Still smiling, he went upstairs and found the number on a door and listened. Not a sound. He walked through the painted wooden panels. The room was dark, except for a glimmer from the window where the curtains had been drawn back to admit the first morning light. Sabrina was asleep in the tumbled bed, one fragile arm outflung.

He bent above her with mingled thankfulness and anxiety, and her troubled face relaxed. She stirred a little, and settled more comfortably into the pillow. Very cautiously he straightened the covers and drew them over her. Sabrina smiled in her sleep, and as she did so he knew again the swift sweet thrill of elation which had surprised him only the day before while she drank her tea on the side of the bed. He retreated in all humility and gratitude to a rather uncomfortable-looking chair by the window, rested his crossed feet on the bureau, and took up his vigil.

He had found her, and she was safe, but what came next? An alarming sense of his own helplessness was growing on him tonight. Whatever happened, he could only stand by and watch. But from now on, he dared not let her out of his sight. Suppose he lost her. It came as rather a shock to him that he had not, apparently, developed any sort of second sight which would guide him to her again, across the world. If once he lost touch with her, or at least with the family, it might be years before he saw her again ... centuries....

But she needed him. He was so sure of that. She belonged to him. It was his job to look after her. But how?

Someone was ringing the night bell, and banging on the street door. There was a stir downstairs. Sabrina slept through it, smiling.

Arrival of distraught family, thought Hilary. Let her have her sleep out, why can’t you? Go to bed and shut up till morning.

There was a tapping on Sabrina’s door, and she sat up, startled.

“It’s all right,” he said gently. “They left the bloodhound at home.”

“Who’s there?” called Sabrina tremulously.

“It’s me, dear—Aunt Effie. Open the door.”

“You might as well let her get it over,” Hilary advised, preparing to surrender his chair.

Sabrina got out of bed and snapped on the light and unlocked the door.

“You naughty girl, how could you worry us so? We had to ring up the police station at Wells!” Aunt Effie came in and shut the door behind her.

“I’m sorry.” Sabrina returned to the bed and sat up in the middle of it with the covers pulled round her, looking very small and forlorn.

“Somebody saw you getting on the bus for Glastonbury, or I really don’t know what we should have done, we might have worried all night long—”