Belinda nodded. “We won’t stay long, I promise. As soon as I’ve decided what needs to be done with White Sails we’re off. I know.” She grabbed my arm. “Let’s go back to the cottage now and take another look. Let’s see if it’s feasible to put in a bathroom.”

“And electricity,” I added. “It’s scary in the night when lamps go out.”

“It was. I’m beginning more and more to think it might be best just to put it up for sale and walk away. But then I keep thinking it’s my last link to Cornwall. My mother grew up here. I had happy childhood memories.”

“You have come into money, Belinda. Buy yourself another cottage—one with all modern conveniences.”

Belinda laughed. We drove off, speeding past the entrance to Trewoma, just in case anyone was looking, and continued on around the headland to White Sails. Waves were breaking over the little rocky island, sending up impressive sheets of spray. Seagulls circled, screeching. As we left the motorcar and opened the gate I could see the value of that little harbor. Waves splashed against the harbor wall, but inside the water was sheltered and calm. I was surprised to see a boat tied up against the wall.

“Look,” I said to Belinda. “Is that Jago’s? It wasn’t there this morning.”

“It can’t be. He’s at Trengilly. Although we didn’t see his boat at the jetty there, did we?” She gave me a knowing look. “Interesting. Perhaps this is part of the smuggling chain—someone come to pick up the smuggled goods.”

“I don’t know where Jago could have stashed them,” I said. “We didn’t see any sign this morning, did we?”

“Maybe in the cave down below? Although that might be risky because I think it gets flooded at high tide.” She gave my shoulder a pat. “Come on. Let’s go and see if we have an intruder. Perhaps they have been using this cottage for years with impunity. We’ll soon put a stop to that.”

“Belinda, if they are smugglers . . .” I began. “Well, they might be dangerous. We should go carefully.”

“Nonsense,” Belinda said. “The sooner they know they are not wanted here, the better.”

I watched her stalking resolutely down the steps ahead of me and had to admire her bravado. Why did I always have to think of what could go wrong with every situation while she never seemed to? Perhaps it was because my old nanny always brought me up to be careful. “Watch where you are going. Don’t be too hasty.” Those were the sort of things she always said. And of course I had recently found myself in several dangerous situations. I knew that some people could be violent and desperate and could even kill.