"I'll tell Jacob," put in the woman.

"Do, please, Mrs. Cringle, and if he wants to consult me at any time I'm always available. Well, we'll be getting on."

We came out and Jeff untethered the horses.

"Hardly a gracious reception," I said.

"Did you expect it at Cringles'? They're all obsessed by what happened to Saul. It's a terrible thing for a man to take his life. They regard it as a disgrace to the family. He's buried at the crossroads. The rector wouldn't bury him in consecrated ground. That means a lot to people like the Cringles."

"I suppose so."

I had a desire to put as great a distance as possible between myself and the farmhouse.

We had ridden out into the road and were passing a wooded patch when something whistled past my head, missing me by a few inches before it rattled down onto the road.

"What was that?" I said.

Jeff Carleton leaped from his horse and bent down. He held up a stone. "It must have been children playing," he said.

"A dangerous game," I retorted. "If that had caught me ... or you ... it could have done quite a bit of harm."

He called out: "Who threw that stone?"

There was silence.

Jeff looked at me and shrugged his shoulders. He threw the stone onto the road. Then he darted among the trees calling: "Who's there?"

I was sure I heard the sound of someone running through the bracken.

Jeff came back and mounted his horse. "No one about," he said. "Shall we go on?"

I nodded.

So we rode round the estate and I saw more of the farms and their tenants. I came through without any serious mistakes but I had been really shaken by that stone. I felt certain it had been thrown at me and by someone from the mysterious Cringle household.

When I came back to the house Janet was in the hall. I could not get out of my mind the thought that she was watching me. She seemed relieved to see me.

"Well, you've had a good morning, miss, that's clear," she said.

"Yes, thank you, Janet"

"There was something I wanted to say to you. It's about Mr. Esmond's room. It's up to you to say what's to be done, of course, but I thought you might like to consider turning out that room ... like going through the papers in his desk. It ought to be done sometime and Mrs. Emerald hasn't the heart for it ... and her eyes aren't that good. I thought if you had a mind to it ... you might want to do it ... soon."

"Thanks," I said. "I will sometime."

An excitement had come to me. Who knew? I might learn something from those estate papers in Esmond's desk. Yes, it was an excellent idea. It could prove of inestimable value to me. They might give me all sorts of information which was vital to my role.

I washed quickly and took luncheon with Emerald. She was the easiest of all and I found it quite relaxing to be in her company. Her encroaching blindness was a great help—which seemed a callous thing to think of—but I must admit it had to be a relief; moreover her almost complete self-absorption was a blessing too.

She asked how I had spent my morning and I told her I had ridden round the estate with Jeff Carleton.

"Trust you to go into it right away," she said. "You were always urging Esmond to take more interest. I always said it was the castle you were in love with rather than Esmond."

"Oh, Aunt Emerald," I protested, "how can you say that? But I have always loved the castle."

"You need not tell me. ... So you rode round the estate with Jeff. How lucky you are to be able to get about. I wish I could... ."

So we were off on her favorite topic and I was safe for the rest of the luncheon.

I decided to put Janet's suggestion into practice as early as possible and, when Emerald had retired to her room for her af­ternoon siesta and the household was quiet, I went along to Esmond's room.

I shut the door and stood looking about me. It was an ordinary room—if a room in Mateland Castle could ever be that. The rounded window cut in the wall and the stone window seat alone distinguished it from the rooms I had known before; but it was the furniture in the room which struck me as conventional. There was a sofa, two armchairs, another chair, a small writing table on which stood an oil lamp and the bureau in the corner. The room told me nothing about Esmond.

I went at once to the table. That was where the papers Janet had spoken of would be.

I opened a drawer and saw several notebooks there. I took one out and opened it. A list of names in it was neatly indexed. I turned the pages and saw that it contained information about people and I realized at once that they were people living on the estate.

I saw how useful this information could be to me. If I went through this book carefully I should know the names and something about those who lived on the estate.

I wanted to cry out: "Thank you, Janet, for leading me to this."

"Emma Bell," I read in the list at the beginning. I turned to the page given in the index.

In her seventies. Lived in cottage since she married fifty years ago. Children married and left. All alone. Depends on what she earns as sewing woman.

Now I knew that this was the Emma Bell whose roof was in need of repair.

Tom Camber. Eighty. Came to Mateland aged twelve. To have cottage till he died. Then consider Tom Gelder when he marries Jessie Gill, housemaid.

This was wonderful. I could go through this book and know all about these people before I met them. I couldn't have a better aid to bolster my position.

I read on with increasing gratification. I decided I would take the book away with me to study. I was enormously exhilarated at the thought of riding round the estate and perhaps meeting Tom Gelder and telling him he should have the cottage when it fell vacant.

These people were coming alive to me and I desperately wanted to make them happy and glad that I had become the lady of the castle. It would ease my conscience considerably and, as I read about them and thought what I could do, part of that overpowering sense of guilt started to slip away from me.

I was deep in the book when I heard the door open. I started and turned sharply, feeling the color flood into my face.

It was Janet standing there.

"Oh, I thought I heard someone here," she said. "But I wasn't sure. So you're going through the papers like I said." She was watching me intently and I felt sure that she was suspicious of me.

"I took up your suggestion," I said. "It's all very neat in here."

"Oh, some of those papers need going through," replied Janet. "I'm glad you're doing it. We don't want Mrs. Emerald starting on it and upsetting herself."

"There seems to be information relating to the estate here."

"That's what it would be. Perhaps inside the bureau ..."

"The bureau is locked."

"There must be a key somewhere. Now where did Mr. Esmond keep it?"

She was looking at me with a strange expression on her face-half amusement, half dismay. I could not understand Janet at all.

She clicked her fingers and went on: "I think it was kept in this vase. That's right. I found it when I was dusting in here. I thought I'd better dust in here myself. You know how some of these girls are about dead men's things. As soon as someone dies they think he turns into a hobgoblin—though Mr. Esmond was the mildest of men and never had a cross word for anyone. Oh yes, here it is. In this vase. I think you'll find this one fits."

"Are you sure that it's all right?"

"All right, Miss Susannah?"

"I mean ... looking into private papers."

Her gaze never left my face and I saw her mouth curl into a smile. For a fearful moment I thought: She knows. She is mocking me. That smile means it's amusing that I who am committing this great fraud should have any scruples at all.

Her face was again set into its usual matter-of-fact expression.

"Well, someone's got to go through them sometime. You're taking over where he left off, aren't you?"

"I suppose that's the way to look at it."

I took the key from her.

"All right then, miss," she said. "I'll leave you to it."

"Thank you, Janet."

"Better lock the bureau and put the key back when you've done."

"I will."

The door shut on her. She was clearly very helpful to me but she did make me somewhat anxious. She was always popping up and giving me the impression that she knew something.

But perhaps that feeling was due to my uneasy conscience.

I opened the bureau.

There were stacks of paper in neat little cubbyholes. I looked at some of them. They were receipted bills and various accounts of the amount of produce that the farms had yielded. There were also accounts concerning the repairs to the castle.

All things I should know about. Then, as I was putting back one stack of bills, my hand touched a bundle of small leather-bound books. I took them out. They were tied together with red tape; they were diaries and they had been placed in date order. I looked at the bottom one. It had been started last year and the entries stopped abruptly in November. I knew why. That was when Esmond had died.

These were Esmond's diaries and by reading through them I could get some idea of the life he had lived.

I sat with the books in my hands. I felt as though I were desecrating a tomb. The honorable side of my nature would keep popping up to disconcert me. That it still existed might be surprising but it was there.

The instinct for survival, however, was stronger and I could see what a profitable day this was going to be. I was lucky to have found my way into this room so soon and for that I had to thank Janet. What I could learn here was going to be of the greatest value.

I opened the first of the diaries. The entries were brief. For instance:

Tantalus lost a shoe this morning. Took to Jolly. Waited while he shod her and talked about his daughter who is getting married this year. Late for meeting with S. She was furious. Hasn't spoken to me all day.

I glanced through the pages.

Went to Bray Woods with S. Lovely day. S. in good mood, so I was too. Went out with Jeff. He's anxious for me to learn about the estate. Quite enjoyed it.

I turned to one of the more recent ones. There was a good deal about Susannah in it and the entries had taken on a new character. They were more emotional than a brief statement of fact and, reading between the lines, I saw that this was because of Susannah.

I picked up the one which would have been written just before Susannah left for Australia. I thought this would tell me more about recent events. I must discover as much as possible about Susannah.

S. upsets me. I don't understand her at all. Sometimes she is enchanting. At others I think she enjoys hurting me. Whatever though makes no difference. She was hateful this morning. Argued all the time. She was rude to poor Saul Cringle. He looked absolutely wretched. When I told her she says things that really cut into people's feelings and destroy their pride and self-respect, she laughed at me. She said I was soft and I would never manage the castle. She said: "I suppose I'll have to marry you or the whole place will go to rack and ruin." When she said that I couldn't stop myself. I said: "Do you mean that, Susannah?" And she said: "Of course I meant it." Then she took my face in her hands and kissed me in a strange way. I felt quite dizzy.

The diary seemed to be all about Susannah now. There was no doubt that she had completely fascinated and bewildered him. They had become engaged. He wanted to marry her at once but she had not finished school yet.

The story emerged. I could picture her with her arrogance which came from a deep assurance of her powers to attract. She had something which was irresistible. She could be cruel and be forgiven for her cruelty. I think it was an excessive physical attraction.

I let the book rest on the bureau as the realization of my folly swept over me. How could I ever have thought that I could be like Susannah?

Then I turned back to the book.

Garth came yesterday. He is going to stay awhile. Went riding together, the three of us. S. has taken a dislike to G. It's a pity because he tries to please. "He's an intruder," she says. She was very rude to him and hinted that he was only the son of the companion, a higher servant. Elizabeth would be furious.

Out riding today. Went past Cringles'. Saul C. was cutting the hedge with a scythe. We stopped to look. S. said she thought some of the fences needed repairing. Saul grew quite red in the face. He looked like a schoolboy who has shirked his homework. And the fact that he is so big—he must stand six feet four high—made me all the more sorry for him. He started making excuses. Susannah said in a voice I never like to hear because it frightens people who depend on the castle for their livelihood, "I should see to those fences if I were you, Saul Cringle." The scythe slipped and he cut himself rather badly. Susannah changed then. She jumped off her horse, threw the reins at me and ran to look what damage had been done. She made Saul go into the cottage and she bound him up herself. I was glad to see the change in her. But that's Susannah. When we rode off she said, "It was nothing. Only a little cut. He's making out it was worse. He wanted me to feel sorry." "Oh, I don't think so," I answered. Then she turned on me and said I was soft again and that I should need her to run the estate. She would know how to deal with people like Saul Cringle. Then she burst out laughing. No, I don't understand Susannah.