I took stock of him as we walked along. He was as tall as Gordon Lewyth, but he lacked Gordon’s massive frame, and was rather slender. He had regular features, merry blue-gray eyes and an easy-going, pleasant expression. I thought: So this is the enemy? How fortunate that he does not extend his venom to Tregarland guests.

I was still shaken by my fall and this following on immediately made me feel a little light-headed.

As we walked across the field, he said: “Something will have to be done at once about that tree. Others on the estate may be in a similar state. Very dangerous. The gales here are a menace.”

“I imagine so. Something happened on the Tregarland farm. A roof or a fence or something.”

“Not only theirs, I imagine. How are you feeling now?”

“All right, thank you.”

“You’re shaken up a bit, I expect. You need a stiff brandy; there’s an inn close to the blacksmith’s shop…appropriately called Smithy’s. We’ll look in there and get that brandy.”

“I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you. I should have been completely bewildered if you hadn’t come along.” Then I found myself laughing.

“It is amusing?” he said.

“Yes. This morning, in the town, I dropped my glove and, because I picked it up myself, I was told I should meet a stranger whom it would be better for me not to. It seems like a reversal of the prophecy.”

“Well, if that tree hadn’t fallen, we shouldn’t have met in the field. So you could say it was right in a way.”

“I think we should have passed each other somewhere near and you would have told me that I was trespassing. So you could say in another way that she was right.”

“I am sure I should have been too polite to mention it. Ah, here is the smithy. I told you it wasn’t far.”

He took Starlight from me and led her into the blacksmith’s shop. The blacksmith was a ruddy-faced man with black hair and bright black eyes.

“Jake,” said my companion, “here’s a job for you. The mare’s cast a shoe.”

“That be so,” said Jake. “How did it ’appen, then?”

“In Three Acres. One of the trees came down suddenly in front of the horse and rider.”

“That dratted gale.”

“That dratted gale indeed!”

“ ’Twon’t be the only one, mark my words.”

“I mark them well, Jake, and endorse them. But how soon can you shoe the lady’s mare?”

“Could start on ’un right away, sir.”

The blacksmith was looking at me intently.

“You be from Tregarland’s, b’ain’t ’ee, Miss?”

Jowan Jermyn gave me an amused look. “Jake is the fount of all knowledge,” he said lightly. “The blacksmith’s shop is one of the news centers of the neighborhood.”

“Mr. Jermyn do mean I likes a bit of gossip,” Jake explained to me with a wink.

“That is a slight understatement,” commented Jowan. “But he is the best blacksmith in the Duchy. That’s so, is it not, Jake?”

“If you do say so, sir, I wouldn’t be the one to contradict ’ee.

“Now, if you will get on with the job, I am going to take the young lady into Smithy’s and give her a good strong tonic. She’s had a bit of a shock, you know.”

“I’d guess that, sir.”

I saw his chin wag and I knew it was with amusement. This would be a nice little piece of gossip. The enemy of Tregarland’s looking after Tregarland’s guest.

Now that I was beginning to recover from the shock, I was enjoying this adventure.

It occurred to me that this was the sort of thing that happened to Dorabella. If she had been with me, I believed those friendly glances would have shone in her direction rather than in mine.

The Smithy was warm and inviting. A fire was burning in the big open fireplace around which badges and ornaments had been attached. They glistened in the glow from the fire. There was no one else in the inn parlor.

“Sit down,” said my companion. Then he went to the door and called: “Tom, Tom, where are you?”

Then, as a woman appeared: “Ah, Mrs. Brodie, here you are. Jake’s shoeing this lady’s mare. She cast a shoe and there was a bit of a spill.”

“Oh, my patience me!” She was large and round, had rosy cheeks and little sparkling dark eyes which studied me with great interest. “Not hurt, I hope, Miss…?”

“No, thank you very much.”

“Fortunately,” went on Jowan. “But she needs a brandy. We’ll both have one, please, Mrs. Brodie.”

“I’ll get ’un right away, sir.” She smiled at me. “It’ll do you the world of good.”

I sat back in the armchair and smiled at my companion.

“This is extremely good of you,” I said.

“You have already mentioned that. Let me tell you that I am only too pleased to be of use.”

I went on: “It is good of you…particularly in view of…the feud.”

He laughed. I noticed his strong white teeth as he did so.

“That!” he said. “That’s only between the families, you know.”

“I was just thinking how glad I was that it did not extend to the guests.”

“My dear Miss…I am sorry, I don’t know your name.”

“It’s Denver.”

“My dear Miss Denver, even if you possessed the accursed name of Tregarland, I could never desert you in distress.”

Mrs. Brodie appeared with two glasses.

He said: “Perhaps we should have something to eat.”

Mrs. Brodie stood there, smiling from one of us to the other.

“There are those wonderful brandy cakes. Mrs. Brodie is the champion cook in Cornwall. Is that not so, Mrs. Brodie?”

Mrs. Brodie’s answer was the same as the blacksmith’s.

“If you do say so, sir.”

I thought: He knows how to treat these people. And I was sure that, in the feud, he would have them on his side. Gordon Lewyth’s dour manner would not have the same appeal; the old man might have been different at one time, but he would not go around now; and Dermot…I was unsure of Dermot.

“The lady should eat something with her brandy, shouldn’t she, Mrs. Brodie?”

“Certain sure, sir.”

“Then brandy cakes it is.” He smiled at me. “You’ll like them.”

The cakes were brought. They looked delicious. I took a sip of the brandy. It was warming and comforting, and the shaken feeling was fast disappearing. The cosy room, the firelight on the brasses, the excitement of meeting the man who was concerned in the Tregarland feud…it was all amusing and exciting and just what I needed in my present mood.

“I must confess, Miss Denver, that I know who you are,” he was saying. “You are going to marry Dermot Tregarland.”

“You are wrong. That is my sister—my twin sister.”

“Oh, I see. I am not as knowledgeable as I thought. I was wondering where the prospective bridegroom was and why he was not accompanying his fiancée on her ride.”

“My parents are here,” I said, “and naturally I came too. It is just a brief visit.”

“Your twin sister,” he mused.

“The news service was not as good as you thought,” I said.

“I shall complain,” he replied with a grin. “Well, that is interesting. Your parents and you with your sister…inspecting the terrain…and the family.”

“It is not exactly like that.”

“That’s putting it bluntly. Please forgive me. Naturally your parents want to see whom your sister is proposing to marry.”

“I daresay his family would want to inspect us.”

“Very likely. And how was this? Amicable? Did all meet with approval? Forgive me again. You see, I should never have been invited to meet your family because…”

“Because of the feud.”

“That is why I consider myself extremely fortunate to have met you in this most unexpected way.”

“My parents will be full of gratitude to you when they hear what you have done for me.”

“It was a great pleasure. Do have another of these cakes of Mrs. Brodie’s. They really are good, aren’t they?”

I agreed that they were.

“And are you really feeling better now?”

I assured him I was.

“I am so glad of that.” He looked as though he meant it sincerely. I thought: There is something very pleasant about him. What a pity he is not on speaking terms with the Tregarlands. I should have liked to bring my parents to thank him. I suppose that would not be possible in the circumstances.

“This feud,” I said. “How long has it been going on?”

“About a hundred years.”

“Surely now…?”

He lifted his shoulders.

“It passed on through generations. We’re rather like that in these parts. We don’t let go of the past easily.”

“If it were something good, something worth remembering, I could understand it. But in a case like this…”

“Well, we have never had anything to do with each other, so we don’t miss anything. It is just there.”

“How did it start? Nobody seems to be sure at Tregarland’s.”

“Nobody? I daresay old Mr. Tregarland remembers. Whom did you ask?”

“I haven’t really asked anyone. I thought it might not be ethical to do so. Mrs. Lewyth did not seem to know.”

“Well, she isn’t one of the family, is she? Or is she?”

“She is a great friend of them all.”

“And looks after the place. And the son…well, he is Tregarlands…as far as the estate is concerned.”

“He seems to be very involved in that.”

“Far more so than the son of the house.”

“So Mr. Lewyth really runs it.”

“That’s common knowledge. The son does not seem to have much feeling for the place. He gets away when he can.”

“We met him in Germany,” I said.

“He’s always been away a good deal. You can’t run an estate like that by not being there. So, you haven’t had a very long acquaintance with him?”

“No. There was just this meeting. We were visiting friends and he was on holiday. He and my sister…”

“Fell in love at first sight.”

I was amazed at myself for talking to him so frankly; I supposed it was because I was really in a very grateful mood after what had happened, and there was something about him which inspired confidences. I forgot that I had met him only a short time before.

I said: “Tell me about the feud.”

“Oh…now, let me see. It was a love affair, you know. It is amazing how many of life’s problems start that way. One of my ancestors…now what was her name? I have heard it. Arabella? No, Araminta. That was it. She was very beautiful, as behoves the heroine of such a story; and as a matter of fact, there is a portrait of her in the house—and she was. The story goes that a match had been arranged for her with a gentleman whom the family considered to be highly eligible. Araminta did not agree. He was thirty years older than she was and he was very rich. I imagine it was this last which put him into such high favor with the family, for apparently finances were low at the time. The estate was not as it should be, and the gentleman’s money was needed to prop it up. This he was prepared to do in return for the hand of seventeen-year-old Araminta.”

“Poor girl!” I said.

“Poor girl, indeed. But a common enough story. Certainly nowadays there is more freedom of choice. But in those days the will of Papa was the law. However, the son of Tregarland was young and handsome. His name was Dermot.”

“Oh, the same…”

“These names run in families. Tregarland’s is spattered with Dermots. I am by no means the first Jowan in mine.”

“The way the story is going, I guess that Dermot and Araminta fell in love.”

“You are absolutely right. How could it have been otherwise? At that time there was no feud between the families. I gather that the finances at Tregarland were in no more healthy a state than those of Jermyn; in any case poor Araminta’s future had been decided. She was to marry her wealthy admirer, restore the crumbling family mansion, forgo true love, and learn to live happily ever after with the husband of her father’s choice.”

“Which she did not. It is really very sad.”

“Indeed, it is. Dermot Tregarland was not a man to stand aside and let his love be whisked from him. He made plans. He was going to elope. There was treachery somewhere and the news leaked out. It might have been through the servants. They are like detectives in our houses, especially so in those days where there were many more of them. However, it became known to the Jermyns that their daughter was planning to elope with her Tregarland lover who was to creep into the grounds by night when she would slip out to meet him. It was easy to lock her in her room, but they set a trap for him. There was a fearsome contraption which they used to set in the woods to warn off poachers. It was called a man-trap. Well, the outcome was that when Dermot came for his bride he was caught in the trap.”