It was while my parents were at Tregarland’s that September that there were significant moves on the Continent.

Germany’s recalcitrance over Czechoslovakia was coming to a head and we were on the brink of war. The Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, flew to Munich in order to confer with Hitler. And after that there was a certain relief.

Chamberlain and Daladier of France had made a pact with Hitler. He was to have the Sudetenland which he so coveted, and there would be no interference over this. For this concession, peace was to be ensured in our time.

Chamberlain flew back from Munich. There were many pictures of him at the airport. He was surrounded by reporters eager to know the results of the conference.

The Prime Minister was depicted waving a piece of paper in his hands, while quoting the well-known words of Disraeli. He told the waiting reporters that this was “Peace in our Time. Peace with Honour.”

There was general rejoicing throughout the country.

My parents went home with promises that they would come down for Christmas.

“And perhaps,” my mother said to me on parting, “by that time old Mr. Tregarland will have decided that Tristan is old enough to make a railway journey to see his grandparents.”

Jowan was not optimistic about the pact with Hitler.

“I don’t trust him,” he said. “He wants the whole of Czechoslovakia, not merely the Sudeten territory. And after Czechoslovakia…what next?”

“If he tries to take more, what then?”

“I don’t know. We have delayed too long already, but there will have to be a halt somewhere. I had heard that as soon as Chamberlain returned he went into conference with the Cabinet and made plans for rearmament.”

“That means…”

“That he does not trust Hitler.”

“Do you think he has made this pact…?”

“To give us time? Maybe. Hitler is armed to the teeth for war. We are far from that. But we shall see. Germany is thriving. She has come a long way from the privation which followed 1918. It may be that they will be content with what they have. I think if they are wise they will settle for that. They have got away with it so far. England and France have stood by, but, of course, they cannot do that indefinitely, and another step might change the picture.”

“So much…to depend on one man!”

“There is some magic in him. He has bewitched his people. They stand firmly beside him.”

“He has done terrible things to the Jews.”

“He is a monster, but a monster with a mission.”

“I think of Edward’s wife, Gretchen. She is beset by anxieties.”

“I know, and well she might be.”

“How I wish that she had brought her family here!”

“It is what is called the eleventh hour now, I believe. But cheer up. It may not happen. Don’t you find that in life something we fear never comes to pass and all our anxiety has been for nothing? When you went away, I thought I would never see you again, and look, here you are, and we have our meetings.”

He looked at me earnestly. “That was an unnecessary fear. At least, I hope so.”

“I like to think that these meetings will continue,” I said.

“You mean that…sincerely?”

“But of course. Sometimes I feel they are an escape to sanity.”

“I’m glad,” he said.

I believed that he understood what was in my mind. He knew that I should never accept the fact that I had lost Dorabella until I had proof that she was dead.

Christmas came and went. I was pleased to see my parents again. I had a letter from Richard. He had ceased to suggest that I return. I think any prospect of a serious relationship between us was fading away. He was disappointed in me and I think I was in him. It had, in a way, been a choice between him and Tristan. I had given my word to Dorabella and I supposed that, even in death, she was closer to me than anyone else.

There were times when I was faintly regretful that I had lost Richard, but others when I felt relieved. If his affection had failed on that issue, it could not have been very firmly implanted. I was beginning to see that we should not have been well suited to each other.

Poor Dermot’s condition had not improved and the doctor had hinted that it could be permanent, although naturally Dermot had not been told this. He had changed. The carefree young man had become moody. I could understand that. He was not a man with inner resources. He had enjoyed an active life. He liked to travel, to be with people. I was sorry for him. He was often melancholy during those dark days of winter.

The climate in Cornwall is a little milder than elsewhere in England. Snow was rare but the rainfall was heavy, and sometimes the winds would blow at gale force from the southwest. There were sunny days now and then, and Jack would wheel Dermot out in his chair and take him to the gardens, help him from the chair, and he would sit for a while on one of the seats looking down on the beach. I always thought that was not a good spot to be, where he could see the rocks on which Dorabella’s bathrobe had been found.

His father would sometimes sit with him. That showed a change in the old man. I was glad and liked him better because I realized that he really cared for his son.

March had come and the first signs of spring were in the fields and hedgerows. The news suddenly grew more serious. The respite since those days when Neville Chamberlain had returned from Munich brandishing his little piece of paper and declaring there was to be peace in our time was over.

Hitler disregarded his promise and marched into Czechoslovakia.

This was alarming. It confirmed that which many people had thought possible and what must have been in the mind of the Prime Minister when he had returned from Munich and had immediately set about rearmament.

Now even those who had been opposing preparation for war realized the necessity of doing so.

Where would the German dictator turn next? The policy of appeasement was over. There could be no more standing aside. The Prime Minister had a meeting with the French premier and an agreement between the two countries was announced. They would support Poland, Rumania, and Greece if Hitler should attack them.

No longer could people run away from the truth. The storm clouds were gathering fast over Europe. How long would it be before Hitler decided to move into Poland?

He was already stating his claims to that country.

We waited for the news every day and there was a feeling of intense relief when nothing happened.

I rode often with Jowan. We loved to go onto the moors and, if the weather was warm enough, would tether our horses and sit close to an old disused mine while Jowan told me of some of the old legends of Cornwall. He would point out the prehistoric stones, so many of which had a story attached to them.

I arranged to meet him one day and when I went into the stables Seth was there.

He was always interested in me. I think it was because I was Dorabella’s sister and he believed she was one of the victims of the ghostly lady of the house of Jermyn.

Only the day before, I had walked down to the beach. I found a certain fascination there. I liked to stand close to the sea and watch the waves advance and recede, while I thought of Dorabella.

Seth had seen me there. I had looked up and there he was in the gardens looking down at me. I lifted my hand in greeting. He had returned the gesture, shaking his head at me. I think he must have meant it as a warning, telling me I should not be there.

I realized that afternoon in the stables that he was referring to this incident when he said: “Shouldn’t go down there, Miss. ’Tain’t good.”

“Do you mean the beach?” I asked. “I always make sure that the tide is not coming in and in any case I could get back into the garden. It was quite different on that day I was caught.”

He shook his head. “ ’Tain’t right. One day ’er’ll be after you. You was the one as brought him here.”

Knowing the way his mind worked, I realized that he was talking about Jowan and my breaking the feud between the houses of Tregarland and Jermyn.

“I’m all right, Seth,” I said.

He shook his head and I thought for a moment that he was going to burst into tears.

“ ’Tweren’t I,” he said. “I had naught to do with it. Not really like…”

I had lost the train of his thought, but he looked so worried that I wanted to pursue it.

“Didn’t do what, Seth?” I asked.

“I didn’t ’elp to get ’er in, like. Not really, only…”

Something was worrying him very much. This was a different turn to the conversation.

“Who, Seth?” I asked. “Who was the one you did not help?”

He was silent for a moment. Then he murmured: “Not to say. Not to tell. It’s a secret.”

“Do you mean….my sister…?”

“No. Don’t know naught about her. T’other.”

“The first Mrs. Tregarland?”

He looked at me and half nodded. “Not to say,” he went on. “ ’Er was beckoned, ’er was. ’Er had to go in. It was what ’er wanted.”

“I don’t understand, Seth. Who wanted what?”

“Wasn’t what ’er wanted. ’Er had to, didn’t ’er? But ’tweren’t I, Miss. ’Er ’ad to and ’er went.”

Gordon had come into the stable. I wondered how much of this conversation he had heard.

“Oh, hello, Violetta,” he said. “Are you going for a ride?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a good day for it.”

I wondered whether he would understand what Seth was trying to say.

I began: “Seth was telling me…”

A look of terror came into Seth’s face.

“I didn’t say nothing,” he mumbled. “I didn’t know nothing.”

“About the first Mrs. Tregarland’s accident, I think it was, Seth,” I said.

“No. No, I didn’t say nothing.”

Gordon was watching him intently. Seth lowered his eyes and shuffled away.

Gordon turned to me. He patted Starlight’s flank and helped me to mount.

“Poor Seth,” he said quietly. “He’s worse some days than others. Enjoy your ride.”

As I went out I heard him say to Seth: “I want to have a look at Black Eagle. I thought there might be something wrong.”

I rode on, thinking of Seth’s words. It was a pity he was so incoherent. One could never be sure whether what he said was actual fact or some figment of his addled mind; but I did feel he was trying to say something which was worrying him and for which he must make excuses.

Jowan was waiting for me. As always he looked delighted to see me. We rode onto the moors and, finding a sheltered spot, tethered our horses.

We sat leaning against a stone—one of a little group of six clustered round one of a much larger size. I remarked that they looked like sheep around the shepherd.

I could not forget my conversation with Seth and, as Jowan noticed my preoccupation, I told him about it.

“Poor Seth,” said Jowan. “It is sad that he had that accident. He would have been a bright young boy but for that.”

“It is sobering to think that one small incident can change our lives. I wish I knew what he was trying to say. It was almost as though he were making excuses.”

“For what?”

“Something he had done in connection with the first Mrs. Tregarland.”

“Oh…what did he say exactly?”

“It’s hard to tell what. Something he didn’t do. It was almost as though he were making excuses for some action. He kept saying it was the ghost who called her into the water.”

“He was excusing himself?”

“Well, it was so muddled, almost as though he were being blamed for something he hadn’t done.”

“Did he say he was there?”

“He never says anything as straightforward as that.”

“Did he sound as though he had been there?”

“Well, yes. And he might have gone on but Gordon came into the stables just then and he stopped.”

“Did Gordon hear?”

“Some of it, I suppose.”

“I wonder what he thought of it.”

“Well, no one takes much notice of Seth.”

“Sometimes people like that know more than you think they would. It is just possible that he might have some information, something the rest of us don’t know.”

“You mean about Annette’s death?”

“H’m. It always seemed a bit odd to me…that the champion swimmer should be drowned. It was not as though there was a gale.”

“I thought it might have been cramp.”

“Possibly. But why should Seth say it wasn’t his fault?”

“He’s obsessed by it.”

“Why?”

“Because he believes that ancestress of yours who drowned herself wants other young women to do the same…if they are connected with Tregarland. It’s a sort of revenge on the family.”