Виктория Холт - Time of the Hunter's Moon

"Knock," she said. "She'll call for you to go in. She likes visitors. The trouble is that when she starts to talk she doesn't know when to stop. I hope you've got plenty of time!"

"The whole day," said John.

We walked across the Green.

"-Well," he said, "we didn't draw entirely a blank."

It was as the lady of the house had said. We knocked and were bidden to enter.

Mrs. Clint was in bed, a bright old lady in a white cap from which fine grey hairs straggled; she wore woollen mittens over her claw-like hands.

"I thought it was my daughter dropping in with the broth she's bringing for my dinner," she said. "Who are you?"

"We have to apologize for disturbing you," said John. "But the lady from the big house across the common told us that you might be able to help us."

"That's Mrs. Carstairs from London. They don't belong here. What do you want from me? Give a seat to the young lady and you have that rush chair. Mind, it's a bit weak. Old Bob hasn't been round mending this year. I don't know ... people nowadays. Used to come regular as clockwork. He'd do the chairs and sharpen the scissors. You could rely on him once. What are you looking for?"

"Mark Chessingham or Edward Compton."

"Mark Whatsisname ... no. And if it's Edward Compton you're looking for, the graveyard's the place for you."

"We might have the wrong name," said John. "The man we are looking for is tall and fair. He has a slight accent ... Might have been German. Very faint ... almost unnoticeable."

"Oh yes," I said excitedly. "I remember that. He had. So you noticed."

Mrs. Clint scratched her head through her cap.

"Twenty years or more, the whole house burned down. The children ... It was a blow to the village. But not many remembers now . . only us old ones." She paused. "A bit of an accent you say and he lived here ... I only ever heard a German accent once. My son Jimmy he had an ear for that sort of thing. He was a builder and he went abroad with his master on some big job. When he came back he said the Dowlings had German accents. The mother was German you see. Dowling he wasn't much good. Worked up at the big house at one time. Drink, it was ... His downfall. Never had a job after the Manor went."

"Who had the German accent?" asked John.

"She did. Well, she couldn't speak much English. Couldn't always grasp what she was trying to say. My Jimmy used to say you could understand that with her, but the young ones, born over here .. . brought up over here ... you'd think they'd be different."

"And what was their name, did you say?"

"Dowling."

"Could we see them?"

"If you know where they've gone to you could." She gave a hoarse chuckle. "What'll stop you is, you don't know where they are. They went away ... all of them. There was a boy and a girl ... very handsome both of them. Some said they went to Germany. Old Dowling had gone by then. So had she. He took more than the usual and one night fell down the stairs. He lingered for a few months. Then that was the end. That was years ago. Always together they was ... the brother and sister. They were what you might call a devoted family."

"You have been a great help to us, Mrs. Clint."

"Have I now? I'm glad of that."

"Thank you very much and now we have to be getting on. Good day to you."

"A good morning's work," said John as we came out onto the green.

"So you think we've discovered something?"

"Only that the Dowlings were half German and although Lydia's husband never said that he was, it is in my mind that he must be."

It had been an interesting time and I had enjoyed being with John as I had done before; we had found out very little in Suffolk and we did not even know if that was relevant; the mystery remained as deep as ever; but at least I knew that my stranger had gone from me to Lydia and I constantly asked myself why he had come first to me and then given a false name; and why should it have been that of someone long dead?

It was baffling and somehow alarming to think that he had gone straight to Lydia and disappeared as far as I was concerned without even saying he was going.

It was certainly mysterious and I still had a niggling feeling that he might not have been human, that he was some spirit of doom, the ghost perhaps of that boy-or man-whose life had been cut short and now lay in Croston churchyard. Fanciful thinking, but then the matter was fanciful.

Daisy had welcomed me back and implied, with only the slightest trace of reproach, that I had been missed. After all, it was the half-term holiday and if one could get away one was entitled to do so.

"Eugenie had another bad turn while you were away," she told me. "Charlotte came and wakened me."

"That's rather alarming," I said. "I hope she is not sickening for something."

"It was the same sort of thing ... sickness and giddiness. It was a little worse than last time. I got the doctor in to have a look at her."

"What did he say?"

"Just what I thought. Something she had eaten did not agree with her."

"But that's the second time it's happened."

"She may have some weakness internally. There may be something which she cannot digest." "Was it fish again?"

"No. Oddly enough. It was stew. All the others were all right. I had some myself. It was very good."

"You don't think she's in a nervous state, do you? That could have this effect."

"That's what I mentioned to the doctor. She must miss her sister."

"Although she was always more friendly with Charlotte than she was with Fiona."

"Well, blood is thicker than water. I think she may feel restless. It's a pity Fiona doesn't bring that husband of hers to the Hall and make it all normal. I think that would be a help."

"I am sure it would and perhaps she will in time."

"We'll watch Eugenie and see if we can find out what is upsetting her."

"Yes, we'll do that."

When I took my afternoon ride I met Jason Verringer. He had evidently been waiting to catch me.

I said: "Good day," and galloped on. But he was beside me.

"Slow down," he said. "I want to talk to you."

"I have no wish to talk to you," I flung over my shoulder.

He brought his horse directly in front of mine so that I had to slow down.

"I've had enough of this," he said angrily. "How long is it since I've seen you?"

I felt an excitement grip me and realized afresh how much I enjoyed my battles with him. He might subdue me through his greater physical strength but never mentally. I was a match for him and I couldn't help revelling in making that clear.

"Did you expect me to call? Leave my card with grateful thanks."

"My dearest Cordelia, how wonderful it is to be with you again! I have been so bored ... so wretched ..."

"I have always believed that you are prone to self pity. I have to get back to school now."

"You have just come out."

"It is such a short break."

"I hear you have some new and very charming friends. The Markhams. I know the name. City bankers. A very respectable family."

"How knowledgeable you are!"

"I make a point of knowing what you are doing." "You waste your time for it can be of no importance to you."

"Stop it. You know it is of the utmost importance. Let us go into the woods. We can tic up our horses and we can talk comfortably."

"You must think me very gullible if you think I would ever put myself in a vulnerable position with you around."

"Are you never going to forget?"

"Never."

"If you had not been so unadventurous it could have been the turning point. I could have shown you what you are missing."

"You showed me very clearly. That is why I am asking you not to try to see me again alone. I know that, because of the school, a certain amount of contact is necessary and unavoidable. But I want no more than that."