“Oh yes, rather. Lying low for a while, don’t you know.”

Now I had a chance to examine him I could see the resemblance. He had Belinda’s dark eyes and straight nose but his features were now marred by bags under those eyes and sagging jowls. He wore a jaunty yachting cap and sported a pencil-thin mustache in the manner of Clark Gable. I could see he might have been handsome once, but had lived too much of a good life for too long.

“So where are you living?” she asked. “Have you bought a place down here?”

“Not exactly a place, my dear child. Having not inherited a fortune like you, but a mere pittance to keep me off the streets. Unfortunately I was not the favored one. My dear mama did not trust my judgment when it came to money. I am left an allowance, pocket money, like a child. So I have bought a boat. Nice little craft. Forty footer. Big enough to live on and I’ve got her moored across the way in Padstow. I go up and down the coast as the mood takes me. Even across the Channel when I feel daring. Fancy free, that is me.”

He had a light and high-pitched voice for his size. He was smiling as he spoke, but I noticed his eyes darted around, as if he was scared of being noticed.

“More to the point, what are you doing here?” he asked. “There’s nothing for you in this part of the world, is there? Not now Trengilly is long gone.”

“Actually part of my inheritance was a fishing cottage called White Sails,” Belinda said.

“That old ruin? My darling child, you are welcome to it. I don’t know what you’d do with it. It’s good for nothing except smuggling brandy.”

“You’re right. It is pretty ghastly,” she said.

“You’re not staying there, are you?” he asked.

“Last night. That was enough. But we’ve been invited to stay at Trewoma. Rather more civilized, don’t you think?”

“Trewoma. My, my, that’s moving up in the world. Although the new owner is not my favorite person.”

“Tony Summers, you mean? You know him?”

“Summers. Yes, that’s the name. I can’t say I know him. Certainly know of him. He owns the mooring rights on this stretch of river. He’s raising the prices. Charging a fortune. And the crab and lobster rights too. A fellow can’t even catch himself a decent lobster without running afoul of that blighter Summers and the local law.” He wagged a chubby finger at her. “You might just point out to him that local chappies like me are struggling to pay his rents while he lives in luxury. He’ll pay for it when the communists take over.”