“Bastards.” Johnny was buttering rolls and reached for two more when he saw them. “Sorry—” he said to Cleo, wiping his palms down his apron, “that’s not much of a greeting, is it? You must be Cleo. I’m Johnny Robsart.” He picked up the knife again. “But honestly, who would do such a thing? They’ve totally destroyed everything we’ve worked for over the past three days.”

“I’m so sorry,” Lucy said. “Do you think it was done by detectorists looking for finds?”

“More likely just vandals.” Finn looked grim. “The same people who’ve been so hostile to the dig from the start, perhaps.”

Lucy shot Cleo a look. Given the odd things that had happened at the barn the previous night she wondered if there could be any link between the vandalism and the person Cleo had crashed into.

“Coffee?” Finn paused with the cafetière in his hand. “Or would you prefer juice?”

“Juice, thanks,” Lucy said. She frowned. “Had you discovered anything important at the summerhouse site? I mean, I know it’s all important, but did they destroy anything valuable?”

“No,” Finn said. “There wasn’t much of the structure there, though there was enough to confirm it was built on a foundation of Tudor bricks. Luckily Johnny did a sketch of it a couple of days ago. The only really interesting thing was that there was evidence of burning. We thought the building might have been destroyed in a flood but it turned out that the whole structure appeared to have burned down.”

“Burning?” Lucy remembered the vision she had seen that night in the wood; the trees aflame and the little house by the lake splintering into dust and ashes.

Johnny, who had been adding crispy bacon to the rolls, looked at her. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Lucy said. “It’s just...” She shook her head. She wasn’t ready to talk about all her dreams and experiences just yet. “It seems an odd thing to have happened,” she said.

“Yes,” Finn agreed, “and not long after it was built either. The layers of earth on top of it suggest it can only have been standing for a year or two.”

“Some sort of accident then?” Cleo asked. “Back in Tudor times?”

“Something like that, perhaps,” Finn said. “Or maybe it was deliberate. Buildings often burned down in the days of open fires and candles, but you wouldn’t really expect it there, with a water source available to douse the fire.” He filled their glasses with orange juice and passed them over at the same time as Johnny brought the sandwiches over.

“Bliss,” Cleo said, sitting down at the pine table and grabbing one.

“Presumably you’ve reported the damage to the police?” Lucy said, and Finn nodded.

“They’ll be busy today then,” Cleo said. “Reports coming in on all sides. Knightstone is a hotbed of crime.”

“Oh?” Johnny cocked his head. “What else has been going on?”

“Someone tried to break into the barn,” Cleo said before Lucy could answer. “We think it was Gabriel.”