‘But why?’

‘I think because someone could have found out the burglary before the police did.’

‘They are right, Evans or one of them did, and took the cauldron.’

She asked me how I knew, and I told her of my visit to the Wigpool mine and how I found the major insisting that the cauldron was the Grail and that he wouldn’t leave the mine until he had it.

‘But what made him think that the burglar didn’t take it?’

That put me on the spot. I was not going to admit that we had arranged the burglary in order to carry the thing up to London for expert opinion.

‘I suppose because he is close enough to those damned druidicals to understand them. He says that they believe it to be so holy that nothing would have stopped them taking it for their rites if they had a chance. You don’t know half of their futilities.’

To draw her attention away from that awkward question I gave her the story of how her mention of the public demonstration of smelting had set me on the way to discovering that the sacred ingots were of tin and, one thing leading to another, how I had found the major’s car. As an example of inner-circle superstitions I told her of the preposterous behaviour of Ballard and Raeburn when I dropped a flake of flint into the ingot.

She heard me out but I could see her mind was elsewhere.

‘Why did they kidnap the major?’ she asked.

‘Because he accused Evans of stealing the bowl.’

‘What made him think the burglar didn’t take it?’ she repeated.

‘Well, I’ve given you the best explanation I can. He has an idea that the burglar was struck dumb by its beauty.’

‘Did he say anything about footprints?’

‘No. What footprints?’

‘I told you. The police think someone could have found out about the burglary before they did and taken the bowl.’

‘But what’s it got to do with footprints?’

‘The burglar upset a jar of sulphur or something and stepped in it and they found bits of the casket on top of the footprints instead of under them.’

I saw the point, but it did not seem very solid evidence. The major had possibly been quite glad to leave mucky footprints all over the place from which his movements could be traced. But supposing the feet approached the curtained shelf, perhaps stood still in front of it and then went straight to the window and down the drainpipe, any detective would wonder how the remains of the casket came to be on top of the footprints.

‘It doesn’t matter. The police aren’t going to accuse you, my darling.’

‘But I did steal the bowl and I did smash the casket.’

She burst into tears and I tried to comfort her. I didn’t give a damn if she had the golden cauldron. I was delighted. At last I was free to take it away and have it examined.

‘When I heard of his death,’ she said, clinging to me and still sobbing, ‘the first thing I did was to get the key from his desk and unlock the lab and see if there was any message for me or the commune or anything. And then I saw the place had been burgled and the casket was still there. I thought it must be somebody in the commune. Any of them could have taken the keys from his desk. And then I thought: he’s missed the bowl and he shan’t have it. It’s mine. So I smashed the casket at the hinge and took the bowl and then I smashed the casket some more. But afterwards I felt so guilty. All the time we were together I felt guilty.’

‘Nonsense! You were his nearest relative.’

I might have been a little shocked if I had not known her sudden impulses, which were youthful, and the determination of her character, which was not. Her act had not been cold-blooded. It was a mixture of sorrow and exasperation, to which, as I was to see a moment later, could be added suspicion.

‘Where is it?’ I asked.

‘I put it in the waste-paper basket and covered it up, and later I hid it in the forest. Piers, I don’t even know if it’s really gold, only that it’s mysterious and beautiful and he made it.’

I said that, if he did, it was by melting down something else of far greater value. ‘What happened, I am sure, was that he discovered an ancient treasure buried somewhere near the bank of the Severn. That was when he put out the story of the win on the football pools. He really got the funds for Broom Lodge by melting down the gold and remaking it so that the origin could never be recognised. He spared the cauldron because it was so splendid, and made such a mystery of it for his followers that they believed it had some occult power. So does that crazy major.’

‘You should never have gone down at Wigpool,’ she cried. ‘And it’s all my fault! I told you they could be dangerous.’

To stop her blaming herself I said that I couldn’t take them seriously, and I told her about the In Memoriam service I had attended – certainly impressive but childish mumbo-jumbo all the same.

‘Who was dead?’ she asked.

‘Nobody that I know of.’

‘Then why do you call it In Memoriam?’

‘Well, it looked like it,’ I answered weakly. ‘Evans’s grandmother perhaps.’

‘That night when you left us – I know Uncle Simeon drove away with two diving suits and came back with one.’

‘I forgot to give it back to him.’

‘So you were separated?’

‘Yes, he was going back to Broom Lodge, and I wasn’t.’

‘Then he left before you came out of the river.’

‘Elsa dear, you know how unaccountable he was.’

‘And that’s why you wouldn’t come back to us and lived in the Forest!’

‘In a way. I had to know what he had found. A burial? Saxon? Roman? Or something far earlier and quite unknown to history? The tomb of Nodens, if he ever was a real person? To my way of thinking it was an unspeakable crime to keep secret such a discovery and perhaps destroy it. But to your uncle it was a gift of the gods which allowed him to keep his colony running – literally a gift of the gods he may have thought.’

‘He was a wonderful craftsman,’ Elsa said doubtfully.

‘Superb! I know. The major tells me that Evans and Co. have it that he was divinely inspired. But if he did make the cauldron, where did he get the gold?’

‘For heaven’s sake leave it alone now! What does it all matter to us two, my darling?’

‘Nothing, when you say so. But first I must get the major out of there. You see that.’

‘Will he come?’

‘Yes, if I give him my word that you, not those fanatics, have his Grail.’

I assured her that there was no need to worry about me, saying that I could go down and come up again in daylight that very afternoon provided that our precious druidicals were all at honest work and that the pile of pit props was undisturbed. She was not content and, as if she could foresee dangers which I could not, wanted me to describe the slope, the entrance, the blocked gate, the lot. She said that I ought to be accompanied by police or at least to let them know. I pointed out that the police were the last people we wanted to talk to. It would take longer to explain the motives of all concerned than to get the major out and away, and there were details about which the police would quickly see that we didn’t want to talk.

‘I’ll get on with it at once,’ I said. ‘After lunch check that the seven druidicals have all gone off to work, especially Evans. As soon as they are all safely occupied, go out at the back and wave a tablecloth. Then I’ll start off.’

I had to promise to come straight back to her when it was all over. I told her that it was hard to give a definite time. I might have to wait in cover to make sure there was no one about. Denzil might decide to lecture me on faith and works before making up his mind. And I should have to play our return by ear. I suggested that she should stay in the office from six o’clock on and I would telephone her if all was well. If I failed to call her, I would meet her about seven-thirty at a spot which I would show her.

‘If you don’t telephone and don’t turn up, I’m going to the police,’ she said.