“Oh no. How could it be? You were not here.”

“What was to stop my coming to the house, letting myself in … going to the room we shared … taking a pillow … pressing it over her face and then … getting rid of the body?”

I stared at him in horror.

“I didn’t do it, Rebecca. I knew nothing of her disappearance until I received your message. Do you believe me?”

“Of course I believe you.”

“I really think you mean that.”

“I can’t understand how you could think for a moment that I could believe anything else.”

“Thank you. It’s a very sorry business. Where will it end?”

“Perhaps she will come back.”

“Do you think she will?”

“Yes … I do. I think she will.”

“But where from … and why? There’s no sense in it … no reason.”

“Mysteries are always like that until they are solved.”

“I’ve gone over and over it in my mind. Possible solutions … but I can find none good enough to believe. Oh, it’s a wearying subject, and I am to blame, Rebecca. I am responsible for this as surely as if I had smothered her with a pillow.”

“You must stop talking like this. It’s not true.”

“You know it is true. You know I have made her unhappy, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Did she confide in you?”

“A little.”

“You see … whatever she has done … I am responsible. I should have tried harder.”

“It’s hard to try at love.”

“I should never have married her, but I thought it might work. It was foolish of me to try to replace Angelet.”

“No one could. But you could have found some happiness with her. She loved you absolutely.”

“She was too demanding. Perhaps if she had been less so I could have managed better. But there is no excuse. I have suffered something like this before, Rebecca. If I thought I had killed her with my indifference … with my love for Angelet … I could not live very easily with the knowledge. How could life have been so cruel? I thought I had everything I wanted in life … we both wanted that child … she did very, very much … and then it was all snatched from me. Why? And all for… Belinda. Why am I telling you all this?”

“Because we are now friends … because I can now call you Benedict.”

A faint smile played about his lips. Then he said: “But what of you, Rebecca? You are not happy. Before all this … I noticed it.”

“You noticed?”

“I wanted to ask what had happened. But we were so withdrawn, weren’t we? There was no friendship between us. We were like potential enemies ready to go to war with each other at the slightest provocation.”

“Yes,” I agreed, “we were like that.”

“I have let you see right into the heart of me,” he said. “What about you, Rebecca?”

“I have been very unhappy.”

“A love affair, was it?”

“Yes.”

“My poor child, how can I help?”

“Nobody can help.”

“Couldn’t you tell me?”

I hesitated.

“If you do not,” he went on, “I feel that we have not really found this new friendship which means so much to me.”

“I don’t think you would have approved perhaps. You wanted a grand marriage for me … because I was your stepdaughter.”

“I…”

“There was that costly London season.”

“It was then, was it? Some perfidious man?”

“Oh no. I always thought you would try to prevent our marriage, for after the cost of that season you would have wanted me to marry a duke or something like that.”

“All I wanted was your happiness because that was what your mother would have wished.”

“We were going to be married.”

“You and …?”

“Pedrek … Pedrek Cartwright.”

“Oh. A nice young man. I was always interested in him because he was born in my house. I remember it well. What happened?”

I was silent for a few moments, not wishing to speak of it.

“Tell me,” he insisted. “I find it hard to believe that he would behave badly. What was it, Rebecca?”

“It’s … it’s hard to talk of.”

“Tell me.”

I found myself telling. I described that terrible scene when Belinda had come running in to us with that horrific story. Benedict listened in blank amazement.

He said: “I don’t believe it.”

“We none of us could.”

“And that child … Belinda … she told you this?”

“She was so distressed. If you had been there, you would have seen …”

“And you confronted Pedrek with this?”

“He came the next morning … just as though nothing had happened …”

“And what did he say?”

“He denied it.”

“And you believed the child and not him?”

“If you had seen her crying and distressed … her clothes torn.”

“And she said it happened at St. Branok’s Pool. That’s significant.”

“It happens to be a lonely spot.”

He seemed to be looking far away. “I remember it well,” he said.

He seemed very thoughtful. Then he said: “Did it occur to you to doubt the child?”

“I told you how she looked. She was distraught. She had obviously been molested.”

“There is something odd about this because something happened years before you were born when your mother was a child. I was not much more. It was at the pool of St. Branok. This is what I find so odd about it. A murderer had escaped from jail. He was under sentence of death for having raped and murdered a little girl. This is something I never told anyone but I am telling you, Rebecca, because I think it could have a bearing on this matter. When your mother was a little girl she came face to face with this murderer at St. Branok’s Pool.”

I caught my breath in horror.

He went on: “I came in time. I went for him and he fell and struck his head on a boulder. It killed him. We were young and frightened and we did not know what to do. You are shocked. You are stunned. These things come suddenly upon you. We dragged his body to the pool and pushed him into the water. I know it is dramatic … sensational, the sort of thing one sometimes reads of in the papers, things that may happen to other people but should not to us. We kept our secret … your mother and I. It is a long story. Perhaps it was all part of the bond which held us together. It certainly influenced our lives. It was the reason for our parting. You see while it drove us apart it forged the unbreakable bond. You would have to live through it to understand it. But let us think of your problem. Does it not seem odd to you that a similar thing should have happened to Belinda?”

“Yes,” I said. “But it is a lonely spot. There is only one small cottage nearby. It is a place where that sort of thing could happen.”

“Might it not be that an imaginative child who had heard the story might have conjured it up?”

“But the look in her face … her clothes … Besides, nobody would have told her the story and if she had heard it she would not have understood what it really meant.”

He was silent for a while. He seemed to be considering. Then he said: “Would you take a piece of advice from me?”

“I would certainly listen to it.”

“Pedrek is in Australia now, is he? He was so hurt and disgusted by your suspicions that your engagement was broken off and he went away. Is that the story?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“Go to your room now and write to him. Tell him that he must come back. That you are wretched without him. That’s true, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but …”

“Do you want to live your life regretting … ? You love him, do you not? I know you have been together a good deal. It was not a sudden attraction. It has grown gradually. It has deep roots and you really love him. I know that. Yours could be a wonderful marriage. When you have the chance of happiness, you must not turn from it. You must hold on to it. Never let it be your fault that it ended.”

“I know I shall always be miserable … but always, too, I shall think of Belinda coming in from the pool … that terror in her … the horror of it.”

“Write to him. Tell him you made a mistake. Don’t be afraid to admit it, for I know you have made a mistake. Tell him that you want him back, that you believe him. Tell him that it could not be otherwise. Write to him … write today.”

“Perhaps I should think about it.”

He had risen from his chair. He came towards me and I stood up to face him. There was an earnest look in his eyes.

“Believe me. I am right,” he said. “I know how much you care for him. There will never be anyone else for you. Don’t lose this, Rebecca. Some of us make big mistakes which ruin our lives. Tell him how much you love him. Do not say whatever he has done you will love him. Tell him you do not have any shadow of a doubt now about the crime of which he was accused. Tell him you believe him … completely. Put your trust in him. Tell him you know he is innocent and beg him to come home.”

“But … I am not sure …”

“You will be. I know you will be. I think I am going to prove to you that I am right, but first of all you must send that letter … send it to him … without delay. I can see now how I can help you. That is why you should not wait. This is what your mother would want. Think of her. If she is looking down on you she will have mourned for the loss of your happiness. She wanted you to be happy so much. She cared so much for you. Rebecca, we have to live without her. Let’s see if we can help each other to do that. You look a little happier already.”

“It is the thought of writing to Pedrek.”

“Go then … go now and do it.”

Benedict is one of the most forceful men I ever knew. I could understand how it was that, among all those men who went to Australia to look for gold, he found it. He was a man who would always succeed at whatever he set himself to do. He may have been ruthless, but that was necessary if he were to reach his goal; he had a way of enforcing his beliefs until one accepted them as one’s own.

In spite of the turmoil in the house and the terrible shadow which hung over it—and in particular over Benedict—he could give his mind to my problem and I felt happier than I had ever since the day when Belinda had run in from St. Branok’s Pool.

Benedict had convinced me. I could not believe that Pedrek was guilty and there must be some other explanation.

I sat down and wrote:


Dearest Pedrek,

I love you. I am so miserable without you. It was all so quick. I could not face it then, but now I believe in you. I have always believed in you. I know that it was all a mistake and will be proved to be so in time. I want you back. Please believe me. We will face whatever has to be faced together. I know we can just as I know you are innocent of what you were accused. We will prove it in time, but now … I believe in you and we have each other.

So please, please, come back to me.

Your ever faithful Rebecca.


Perhaps it was a little hysterical. Perhaps it did not convey all I felt. But it was sincere. Benedict had had that effect on me. He had made me see my true feelings. He had made me believe in Pedrek.

The letter was posted.

Would he come? Would he forgive me for doubting him?

Just as I knew he could never be guilty, I knew he would come.

Benedict said to me: “Have you written to Pedrek?”

“Yes.”

“Telling him you believe in him.”

“I have.”

He smiled. “I want you to come to my study.” I went with him. He sent for one of the servants and when she came, he said: “Will you go to the nursery and bring Miss Belinda to me here, please?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll tell Leah to bring her.”

“There is no need for Leah to bring her. She knows the way.”

In due course Belinda came. She looked a little uneasy and suspicious and not without that certain bellicosity which I had noticed she assumed in Benedict’s presence.

“Shut the door and come in,” said Benedict.

She obeyed somewhat unwillingly.

“Now,” he said, “I want to talk to you. Cast your mind back to that time when you were at St. Branok’s Pool.”

She flushed scarlet. “I … I don’t have to talk about it. It’s, it’s bad for me. I have to forget it.”

“Perhaps you can forget it later. Just at the moment I want you to remember it. I want you to tell me exactly what happened … I mean the truth.”

“It’s bad for me, I don’t have to remember.”

“But I want to know.”

She was afraid of him, I could see, and I felt sorry for her. He was remembering that she was the child whose coming had brought about her mother’s death, and for that he could not forgive her.