It was then that I felt the first twinge of fear. He seemed to change suddenly. I had thought that he was a student … exploring the countryside. Now I was not so sure.

“Thank you,” I said as coolly as I could and started to walk past him, but he caught my arm.

“You’re frightened,” he said. “Why?”

“No … no,” I stammered. “I … I just have to go.”

“Why?” he cried shaking me.

A terrible thought came into my mind. I remembered the poster. I looked at his face. His eyes now looked wild; they seemed to bore right into me. I thought: It’s the escaped prisoner … and I’m here … alone with him. I wanted to cry out but my mouth was dry and no sound came. My heart was beating so fast that I thought I should suffocate.

I heard myself say shrilly: “Who are you?”

He did not answer. I moved backwards. I was very close to the water.

He advanced too. He had changed. He was no longer the pleasant student. There was a dreadful light in his eyes. His pupils seemed to be distended.

He said: “I like little girls.” And he laughed horribly. “I like them when they are nice to me.”

“Yes … yes,” I said, trying to sound normal and wondering if I could slip past him and run … and run.

He gripped my arm. I tried to wrench it free, but he laughed again in that frightening way. Then he put a hand out and touched my throat.

“No, no,” I screamed. “Go away. Let me alone.”

It was the wrong thing to have done. As I tried to dodge past him he caught me by the shoulder.

“Let me go,” I sobbed. “Let me go.”

Panic had seized me. I could not think. I was only aware of his closeness … his motives, which I only half understood but which I knew ended in death.

I was young; I was agile; but he was a grown man and stronger than I. I knew that if he caught me I was doomed.

I heard myself screaming at him. He put up a hand and covered my mouth. I kicked and he freed me. I ran. I was trying to reach Glory, but how could I get away in time? He would catch me before I had a chance to untie her.

I started to run on but he caught me and I fell. I was sobbing with fear and screaming at the top of my voice. Who would hear me? Few people came to the pool.

He was loathsome. He was horrible. He nauseated me. He was pulling at my clothes. I kicked and struggled and I think I hurt him for he called out in sudden pain, cursing me. He gave me a blow at the side of my head which set up a singing in my ears. I felt blood in my mouth.

“No … no … no,” I sobbed.

I had never fought like this before. I knew that my life depended on my ability to defend myself. I was sobbing like a baby calling for my mother and my father. Oh, if only they knew what was happening to their beloved daughter. What would happen to me? I should be found … dead … another victim.

There was a lot of fight in me. I saw blood on his face and the more I fought the more angry he became.

I could not go on much longer. I felt my strength failing me. I had no idea how long this struggle had gone on, but I knew that for me it was a losing battle.

I prayed, I think. One always does, if only subconsciously, on such occasions. It is at times like this one that one believes in God … because one has to.

And … as if by a miracle my prayers were answered.

I heard my name. “Angel.” It seemed to come from a long way off. “For God’s sake, Angel.”

And there was Ben.

My assailant was on his feet. I saw Ben running towards us. He was still calling my name. “Angel, Angel. Oh no …”

The murderer was lunging towards him, but Ben was ready. I watched, too stunned to move for a moment. I just lay there. I saw the man strike out at Ben … but Ben parried the blow and came at him. He hit him hard between the eyes. The man staggered and fell. I got to my feet and rushed to Ben.

He held me tightly in his arms. “Angel … dearest Angel … Are you all right? Oh … my God.”

“I’m all right now, Ben. I’m all right now you are here.”

He stared at me … the blood on my face … I knew there was blood on my clothes. I could not imagine what I looked like.

We turned to gaze down at the man.

“It’s the one,” said Ben. “It’s the wanted man.”

“I thought he was you,” I said. “He asked me the way … and he seemed quite normal. Then suddenly he changed. He got hold of me and I couldn’t get away. Ben … oh, Ben.”

“It’s all over now. He looks as if he is really out. We’ll just go and let them know we’ve found him.”

“He might get away and escape.”

Ben knelt down. The man had not moved since he had fallen. He looked strangely still. Ben lifted his head. It fell back with a jerk but not before we had seen the blood staining his thick dark curly hair. The back of his head was covered in blood. So was the stone onto which he had fallen.

Ben looked at me in horror. His next words sent a tremor of fear through me. “He’s dead,” he said.

He let him fall and then he added: “I’ve killed him.”

“Oh, Ben … it can’t be … What’ll happen?”

“I don’t know,” said Ben.

“You just saved me … that was all. He can’t be really dead … not just like that.”

“I hit him pretty hard … but it wasn’t that only. He fell on that stone. There’s a sharp edge. It looks as if it has penetrated his head.”

I just stared at him in sudden terror. My thoughts went back to the picture in the gallery. I saw clearly my grandfather’s laughing eyes. Jake Cadorson, who had killed a man who was attempting to assault a young gypsy girl. It was murder and in spite of the fact that he had saved the girl from her attacker he had been sentenced to transportation for seven years.

Ben had killed a man … a murderer wanted by the law. But it would be called murder or at least manslaughter … and my grandfather’s punishment for the same offense had been seven years’ exile.

It must not happen to Ben.

Ben had lost his bravado. I could see that he was thinking what I was.

He said slowly: “I … I killed him.”

“You didn’t mean to. You had to stop him. If you hadn’t killed him he would have killed you.”

“It was murder,” he said. “They’d say it was murder.”

I began to tremble. “My grandfather,” I began. “It was the same … almost exactly the same. … But this man was a murderer …”

“What did you say they did to your grandfather?”

I replied through chattering teeth: “They were going to hang him but my grandmother saved him … and then they sent him away for seven years. It was considered a light sentence.”

Ben was silent. He could not take his eyes from the man.

I said slowly: “Ben … no one must know.”

“They’d find out,” he said.

“How?”

“They do. There are clues and things like that. You don’t know you’ve left them but they find something you didn’t think was important. And what about this blood?”

He stood for a while in silence staring at the water. “That’s it,” he said.

“What, Ben?”

“We’re going to throw him into the pool. Nobody will find him there.” He seemed to regain his old fire. “Come on. Help me, Angel. We’ll get him to the pool.”

I thought wildly: It’s the answer. He’ll disappear. No one will think of looking for him there.

He was heavy. We pulled him across the grass leaving a trail of blood. We had him right to the edge of the pool. I noticed that his eyes were open; he seemed to be staring at me. I thought: I shall never be able to forget him.

I turned away and as I did so I caught sight of something glittering near the water’s edge. It was a ring. I picked it up and slipped it into the pocket of my skirt. I don’t know why I bothered to do that at such a time. I supposed because I had to stop looking at that man and thinking of him, even for a split second.

“What are you doing?” asked Ben. “Here. Help me get him into the water.”

He put some stones into the man’s pockets to weigh him down, and we pushed the body into the pool, but it was shallow and we had to wade in so that we were sure of getting him to the deeper part.

The water was cold. I was shivering. He slipped out of our grasp. For a moment I saw his head with the dark wet hair, the odd pallor of the skin, the open accusing eyes.

As I turned away I fell. I was completely immersed. Ben picked me up and said: “It’s over. We’ve done it.”

We stood on the edge of the pool, Ben’s arm about me.

“Stop shaking, Angel,” he said. “He’s gone. No one will ever find him. There are no tides in the pool to wash his body ashore. He’s gone forever. Let’s get away from here.”

He held me close to him as we walked to the horses. His, fortunately, had remained waiting. I could not stop looking at the trail of blood on the grass.

Ben looked up at the sky. “There’ll be rain tonight. That will wash it all away.”

“Suppose someone sees it before?”

“No one will. Few come here. Besides, you’d have to look for it to find it … and nobody could be sure that it was blood.”

“It’s a terrible thing to kill a man,” I said.

“We didn’t kill him. It was an accident. And, remember, he would have done to you what he did to that other girl. It was justice. If we are sensible we shall feel no regret about him. He deserved to die. He would have been hanged when he was tried and found guilty which he obviously was. We’ve got to be sensible about this. Oh God, Angel, you are so young.”

“I … I don’t feel young,” I told him.

He took my face in his hands and kissed it.

“It’s our secret, Angel.”

“But he’s dead, Ben, and it was because of us that he died.”

“No, it was because of himself. It was justice. I feel no remorse.”

“But when they know …”

“They are not going to know. Why should they ever know? If they found out there would be a fuss. They would say we killed a man. We disposed of his body.”

“We shouldn’t have done that, Ben. We should have gone and found them and told them …”

“There would have been such a fuss. They would have accused us. They might even call it murder. They did with your grandfather, didn’t they? It’s a similar case.”

“But the man he killed was not a murderer.”

“It makes no difference. Listen to me. We are in this together. It is our secret. We can’t bring all the scandal there would be on our families. There would be endless gossip. You know how people exaggerate. Imagine the press getting hold of it. No, as far as we are concerned it is over.”

“How can it ever be over?”

“It will be … if we don’t let anyone know. They will hunt for him and they won’t find him. They’ll think he has escaped. There’ll be questions and more questions. They’ll never let us rest. They’ll say I killed him and you were an accessory after the fact … that’s how they talk. We don’t want a great fuss. It would be exaggerated and remembered for the rest of our lives. It is always so in these cases. Consider all your legends. How they have grown up through distortion and exaggeration. We should be branded forever and they would punish us in some way … even though they would have hanged him … which would have been far worse for him than the way he died. So we’ve got to think of a way out of this. We have to think of our families. It’s the only way. I know what we must do.”

“What?” I asked.

“We must get away from here at once and not let anyone know we came here. We must say nothing about what happened. Can you do that, Angel? Not to anyone … not a word.”

“Yes … yes, I think so.” But I looked down at my sodden clothes. There was blood on my jacket.

“We’ll have to give some sort of explanation,” Ben went on. “We’ll say you had a fall. That’s the answer. It will account for the state you are in. But there must not be a word about what actually happened … about him.”

“There’ll be some way they’ll find out.”

“Not if we play it carefully. Stop shaking, Angel.”

“I can’t help it. I just feel so cold.” I started to sneeze and for a few moments could not stop.

He looked at me anxiously and said: “Listen, Angel. This is terrible, but we’re in it now and we have to get out of it.”

“When they don’t catch him …?”

“They’ll think he’s got away. It will be as easy as that.” Ben was beginning to regain his confidence. There was even a look of excitement in his eyes. “We’ll do it. But we’ve got to plan very carefully. He’s gone. He won’t be able to murder any more young girls … never again. We’ve done a good thing. No one will ever know that he is at the bottom of the pool. His clothes will be waterlogged. He’s right down at the bottom. He’ll never be found. We’ve saved him from the hangman’s rope, and that was what he deserved and what would have come to him. We’ve done him a good turn. We’ve done all those little girls whom he might have murdered a good turn. …”