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heart. I’m not sure it would be better just to let the place rot to pieces. And yet—”
    And yet, despite his doubts, he obviously felt a reluctance to abandon the little place.
    “Could you afford it?” she asked matter-of-factly, and her uncle nodded.
    “Yes, I suppose I can,” he admitted. “But that’s not really the point.” He hesitated. “I suppose it sounds idiotic, Meg, but I’ve got a feeling that there’s a jinx of some sort on the place! A threat hanging over it—” Meg’s lips parted. She was on the brink of telling him that it wasn’t just his imagination running away with him. There was a threat hanging over them. But even as she tried to think just how she would explain the facts to him, Uncle Andra gave himself a determined little shake.
    “I’m getting superstitious in my old age!” he apologised. “Or perhaps it’s just that I’m reluctant to take on such a big thing as this has turned out to be. I don’t know. I’ll just have to think it over, Meg, give myself just a few days before I make up my mind. That’s only sensible, after all.”
    Meg agreed that he was right and determined that the few days’ grace she had been given should be put to good effect. Just how she was going to set about it she didn’t know, but somehow and from somewhere, she would get to the bottom of the mystery, even if it meant tackling Hector Heronshaw face to face!
     
    While they had been waiting for the report Meg had filled in time tackling the neglected garden. It had been hard work, but as order began to emerge, she had found it very satisfying. In particular, she had enjoyed the tremendous bonfires she had lit, for not only had they reduced the garden refuse to manageable quantities but they had dealt with all those revoltingly greasy papers that had been in the cottage. Nor had her efforts been her only source of pleasure. In Jeremy Malvern she had found a pleasant, undemanding companion, and if he was too busy a man to be able to spend much time with her during the day, that didn’t matter, because she was busy as well. But always, in the evening, he was able to find time to be with her, and as October progressed and the hotel began to empty, he had more freedom than he had had when they had first come.
    But on the morning that Uncle Andra had received the report and had expressed his doubts as to going to the expense of reconditioning the cottage, Meg had felt restless. She had intended doing some more gardening, but what was the good of that when more than likely they would never see the results of her labour? She felt in a mood of irresolution and downright frustration, and though she dressed in the dungarees and gumboots which formed her working kit and drove down the lane to the cottage, she couldn’t bring herself to start work.
    For a while she sat in the car. Then, suddenly, she made up her mind. She would go on strike. Instead of working, she would go exploring beyond the confines of the little garden. She would cross the small paddock which belonged to it and see how far she could get in the direction of the foothills which looked so alluring in the bright October sunlight.
    Her mind made up, she wasted no more time. The paddock was terribly overgrown and still dewy wet, but dressed as she was, that didn’t worry Meg, and her spirits rose—until she reached the far side of the paddock. She hadn’t realised it until she actually reached the spot, but now she found that her way was barred in exactly the same way as the by-road had been—a similar stout, padlocked gate and an identical notice.
    “Oh, hooey!” Meg said disdainfully, and scrambled over the gate. She walked round the edge of the field so that no one could accuse her of doing any damage. One the other side of the field was a stone wall, but this presented no more hindrance than the gate had done. And now Meg found herself not in a field which had ever been cultivated but on rough, boulder-strewn ground whose only