‘Oh, really? Well, if she’s an imposter she won’t get far without proof.’

‘She’s got a very sound-looking certificate of marriage, according to old Baird,’ said Jonathan. ‘I had a telephone conversation with him this morning. He seems frightfully interested. I don’t believe country life suits him too well, and I suppose any bit of news makes a change.’

‘Bachelors are always gossips,’ said Deborah unreasonably. ‘May I come with you on your walk? I’d love to see where you’re going to begin your dig,’ she added to Mansell.

‘I should be delighted to have you come,’ said Mansell politely, ‘if it wouldn’t be too long a walk.’

Mrs Bradley, Sally and Obury promptly added themselves to the party, and next day the company set out. They started immediately after breakfast, and the plan was to return to a late lunch. Mrs Fairleaf, Deborah’s cook, was to make it a meal which could be delayed if necessary beyond the time which had been allowed for the walk, and, the weather being fine and the air sharp, the party stepped out along the drive and were soon on the road which led uphill through the village.

At the village public house they turned left and were soon on another and a steeper uphill road which degenerated into a narrow lane and then into nothing more than a track.

There were banks and hedges on either side, and, on the lower slopes, the track was muddy and slippery. As it mounted it grew drier, and at the end of half a mile of stiff walking the ground flattened out to a small plateau. The hedges disappeared, and ahead of the walkers was the hill on which was the long barrow where Mansell was to make his trial dig.

About a mile further on, the ground began to fall again, and the track followed a stream. Soon the party came to two small houses. They seemed incredibly remote from the village, although, as the crow flies, they were within a mile or two of a small church which the walkers could see in the distance.

The track forked beside the houses. Mansell unhesitatingly took the left-hand fork, and the party walked alongside the stream, which, here and there, crossed the path in a tiny cascade over grey, clean stones. It was nowhere sufficiently wide to cause the walkers inconvenience, and the party made very good progress until again the ground took an upward slope.

At the top of the rise was the long barrow, a whale-backed object higher at one end than at the other, and commanding a magnificent view over the valley of the Severn and away to the Forest of Dean and the Welsh mountains. The situation of the barrow was romantic, and, although lonely, not desolate.