I almost drove past the little gate leading down to White Sails. I cursed myself for not having a torch and left the headlamps on as I took the steps one by one and then located the front door. I opened it with Belinda’s keys. Once inside I found matches and managed to light the lamp before I braved the steps again and brought down my luggage, carefully locking the front door behind me. Now I was safely inside I got the fire going and cooked myself boiled eggs and soup over the hob. It felt very lonely and remote, sitting by that fire with the hissing light of the oil lamp, but I told myself that Belinda would be feeling so much worse, spending the night in a prison cell. When would the telegram reach her father? I wondered. When would her solicitor come? Would they be able to arrange bail for her?

And if they couldn’t? Would she be shipped to London to face trial at the Old Bailey? In my mind I went over the events of the day. Rose appearing behind me on the cliff top and, most disturbing of all, the old man’s body washing up on the rocks at Trengilly. He had been frightened of “her.” She had threatened to have him locked up but he had never said anything about what he saw. Had he seen Rose pushing Jonquil over the cliff? And now paid for it with his life . . .

Outside a great gust of wind buffeted the cottage. I should be making plans. Tomorrow I would visit Belinda, but did I have anything hopeful to tell her? Just my suspicions. And the fact that she did not kill old Harry. But then the police would say that nobody did. He was always wandering around on the seashore. Perhaps he fell and hit his head on a slippery rock and a wave took him. There would be no way to prove that his death wasn’t accidental. I sighed, carried my dishes over to the sink and decided that I was not going to bother to heat water before the morning. Then I undressed for bed, wishing fervently that there was a hot-water bottle in the place. I curled into a little ball and lay listening to the wind and the waves.

I suppose I must have eventually drifted off to sleep when something woke me. Was it the creak of a floorboard? The lamp must have run out of oil and I was in complete darkness. I held my breath, remembering those steps coming up from the cave that would admit any intruder who knew about them. I thought I could hear breathing over the noise of the waves. I held my own breath, but nothing seemed to be moving. Then I felt the bedclothes cautiously lifted as someone was trying to slip into bed beside me. I sat up. “Jago, is that you again?” I demanded.