"No, Joe, not like me."

"Well, you've changed a bit."

My heart leaped in sudden fear. "Oh ... not for the worse, I hope."

"No ... no. Not that, Miss Susannah. Mrs. Tomkin will be glad you're back. She said to me only the other day: 'It's time Miss Susannah was back, Joe. That'll make a change up at the castle.'"

"Remember me to Mrs. Tomkin, Joe."

"That I will, miss. Can't wait to get home to tell her. Is the castle sending for you?"

"I wasn't sure of the time... ."

"I'll get the fly to take you down. How's that?"

I said it was a good idea.

As I was seated in the fly jogging along those lanes I told myself that this was going to be my first test. I had to keep my ears and eyes open all the time. I must not miss the smallest detail. I had to learn all the time. Even that brief encounter had given me the name of the stationmaster and the fact that he had a wife, and that Esmond had a quiet way with him.

It was scarifying, horrifying and at the same time tremendously exhilarating.

Then, suddenly, there it was ahead of me in all its glory. I was filled with emotion as I gazed at those lofty curtain walls and the strong drum towers at the four angles, at the battlemented gatehouse, the gray flinty walls, formidable, impregnable, and the narrow slits of windows.

I felt a great wave of possessive love for the place. Mateland. Mine.

The fly took us through the portcullis into a courtyard. There we stopped and two grooms ran out to help me alight. I was not sure whether I should know them or not. The elder of the two said: "Miss Susannah ..."

"Yes," I answered. "I'm here."

"This is good news, Miss Susannah."

"Thank you," I said.

"It seems so long since you went away, miss, and so much has happened since then. This is Thomas, miss, the new stableboy. He's been with us a month or more."

"Good day, Thomas."

Thomas touched his forelock and murmured something.

"Well, Miss Susannah. I'll have your baggage taken up to your room. And you'll want to go at once to Mrs. Mateland. She's been all impatience for you to come."

"Yes," I said. "Yes."

I walked into the castle. I recognized the hall from Anabel's and Susannah's descriptions as the main hall. I looked up at the magnificent timbered roof, at the stone walls on which some tapestry hung side by side with spears and lances. I knew that high in the wall there was what was called a "peep." It was an aperture scarcely visible from below to those who did not know exactly where it was. Behind it would be a little alcove where the ladies of the house used to look down on the revelries in the hall when they were considered too young to join in or the company was too ribald for them. I knew that it was now used to see what visitors had come and if one did not want to receive them one hurried out of reach.

I had a horrible feeling that I was being watched now, and quite suddenly as I stood there in the hall I was terrified. I had walked into this too glibly. I had not thought of where it could lead me. I was a fraud. I was a cheat. I was taking possession of this magnificent place when I had no legal right to.

It was useless now to tell myself that I had a moral right, which I had been doing since I started on this mad adventure.

I had come here to take the castle. It was as though I had been put under a spell. Now I felt that hundreds of eyes watched me, lured me on, mocked me, urged me to come and see what I could do to take the castle.

I was trapped at this first moment. Here I stood in the center of the main hall and I did not know which way to go. Susannah would have gone straight to her room or Emerald's. Susannah would have known.

There was a staircase at the end of the hall. I knew that it led up to the picture gallery. I had heard both Anabel and Susannah mention it many times. I started up it and was relieved to see a woman standing on the landing.

She was middle-aged, rather self-righteous-looking, with brown hair pulled tightly back from her forehead and rather penetrating light brown eyes.

"Miss Susannah," she said. "Well, my word, and it's about time too."

"Hello," I said cautiously.

"Let's have a look at you. H'm. You've changed. Foreign parts have done you good. Got a bit scraggy though. I suppose it's all this upset."

"Yes, I suppose so."

Who is she? I wondered. Some sort of servant, but a privileged one. A horrible thought struck me. She might be one of those nannies who had been with the child from birth. If so, she would soon find me out.

"It was shocking ... Mr. Esmond ... so sudden, too. You going to Mrs. Mateland or your room first?"

"I think I'd better see her first."

"I'll go up with you and warn her you're here, shall I?"

I nodded with relief. "How are her eyes?" I asked.

"They've got much worse. It's cataract over them both. She can see a little ... but of course it's going to get worse."

"I am sorry."

She looked at me sharply. "Well, you know she was never one to make light of her misfortunes ... and with Mr. Esmond going ..."

"Of course," I said.

She had started up the stairs and I gratefully walked beside her.

"I'll warn her you're here before you go bursting in," she said.

We went along the gallery. I felt I knew it well. There were all my ancestors. I would study them in detail at my leisure.

Up the staircase we went. At the top of it the woman paused. She turned and looked at me and my heart felt as though it would burst out of my body.

She said: "Did you see your father?"

I nodded.

"And Miss ... Anabel? ..." There was a slight tremor in her voice as she said that and then I knew, for from the first she had seemed vaguely familiar. She was the one who had brought the food when we went on the picnic and who had driven the dogcart for us, the one who, Anabel had told me, always said what she meant, who couldn't tell a lie and rarely said anything good about anything. I struggled a few moments to bring out her name from the recesses of my memory. Then I thought, Janet! It must be Janet, but I was not going to fall into the trap of using her name until I was sure.

"Yes," I said, "I saw them both."

"Were they ..."

I said fervently: "They were happy together. My father was doing wonderful work on the island."

"We've only just got the news about the explosion or whatever it was."

"It was a volcanic eruption."

"Whatever it was, it killed them both. Miss Anabel ... she was a wayward one ... but she had a sweet nature... .*

"You're right," I said.

Again that sharp look in my direction. Then she shrugged her shoulders. "Ought never to have done it."

She turned and we went on our way. She paused by a door, tapped on it and a voice called, "Come in." Janet turned to me and put her fingers to her lips.

I heard the voice say: "Is that you, Janet?"

"It is, Mrs. Mateland."

I was right. It was Janet. I felt I had made some progress.

"Miss Susannah's home, Mrs. Mateland."

I went into the room.

So this was Emerald, the wife of David whom my father had killed in a duel. She was sitting in a chair away from the light She was evidently a tall woman and very slender; her expression was resigned, her face pale and her hair turning gray.

"Susannah ..." she said.

I heard myself say: "Oh, Aunt Emerald, it is good to see you."

"I thought you were never coming." Her voice sounded peevish.

"There were things to settle," I said, and kissed her papery cheek.

"This terrible thing," she began. "Esmond ..."

"I know," I murmured.

"It was sudden. That fearful illness. He was well the week before and then he suddenly sickened and was dead in a week."

"What was it?"

"Some sort of fever ... gastric fever. If only Elizabeth were alive now. She would have been such a comfort. Malcolm is so practical. He arranged everything. Oh, my dear Susannah, we must mourn together. I know you were going to marry him, but he was my son ... my only son. All I had. There's no one now."

"We must comfort each other," I said.

She gave a strange little snort.

"That's a bit incongruous, isn't it?"

I patted her hand because I was not sure what to reply.

"Well," she went on, "we shall have to try and get along now. I take it you don't want to turn me out of my home."

"Aunt Emerald! How can you suggest such a thing!"

"Well, I suppose I haven't the same rights now that Esmond has gone. As his mother, it was natural... oh, never mind now. What is to be will be. It's all so upsetting."

"I didn't intend to disturb anyone," I assured her. "I want it to be the same."

"Your travels have done you good, Susannah."

"Oh, you mean I've changed."

"I don't know. I suppose it's seeing you again after all this time. You seem different somehow. I suppose all that traveling would change a person."

"In what way, Aunt Emerald?" I asked anxiously.

"Just a feeling. I thought you seemed less ... well, I always felt you were hard, Susannah. I don't know... ."

"Tell me about your eyes, Aunt Emerald."

"They're getting steadily worse."

"Can nothing be done?"

"No, it's an old complaint. Lots of people have it. I've just got to endure it."

"I am sorry."

"There! That's what I mean. You've got gentler. You sound as though you really care. I didn't think you ever gave my eyes a thought."

I turned away. She was thinking my concern for her sight was purely altruistic. I was sorry for her, but I couldn't help seeing this affliction of hers as something to my advantage.

She went on: "Would you like some tea? Or would you like to go to your room first?"

A sudden thought had come to me. I must discover which was my room. If I waited until my bags were put in it I should be able to identify it by them.

I said: "I wonder if my bags have come yet."

"Pull the bell rope," she said. "I'll get them to bring some tea and they can let us know when your bags arrive."

Janet came back.

"Ask them to send up some tea, Janet," said Emerald.

Janet nodded and went out.

"Janet doesn't change much," I ventured.

"Janet... oh. She's too forward if you ask me. Seems to think she is in some special position. I was surprised she stayed after your father went all those years ago. She came with Anabel from her home, you know. You must have seen Anabel with your father."

"Yes."

"On that ridiculous island. Sometimes I think there's a streak of madness in the Matelands."

"Very likely," I said with a little laugh.

"That awful affair. Two brothers ... I'll never get over it. I was glad that Esmond was too young to know what it was all about. And then Joel's going off to that island and living there like some nabob or something. Your father always was so flamboyant. So was David for that matter. I married into a strange family."

"Well, that was a long time ago, Aunt Emerald."

"Many weary years ago. There must be a lot you have to tell me ... about them ... and everything."

"Sometime I will," I said.

Tea was brought in.

"Susannah, will you pour?" she asked. "I can't see very well. I'm apt to slop the tea over into the saucer."

I sat down, poured out and took a cup to her. There were some little cakes on a plate and some bread and butter.

"Esmond was very restless after you'd gone," she went on. "Really, Susannah, need you have stayed away so long?"

"It was so far away, you see, and having made that long journey, I felt I had to stay a little while."

"Trust you to find out your father's hiding place! And then you went back to Sydney and while you were away the whole thing blew up. What a climax to all that secret melodrama. Fitting in a way."

"It was ... horrible," I said vehemently.

"But you were well out of it, Susannah."

"Sometimes I wish ..."

She was waiting. I must be careful. I must not show my feelings too intensely. I had a feeling that Susannah had never felt deeply about anything that did not concern herself.

"I wish," I finished lamely, "that they had accompanied me to Sydney. Tell me of Esmond."

There was a brief silence, then she said: "It was a return of that mysterious illness he had before you went away. Do you remember?"