delight to Leah; but what I knew pleased her most was my interest in her. She looked upon me as a sort of protectress and that touched me deeply.

So I was ready for bed and I went to the drawer to get out the papers. I intended to sit up in bed and go through them, which had become a habit of mine. I opened the drawer and as I took them out I saw that some had become wedged in. I pulled at them, but they did not come away, so I knelt on my hands and knees to see if I could discover what was holding them.

I pulled gently and still they did not come away. I put in my hand to see if I could feel what was holding them. They were jammed. If I pulled the drawer right out I would release them. This I did. Then I realized that there was a secret drawer behind the one in which I had kept the papers. I put in my hand and drew it out. In it was a thin roll of paper tied up with red tape. I untied this and unrolled the paper. I saw that they were letters. My heart started to pound, for I realized they had been written to Susannah.

I knelt there for some seconds with them in my hands. I was not by nature a person who listened at doors or read other people's correspondence and I hesitated now as I had over Esmond's diaries.

Some instinct told me that these letters might contain vital information and that I must not be squeamish. I put back the secret drawer and pushed the other one into place in front of it and, chiding myself for being so foolish as to hesitate, I took the letters to my bed.

There I read them and after I had done so I lay awake considering their content. They had shattered me, those letters. I could only guess who had written them, but it seemed to me there was only one person who could have done so.

They were dated and in order, so I knew they had been written to Susannah just before she left England for Australia.

The first read:

Dearest and Most Wonderful (hereinafter and forever more known as D.M.W.) What bliss to be with you as we were last night. I never dreamed it could be so. And the best is yet to come. You have to do your part though and it won't be long. Wedding bells and the two of us here—the King and Queen of the Castle. You know how to deal with S.C. He'll do anything you ask. He's besotted. Clever of you to have reduced him to that state. Keep him like it. I don't ask how, but I understand and I'll try not to be jealous of your rural lover. We need his help to get the needful, for it has to come from a source where it can't be traced ... just in case. If he supplied it, he'll be involved. Not that it will come to that. We're going to see that it works smoothly.

D.M.W., I'll have to write to you, for it won't do for me to be around at this time. You never know. We might betray something. So burn any letters I write as soon as you have read them. In that way I can write frankly. Let me know when S.C. gives you what we need. A pity he has to be brought in, but we'll deal with that after. The King and Queen will act.

To the day, my love.

Devoted Slave and Constant Lover (hereafter D.S.C.L.)

I went on to the next.

D.M.W.,

So S.C. is holding off. Hasn't got it, he says. You'll have to get it from him. Tell him you want it for a face wash. They are bound to use it for something on the farm. Wheedle it out of him. I'm getting jealous. I think you're rather fond of him. I am sure you act your part well, but let's get this over and then no more of it, eh? I wish we could marry, but you won't, I suppose, until the coast is clear. You were always a devil, D.M.W. You want to keep one foot in each camp, don't you? You're not going to let go of Cousin E. until he's laid to rest. You want to be supreme, don't you? Remember I'm of the same blood. You know we're a reckless, scheming, ambitious brood. Mateland of Mateland. Burn this letter and all my letters. Get the stuff from S.C. and then make sure you use it. I'm getting impatient for you. I long for the day when we are you know where together.

My D.M.W.

Your D.S.C.L.

And the last one:

D.M.W.,

Have been frantically waiting to hear. What went wrong? Your mixture was not strong enough. Of course I know you had to avoid suspicion. Near to death ... that's not good enough, is it? And S.C. quitting this life in that melodramatic way. A pity we had to use him. Still, you're right. We must not attempt it again for a long time. Yes, I agree ... a year say. Then he can develop the same illness. That sounds very plausible. Who would have thought S.C. would have been such a fool? Let's hope he hasn't talked. That sort do sometimes. They make confessions. I wish we could have got the stuff without him. Too awkward though ... buying it ... or getting it through another source. We had covered our tracks well and then that fool calls attention to himself by that!

Now take heed, D.M.W. I like your plan. You're going away somewhere. You're going to look for your father, having discovered his whereabouts. That's fine. You shouldn't be there when it happens again. Fair enough. But I can't lose you all that time. I'll come out with you and then back ... and in a year's time we'll have the whole thing settled. We have to be patient. We have to think of what the reward will be ... you and I where we belong together.

It's really foolish to set all this down on paper, but I am foolish where you're concerned ... as you are with me. We've fooled them all with our battles. We'll go on fooling them. You'll hear when it's done and then you'll come home and you and I will find that our antipathy was a mistake. We loved each other all the time. Wedding bells and the castle ours. Mateland forever.

Burn this as you have the rest. Do you realize that this letter could condemn us? But so do I trust you. In any case we are in this together.

I'll be at the castle very soon now and you will be making your plans to leave. Be very loving to Esmond. But get away. The Cs may be awkward.

With you soon,

Your D.S.C.L.

I was shattered. Those letters betrayed so much. Esmond had been murdered. He was the victim of Susannah and her lover.

Susannah had attempted to kill him and her lover had succeeded in doing so, thus making Susannah mistress of the castle. Susannah had seduced Saul Cringle and he had provided her with the poison from which Esmond had died—presumably arsenic since there had been mention of a cosmetic. And she had been careless enough to leave these letters—incriminating as they were—in the secret drawer in her bureau, in spite of her lover's urgent injunction to destroy them. So I had found them. How careless she had been. But perhaps she had had some ulterior motive in preserving the letters.

I was trying to hold off the overwhelming fact that had come out of all this. I did not want to examine it. I dared not.

I thought of being shut in the barn and seeing that horrible thing dangling from the rafters. One thing was obvious. The Cringles knew that Susannah had been involved with Saul and, believing me to be Susannah, had confronted me with that horror.

It was an explosive situation.

But staring me in the face was the fear which I could no longer evade. One sentence kept dancing before my eyes. "Remember I'm of the same blood... ."

There was only one person who could have written that. Malcolm!

So he must know that I was an impostor. He must, for his letters revealed how close he had been to Susannah. He could not have mistaken me for her. Besides, considering their relationship, it was quite clear that he knew I was masquerading as her. Then why did he not expose me? If he did, the castle would be his. Why did he let me go on with the pretense? What did it mean? What had I walked into? I was a cheat, I knew. I was posing as another woman. But Malcolm, the man with whom I had fallen in love, was a murderer.

I could see no other possibility.

Malcolm was Susannah's devoted slave and constant lover. He was playing some game. What?

I felt sick with fear.

He must know that Susannah was dead, and he was a murderer. He was a clever actor. He must be to be able to delude me as he did. He cared for the castle. Of course it was for the castle he had done what he had.

And yet why did he not claim it now?

With Susannah dead, he could inherit. Why had he not exposed me?

Thoughts chased themselves round and round in my head. I did not sleep at all that night. I just lay there tossing and turning, waiting for the dawn.

I was filled with fear. I knew that some terrible climax was about to break.

I saw no one at breakfast. I went out to the woods. I could not face Malcolm. It seemed to me that he, no less than I, had been wearing a mask. When that strong and pleasant face was removed, what was beneath it? Something cold and cunning, shrewd, cruel, sensual and murderous.

I could not bear it. I had been so utterly deceived. I wanted to stop thinking of him, and yet I could not. I had already allowed my feelings to become too much involved. Moreover, I was not merely a girl who had put her trust in a man—a cynical man, capable of the vilest deeds—I was one who was herself tainted by dishonesty.

What a fool I had been! What a tangled web I had woven, and I was at the center of this mystery, intrigue and murder.

I must make things appear normal.

I returned to the castle for luncheon. Malcolm, I was thankful to see, was not there. He had left word to say that he was lunching with Jeff Carleton.

Emerald and I lunched alone.

I listened to an account of her sleepless night and her inability to rest her back. Then I heard her saying: "I've written to Garth to tell him you're here. It's such a long time since he's been. He probably feels disinclined to come here now that his mother has gone."

After luncheon I went out again. I went into the woods and lay there, looking at the castle and thinking again of that magic day of my childhood. I suppose that was when it all started.

But how different I was now from that young and innocent child!

When I went back to the house Janet was in my room putting some things she had washed away in a drawer.

"My goodness," she said. "You look as if you've lost a sovereign and found a penny piece."

"I'm all right," I replied. "I'm a bit tired. I didn't sleep well last night."

She studied me in that way which I deeply resented.

"I'd say you didn't! Anything wrong, Miss Susannah?"

"No," I said blithely. "Nothing at all."

She nodded and went on putting the things away.

I heard the arrival of a rider in the distance. I went to my window and saw Malcolm. He pulled up his horse and paused for a moment looking at the castle. I could imagine the satisfaction on his face. He loved the castle as Susannah had, and as I was beginning to. It was haunted, this castle, haunted by the people who had lived in it—mainly the family of Mateland to which Malcolm, Susannah and I all belonged.

We loved the castle for a hundred reasons, not only because it had been the family home for generations but because of the spell it cast on us so that we would lie and cheat for possession of it—and some of us would do murder.

I did not go down to dinner. I pleaded a headache. I could not face Malcolm ... yet.

Janet brought up my supper on a tray.

"I don't want anything," I told her.

"Come on," she retorted as though I were two years old. "Whatever the trouble, it's best not to face it on an empty stomach."

She was watching me anxiously. Sometimes I thought Janet really cared about me.

The night brought me no comfort.

When finally I reached what should have been blessed oblivion I was haunted by dreams of terror in which Esmond, Malcolm, Susannah and myself were involved.

In the morning I got up early and went down and tried to eat a little breakfast. While I toyed with the food, Chaston came in to tell me that Jack Chivers had come to see me. He was waiting outside and seemed very upset.

"I told him, Miss Susannah, that I would not disturb you at breakfast," said Chaston, "but he said it was so important and about his wife, so he prevailed on me to come to you."

"His wife!" I cried. "Oh, certainly you should disturb me. I'll see Jack Chivers at once."

"Very good, Miss Susannah. Should I bring him in?"

"Yes, please. Immediately."

Jack came into the hall. I took him at once into one of the small rooms. I thought he had come to tell me that Leah's pains had started, and I was worried because the baby was by no means due.

"What is it, Jack?" I asked.

"It's Leah, miss. She's quite upset."

"The baby ..."

"No, not the baby, miss. She says she must see you. She says will you come as soon as you can."

"Certainly I will, Jack. What is it about?"

"She wants to tell you herself, Miss Susannah. If you could come ..."

I was dressed for riding so I said we should go at once, and I rode over to the cottage with him.

Leah was sitting at the table looking very pale and frightened.

"Why, Leah," I asked, "what has happened?"

"It's my father," she told me. "He got it out of me."

"Got what, Leah? What do you mean?"

"He threatened to beat me, Miss Susannah. I would never have told ... particularly now. ... I wouldn't have. But I was frightened ... not so much for me as for the baby. I told him everything and he said he'd get even... ."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him about you ... and Saul."

"What about me ... and Saul?"

"Miss Susannah, he said he'd just about kill me if I didn't tell. I had to tell, miss. I had to because of the little 'un."

"Of course you had to ... but what?"

"I can't make it out, miss. It's like someone else come in her place. It's like you ain't Miss Susannah any more. You're good. I can see it, miss. It must have been a devil what possessed you. It's been drawn out now, ain't it, miss? I know they can do that. You're good now, miss. I ain't never going to forget what you done for me and Jack ... and the baby. Nor will Jack. But I had to tell him. ... I had to tell him what you was while you had them devils in you."

"But what did you tell him, Leah?"

"All I knew... . My Uncle Saul was tormented, he was. He said his soul was lost. He'd go to hell. He used to talk to me. He always talked to me. He's saved me many a beating. He was good, Uncle Saul was ... but there's no standing against the Devil, miss ... and you had the Devil in you then."

"Please, Leah, will you tell me what you told your father."

"It was what Uncle Saul had told me. I'd seen you ... I'd seen you go in the barn together and stay there ... and then you'd come out and you'd be all laughing. It was the devils laughing, I know now, but then I thought you were just a wicked ... wicked witch. And Uncle Saul would be all shining in the face and looking as though he'd been with the angels ... till he remembered and then he was well nigh fit to do away with himself."

"Oh, God help me," I murmured.

"He used to talk to me. He talked to me the night afore he did it. He was in the field working and I took out his cold tea and bacon sandwich. We sat by the hedge and he said to me: 1 can't stand it, Leah. I'll have to get out... I've sinned. Most terrible I've sinned. I can't see no way out. The wages of sin is death, Leah, and I've earned them wages.' That's what he said to me, miss. The Devil tempted me,' he said. And I said, 'Yes. Miss Susannah. She is the Devil.' Then he started to tremble and he said, 1 can't turn away from her, Leah. When she's not there I know it's wicked and when she's there it's only her.' I said to him, 'Ask forgiveness and don't sin again.' He said, 'But I've sinned, Leah. I've sinned as you don't know.' I said, "Yes, you've sinned, but people do sin like that. Look at Annie Draper. She got a baby and after that she married Farmer Smedley and she goes to church regular now and she's reckoned to be quite good. It's what they call repenting their sins. You can repent, Uncle Saul.' He kept shaking his head. Then he said it had gone too far. I had to find some comfort for him. I kept saying, 'It's the same thing, Uncle Saul. Whether it was with Miss Susannah like you ... or a passing peddler like Annie Smedley.' But he wouldn't have it. Then he said this terrible thing. He said, 'It's worse than that. It's worse than fornication and that's enough to send me to hell. It's murder. Leah, that's what it is. She's asked me to help her do away with Mr. Esmond. She can't abide him. She's not going to marry him. You see, she wants the castle but not him.' I said, 'What do you mean? What's castle folks' affairs to do with you?" And he said, 'It's Miss Susannah. I've got to do what she asks. You don't understand. I've got to. I've done it. And there's only one way out.' I didn't know quite what he meant, miss ... not until next day when they found him hanging in the barn."

I said faintly: "And this is what you have told your father?"

"I wouldn't have told, miss. Not after what you done for Jack and me. I wouldn't have told ... but for the baby. I know it was devils in you, miss. I know it now. I know that without them you're good and kind. I wouldn't have told ... but for harm coming to the baby. But I had to tell you what I'd done."

"Thank you, Leah," I said. "Thank you. I'm grateful."

"Miss Susannah," she said earnestly, "it was the devils in you, wasn't it? You're not going to be wicked again. You'll always be your own true self, won't you ... kind and good so as we can all feel safe with you?"

"I will, Leah," I cried. "I will."

"Miss Susannah, my father ... he can do terrible things. He's too good a man not to fight what he thinks is evil ... no matter where it is. He says he'll not let this rest. He's going to avenge Saul. He's going to do something ... I don't know what. But he's a terrible cruel man ... when he has to set wrong right."

"Leah," I said, "you mustn't get upset. Think of the baby."

"Oh, I do, miss. I think of all you've done for us. It was terrible when he come here. But I was frightened, miss, not for myself but for the baby."

"Don't fret. Everything will be all right," I said. I wanted to get away to think what this meant

I left the cottage and went into the woods. I was trapped now. I had thought to take on the custodianship of the castle and in doing so I had put on the mask of a murderess.

I was numb with fear, unable to plan. I did not know which way to turn.

Revengeful Jacob Cringle knew why his brother Saul had committed suicide. He knew that murder had been planned at the castle, and it had later been carried out.

He would not let the matter rest. He was going to pursue the murderers and bring them to justice. He was going to have vengeance for his brother's death.

I knew that murder had been planned. I had proof in the letters which I had found in the secret drawer. It was all beginning to fall into shape.

Unwittingly I had taken on the part of the murderess.

I was trapped in Mateland Castle.

As Cougaba had said: "Dat ole Debil" had been at my elbow. He had tempted me. He had spread out the glory of the castle before me and promised me it should be mine ... in return for my allegiance to him.

And I had succumbed to temptation. Now I was here in a position growing hourly more dangerous. Caught in a trap of my own making.

I don't know how I got through the day. I could eat nothing, so I stayed out, pretending to be on estate business and that I had eaten at one of the inns.

I came in late in the afternoon. I would have to plead another headache. I could not face them that evening. I did not want to see Malcolm. He was as much involved in this as I was and when I thought of the letters I was nauseated. It was clear from them what his relationship with Susannah had been and what I could not understand was why he was leading me on to believe he accepted me. He must have known from the very beginning that I was an impostor. What game was he playing? I needed time ... lots of it... to try to make sense of this.

Janet came in with a tray. "They're concerned," she said. "That's two nights you've not been down to dinner. What's wrong."

"Just a headache."

"It's not natural for young girls to have headaches. You'd better see a doctor."

I shook my head and she left me.

When she came back for the tray she saw that I had eaten nothing.

She came and stood at the foot of my bed looking at me.

"You'd better tell me," she said. "In a bit of trouble, I'll be bound."

I did not answer.

"You'd better tell me. I might be able to help. I've helped you quite a bit, I believe, right from the start when you came here pretending to be Miss Susannah."

"Janet!" I cried.

"Think I didn't know? Think you could fool me? You might deceive poor Mrs. Emerald with her sight being like it is and her not taking much notice of anything but herself. But you don't fool me. I knew you were Miss Anabel's girl from the moment I saw you."

"You ... knew!"

"Suewellyn!" she said. "I saw you once when you were a little thing. Anabel and Joel came. They were a reckless pair. Yes, I guessed who you were. You look that little bit like Susannah ... but there's a world of difference in you two. I had to do my best for Anabel's girl. I was really fond of her. She was a lovely young thing. It was just what she would have done herself, I reckon. Oh yes, I knew who you were."

All I could say was: "Oh, Janet!"

She came round to me and put her arms about me. The show of emotion and affection was all the more effective because she was usually so undemonstrative.

She said: "There, little 'un. I'll do what I can. You shouldn't have tried to be Susannah. It's like a dove pretending to be a hawk. She had the Devil in her, Susannah did. There was them that saw it and knew it and yet couldn't resist her."

"It's gone so far ..." I began.

" 'Twas bound to. You can't do that sort of thing and not meet trouble sooner or later. Life's not a game of masks and pretends."

I said: "I don't know what to do. I'll have to go away."

"Yes," she agreed. "Go away and start something fresh. They'll look for you, though. Mr. Malcolm would want to know where you were, wouldn't he? You seem to have become fond of each other."

"Please ..." I whispered.

"All right. All right. It's funny. He couldn't abide Susannah. It was the same with Garth. I reckon they were just about the only two men who didn't fall into her arms. And they might have done with a bit of beckoning from her. Oh, she had all the wiles at her fingertips, that one. But she had the Devil in her ... and I said it from the first."

I could not tell Janet about the letters. I could not tell her of Leah's confession.

It was enough that she knew who I was.

It gave me a little comfort.

I could feel disaster in the air. I was uncertain what to do, what to say. I had been totally deceived in Malcolm. All the time he knew. What was he planning for me? He had pretended to believe I was Susannah. Why? He had acted superbly. But perhaps I had too.

I was in a daze. I even thought of running away, hiding myself, going to Australia ... working my passage over ... going to Laura or the property and asking for sanctuary.

No, I would talk to Malcolm. I would say: "Yes, I am a cheat and a liar and you do well to despise me. But you are a murderer. You planned with Susannah to kill Esmond and then she went away and you did it. At least I did not kill. I only took what would have been Susannah's if she had lived. And I am her half sister. I know what I took is legally yours now ... but you murdered for it."

I could not go yet. I had to see Malcolm first. I had to explain to him why I had done what I had and I wanted to know why he had pretended to believe I was Susannah.

The day passed uneasily. It was just before dinner when the blow fell.

We were going to dine in the small dining room as we did except when there were visitors. As I came down the stairs I saw a man in the hall.

When he saw me he stood very still. Then he came bounding towards me.

"Susannah!" he cried. Then he stopped short.

"Hello," I said, smiling. He was evidently someone I should know.

He merely stared at me.

I took a step down the stairs. He took my hands and his face was close to mine.

"It's nice to see you," I stammered.

Just at that moment Emerald came to the top of the stairs.

"I'm glad you're back, Garth," she said.

So now I knew.

"I haven't seen Susannah since she went to Australia," said Garth.

"No, you haven't, have you?" I said feebly.

"Let's go to dinner," put in Emerald. "Oh, here's Malcolm. Malcolm, Garth's here."

"So I see," said Malcolm.

I looked at him warily. He was the same as ever. None would have guessed that he could be capable of planning cold-blooded murder.

I tried to remember what I had heard of Garth. He was the son of Elizabeth Larkham, who had been companion to Emerald when Anabel lived at the castle. He paid periodic visits to the castle still.

We went in to dinner.

"How did you like Australia?" Garth asked me,

I told him I had enjoyed it till the tragedy.

"The tragedy?" Of course, I thought, he wouldn't have heard.

I said: "The island where my father lived was destroyed by a volcano which erupted."

"That was rather dramatic, wasn't it?"

"It was tragic," I said; and I was aware of the tremor in my voice.

"And you escaped luckily."

"I was in Australia when it happened."

"Trust you," said Garth.

"Now, Garth," said Emerald, "no sparring. I know how you two are when you have been together five minutes."

"We'll behave, won't we, Susannah?"

"We'll try," I added.

He asked several questions about the island and I answered with an emotion which I could not suppress. Then Malcolm changed the subject to that of the castle and we all joined in. I gathered that Malcolm did not like Garth very much, and I fancied the feeling was mutual. Once or twice I caught Garth's eyes on me and he looked as though he were puzzled.

I was getting more and more uneasy, for he was assessing me.

"She's changed," he said at length. "Do you think so, Malcolm?"

"Susannah?" answered Malcolm. "Oh yes, indeed she has. A visit to Australia had a marked effect on her."

"It was a considerable adventure," I reminded them, "and in view of what happened ..."

"Yes, in view of what happened," said Garth slowly.

"Susannah is proving herself to be an excellent custodian ... or should we say seneschal," said Malcolm. He turned to me, smiling. "I must say I was a little surprised."

"You didn't have much of an opinion of me then?" I murmured.

"I can't say that I had. I never thought you'd give the time and thought to the job. I didn't think you'd be interested enough in the tenants."

"So she is proving a model of virtue, is she?" said Garth. "I must say that shakes me."

"Garth, please ..." said Emerald.

"All right, all right," said Garth. "Only I must say that the very thought of Susannah's sprouting wings amuses me. I'll have to get used to it, I suppose. What did you do, Susannah? Turn over a new leaf, repent the folly of your ways ... or what?"

"I am interested in everything about the castle naturally."

"Yes, you always were ... in a way. And now ... coming into possession ... I suppose makes a difference."

Somehow I got through that uneasy dinner hour. As we rose from the table Malcolm said: "I haven't seen much of you these last few days. Where have you been hiding?"

"I haven't been feeling very well," I told him.

A solicitous look came into his eyes. "You involve yourself too much with these people. A little is all very well ..."

"I'm all right," I insisted. "Just a little tired."

I went up to my room.

I was thinking: I can't go on like this. Something will have to happen. I toyed with the idea of going down to Malcolm now and telling him what I knew. Perhaps I should confess to Emerald.

I took off my dress and put on a dressing gown. I sat at my mirror staring at my reflection as though for some inspiration as to what I should do next. The mask of Susannah was still on my face. But I fancied it had slipped a little.

I heard footsteps in the corridor. They paused at my door and it was opened.

Garth stood there.

He was grinning at me. He came towards me and his eyes did not leave my face as he approached.

"I don't know who you are," he said, "but there is one thing I do know and that is that you are not Susannah."

I stood up. "Will you please leave my room," I said.

"No," he replied. "Who the hell are you? What are you doing here pretending to be Susannah? Looking a little like her, yes. But you can't fool me. You're a fraud. Who are you, I say?"

I did not answer. He took me by the shoulders and forced my head back. He brought his face close to mine.

"If anybody knows Susannah, I do. I know every inch of Susannah. Where is she? What have you done with her? Where have you come from?"

"Let me go," I cried.

"When you tell me."

"I ... I am Susannah."

"You're a liar. What's happened to you then? You've become a saint, have you? So good to all the people. Winning the approval of second cousin Malcolm. What's the idea? You say you are Susannah. Then let's continue where we left off, shall we? Come, Susannah, you were never so retiring before. Do you realize how long it is since we were together?" He had pulled me to him and started kissing me ... in a violent, savage sort of way. He tore at my dressing gown. He seemed to be working himself into a frenzy.

"Stop," I cried.

He paused and there was something demoniacal in his laughter.

"If you're Susannah," he said, "show me. You were never exactly shy. Insatiable, that was you, Susannah. You know you wanted me as much as I wanted you. That's why it was such fun."

I cried: "Let me go. I am not Susannah."

He released me. "Ah," he said, "now you are going to tell me the truth. Where is Susannah?"

"Susannah is dead. She died in the volcanic eruption on Vulcan Island."

"And who in God's name are you?"

"Her half sister."

"Lord save us. You're Anabel's brat. Anabel's and Joel's."

"They were my parents."

"And you were with them on that island... ."

"Yes. Susannah came. I went to Australia to attend a friend's wedding and while I was there the volcano erupted. It killed everyone on the island."

"And so ... you took her place." He looked at me with something like admiration. "Clever girl!" he added. "Clever little girl!"

"Now you will tell them, I suppose. I've confessed. And I'm glad. I can't go on with this."

"A good plan," he said, eying me speculatively. "You took possession of the castle, didn't you? One in the eye for Malcolm.

What a joke!" He started to laugh. "Esmond died and that gave the castle to Susannah ... and then little bastard sister comes along and decides she'll have it. I call that rich. I like it in a way. But it's not foolproof, is it, and when Susannah's constant lover and devoted slave comes along he finds a cuckoo in the nest."

I knew then that he was the writer of those letters. He frightened me.

"It was wicked of me," I said. "I realize that now. I'm going to tell them and I shall go away."

"You could be prosecuted for fraud, you little schemer. No, you mustn't confess. That's silly. I shan't give you away. I'll think of some way round this. So she's dead, is she? Susannah! She was a witch. She was an enchantress. You'll never be that, my dear little impostor. You haven't got what she had. Who else ever had? Oh, Susannah ... I was thinking that tonight would be what it used to be. Why did she want to go to that wretched island? ..." He was genuinely moved. He brightened suddenly. "Never let misfortune overwhelm you," he went on. "Never cry over what's done and dead and gone. I'm not going to, I promise you. You've got the castle now. All right then. I might let you keep it ... if you'll share it with me."

"What do you mean?"

"Susannah and I were going to be married when Esmond died."

"You ... you killed Esmond."

He gripped my wrist. "Never say that out loud. Esmond died. He had a recurrence of a former illness. This last time he did not recover."

It was all sickening. I was learning so much, but there was one piece of knowledge which gladdened my heart: I had made a mistake about the man who had written those letters; it was not Malcolm but Garth.

Mingling with the terror which Garth created was the delight that Malcolm had never been Susannah's lover and that he was not involved in the murder of Esmond.

Garth came close to me and put his hands on my shoulders. "You and I know too much about each other, little imitation Susannah. We shall have to work together and I see a way. Yes, I do." He lifted my chin in his hands and looked into my face. I shrank from him. I was afraid of the glitter in his eyes. "I came home thinking that this night Susannah and I would be together.

I was starved for Susannah. And she is dead ... that lovely, desirable, wicked insatiable witch is dead. That enchantress of men has gone. The Devil has taken back his own." He almost threw me from him and sat down heavily. He brought down his fist on the dressing table. Then he stared ahead. I wondered what he was going to do next.

Suddenly he began to laugh. "So you died, Susannah. You let me down by dying... . Never mind. I'll get along without you. You've sent me someone who looks a little like you. I could pretend she was you ... at times." He turned to me. "Come here," he said.

"I shall do no such thing. Please go."

"I want to look at you. You've got to make me forget I've lost Susannah."

"I am going to leave the castle," I said. "You must go tomorrow."

"Indeed! The Queen of the Castle speaks. Never mind that she has usurped the crown and I know it. You think I'm going to be ordered about by you, do you? No, little Queen with no right to the crown, you are going to do as I say. Then you can go on being Queen for as long as I shall let you."

"Listen," I insisted. "I'm going to tell them. I'm going away from here. You can do your worst."

"Spirit!" he commented. "And not unexpected. If you'd been spineless you'd never be here, would you? I've a plan forming in my mind and it could be good for both of us. I fancy you, my little one. You are like Susannah ... in a way, and that could be piquant." He took my hand and tried to draw me to him. "Let us put the matter to the test. Let us see if it would work. If I like you I'd marry you. And we'd rule together as Susannah and I promised ourselves we would."

"Please take your hands off me," I cried, "and go. If you don't I shall ring the bell and call for help."

"And what if I were to tell them what a wicked girl you are?"

"You may do so. I intend to tell them myself."

"I believe you would. That would be foolish. It would spoil everything. Malcolm would be proclaimed true heir and we don't want that, do we? No. Keep quiet. I'll make a plan. It'll be like planning with Susannah."

"I shall not make any plans with you."

"You have no help for it. It's either be kind to me or the end of your little game."

"My little game is over now."

"It need not be."

"If the only alternative is to go on planning with you it is definitely over."

"Nice words. Nobly spoken." He swayed on his heels, looking at me. "I like you more every minute. It was a bit of a shock finding you weren't Susannah. But it's no use harking back, is it? I'll go now ... if you want me to. But plans are forming in my head. We are going to make a good thing of this ... you and I together."

I could only say: "Please go ... now... ."

He nodded.

Then he came over to me and kissed me hard on the mouth.

"Oh yes," he whispered, "I like you, little mock Susannah. You're going to come round to my way of thinking. We're going to work our way through this together."

Then he was gone.

I pulled my dressing gown over my shoulders; which were red where he had roughly handled me.

I felt sick and very frightened.

What could I do now?

As I sat there, there was a knock on my door. I sprang up, fearing that he had come back.

"Who's there?" I whispered.

"It's only Janet."

I opened the door.

"My patience me! What's wrong?"

I said: "Nothing ... nothing... . It's all right, Janet."

"Don't nothing me. I know better than that. Garth's been in here. I saw him going out. What's he up to?"

"He knows, Janet."

"I guessed as much. I was afraid when he came. There was something between him and Susannah. There was something between her and a lot of them. She couldn't resist men ... and there's nothing that men like better than that."

"Oh, Janet," I cried wearily, "what am I going to do? I should never have done this."

"Well, you did, and what's done is done. It's brought you back to the castle and that's where you belong by rights. You should have come back and said who you were. I doubt you would have been turned away."

"Janet ... Garth ... who is he?"

"Elizabeth Larkham's boy. He used to be here a lot when he was young. Used to come here because his mother was here."

"Yes, I know that. But who was his father?"

"David of course. Elizabeth was supposed to be a widow, but, well, she'd been David's mistress before she came here ... and Garth was the result. She called herself a widow and came to be under the same roof as her lover. They're like that, these Mate-lands. Always have been through the ages, I reckon. Leopards can't change spots and Matelands can't change their ways either."

I was thinking: Mateland blood! Garth of course. Not Malcolm. I was deeply relieved because Malcolm was completely exonerated.

I found myself telling Janet all that had happened. It was a relief to pour it out. At least I knew that she was a friend. I told her everything about David's encounter with me on my way home from school and how Anabel had come to collect me and we had gone off together.

She listened attentively. She wanted to know how Anabel had lived on the island, about her happiness there.

"And did she ever mention me?" she asked.

"She did," I told her, "and always with affection."

"She should have taken me with her," said Janet. "But then I'd have been blown up and not able to look after you."

"What shall I do, Janet?" I asked. "I must tell them, of course. I'll tell Malcolm tomorrow."

"Yes," answered Janet, "but let's think about it first."

She sat with me until late and then I went to bed. I was so exhausted that, to my surprise, I slept through until morning.

The next day when I arose I learned that Malcolm had gone out and that he would be away all day.

That gave me a day's respite, for I had come to the conclusion that it should be to Malcolm that I made my confession.

I went down to breakfast. I was glad no one was there, for I could only manage a cup of coffee. While I was drinking it, Chaston appeared. Jack Chivers had come to see me again.

I took him into the small room off the main hall where I had seen him before.

"It's Leah again," he told me.

"The baby ... ?"

"No, it's her father. She says to come to her as soon as you can."

I went upstairs, changed into my riding kit and rode over to the cottage.

Leah was waiting, her big eyes showing great concern.

"It's my father again. He's left this for you. He said I was to give it into your own hands."

I took the envelope she gave me, slit it, took out a sheet of paper and read what it contained.

I've got something to say to you, Miss Susannah, and I want to say it quick. You tried to murder Mr. Esmond and my brother was a help to you. He was a good man but you are a witch and there's not many can hold out against witches. Now you've got to pay for it. I want a lease to give me the farm for the rest of my days and then to be renewed for Amos and Reuben. I want new equipment and everything that can make the farm flourish again. You may say this is blackmail. Maybe it is. But you can't betray me without betraying yourself. Come to the barn ... the one where poor Saul hanged himself. Come at nine tonight and have a paper with you promising me what I ask for, and I'll give you my word that I'll keep quiet about what I know. Fail me and the next day everyone will know what you got from Saul and the real reason why he killed himself.

I stared at the paper. Leah continued to watch me, her eyes full of anxiety.

I put the letter in its envelope and thrust them into my pocket.

"Oh, Miss Susannah," said Leah, "I hope it's not too bad."

I looked at her sadly. I thought: I shall never see the baby when it comes. I shall be far away. Where? I wondered. I should never see the castle again. I should never see Malcolm.

I don't know how I got through that day.

Janet came into my room during the morning. On impulse I showed her Jacob Cringle's letter.

"Looks like a bit of blackmail to me," she said.

"He hates Susannah," I replied. "I understand it. He thinks she was responsible for Saul's death."

"You mustn't go there tonight."

"I'm going to tell Malcolm when I see him."

"Yes," said Janet. "Make a clean breast of it. I don't think he'll be too hard. I think he's a bit soft on you. You were such a change ... after Susannah. He couldn't abide her."

"I'll have to go away, Janet. I'll have to leave everything... ."

"You'll be back. I just feel it in my bones. But wait and tell Malcolm. That's your best plan."

"So I thought."

I went out so that I did not need to come back for luncheon. I had another day here, for Malcolm could not be back until late. I would not speak to him today. It would be tomorrow.

I came back and went to my room. It was the middle of the afternoon. I took out Jacob Cringle's letter and read it again.

The strange thing was that I had been turning over in my mind the possibility of giving new equipment to the Cringles' farm, to give Jacob an incentive to work harder, for I knew he was a good farmer. I should in time have given him all he was demanding. But he hated me ... because he thought I was Susannah. I wanted to tell him that I understood, he wanted vengeance. But how could I?

As I sat there, the letter in my hand, the door opened and to my horror I saw that it was Garth.

"Ah, the little impostor," he said. "Are you glad to see me?"

"No," I answered.

"And what have you got there?"

He snatched the letter from me and when he read it his expression changed.

"Silly man!" he said. "He knows too much."

"I am not going to see him," I replied.

"But you must."

"I am going to tell Malcolm as soon as I get the chance. There will be no need for me to see Jacob Cringle."

He was thoughtful, looking at me through narrowed eyes.

"If you don't see him he will come to the castle. He will shout the truth for all to hear. You should see him and explain who you are. Tell him that, and he'll have no case. Susannah is dead. That's the end of it. It's the only way."

"I think I should tell Malcolm first."

"Malcolm will not be back until late tonight. You have to see Jacob first."

I was thoughtful.

"I'll come with you. I'll protect you," he said. "I don't need you with me."

"Very well. But it won't do for him to go about shouting all this." He tapped the letter. "I'll see him tonight. I'll explain." He nodded. To my surprise he did not pester me further.

I had made up my mind. I was going to see Jacob Cringle. I was going to tell him that I was not Susannah, that I had never known his brother Saul and that Susannah was dead. Perhaps that would satisfy him and ease his craving for revenge.

Then I was coming back and I was going to tell Malcolm the truth.

I felt a sense of relief. My mad masquerade was coming to an end. Whatever the price asked, I must pay it and bear whatever was coming to me, for I deserved it.

The day seemed as though it would never end. I was glad when it was time for dinner, though I could not eat. Garth, Emerald and I kept up some sort of conversation. I can't remember what I said but, whatever it was, it was very vague, I am sure. I was thinking all the time of what I was going to say to Jacob Cringle and most of all how I would tell Malcolm afterwards.

I dreaded the evening and yet I could not wait for it to come.

When the meal was over I hurried to my room and changed into my riding habit. It was half past eight and my rendezvous with Jacob Cringle was for nine o'clock. It would take me ten minutes to ride to the barn.

Janet came in. She was very distressed.

"You ought not to go," she said. "I don't like it."

"I must go, Janet," I told her. "I have to talk to Jacob Cringle. He must have an explanation. His brother died and he blames Susannah. I took her place ... and I feel I owe him an explanation."

"To write a letter like that... it's nothing short of blackmail and blackmailers are bad people."

"I don't think it is quite as simple as that. I think there is a difference in this case. Anyway, I've made up my mind."

As we stood there we heard the sound of a horse's hoofs below.

"That would be Malcolm," said Janet, looking at me steadily.

"I shall tell him tonight. As soon as I get back I shall tell him."

"Don't go," begged Janet urgently.

But I shook my head.

She stood still looking after me as I went out.

In the stables I mounted my horse. Malcolm's was there. So it was he who had just come in. One of the grooms would be coming soon to tend his horse, so I had to be quick.

I rode out of the stables. The barn looked eerie in moonlight. I had never got over my dread of the place since I had seen that horrible thing hanging there.

I tied up my horse and as I was doing so I heard the sound of a rider approaching. I thought it must be Jacob. I looked around me and someone was leaping down beside me. It was Garth.

"I'm coming with you," he said.

"But ..." I began.

"No buts," he commanded. "You can't handle this alone. You need help."

"I want no help."

"But you're going to get it whether you want it or not."

He took my arm. I tried to shrug him off but he held on firmly.

"Come on," he said.

The barn door creaked as we opened it. We went in. Jacob was there with the lantern. I saw that the scarecrow was still hanging from the rafters.

"So you've come, miss," said Jacob, and broke off when he saw that I was not alone.

"Yes," I said, "I came. I've come to tell you that you are mistaken."

"Not me, miss. You can't talk me out of this. My brother Saul killed himself, they say, but it was you what led him to it."

"No, no. I'm not Susannah Mateland. I am her half sister. I took her place."

Garth was gripping my arm so strongly that it hurt.

"Shut up, you little fool," he muttered.

Then he said loudly, blusteringly: "What's all this about, Cringle? You're trying to blackmail Miss Mateland."

"Miss Mateland ruined us when she lured my brother to his death. We lost heart then. I want a chance to start again ... that's all ... to build up the farm ... as she took him away from us, so she should give this to us."

"And what will you do, my good man, if I tell you that this night's work has lost you your farm?"

I caught my breath. "No ... no, that's not so... ."

"I'll tell you what I'd say," cried Jacob. "I'd say I'd make this place too hot to hold you two. I'd have you brought to justice."

"Do you know what you have done, Cringle?" murmured Garth lightly. "You have just signed your death warrant."

"What do you mean ... ?" began Jacob.

I screamed, for Garth had taken a pistol from his pocket and was pointing it at Jacob. But Jacob was too quick for him. He made a dash for Garth and caught the hand which held the weapon.

The two men struggled. I stood cowering against the wall.

Then the door opened and someone came in just as the pistol shot rang out. I stared in horror at the blood spattering the wall.

The pistol had fallen to the ground, and Jacob Cringle was staring at the body lying there.

It was Malcolm who had come in and the sight of him overwhelmed me with relief. He knelt beside Garth.

"He's dead," he said quietly.

There was a terrible silence in the barn. The light from the lantern shone on that macabre scene. From the rafters the horrible scarecrow dangled, his face turning towards us ... with the red gash in its face where the mouth should have been.

And on the floor lay Garth.

Jacob Cringle covered his face with his hands and began to sob. "I've killed him. I've killed him. I've done murder. 'Twas Satan's work."

Malcolm said nothing for a moment. I thought the terrible silence was going on and on. It was like a nightmare. I could not believe it was real. I was desperately hoping that I should wake up soon.

Then Malcolm spoke. "Something has to be done ... and quickly."

Jacob lowered his hands and stared at him. Malcolm was pale; he looked grim and determined.

"He's dead," he said. "There's no doubt of it."

"And I killed him," whispered Jacob. "Damned forever, I be."

"You killed him defending yourself," said Malcolm. "If you hadn't killed him he would have killed you. That's self-defense and no crime. We have to act quickly. Now listen to me, Jacob.

You've let your lust for revenge get the better of your good sense. You're a good man at heart, Jacob, and you'd be a better one if you were not so self-righteous. We've got to act at once. I've thought of this rather quickly, so it may have flaws. On the face of it, it seems it might work. You're going to help me."

"W-what, sir?"

"After tonight you shall have a lease on the farm for yourself and your children, and you shall have the equipment to make the farm prosperous again. This lady is not Miss Susannah Mateland. She has been masquerading as the owner of the castle. You will understand in due course. But there could be trouble. A man has been killed tonight and no matter how it happened there will be questions asked and blame attached. You and I are going to set fire to this barn, Jacob. We are going to wipe out all trace of what happened tonight. Well leave the lantern here among the hay. The fire has to seem accidental. Two people are going to appear to have died in the fire. Garth Larkham and this lady. This will be the end of Susannah Mateland as well as Garth Larkham."

He turned to me. "Listen carefully. You will go back to the castle, take as much money as you can lay your hands on. Take my horse, not your own. Leave yours here. Try not to be seen, but if you are, act naturally. Don't let it be seen that you are riding my horse, so don't take it to the stables. Tether it in the woods while you return to the castle. When you have taken the money come back to my horse and ride to Denborough station. It is a distance of twenty miles. Stay at the inn there and leave my horse. I will collect it tomorrow. Take the train to London. There is one at six in the morning. And when you are in London you will assume your real identity ... and lose yourself."

I felt desperately unhappy. My masquerade was over and so was everything that was worthwhile to me. I could hear the coldness in his voice. He despised me.

He had, of course, every reason to. But at least he was giving me a chance to escape.

He said: "Give me that ring you are wearing."

I stammered: "My father gave it to me."

"Give it to me," he went on sternly. "And your belt and your brooch."

With trembling fingers I drew them off and gave them to him.

"They will provide some evidence of your presence here in the burned-out barn, even though they won't find your body. Well, Jacob, what do you say?"

"I'll do as you say, sir. 'Tis true I had no intent to kill him. It just went off."

"I think he intended to kill you, Jacob, to silence you forever. Give me the pistol. It comes from the castle. I'll take it back." He turned to me. "What are you waiting for? Count yourself fortunate. It's time you were off."

I moved away. He called after me: "You know what to do. It's imperative not to make a mistake. Get out ... unseen if you possibly can ... and don't forget, take the six o'clock train to London."

I stumbled out as though in a daze. I took his horse and rode back to the castle.

No one saw me as I went to my room. Janet was there, looking very agitated.

"I sent him off after you," she said. "I showed him Jacob's note and told him who you were."

"Oh, Janet," I said, "it's the end. I'm going away ... tonight."

"Tonight!" she cried.

"Yes. You'll hear what happened. Garth is dead. But it's all going to seem different from what it actually was. And I'm to go right away ... away from you all, Janet."

"I'm coming with you."

"No, you can't. It wouldn't work if you did. I've got to disappear and people have to think I was burned to death in the barn with Garth."

"I don't understand all this," said Janet.

"You will... and you'll know the truth. It's the end. It has to be the end. I must obey him. He said I was not to delay but to get away quickly. I must go. I must take what money I can. I'm going to London. I have to make a new life for myself."

Janet ran out of the room while I collected what money I could. It was not a great deal but with care it would last a few months. Janet came back with a bag full of sovereigns and a cameo brooch.

"Take them," she said. "And let me know what happens. Write to me. Promise. No ... swear. Always let me know where you are. The brooch was given to me by Anabel. It'll fetch a nice little bit."

"I can't take this, Janet."

"You can and I'll be mortally offended if you don't. Take it ... and let me know where you are ... always."

"I will, Janet."

"That's a solemn vow."

She put her arms round me and we clung together for a few moments. It was the first time I had ever seen Janet show great emotion.

Then I left the castle. I went to that spot where I had tethered Malcolm's horse. I stopped only for a moment to look back at the castle shimmering ghostlike in the moonlight.

As I turned and rode away I saw a conflagration on the other side of the woods. I could smell the acrid burning and I knew that the barn was now on fire. It was destroying the evidence of what had happened that night. Garth was dead; Susannah was dead. The masquerade was over.