“So it is fair to say that if the clothes are still there what Mrs. Lansdon saw was something very likely to be supernatural. And if it was someone playing a trick … well then, the one who played the trick could still have them.”

“I can’t believe anyone would go to all that trouble just to frighten her. And run the risk of getting caught into the bargain.”

“Some people like mischief. They like to take risks, too. In any case, let us take the first step towards solving the mystery. Let’s go and see if the clothes are still there.”

Mrs. Emery rose immediately and we went to the room.

Even at such a time I was deeply moved as I stepped over the threshold. It was exactly as it had been in the old days and I could imagine myself a young girl again … secure in the love of my mother, though that resentment I felt towards my stepfather was already with me.

The sight of her things unnerved me; but I had come here for a purpose.

I went to the wardrobe. Her clothes were hanging there but there was no sign of the blue coat. I reached up and in between a tweed costume and a riding habit was an empty coat hanger.

I turned to look at Mrs. Emery.

I said: “I think someone has been in here and taken the clothes.”

“I can’t believe that,” cried Mrs. Emery. “I kept that key in my room. Nobody comes in but him and me. We are the only two with keys.”

“Could anyone have stolen his key?”

“I’d hardly think so. He keeps it on his watch chain and it is always with him … and he hasn’t been here this past week or more.”

She locked the door and we went back to her sitting room.

When we were seated she said: “Of course, there is no knowing that this coat and hat was in the wardrobe.”

“Not for certain,” I agreed. “But I know my mother liked it particularly and she did have it right to the time she went down to Cornwall. You always keep the key in that drawer, I suppose. Could you put it in a different place?”

“Well, perhaps I could …”

“Then if someone came in to steal it again they wouldn’t be able to find it. I am presuming that whoever took the clothes might want to return them. Or perhaps they are keeping her clothes and intend to be a series of hauntings.”

“You’re giving me the shivers, Miss Rebecca. I’m not sure I wouldn’t it were rather the real thing than all this plotting.”

“I am going to see if I can find the clothes, Mrs. Emery. I feel they are somewhere in this house and if I did find them I should discover who played this wicked trick on Mrs. Lansdon.”

“It could have been really serious … if she’s been carrying …”

“Mrs. Emery, will you guard the key … absolutely? Put it in a different place and make sure that none but yourself knows where. I do not want anyone to be able to get into that room until I have solved this mystery.”

“I’ll do just as you say, Miss Rebecca, and I would like to know who played such a nasty trick … I would that … and if it’s any of my maids … well, they won’t be on my staff much longer, I can tell you.”

As soon as I left her I went to the schoolroom. Belinda and Lucie were seated at the table with Miss Stringer.

“Good morning, Miss Mandeville,” said Miss Stringer. “Did you want me?”

I said: “No … no. How are the lessons going?”

“Oh!” She raised her eyes to the ceiling. “As well as can be expected.”

“We’re doing history,” said Lucie.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“About William the Conqueror who came over here and killed King Harold.”

“That must be very interesting. Belinda is quiet this morning. Are you all right, Belinda?”

She nodded curtly.

“Thank Miss Rebecca for her enquiry and answer graciously,” said Miss Stringer.

“I’m all right, thank you,” mumbled Belinda.

“I thought you might have been anxious about your stepmother,” I said.

She did not look up.

“How is Mrs. Lansdon today?” asked Miss Stringer.

“She’s resting. It was quite a bad turn she had yesterday.”

“I heard she had fainted in the garden. I hope she did not hurt herself when she fell.”

“She could have done so, of course,” I said. “Fortunately she fell on soft earth. But it was a shock to her.”

I was looking at the cupboards. They would be full of books and schoolroom accessories. No clothes could be hidden there. Miss Stringer would soon discover them if they were.

“Well, I’ll leave you to William the Conqueror,” I said and came out.

However, I did not want to confront Belinda without evidence. I did not want to speak to Lucie who might well be in the conspiracy. I hoped she was not but I understood from Miss Stringer and what I had observed that Belinda often required her to join in games in which she took the leading role.

Just above the schoolroom was an attic. The children used it as a playroom. There were trunks up there as it was also a good storeroom. If one wanted to hide something it could be the ideal spot.

It was approached by a short spiral staircase. I went to it.

The roof sloped and at either end it was impossible to stand upright. Old pictures were stacked against the wall and there were certain pieces of furniture there. At one end of the room were three large trunks. I noticed at once that one of them was not properly shut. I opened it.

It was simpler than I had anticipated. There, on the top of other garments, lay the blue coat and hat. My suspicions had been confirmed.

There was an armchair close by. I sat down on this and thought about what had happened. Belinda, of course, had been in my mind and I wondered what went on in hers. She alarmed me. How would my mother have dealt with such a child? She would have loved her as she loved me; but sometimes I thought there was more than a hint of mischief in Belinda. I thought of the scheme she had made Lucie play with her. It was calculated to hurt. It seemed unnatural that she—my own sister—could behave so.

I tried to make excuses for her. That brought me back to him … to Benedict Lansdon. He had been an unnatural father to her. He seemed to forget that she was his child. My mother would have wanted him to care for her. The fact that she herself was not there to do so would have made her doubly anxious that he should. Yet he was so aloof. Perhaps he did not try very hard. He was unable to forget the fact that she was the one responsible for my mother’s death—although she knew nothing of this.

I had heard of such cases and I had always thought such an attitude was unforgivable in a parent.

And because of being unwanted by her father … relying on Leah for that love and care which all children need, she was forever trying to show how clever she was, how she could score over other people.

I must try not to be angry with her. I must try to understand. After all, she was a child … a lost child.

I knew that sooner or later she would come up to the attic, for she would have to make sure that the clothes had not been discovered. She may have guessed my suspicions for she was sharp beyond her years. She was shrewd and cunning by nature.

I sat for an hour in the attic waiting, for I guessed that as soon as lessons were over she would come up.

I was right.

I braced myself when I heard light footsteps on the spiral staircase.

“Come in, Belinda,” I said. “I want to talk to you.”

She stared at me in amazement. I was glad that I had waited for I had feared that after our encounter in the schoolroom she would have guessed my suspicions and stayed away.

“What are you doing up here?” she demanded.

“That’s not very polite, is it?”

I saw the fear in her face. “What do you want?” she asked.

“I want you to go over to that trunk and take out what you find lying on the top.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to show me and to tell me how they came to be there.”

“How should I know?”

“We’ll see about that.”

I stood up and, taking her hand, led her to the trunk. “Now open it,” I said.

“Why?”

“Open it.”

She did so.

“You put those things there,” I said.

“No.”

I ignored the lie. “How did you get into the locked room?” I asked.

She looked sly. She thought she had been rather clever and it was hard to resist boasting of that. But she remained silent.

I went on: “You stole the key from Mrs. Emery’s sitting room. You knew it was there because she went in to clean twice a week. You knew when she would not be in her room and you went there and found it.”

She stared at me in amazement. “Lucie’s been telling tales.”

“Lucie knew …?”

“A bit,” she said.

“And what did Lucie do?”

“Nothing. Lucie never thinks of anything. She’s too silly.”

“I see. Well, having got the key, you took the clothes. You knew they were there and that they were your mother’s. She would be very sad if she knew you did things like this, Belinda. Don’t you care about hurting people?”

“People hurt me.”

“Who? Who hurts you?”

She was silent.

“Leah is good and kind to you. Miss Stringer is too. Lucie loves you, so does Mrs. Emery. And have I been unkind to you?”

For a moment her defiance wavered and she looked like a frightened little girl.

“He hates me,” she said. “He hates me because … because … she died having me.”

“Who tells you these tales?”

She looked at me scornfully. “Everybody knows. You know. You only pretend you don’t.”

“Oh Belinda,” I said. “It’s not like that. It wasn’t your fault. It happens to hundreds of children. Nobody blames them.”

“He does,” she said.

I wanted to put my arms round her and hold her against me. I wanted to say: We are sisters, Belinda. I know we have different fathers, but your mother was my mother. That makes a special bond between us. Why don’t you talk to me … tell me how you feel?

She said: “You don’t like him either.”

“Belinda …”

“Only you don’t tell the truth. I do. I hate him.”

I was in despair. I wondered what to say to her. It was true that he avoided her and was cool towards her, that he could not take to her, he could not forget that her coming had meant the departure of his beloved wife.

I wished afterwards that I had been older, wiser, more experienced, and could have comforted the child in some way.

But at the time I could only think of what she had done to Celeste.

“Why did you want to frighten her like that?” I asked.

Her defiance had returned. The softness I had glimpsed, the craving for affection, was no longer there. She was Belinda, the clever one, who knew how to take revenge on those who hurt her.

She lifted her shoulders and smiled.

“They were so big,” she said. “I had to be careful.” She laughed almost hysterically. “I nearly tripped over. The hat was all right but it did press down on my ears. I had to keep sitting down.”

“She fainted,” I reminded her. “Fortunately she fell on soft earth, but she could have been badly hurt.”

“Serve her right for marrying him. She’d no right to marry him. I didn’t want a stepmother.”

“There are many things in life you don’t understand. Perhaps you will when you grow up. She is not to blame for anything. She wants to do what is best.”

“She can’t even speak English properly.”

“I should imagine her English compares favorably with your French. Doesn’t it worry you that you may have caused her some injury?”

She looked at me steadily, her eyes almost expressionless.

She shook her head.

“I was very good,” she said complacently. “She thought I was a real ghost.”

“You weren’t clever enough.”

“Lucie told you.”

“Lucie has told me nothing. Tell me what part she played in this.”

“None. She couldn’t. She’s not clever enough. She would have spoilt it. She just knew … that was all. And she told you. Because … how else would you have known?”

“I know you, Belinda. I suspected you almost at once.”

“Why?”

“Because of the clothes for one thing. I knew where you found them. Then I checked with Mrs. Emery and discovered they were missing, so I knew someone had taken them. Belinda, I want to talk to you very seriously.”

“What are you going to do? Tell him … tell my father?”

I shook my head. “No. You must see your stepmother and tell her how sorry you are and you will never do anything like that again. Don’t you see how wrong it is to hurt people?”