"Well, be seeing things won't we, now the lady in the case has passed on, you might say."

"Passed on?"

"We don't know where to, do we? All we know is that she ain't with us now. I'll tell you one thing, Miss Grant, nothing stands still does it? Life moves on. I often say to myself: well, I wonder what next?" "You seem to be well informed on everything that goes on," I said ironically.

"It's in the nature of the post office, you might say. As I always say to Baddicombe: There's not much to this job ... you work hard and you don't get much ... but I says to him, I says: There's people ... and that's what makes it worthwhile."

She raised her eyes and with the air of a benefactress to mankind, put her folder in a drawer.

I went out feeling relieved that she had shown no displeasure and wondered whether at our last meeting she had even grasped my disapproval.

In the afternoon I went for a walk through the ruins, keeping a wary eye out for Jason Verringer in case he had decided to take a walk there. He might easily do so for I guessed he was trying to catch me, and would do so sooner or later.

I came to the ponds and looked at their waters rushing to the falls as they reached their lower depths. They made a soothing sound and I walked along beside them to the river and then started to wander along its bank.

I realized that I must turn back or be late so I retraced my steps and, as I came in sight of the fishponds, I saw Teresa.

I called to her and she came running towards me. "Are you taking a walk too?" I asked.

"Yes. I saw you coming this way."

"We have to start back now. I mustn't be late for class, nor must you. Did you manage your lines?"


"Oh yes. I had to learn `Once more unto the breach' right down to `God for Harry, England and St George'."

"Quite a long piece."

"I knew most of it already."

"Oh, Teresa, I'm sorry that happened. Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

She nodded firmly.

I sighed. "I thought you might have felt you could confide in me."

She remained silent and a look of mulish obstinacy crossed her face.

We walked in silence.

"Have you a part in the pageant?" I asked.

"No. Well, only at the end ... doing exercises and singing the school song. Miss Grant ... there is something I want to ask you."

I breathed a sigh of relief. I thought: Now she is going to tell me what Charlotte had dope to offend her so deeply.

"Well, Teresa?"

"It's hard to say because I think you like him .. . I think you like him quite a lot."

"Who? What do you mean?"

"It's about Mrs. Martindale."

I felt my voice shake a little as I said: "What about her?"

"I-I think she's dead. I-I think she was murdered."

"Teresa! How can you say such a thing. You really mustn't."

"I haven't told anyone else."

"I should hope not."

She stopped and putting her band in her pocket held it out to me. As the fingers unclosed I saw an earring. It was so bizarre and colourful that I immediately recognized it.

"It was hers," she said. "I saw her wearing it."

"Well?"

"I found it here ... by the ponds ... It must have come off ... in a struggle."

"My dear Teresa, you are imagining too much. You're like Mrs. Baddicombe."

"It's her earring. I know because Eugenie had it to return to her not long ago. She showed it to us then. I found this ... down there by the water .. . She must have dropped it."

"Well, she dropped it. She lost it. People do lose earrings and the fact that she lost this one before shows that there was something faulty about it."

"I think this dropped off when she was thrown into the river."

"Teresa! What has come over you? First you attack Charlotte Mackay and now you are making these wild accusations about ... about whom, Teresa?"

"About him. I'm afraid you like him, Miss Grant. I know that women are supposed to. But don't .. . I - I ... can't bear it that he should ... talk to you ... and bring you into all this. It spoils everything ... all the fun we have with Aunt Patty and Violet. Miss Grant, please don't take any notice of him. He's a wicked man. Eugenie says ..."

"Have you said anything to anyone about this, Teresa?"

She shook her head violently.

"Promise me you won't."

She nodded firmly.

"It's nonsense," I went on. "There is a lot of evil gossip. Mrs. Martindale left because she was tired of the country."

"Why didn't she say she was going?"

"Why should she? It was no concern of anyone but herself. No doubt she told anyone who would be concerned."

"Oh, Miss Grant, don't be in it. Let them do what they like, but let us stay away from it. Let's think about the summer and the bees and the flowers and Aunt Patty's hats and Violet's apple pies."

"Teresa, calm down," I said. "You are imagining all this. I shouldn't be surprised if Mrs. Martindale came back."

"She can't. He wouldn't have her. He's finished with her now. That's what he's like. He casts off people when he's finished with them ... and kills them. There was his first wife."

"This is all so much gossip."

"It's true."

"No."

"It is true," said Teresa, "and I'm afraid. I don't want you-"

I put my arm round her. "I am not concerned in this," I said soothingly. "This man is nothing to do with us. He just happens to own the Abbey lands, that's all. Everything is as it was before. You're coming home with me for the summer holidays and we'll have a wonderful time."

"Oh yes ... yes."

"Make sure you don't do anything that might make Miss Hetherington angry. She might decide to punish you by keeping you at school."

Teresa had turned white.

I said quickly: "Oh, she wouldn't do that. But don't run the risk. And, Teresa, not a word of this to anyone. It's not true ... but it would be wrong to talk of it. You haven't, have you?"

"Oh no, no."

"And that earring ..."

She held out her palm. It lay there, the ruby a vivid red glistening in the sunshine.

I wondered what should be done with it and what effect it would have if people knew it had been found by the fish ponds.

I did not have to wonder long for with a quick movement Teresa lifted her arm and flung the earring into the water.

Shocked, I turned to her. "Teresa," I cried. "Why did you do that?"

"It's all over," she said. "Don't let's say any more about it. I won't ... if you don't."

I felt very disturbed and at the same time relieved that I did not have to take some action about the earring. Quietly we walked back to the school. I thought Teresa seemed calmer and happier than she had since the affair with Charlotte.

Midsummer Moon

I was haunted by doubts. I found sleep impossible. How had the earring come to be down there by the fish ponds? Only if the owner had been there. She might have walked to the fish ponds. It was some way from Rooks' Rest and I had never seen her out walking; she was not the sort of person to take long tramps in the countryside.

Just suppose she was dead. Suppose she was murdered. What of Maisie? Where was she? Were the scandalmongers suggesting that she too had been murdered? Perhaps the idea of one body being thrown into the ponds was plausible. But two? I remembered then that Jason Verringer had told me how an ancestor of his had once disposed of a rival by throwing his body into the fish ponds after killing him. "The river is swift running and only a few miles from the sea." He had said something like that.

And then the child? What of the child? She was in the care of Mrs. Gittings on Dartmoor, but she could not stay there indefinitely without arrangements being made.

It was a lot of nonsense. It had its roots in the post office and had grown to this through other mischiefmakers. But Jason Verringer was ruthless. He had shown me that clearly enough. Other people were only important to him when they could give him what he wanted. He could contemplate rape. Why not then murder? He had obviously been attracted to Marcia Martindale at one time, since he had offered her a home at Rooks' Rest. And then there was the child. He had certainly been a little casual about her. But at least he had offered them a home.

I wondered about the child and the more I thought of it the more strongly I decided I must find out all I could and that if I could see Mrs. Gittings-who seemed to me a very reasonable and practical person-I might learn a good deal. If I did discover that this was all nonsense I would make sure that everyone in the neighbourhood knew and I would put a stop to this pernicious gossip.

The more I thought of it, the more possible it seemed. I had heard the name of the place where Mrs. Gittings' sister lived. Perhaps something like this had been at the back of my mind for I had memorized the names. Mrs. Gittings' sister was Ada Whalley and she lived at a place called Bristonleigh on Dartmoor. That was not very far from here, probably a matter of about fifteen miles.

Why not? The more I thought of it, the better the idea seemed.

I said to Daisy: "On Sunday I should like to go and see a friend of mine who lives on Dartmoor, but I am not quite sure of the locality."

"Sunday is a day, I suppose, when you could easily get away. I am sure you could arrange for one of the others to take over any duties you might have."

"Yes, I am sure I could. I wonder if you have a map. I should like to see where it is exactly." "There are several. I'll show you."

Bristonleigh was not marked on the first, but she had a map of Dartmoor and its environs-and there it was. It was clearly a small hamlet right on the edge of the moor. I made a note of the nearest town.

I should have to go there and take some sort of conveyance to this place, I supposed.

"There is one train which leaves here at ten thirty," said Daisy. "And the one which would bring you back doesn't pass through until four. That should give you a little time with your friends."

"I'll try it. It will be an experiment."

And so it was that I found myself speeding through the lush Devon countryside on that Sunday morning.

The journey was only half an hour and when I arrived at the station and asked the porter how I could get to Bristonleigh, he was a little dubious, but only for a moment. "It's three miles from here ... uphill a bit. But I reckon Dick Cramm wouldn't mind earning a bit extra of a Sunday. He'd be just about up and about. He likes a bit of a lay-in on Sundays. But he be ready in case we gets calls, which we don't often."

"Where can I find him?"

"Go through the yard. Turn to the right. You'll see his place. Crabtree Cottage with a great crab apple tree beside it. That's where it gets it's name."

I thanked him and went off in search of Dick Cramm who fortunately was up and fresh from his Sunday morning "lay-in" and quite ready to take me to Bristonleigh.

"I want to see Miss Ada Whalley," I said. "Oh, she be a fine lady, Miss Ada Whalley." "You know her then?"

"Know her? Who don't know Miss Ada Whalley in these parts! She do grow the best vegetables round here. My wife has some ... so does most. Some of them goes up to London for folks up there. I goes and gets them and puts them on the train for her. Oh yes, I know Miss Ada Whalley."

This was great good fortune. I had imagined myself prowling the streets of Bristonleigh looking for Miss Ada Whalley.

"She do have her sister living with her now," he went on. "That be nice for her. She was saying so only the other day when I took down a load of greens. She said: "Tis nice having my sister with me.' Poor soul. I reckon she were lonely before."

We came to Bristonleigh. It was a beautiful village, typical of England and especially of Devon where the vegetation seems to be more lush than anywhere else in the country. There was the old church, the village green, a few houses, mostly eighteenth century except the Elizabethan Manor House on the common. The church clock chimed twelve just as we entered the village.

"Miss Whalley, her's a bit apart from the rest. She's got a bit of land for her growing things, you see. We'll be there in a few minutes."

"I shall have to catch the train back. It's half past three isn't h?"

"That's so, Miss."

"Will you come and pick me up and take me to the station?"