I knew that whatever I said would do no good. It frightened me. I could feel the tension rising.

I knew that the servants were watching my stepmother. In their hearts they believed that she had brought witchcraft into the castle. It was some years now since she had come but the nature of her coming would never be forgotten.

A terrible thought had struck me. If the people were aroused to look for witches, as I believed they had done in other parts of the country, the first place they would look would be in the castle.

Senara seemed to be possessed by a recklessness. I sensed that she was unhappy and that it was because Dickon was going away.

Surely she could never have imagined there would be a marriage between them. She might have done so, being Senara.

Once she had said: “With me all things are possible,” and she had meant it.

She was quieter than usual. I knew that she went often to Leyden Hall; and I was almost certain that Dickon crept into the castle at night.

I overheard the servants talking about familiars. “Could be a cat or a mouse most likely. It is really the Devil in that form. He talks to the one he comes to and tells her what evil she can do.”

I wondered whether they had heard voices in the Red Room.

I loved Senara, maddening as she was at times. I did not understand her but the bond between us was there.

I deplored this recklessness in her. I wanted to implore her to take care.

That was the last thing she would do. She knew there were whisperings. She knew that as her mother’s daughter she was suspected. Yet she seemed to take a delight in whipping up their fears and suspicions.

Once she came in late. I knew she had been to Leyden Hall for she had about her that look of exultation which was often there after her visits.

I said to her: “You have just ridden in on Betsy.”

She flashed at me, “Of course. What did you expect me to ride in on? My broomstick?”

And there were servants listening.

THE DEVIL’S TEETH

IT WAS STRANGE THAT when I was not looking for them I should find my mother’s papers. I had intended to write a letter to my grandmother and in my mother’s sitting-room where I did my writing at that time I opened the sandalwood desk box which I often used. There was paper wedged into the side of the box-like cavity and as I tried to dislodge it I touched a spring. A flap of wood fell down and the papers started to spill out.

I looked at them in disbelief. I glanced at a page. I could not believe it. My heart began to thud with excitement. That for which I had searched so earnestly had fallen into my hands.

I sorted the papers; there were far more than I would have believed possible in that secret compartment of the sandalwood desk box.

I started to read. There it was—my mother’s meeting with Fenn’s father, the possibility of their marriage and then with my father at the inn and the consequences. Knowing them, it was so vivid to me and yet I said to myself as I read on, did I know them? I suppose people are different beings to different people. They change their personalities to suit their background like a chameleon on his tree.

There was the coming of my stepmother. That I knew already. She had come on Hallowe’en and been found by my mother. It was a story which had often been told.

And then … my mother’s discovery of my father’s profession.

I could not bear that. I wished I had never found the papers. So on those nights of storm he lured ships on to the rocks. A flash of understanding came to me. The night I had lighted the lanterns in the tower they had been deliberately put out. It was for that reason that there had been a whipping in the Seaward courtyard. Someone had been blamed for lighting them on that night. Someone who should have seen that they were put out.

What can I do? I asked myself. I cannot stay here. I won’t stay here. I must get away. I must put a stop to my father’s hideous trade.

How?

I could betray him. To whom? I was so ignorant of what should be done. What if I told Fenn? I could go to him and tell him what was happening and he would stop it. And Fenn’s father was in that grave. Murdered 1600 and by my own father!

I felt inadequate, alone.

To whom could I turn?

There was my grandmother. I could go to her. She was a wise woman. She would tell me what to do.

Then I thought of her, frail and failing, and I asked myself how could I burden her with this?

I must find a way. I would make sure that always the lanterns shone out their beams on the water. They might turn them out but I would see that they were lighted. At least I could do that. I had saved a ship once. I would do it again.

They would discover, of course. What would they do to me? What would my father do if he knew that I was aware of his trade? He was a violent man; and if he was capable of letting hundreds drown for the sake of the cargo they carried, what else was he capable of?

Murdered 1600! I kept seeing that stone on my mother’s grave. I read on in fascinated horror.

She had been afraid. She had suspected something. She had been comforted by my presence and on the night I was not there she had died.

I had learned so much through those papers but not what I had set out to know.

How did my mother die?

In view of all I now knew I was convinced that she had been murdered.

My knowledge had changed me. Senara noticed it.

“What’s happened?” she demanded. “Something has.”

I shook my head. “What do you mean?”

“I can see it,” she insisted. “I’ve spoken to you twice and you haven’t answered. You’re dreaming half the time. And you’re worried, Tamsyn. What is it?”

“You’re imagining things,” I said.

But she didn’t believe me and she wasn’t going to let it rest.

“I believe you’ve discovered something. What is it? Is it why Fenn doesn’t come to see you?”

“I don’t need to discover that. Why should he come to see me more than anyone else?”

“Because there was some special understanding between you.”

“In other people’s imaginations,” I said.

“Well, if it’s not Fenn, what is it? I know. You’ve found those papers you were looking for.”

I started. I must have betrayed myself.

“So you have,” she declared.

“The papers are still in their secret hiding-place.” This was true. I had put them back in the sandalwood desk. I would keep the desk in the old place so that none might find anything different. That was the safest way.

“I believe you have seen them,” said Senara. “You’ve been reading the revelations and it has made you very thoughtful. You can’t keep secrets, Tamsyn. You never could.”

“You’d be surprised,” I said, “what secrets I can keep.”

“If you’ve found those papers and won’t show them to me I’ll never forgive you.”

“I dare say I shall get through life without your forgiveness.”

“So you have found them.”

“I said I could do without your forgiveness.”

“You are maddening. But you’ve found them, I know. Don’t imagine that I’m not going to pester you till you tell me where they are.”

Merry had come into the room.

I wondered how much she had overheard.

It was amazing how difficult it was to keep a secret in a household of many people. I was well aware that several people believed with Senara that I had found the papers.

During that day the uneasiness came to me.

I was possessed of dangerous knowledge. There were several people involved—my father who gave the orders, all the men of the Seaward Tower who were his helpers in his work of destruction, my stepmother who might have been my father’s mistress while my mother was alive and who married him three months after her death.

The biggest guilt rested with my father. It was this thought which horrified me. I could not bear that he should be the murderer of my mother. He was the one with the motive. She had known of his trade, but then she had accepted it. I was surprised that she had, but perhaps I did not understand. She had needed him in her life. Whether she had loved him or not I could not know. I was not sufficiently experienced. I was too young, too idealistic. I knew my grandmother had deplored my grandfather’s buccaneering ways. He had often boasted of the Spaniards he had killed. Yet she had loved him and when he had died it had seemed that her life had finished with his. How was I to understand the complex emotions between men and women. I had a kind of idealistic love for Fenn Landor, but I was shrewd enough to know that I was only on the threshold of love. He had rejected me and it might be that one day I would love as my grandmother had loved my grandfather and my mother my father. I could not blame her for turning away from that terrible question. He was her husband and she had promised to obey him.