'Ooh! Will they go?'

 

'Wait and see. Go to bed. And try not to put all your faith in the moon. There may be greater problems still waiting for you than you think.'

 

Mother stood with her hand on the door of Miss Hatherton's small beetle-like car. 'Now you're sure you'll be all right? ' she said doubtfully.

 

'Oh Mother, of course we shall,' Jane said. 'What could possibly happen to us? '

 

'Well, I don't know, I'm not altogether happy about leaving you...what with that burglary ...'

 

'That was ages ago now.'

 

'So long as you don't set the place on fire,' Father said cheerfully. Miss Hatherton had promised to take him shark-fishing the next day, and he was as excited as a schoolboy.

 

'Don't let them go to bed too late, Uncle Merry,' Mother said, getting into the car.

 

'Now don't worry, Ellen,' Great-Uncle Merry said paternally from the doorstep, looking like an Old Testament patriarch with the children clustering round him. 'I shan't have a chance to lead them astray with Mrs Palk living in. We shall all probably die of overeating instead.'

 

'Are you sure you won't all come too?' Miss Hatherton leant across the steering-wheel, blinking in the morning sun. The car lurched slightly as Father squeezed himself into the back. Simon handed in his fishing-rods after him.

 

'No, honestly, thank you,' he said.

 

'It's no good, you can't tear these three away from Trewissick,' Father said. 'I've never seen anything like it. Even trying to get them as far as the next village is like prising a limpet off a rock. I daren't think what's going to happen when the time comes to go home.'

 

'Well, well, they know their own minds. And I can't tempt you away, Professor Lyon? '

 

'Oh dear,' Mother said. 'I'm sorry you're stuck with them, Merry.' She made a face at the children.

 

'Nonsense,' Great-Uncle Merry said. 'This is my element. Disgusting place, Penzance, anyway.' He scowled horribly at Miss Hatherton, who grinned amiably back. Trippers, ice-cream and little brass piskies. Commercialised. You can keep it.'

 

'Well,' Miss Hatherton said with a grin, starting the engine, 'off to the piskies. We'll send you a stick of rock, Professor. Good-bye. Good-bye, children.' The car moved off, a ragged chorus of farewell following it.

 

'Good-bye!' Mrs Palk shrilled, appearing suddenly behind them on the doorstep and waving a tea-cloth. The little car chugged up the hill and out of sight.

 

'Well now, idn' that nice, the two of them going of together ? ' Mrs Palk said sentimentally. 'Quite like old times, I'll be bound, before their troubles began.' She wagged her tea-cloth at the children.

 

'Do you mean us?' demanded Barney indignantly.

 

'That I do. Proper 'eadache, you be ... still, you'll do, I dare say.' She vanished, beaming, back to the kitchen.

 

'Jolly useful, that Miss Hatherton,' Simon said with satisfaction. 'Of course I hope they have a lovely time and all that, but it does leave the coast clear, doesn't it  '

 

'That moonlight shadow ...' Jane said thoughtfully. 'You know, I've been thinking ...'

 

'No thinking today,' Great-Uncle Merry said firmly. 'We can't do anything until tonight. I haven't been in the sea since I came down here this year, I think you should all take me down for a bathe.'

 

'For a bathe? ' Barney's voice rose in amazement.

 

'That's right.' Great-Uncle Merry glared down at him through bristling white eyebrows. 'D'you think I'm too old to swim, is that it?'

 

'Er - no, no, not at all, Gumerry,' Barney said, confused. 'I just never thought of you in the water, that's all.'

 

'But what about the map?' Jane wailed.

 

'We've just got going,' Simon said reproachfully.

 

'Well, and we shan't stop. We'll spend a nice quiet day on the beach in the sunshine.' Great-Uncle Merry grinned at them. 'And who knows, perhaps there'll be a moon tonight.'

 

And there through the windows of the Grey House the moon hung, in the late August evening, when they were back from their day and washing before Mrs Palk called them down to supper. The sun had flamed down on the beach all day, and they were all tanned - Barney's fair skin was burning an angry red. But now the moon dominated the sky; a sky deepening after the sunset to a strange grey-black, with all but the brightest stars dimmed by the milky luminous sheen that flowed over sky and sea without seeming to come from the moon at all.

 

Simon said, low and excited: 'It's a perfect night.'

 

'Mmm,' Jane said. She had been outside to look at the sky, and to study nervously the black outline of Kemare Head rising dark and impenetrable behind the house. Like Simon, she was excited, but the old uneasiness was back as well.

 

It would be better, she told herself severely, not to think about the dark, or at least to think of it as the same dark in which the long-ago Cornishman worked out the clues that they were following now. But perhaps in this darkness too there still lurked the evil which had been creeping up on him then, from the unfriendly east, threatening the grail as he sought urgently for a hiding-place ... perhaps it was waiting for them, out there ... why was there no light burning on the Witherses' yacht ...?

 

'Oh, stop it,' Jane said aloud.

 

'What? ' said Simon in surprise.

 

'Nothing ... I was talking to myself ... Oh good, there's the bell Come on.'

 

Mrs Palk, in the intervals of carrying heaped plates from the kitchen and empty ones back out again, was in a very firm motherly mood. Great-Uncle Merry told her that they were going out night-fishing off the outer harbour, and at once she began Iaying great plans for filling thermos flasks with hot coffee, and leaving plates of sandwiches ready in the kitchen for their return. But she would not hear of Barney going too.

 

'Ou'm not goin' anywhere wi' sunburn like that, midear, twouldn' be sensible, now. You stay here wi' me and have a nice early night, that'd be the best thing by far. If you go out you'll be rubbin' and blisterin' quick as anything, and then you'd find yourself in bed tomorrow when you could be out in the sunshine, and you wouldn't like that, would you?'

 

'I should be perfectly all right,' Barney said, half-heartedly. Mrs Palk had painted calamine on his sunburned legs, but they were very sore and tender, and although he tried to hide the pain he winced every time he took a step. And he was very sleepy after the day spent running and swimming in the open air. Great-Uncle Merry said, 'I think it would be best, Barney. If you're awake we'll come and report to you when we get in.'

 

'That 'ee won't,' Mrs Palk said. She treated Great-Uncle Merry, for all her respect for 'the Professor', with exactly the same indulgent strictness that she did Simon and Barney and Jane. 'He'll have a good long sleep, undisturbed, till mornin', and then he'll wake up fresh as a daisy with all that soreness gone. And he can hear all about everything then.'

 

'Mrs Palk,' Great-Uncle Merry said meekly, 'you are a good soul and you remind me overwhelmingly of my old nanny, who would never let me go outside the door without taking my goloshes. Well, young Barnabas, I think ...'

 

'Oh, all right,' Barney said sadly. 'I suppose so. I'll stay here.'

 

That's right,' Mrs Palk beamed. 'I'll go and make 'ee a nice hot drink before bed.' She bustled out of the room.

 

'You lucky things,' Barney said enviously to Simon and Jane. 'I bet you find all sorts of marvellous clues, just because I can't come. It isn't fair.'

 

'As a matter of fact you'll have the most important job of all tonight,' Simon said impressively. 'And the most dangerous too. We decided it would be too risky to take the map with us, so you'll be in charge of it here. You might have to guard it with your life - suppose the burglars came back again.'

 

Oh don't,' Jane said in alarm.

 

That isn't very likely, don't worry,' Great-Uncle Merry said, getting to his feet. 'But it's a responsibility all the same, Barney, so you aren't altogether out of things.'

 

Barney was not sure whether to feel important or pathetic, but he went obediently to bed. Looking back as they set off into the dark, they saw his face pressed white against one of the upstairs windows, and a dim hand waving them good-bye.

 

'Gosh, it's cold,' Jane said, shivering slightly, as they went up the road away from the village.

 

'You'll be all right once we've been walking for a bit,' Great-Uncle Merry said. He had insisted before they went out that they should wear sweaters and scarves under their coats, and they were grateful now.

 

'Everything seems terribly big,' Simon said suddenly. They all spoke softly by instinct, for there was no sound in the dark night but the soft tread of their own feet. Only, occasionally, they heard a car humming past in the village, and, very faint, the wash of the sea and the creak of boats at their moorings in the harbour below.

 

Jane looked round at the silver roofs and the patches of black shadow cast by the moon. 'I know what you mean. You can only see one edge of everything, there's always one side in shadow. So you can't see where it ends ... and the headland looks awfully sinister. I'm glad I'm not on my own.'

 

This was a confession she would never have made in daylight. But somehow in the dark night it seemed less shameful. Simon said unexpectedly: 'So am I'

 

Great-Uncle Merry said nothing. He walked along beside them in silence, very tall, brooding, his face lost in the shadows. With every long stride he seemed to merge into the night, as if he belonged to the mystery and the silence and the small nameless sounds.

 

Round the corner of the road, away from the harbour, they turned off and climbed over a fence on to the headland. The road curved round inland again, and above them stretched the dark grassy sweep of the slope, up towards the standing stones. In a little while they found the footpath, and began the long to-and-fro climb to the top.

 

'Listen!' Jane said suddenly, stopping in mid-stride.

 

There was no sound as they stood there, but only the sigh of the sea.

 

'You're hearing things,' Simon said nervously.

 

'No - I'm sure -'

 

Above their heads, from the top of the headland still out of sight, there came drifting down a faint ghostly call. 'Whoo-oo.'

 

'Oh,' Jane said in relief. 'Only an owl. Horrible, I couldn't think what it was.'

 

Great-Uncle Merry still said nothing. They began to climb again. Then all at once they hesitated, as if by some unspoken agreement. A dark curtain seemed to have come down all round them.

 

'What is it?'

 

'A cloud's come over the moon. Look. It's only a little one.'

 

Like a puff of smoke the cloud drifted away from the face of the moon as suddenly as it had come, and the land and sea were silver again.

 

You said there wouldn't be any cloud.'

 

'Well, there isn't much, only a few little ones.'

 

'The wind has changed,' Great-Uncle Merry said. His voice, out of his long silence, sounded very deep. It comes from the south-west, Cornwall's wind. It brings cloud sometimes, and sometimes other things.' He went on up the hillside, and they did not like to ask him what he meant.

 

As they climbed after him more clouds came up, ragged and silver-edged in the moonlight; scudding swiftly across the sky as if another wind were up there, stronger and more purposeful than the gentle breeze blowing down into their faces over the slope.

 

And then, looming over the dark brow of the headland, they saw the outline of the standing stones. Magnified by the darkness, they towered mysteriously against the silver-washed sky, and vanished unnervingly into shadow whenever a cloud rushed over the face of the moon. In the daylight the stones had seemed tall, but now they were immense, dominating the headland, and all the dim moonlit valleys that stretched inland from the lights of the village twinkling faintly below. Jane clutched at Simon's arm, suddenly overawed.

 

'I'm sure they don't want us here,' she said unhappily.

 

'Who don't?' Simon demanded, bravado making his voice louder than he intended.

 

'Ssh, don't make such a noise.'

 

'Oh, grow up,' Simon said roughly. He did not feel happy in the dark emptiness of the night, but he was determined not to think about it. Then he felt a coldness at the pit of his stomach, as his great-uncle's deep voice came back to them in a way that seemed to confirm all that Jane felt.

 

They don't mind,' Great-Uncle Merry said softly. 'If anything, we're welcome here.'

 

Simon shook himself slightly, pretending not to have heard. He looked round at the stones, surrounding them now, rearing up against the sky. 'This was the one.' He crossed to the stone they had found the day before. 'I remember this funny sort of hole in the side.'

 

Jane joined him, calmed by his matter-of-fact tone. 'Yes, that's it. When we looked across from here we were absolutely in line with the sun, and that rock we started from. Over on that other headland. Funny you can't see it now. I'd have thought the moon would shine on it like the sun did.'

 

'The moon's in another direction, out over the sea,' Simon said. 'Look at the shadow, come on, that's what we've got to follow.'

 

'Oh bother,' Jane said, as another cloud crossed the moon and they were left in the dark again. 'The clouds are getting much thicker, I wish they'd go away. There seems to be much more wind up here too.' She clutched her duffle coat round her, and tucked her scarf in more tightly.

 

'Don't be long,' Great-Uncle Merry said suddenly out of the darkness. He was standing against another of the stones, swallowed up in its outline so that they could not even make out his shape. Jane felt a shiver of alarm return.

 

'Why? Is any thing wrong? '

 

'No, nothing ... look, here's the moon again.'

 

The night became silver again; looking up, it was as if they saw the moon sailing through the clouds instead of the other way round; racing smoothly across the sky, passing puffs and wisps of cloud on either side, and yet never moving from its place.

 

Simon said, in flat, dull disappointment: 'It doesn't point at anything!' He stared at the ground beside the towering stone. Dark on the silvered gloom of the grass lay the shadow cast by the high bright moon; and it pointed like a blunt finger away from Kemare Head, towards the long dark inland horizon of the Cornish moors.

 

'Perhaps it points to some landmark we haven't noticed,' Jane said doubtfully, gazing in vain over the shadow-masked hills.

 

'More likely the Cornishman used a landmark that's fallen down, or been destroyed, or just crumbled away. There's always been that risk. And it would mean we could never get any further than this.'

 

'But he wouldn't have done that, I know he wouldn't.' Jane looked wildly round her into the night, into - the wind gusting over the bleak headland; and then suddenly she stood still, and stared. From her place beside the great stone that was their only sure mark, she had turned her head to the moon that raced motionless high over the top of Kemare Head, over the sea; and she saw, as if for the first time, the pathway of light that it laid down.

 

Straight as an arrow the long white road of the moon's reflection stretched towards them across the surface of the sea, like a path from the past and a path to the future; at its edges it danced and glimmered as the waves rose beneath the wind. And where it ended, at the tip of Kemare Head, a clear dark silhouette stood against the shining sea-carried light.

 

She said to Simon, huskily : 'Look.'

 

He turned to see, and she knew that in a moment he was as certain as she that this was what they were supposed to find.

 

'It's those rocks on the end of the headland,' she said. 'Outlined there. It must be. And we weren't supposed to use the shadow as a pointer this time - we had to stand here by this stone and let the moonlight itself show us the next clue.'

 

'And that's what it does.' Simon's voice rose as the familiar excitement of the chase came flooding back. 'And if that's what he meant by the signs that wane but do not die, then the grail must be hidden somewhere in that clump of rocks. Buried on the end of Kemare Head. Gosh - Gumerry, we've found it I' He turned back towards the silent dominating circle of the standing stones, and then hesitated. 'Gumerry? ' he said uncertainly.

 

Jane came quickly to stand close to him. Out of the shelter of the rock the wind blew her pony-tail round across her face. She called more loudly, 'Gumerry! Where are you?'

 

There was no answer but the rise and fall of the sighing wind, loud enough now to drown the distant murmur of the sea. Jane, feeling very small indeed under the ghostly group of great stones, took hold of Simon's sleeve. Her voice quavered in spite of itself. 'Oh Simon - where's he gone? '

 

Simon called into the growing wind: 'Great-Uncle Merry! Great-Uncle Merry! Where are you?'

 

But still there was nothing but the darkness, and the high white moon sailing now dark, now light, and the noise of the wind. They heard the husking wail of the owl again, nearer this time, over the headland in the opposite valley; a friendless, inhuman, desolate sound. Jane forgot everything but the loneliness of the dark. She stood speechless with fright, as if she knew a great wave was bearing down on her and she could not move out of its path. If she had not been there Simon would have been as paralysed by fright himself. But he took a deep breath, and clenched his fists.

 

'He was over here before,' he said, swallowing. 'Come on.' He moved in the direction of the other standing stones, barely visible now in the blackness.

 

'Oh no -' Jane's voice rose hysterically, and she clutched at his sleeve. 'Don't go near them.'

 

'Don't be stupid, Jane,' Simon said coolly, sounding much braver than he felt.

 

Another owl hooted, unexpectedly, on their other side, towards the end of the headland. 'Oh,' Jane said miserably. 'I want to go home.'

 

'Come on,' Simon said again. 'He must be over here. I expect he can't hear us, this wind's getting up like anything.' He took Jane's hand, and unwillingly she moved with him towards the dark looming shapes of the standing stones. The moon dimmed and disappeared into the depths of a bigger cloud, so that only a dim luminous glow from the stars gave shape to anything at all. They went gingerly through the darkness, feeling that at any moment they might collide with something unseen; panic suppressed only by the desperate hope of finding their great-uncle suddenly at their side. He seemed a very strong and necessary refuge now that he was not there.

 

They were right among the standing stones now, and they could feel rather than see the black rock pillars rearing up around them. The wind blew gustily, singing through the grass, and again they heard the owl cry below them out of the dark. They moved slowly together, straining their eyes to peer ahead. Then the ragged cloud turned silver again, and the moon came sailing out through the flying wisps at its edge; and in the same moment they became aware of a tall dark shape looming up before them where no stone had been before.

 

It seemed to swell as the wind blew, so that suddenly they saw that it was no stone, but the tall figure of a man all in black, with a long cloak that swirled in the wind as he turned towering over them. For an instant the moonlight caught his face as he turned, and they saw eyes shadowed under dark jutting brows, and the flash of white teeth in what was not a smile. Jane screamed, terrified, and hid her face in Simon's shoulder.

 

And then at once the moon was covered again by cloud, and the threat and roar of the darkness seemed to rear up all around them. Without a word they swung round and ran, stumbling, driven by panic, away from the silent standing stones and down the hill, until with an enormous flooding of relief they heard the call of a familiar deep voice. As they looked ahead, gasping, they saw Great-Uncle Merry silhouetted against the lighter back- ground of the sea, standing before them on the path.

 

They rushed to him, and Jane flung her arms round his waist and clung to him, sobbing with relief. Simon had just enough self-possession left to stand on his own. 'Oh Gumerry,' he said breathlessly, 'we couldn't find you anywhere.'

 

'We must go down from here quickly,' his great-uncle said low and urgently, holding Jane to him and stroking the back of her quivering head. 'I was looking for you. I knew there was something in those cries that was not like any owl. Come quickly.'

 

He bent down and picked Jane up in his arms in one swift movement as if she had been a baby, and with Simon close at his heels he strode off down the hill, keeping to the path that they could just see as moonlight flashed through the racing clouds.

 

Simon said, panting as he trotted along, There was a man up there. We saw him, all of a sudden, out of the dark. He was all muffed up in a big coat like a cloak, all in black. It was horrible.' 119

 

'I went to find them,' Great-Uncle Merry said. 'He must have got past me. Then there were others. I shouldn't have left you alone.'

 

Jane, shaken in his arms as he loped down the hill, opened her eyes and looked back over his shoulder at the top of the headland, where the dark fingers of the standing stones still pointed up into the sky. And in the moment before they disappeared over the horizon she saw that there were twice as many shapes as there had been before, with other black figures standing among the stones.

 

'Gumerry, they're coming after us!'

 

They dare not follow while I am here,' Great-Uncle Merry said calmly, and he went down the slope at the same long easy stride.

 

Jane swallowed. 'I think I'm all right now,' she said in a small voice. 'Could you put me down? '

 

Hardly pausing, Great-Uncle Merry set her on her feet again, and like Simon she half ran beside him to keep up. They reached the bottom of the slope, and crossed the field to the road, feeling it a reassuring place after the vast bleak emptiness of the headland. The wind no longer whined round their ears down here, and they heard again the friendly soft murmur of the sea.

 

'That man,' Simon said. 'That man we saw. It was him, Gumerry, the one we'd never seen before. It was the man you rescued me from. The man who chased me, with the boy.'

 

Jane said in a small frightened voice, looking straight ahead of her at the twinkling village lights as she walked, 'But I recognised him straight away, when the moonlight shone on his face. That's why I was so scared. It was the vicar of Trewissick. And he's the man who saw my outline of the map in the guide-book.'

 

 

 

Chapter 9

 

 

Barney, left behind, flattened his nose against the window of Jane's bedroom. He saw Simon and Jane glance up and wave, but Great-Uncle Merry was marching along without looking to right or left, a tall thin figure vanishing into the dark. Barney smiled to himself. He knew that determined stride very well.

 

He peered after them until he could see nothing in the darkness but the lights of the village dancing in the black rippled water, among the ghostly boats. From the Witherses' yacht, there was no light at all. He turned away from the window, sighing a little at the frustration of being left out. To comfort himself he took a firmer hold on the telescope case which Simon had solemnly handed over to him when they came up to say goodbye. At once he felt better. He was a knight entrusted with a sacred mission; he had been wounded in battle but had to guard his secret just the same ... he bent each leg gently in turn, and winced at the burning tightness of the skin over his knees. The enemy were all round, hunting the secret which he held in his charge, but none of them would be able to get near ...

 

'Now then, back 'ee come to bed,' Mrs Palk said behind him, unexpectedly. Barney swung round. She was standing massive in the doorway, with the light from the landing streaming round her, watching him. Barney's fingers instinctively curled tighter round the cool metal case, and he came towards her, padding softly on his bare feet. Mrs Palk backed out on to the landing to let him through the door. As he passed close to her she reached out her hand curiously.

 

'What's that 'ee got there?'

 

Barney jerked the case out of her reach, and then quickly forced a laugh. 'Oh,' he said as casually as he could, 'it's a telescope of the captain's I borrowed. It's jolly good. You can see all the ships going past out in the bay. I thought I might be able to watch the others go down to the harbour with it, but it's not much good in the dark.'

 

'Oh ah.' Mrs Palk seemed to lose interest. 'Fancy that, I never seen the captain use any telescope. Still, there be all sorts of strange things in this house, more than I shall ever know about, I'll be bound.'

 

'Well, good night, Mrs Palk,' Barney said, making for his own room.

 

'Good night, midear,' Mrs Palk said. 'Just give me a shout if 'ee want anything. I reckon I'll be going to bed myself soon, my days of waitin' up for fishermen are over.' She disappeared downstairs, and the landing light went out.

 

Barney switched on the lamp at the side of his bed and quietly closed the door. He felt unprotected, and rather excited still, without Great-Uncle Merry in the house. He thought of pushing a chair against the door, but changed his mind when he remembered that Simon would fall over it when he came back. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to think he had been worried at being alone.

 

He took the manuscript out to have one last look, and to guess what Simon and Jane might find from the shadow of the standing stone. But he could see nothing in the rough picture of the stones and the moon. Suddenly sleepy, he slipped the roll back and turned out the light; snuggled down into the bed-clothes with the case clutched to his chest, and fell asleep.

 

He never knew exactly what it was that woke him. When, - through the confusion of half-dreams and imagined noises, he realised that he was awake, the room was quite dark. There was no sound but the constant murmur of the sea, very faint on this side of the house but always in the air. But from the way all his senses were straining to catch something, he knew that a part of him which had not quite gone to sleep at all was warning him of some danger very near. He lay very still, but he could hear nothing. Then there was a very faint creak behind him, from the direction of the door.

 

Barney felt his heart begin to thump a little faster. He was used to hearing noises at night; their flat in London was part of a very old house which creaked and muttered all the time at night, as if the walls and floors were breathing. Although he had never been awake here long enough to find out, he guessed that the Grey House probably did the same. But this noise, somehow, was not as friendly as those ...

 

Barney did what he did at home whenever he woke up and heard a noise that sounded more like a burglar than an ordinary creak of the floor. He made the small grumbling, yawning whimper that people give sometimes in their sleep, and turned over in bed as if he were settling himself down without waking up. As he turned, he half opened one eye for a quick look round the room.

 

At home when he did this there was never anything to see at all, and he fell asleep again feeling rather foolish. But this time it was different. By a faint line of light he could see that the door was standing open, and near it the glow of a small torch was moving across the room. The light of the torch stopped quite still as he moved. Barney snuggled into his new position, lay still and breathed deeply for several minutes with his eyes closed.

 

Gradually he heard the small noises begin again. He lay listening, more perplexed than frightened now. Who was it? What were they doing? It can't be someone who wants to knock me on the head, he said to himself, or they'd have knocked me on the head before this. They don't want to wake me up, and they don't want to make a noise. They're looking for something ...

 

He groped under the bedclothes, careful not to show any movement or make a noise. The telescope case was still there, and he kept tight hold of it.

 

Then he heard another sound. The person moving noiselessly about his room in the dark sniffed, very slightly. The noise was almost imperceptible, but Barney recognised it as a sniff he had heard before. He grinned to himself in relief, feeling his muscles relax. Very slowly he edged his hand out from under the bedclothes towards the bed-side table, and switched on the light.

 

Mrs Palk jumped, dropped her torch with a clatter and clapped her hand to her heart. For some seconds Barney was completely dazzled by the sudden light flooding the room, but he blinked his eyes clear in time to see disappointment and surprise on her face. Quickly she pulled herself together, and gave him a broad reassuring smile.

 

'There now, and I thought I hadn't waked 'ee up. What a pity. I'm so sorry, midear. Did I frighten 'ee? '

 

Barney said bluntly: 'Whatever are you doing, Mrs Palk?'

 

'Came up to see if 'ee was all right and sleepin' properly. And I though while I was up here I'd pick up your dirty cup to wash up wi' the rest of the things downstairs. Had your Horlicks up here, remember? Bless the boy,' she added fondly, 'he's half asleep still.'

 

Barney stared at her. He did feel sleepy, but not too sleepy to remember Jane coming into his room when he had first gone up to bed and saying, 'Mrs Palk said would I pick up your cup if you'd finished, or do you want any more?'

 

'Jane took my cup down.'

 

Mrs Palk looked vaguely round the room, and gazed wide-eyed at his empty bed-side table. 'So she did then, it quite slipped my mind. What a silly old thing I be. Well, I'll leave 'ee to go back to sleep, my love, I'm so sorry to have waked 'ee.' She bustled with almost comical speed out of the room.

 

Barney had almost fallen asleep again when he heard low voices outside the door, and Simon came in. He shot up in bed.

 

'What happened? Did you find anything? Where did you go? '

 

'Nothing happened much,' Simon said wearily. He peeled off his windcheater and sweater and dropped them on to the floor.

 

'We found where we've got to go next. Where the next clue leads. It's those rocks at the end of Kemare Head, right over the sea.'

 

'Did you go and look? Is there anything there?'

 

'No, we didn't.' Simon was abrupt, trying not to remember the nastiness of the moments when he and Jane had been alone in the dark.

 

'Why not?'

 

'The enemy were up there, that's why. All round us in the dark, and one of them was the man who chased me that day with the boy. Only Jane says it was the vicar. I don't know, it's all awfully complicated. Anyway, we ran away and nobody followed us. Funny, they all seem scared of Gumerry.'

 

'Who were they? '

 

'Dunno.' Simon yawned hugely. 'Look, I'm going down to have some cocoa. We can talk in the morning.'

 

Barney lay down again, sighing. 'All right. Ooh -' He jerked up again. 'Wait a minute. Shut the door.'

 

Simon looked at him curiously and pushed the door shut. 'What is it?'

 

'You mustn't say anything in front of Mrs Palk. Not a word. Tell Jane'

 

'We shouldn't. She wouldn't understand anyway.'

 

'Ho,' Barney said importantly. 'That's what you think. I woke up just now and she was snooping around the room in the dark with a torch. Good job I had the map all safe. She's after it. I bet you she's after it. I think she's bad.'

 

'Hmmm,' Simon said, sceptically, looking at him. Barney's hair was ruffled, and his eyes shadowed with sleep. It was very easy to believe that what he was describing had been no more than a dream.

 

When they went downstairs in the morning Mrs Palk was bustling energetically about the kitchen beating eggs in a bowl with her elbow flicking up and down like a machine. 'Breakfast? ' she said brightly. Barney watched her closely, but he could see nothing but good humour and beaming honesty. And yet, he said insistently to himself, she looked so guilty when I turned on the light ...

 

'It's a wonderful day again,' Jane said happily as they sat down. The wind's still quite strong, but there isn't a cloud anywhere. It must have blown them all away.'

 

'Ah well, let's hope ut doesn't blow the marquee away as well,' Mrs Palk said, putting an enormous jug of creamy yellow milk on the table.

 

'What marquee?'

 

'What!' Mrs Palk opened her eyes. 'Haven't 'ee seen the posters? Why, 'tis Carnival day today. People come in from all round, even from St Austell. All sorts of things go on ... there's a swimming gala in the harbour, then the band comes out, and there's dancing all the way up the street from the sea. They play the "Floral Dance". You know the tune, surely.' She began to sing lustily.

 

'I know it,' Simon said, 'but I thought they only danced it somewhere else.'

 

'Helston,' said Jane. The Helston Furry Dance.'

 

'Es, so they do,' Mrs Palk said. 'I reckon they copied it from us myself. Everyone knows Trewissick's Floral Dance, it was danced in my grandmother's time. Everyone dressed up gay and fancy in costume, and there's a great crowd in the street all dancin' and laughin'. No one goes out fishing today. There's a great marquee in the field behind the village, and all kinds of stalls and games, and wrestling ... Then when the sun begins to go down they crown the carnival queen, and they stay round the harbour long after it gets dark, and dance in the moonlight ...  'tis a long time before anyone wants to go to sleep in Trewissick, carnival day.'

 

'What fun,' Jane said.

 

'Hmmm,' said Simon.

 

'Oh, you mustn't miss it,' Mrs Palk said earnestly. 'I shall be there every minute, 'tis like the old days all over again. Eh, but now here I stand talking and your scrambled eggs will be getting hard on the stove.' She turned and sailed out of the room.

 

'It does sound fun,' Jane said reproachfully to Simon.

 

'I dare say. We've got other things to do. Of course if you'd rather go to the carnival than find the grail...'

 

'Sssh!' Barney looked nervously at the door.

 

'Oh, don't worry about her, she's all right. Great-Uncle Merry's a long time coming down, isn't he? '

 

'I didn't mean it,' Jane said meekly. 'Actually what I want to do more than anything is get back up on the headland, so we can go and find that rock.'

 

'We can't go without Gumerry. I wonder if he's awake?'

 

'I'll go and see.' Barney slipped from his chair.

 

'Hey, where be of to? ' Mrs Palk nearly collided with him, carrying her tray through the door. 'Sit down and eat this now, while 'tis hot.'

 

'I was going to call Great-Uncle Merry.'

 

'Now you leave him be, poor old gentleman,' Mrs Palk said firmly. 'Gadding about in the middle of the night, tidn' natural at his age, no wonder he's having a good long sleep. Night-fishin', indeed. And not a fish to show for it after all that traipsin' about. You proper wearied him last night, I reckon. You remember we aren't all as young as you three.' She wagged her finger at them. 'Now you get along into the sun after your breakfast, and let him have his sleep out.' She departed again, shutting the door behind her.

 

'Oh dear,' Jane said, abashed. 'She's right, you know. Great-Uncle Merry is quite old really.'

 

'Well, he's not doddering,' Simon said defensively. 'He doesn't seem old at all sometimes. He went like a rocket last night - and carrying you. It was all I could do to keep up with him.'

 

'Well, perhaps this is the after effect.' Jane's conscience was beginning to nag. 'Last night must have been an awful strain on him, what with one thing and another. I don't think we should wake him up. It's only nine o'clock, after all.'

 

'But we haven't made any plans or anything,' said Barney. Perhaps we just ought to wait here till he does wake up,' Simon said despondently.

 

'Oh no, why should we? He wouldn't mind if we went on to the headland. He can follow us when he's had his sleep.'

 

'Didn't he say we shouldn't go anywhere without him from now on?' Barney said doubtfully. 'Or anyway, not without telling him?'

 

'Well, we can leave a message for him with Mrs Palk.'

 

'No, we can't!'

 

'Barney thinks Mrs Palk is one of the enemy,' said Simon sceptically.

 

'Oh, surely not,' Jane said vaguely. 'Well anyway, we don't really have to leave a message. He's bound to guess where we've gone. There's only one place any of us would want to go, and that's to the rocks on Kemare Head.'

 

'We can say to Mrs Palk that he'll know where we've gone. Just like that. And then she'll tell him and he'll understand.'

 

'We can say we've taken Rufus for a walk,' said Barney hopefully.

 

'That's not a bad idea. Where is he?'

 

'In the kitchen. I'll go and get him.'

 

Tell Mrs Palk while you're there. And tell her we'll see her at her beloved carnival. We probably will anyway.'

 

Barney bolted the last of his scrambled egg and went out to the kitchen, munching a piece of toast.

 

Simon suddenly had an idea. He got up and crossed to the window, and peered out down the hill. He turned back quickly to Jane. 'We might have known. They're watching us already. That boy's at the bottom of the road, sitting on the wall. Not doing anything - just sitting there, looking up here. They must be waiting for us to come out, because they don't know whether we found a clue last night that will lead us somewhere.'

 

'Oh gosh.' Jane bit her lip. Their night on the headland had left her more deeply nervous than ever before. It was as if they were fighting not people, but a dark force that used people as its tools. And could do what it liked with them. 'Isn't there a back way out of the house up to the headland? '

 

'I don't know. How funny, we've never looked.'

 

'Well, we've been doing other things. I suppose even if there was one, they'd be watching it.'

 

Well... the only person who'd be likely to know about a back way is that Bill, and he's at the front. There's no harm in looking.'

 

Barney had come back, with Rufus lolloping joyfully at his side. 'There is a way,' he said. You can get through the hedge at the top of the back garden. I found it one morning before you were up. Rufus showed me, actually - he was dashing about and suddenly he disappeared, and then I heard him barking miles away outside, half-way up the headland. You come out into a lane and then you're out on Kemare Head before you know it. It's a good way out because they wouldn't expect us to go through - there's no gate or anything.'

 

'Gumerry won't know about that way,' Jane said suddenly. 'He'll come out the front way, and they'll follow him, and it'll be just as bad as if they'd followed us in the first place.'

 

'No fear,' Barney said confidently. 'He'll shake them off somehow. I bet you this is one time they won't have the slightest idea where we are.'

 

When the children were gone and the house lay silent, Mrs Palk spent two brisk hours working downstairs. She took care not to make a noise. Then she sat down in the kitchen to drink a leisurely cup of tea.

 

She made the tea very strong, using one of the captain's best cups: very large, and made of thin, almost translucent white china. She sat at the kitchen table sipping from it, a look of great secret satisfaction on her face. After a while she went to a cupboard under the sink, pulled out her big shopping-bag and took from it a brilliant jumble of coloured ribbons, with an elaborate feathery structure not unlike a Red Indian head-dress. She set this on her head, looked at herself in the mirror, and chuckled. Then she carefully put it aside and poured out some more tea in a fresh cup. She put this on a tray and sailed out into the hall and up the stairs, a great smiling mysterious galleon of a woman.

 

Without knocking, she opened the door of Great-Uncle Merry's room, went in, and set down the tray by the bed. Great-Uncle Merry was buried in the bed-clothes, breathing heavily. Mrs Palk pulled back the curtains to let the light pour into the dim room, bent down and shook him roughly by the shoulder. As he stirred she drew back quickly and stood waiting, beaming down at him with her usual doting motherly smile.

 

He yawned, groaned and clutched his head sleepily, running his fingers back through the untidy white hair.

 

'Time to get up, Professor,' said Mrs Palk brightly. 'Nice long rest I let 'ee have, after all that gadding about last night. Done 'ee good, I'll be bound. Not all as young as we used to be, are we now? '

 

Great-Uncle Merry looked at her and grunted, blinking himself awake.

 

'Drink 'ee's tea now, and I'll go and get 'ee's breakfast.' Mrs Palk's rich voice flowed on as she turned to twitch the curtains tidy. 'Can have it in peace and blessed quiet for once. They children have been out for hours.'

 

Suddenly Great-Uncle Merry was very wide awake. He sat up straight-backed, a startling sight in his bright red pyjama jacket. 'What time is it? '

 

'Why, 'tis gone eleven.' Mrs Palk beamed at him.

 

'Where have the children gone?'

 

'Now don't 'ee worry about them. They can look after theirselves well enough for one day.'

 

'Little idiots - where are they? ' His forehead creased.

 

'Now, now, Professor,' Mrs Palk said chidingly. 'Gone off to save 'ee a journey, they have, as a matter of fact. Thoughtful, well-brought-up little things, they are, for all their mother's a bit higgledy-piggledy, begging your pardon. Gone of to Truro for 'ee.'

 

'Truro!'

 

Mrs Palk smiled innocently. "Es, that's right. Young Simon answered the telephone this morning. Nasty machine,' she added confidingly, shuddering slightly. 'Near scared me out of my life, screeching away. Talked to the man on the other end for a long time, he did. And after, he came to me and said, all serious, bless his heart - Mrs Palk, he says, that was a friend of Great-Uncle Merry's on the telephone from the museum at Truro, saying he's got to see us all very urgently about something.'

 

'Who was it?'

 

'Wait a minute now, Professor, I'm not finished ... I reckon we ought to go off at once if our great-uncle's still asleep, young Simon says to me, and catch the bus. Then he can come on after us when he wakes up.'

 

'Who was it  ' Great-Uncle Merry insisted.

 

'Simon didn't give me no name ... very important he made it sound. So of they all went, the three of them, and got the bus into St Austell. Don't you worry, Mrs Palk, they said, just you tell our great-uncle for us.'

 

'You should never have let them go alone,' Great-Uncle Merry said curtly. 'If you'll excuse me, Mrs Palk, I should like to get up.'

 

'Course,' said Mrs Palk indulgently, still smiling and unruffled, and she sailed out of the room.

 

Within minutes Great-Uncle Merry was downstairs, fully dressed, frowning to himself and occasionally muttering anxiously. He waved away his breakfast, and went striding out of the Grey House. Mrs Palk, watching from the doorstep, saw his big battered car appear on the road and roar off, leaving a great black smear of smoke hanging in the air as it disappeared out of the village.

 

She smiled to herself and went back into the Grey House. A few moments later she came out again, the small secret smile still hovering round her mouth; locked the door behind her and went off with her shopping-bag down the hill to the harbour. A few bright red and blue feathers nodded over the top of the bag as it swung at her side.

 

 

 

Chapter 10

 

 

'This isn't nearly as simple as I thought it would be,' Simon said, frowning. He looked about him at the jagged rocks. 'From the standing stones last night it looked as if there was just one lump of rock here, sticking out on its own. But there are so many of them, and they're all so big.'

 

The wind blowing in from the open sea tossed Jane's pony-tail to and fro on the back of her neck. She looked back inland. 'It's just like being out at sea. As if we were cut off, and looking at the land from the outside.'

 

The end of Kemare Head was a more desolate place than any they had yet seen, even with the sunlight glittering on the water far below, and the smell of the sea in the wind. They stood in the midst of a bleak patch of rocks, rising bare out of the grass almost at the headland's tip. The ground fell away before them in a steep grassy slope, and from there the sheer edge of the cliff dropped to meet the other rocks, two hundred feet below, where the white waves endlessly grunted and sighed. They could see no sign of life or movement anywhere around.

 

'It's lonely,' Barney said. 'It feels lonely itself, I mean, somehow. Different from us feeling lonely. I wonder what the next clue is, if there is one.'

 

'I don't think there is,' Jane said slowly. 'This is so much an end of a place. It doesn't lead anywhere, everything leads towards it ... Funny how we didn't see anybody at all on the way up. There are usually one or two people wandering about, even on the headlands.'

 

'There certainly were last night,' Simon said.

 

'Oh don't, I keep trying not to remember. But there just isn't a living thing up anywhere near here. I think it's odd.'

 

'Mr Penhallow says the locals keep away from the end of the headland,' Barney said, clambering to perch above their heads on one of the rocks. Rufus tried to climb up beside him, slithered back again and licked his ankle whining. 'They don't like the standing stones much either, but they never come up here at all. He wouldn't talk about it much. He said people thought the rocks were haunted, and unlucky, and he sounded as if he believed it himself. He said they call them the Gravestones.'

 

'They call the standing stones that? '

 

'No, these rocks here.'

 

Funny, I should have thought it would be the other way round. The others do look rather like gravestones in a kind of way. But these are just rocks, like any other rocks.'

 

'Well, that's what he said.' Barney shrugged his shoulders and nearly overbalanced. 'Just that people didn't like them.'

 

'I wonder why.' Jane gazed up at the nearest crag of rock, rising just above her head. Simon, next to her, tapped idly at its surface with the old brass telescope case, the manuscript safely rolled up inside; Barney had ceremonially handed it back that morning. Then suddenly he stopped tapping and stood stock still.

 

'Whatever's the matter? Have you found anything?' Jane peered at the rock.

 

'No ... yes ... Oh, it's all right, I'm not looking at anything. Don't you remember, in the manuscript ? I can hear Great-Uncle Merry saying it now. Where the Cornishman said he hid the grail. Over sea and under stone.'

 

That's right, and the same when they buried the strange knight, what was his name ...'

 

'Bedwin,' Barney said. 'Golly, I see what you mean. Over sea and under stone. Here!'

 

'But -' Jane said.

 

'It must be!' Simon hopped distractedly on one foot. 'Over sea - well, we couldn't be anywhere that was much more obviously over the sea, could we? And under stone. Well, here are the stones.'

 

'And this must be where they buried Bedwin as well!' Barney hastily slithered down from his rock. 'And that's why they call it the Gravestones, and think it's haunted. They've forgotten all the real story, because it's hundreds and hundreds of years ago. But they remember that bit, or at least they remember people being frightened to come here, and so they don't come either.'

 

Perhaps they're right,' Jane said nervously.

 

'Oh come off it. Well, anyway, even if Bedwin's ghost was floating about somewhere, he wouldn't want to scare us because we're on the same side as he was.'

 

'Great-Uncle Merry said something like that last night.' Jane screwed up her forehead to remember.

 

'Oh never mind, don't you realise what this means? We're there, we've found it!' Barney spluttered with delight. Rufus, catching his mood, pranced joyfully round them barking into the wind.

 

Simon looked at him. 'All right then. Where is it?'

 

'Well,' Barney said, pausing a little. 'Here. Under one of the rocks.'

 

'Yes, well, just stop rushing about like a madman and think for a minute. What do we have to do, dig them all up? They're part of the headland. It's all rock. Look.' Simon took out his pen-knife, a hefty steel weapon with two big blades and a marlin-spike, and went down on his knees to dig away the earth at the foot of one of the crags. He tore away tufts of grass, dug a hole, and three inches from the surface came to solid rock. There. You see?' He scraped at the rock with his knife blade, making a depressing grating sound. 'How can there be anything buried there?'

 

'It doesn't all have to be like that,' Barney said rebelliously.

 

'Perhaps there's a different bit somewhere,' Jane said hopefully. 'If we all three divide up and search every inch we're bound to find something. We ought to have brought spades with us really. Come on.'

 

So Barney went to one end of the rocks and Jane, twenty yards away, to the other. Simon, glancing nervously down at the steep edge of the headland, went round to the seaward side and began working his way in from there. They clambered up and down, over the sharp-edged granite, searching the patches of wiry grass between the rocks, tugging at boulders to see if they would move and show a place where something could be buried underneath. But no stone ever shifted an inch, and they found nothing but granite and grass, with no hint of a hiding-place.

 

Jane was holding something carefully in her hand as they came together again. 'Look,' she said, holding it out. 'Don't you think it's peculiar finding a sea-shell up here? I mean how on earth could it have got up from the beach, specially if no one ever comes up here?'

 

'It's more like a stone than a shell,' Simon said curiously, taking it from her hand. It was a cockleshell, but its hollow was solid and hard, filled with what looked like rock; and the surface of the shell was not white and roughened like those they found on the beach, but smooth and dark grey.  'A visitor must have dropped it,' Barney said easily. 'Visitors wouldn't be frightened of coming up here, they wouldn't know anything about what the Trewissick people say.'

 

'I suppose so.' They all thought of visitors, scornfully.

 

'Oh well' Jane put the shell in her pocket and looked around helplessly. 'This is awful. We're stuck. What can we do now? There must be something up here, there must.'

 

'We don't really know ... perhaps it's just another step on the ladder after all.'

 

'But there's nothing else marked to follow. Let's have a look at the map again.'

 

Simon squatted down on the grass and unscrewed the telescope case, and they peered at the manuscript, its words and lines faint brown in the sun.

 

'I'm certain he meant this to be the end of the quest,' Barney said obstinately. 'Look at the way the end of the headland stands all on its own. There's nothing to lead anywhere else.'

 

Simon stared pensively at the map. 'Perhaps it just leads back where we started from. He might have been pulling our legs all the while. A sort of insurance policy, to make it difficult for anyone to find the grail.'

 

'Perhaps he hid it somewhere we shall never find.'

 

'Perhaps he took it with him after all.'

 

'Perhaps it doesn't exist.'

 

They sat round in a gloomy group, ignoring the sunshine and the magnificent sweep of coast and sea. There was a long despondent silence. Barney glanced up idly. 'Where's Rufus got to?'

 

'Dunno,' Simon said morosely. 'Fallen over the cliff, I expect. Sort of stupid thing that animal would do.'

 

'Oh no!' Barney scrambled to his feet in concern. 'I hope he's all right. Rufus! Rufus!' He put two fingers in his mouth and let out an ear-splitting whistle. Jane winced.

 

They saw nothing, and heard nothing but the wind, and then they became aware of a curious noise just above their heads; a kind of snuffling, scrabbling whine.

 

'He's up there!' Barney clambered round the side of the rocks, and they saw the top of his fair head appear behind a jutting grey hump as he stood up. Then he suddenly vanished. His voice came over the rocks to them on the wind muffled but tense with excitement. 'Hey! Come over here, quick!'

 

The rocks made a kind of fortress, rising one after the other like rows of battlements. They found him in the middle, crouching beside one of the peaks, watching Rufus. The dog stood quivering and intent, his nose close against the rock, one paw scraping feebly as he whined and sniffed.

 

'Quick,' Barney said without turning round. 'I don't know what he's trying to do, but I think he's found something. I've never seen him like this before. If it's rats or rabbits he just goes mad and barks and rushes about, but this is different. Look at him.' Rufus seemed to be standing in a trance, unable to tear himself away from the rock-face.

 

'Let me look,' Simon said. He stepped carefully past Barney and put one arm round Rufus's neck, fondling him under the chin as he drew him away from the rock. 'There's a tiny gap here.' His voice came back to them. 'I can get my fingers inside - ow! I say, this top rock moves! I felt it shift, I'm sure I did. It nearly caught my hand. It's terrifically big, but I think ... Jane, can you get round on my other side?'

 

Jane squeezed herself between the rocks next to him. 'Now get hold there,' Simon directed her. 'That jutting out bit ... when I tell you, push as hard as you can away from you, towards the sea. Wait a minute, I've got to get a grip on my side ... I don't know if this'll work ... now, heave!'

 

Obediently, but without any idea of what she was supposed to be doing, Jane pushed with all her might at the rock-face, with Simon panting and heaving beside her. For a long strained moment nothing happened. Then just as their lungs seemed about to burst, they felt the rock move beneath their hands. It gave a very slight tremor, and then a grinding, grating lurch.

 

They staggered back, and the great rough round rock rolled away from their hands and down into the nearest hollow. They could feel the crunching thud of its fall shake the rock where they stood.

 

Where the boulder had been there was a dark, shapeless hole about two feet across.

 

They stood still, gaping. Rufus pattered forward across the rocks, bent his head to sniff delicately at it and then turned back, his tail waving and his tongue hanging out over his teeth as if he were grinning.

 

Simon moved forward at last and pulled away a couple of smaller rocks from the edge of the hole. He knelt down by it and peered inside, then put his arm in to see how deep it was. His arm disappeared up to the shoulder, until he was lying flat, and he could feel nothing but rough rock at the sides. He blinked up at Barney and Jane. 'I can't feel any bottom to it,' he said, hushed.  His voice brought back their own, and they found they had been holding their breath.

 

'Get up, let's have a look.'

 

'This must be it, mustn't it? It must be where he hid the grail!'

 

'How deep d'you think it goes? '

 

'Gosh, this is terrific! Clever old Rufus!'

 

Rufus waved his tail faster.

 

'That chunk of rock,' Jane said, looking at it reverently where it lay tumbled on its side. 'It must have been there for nine hundred years. Imagine ... nine hundred years ...'

 

'Well, it wasn't exactly loose, was it? ' Simon flexed his strained arm muscles tenderly. 'Though it must have been fairly delicately balanced, or we shouldn't have been able to shift it at all. Anyway, we've got to find how deep this goes before we know if there's anything there.'

 

He looked thoughtfully at the gaping dark mouth in the rock. Jane sighed to herself and stopped thinking about the centuries. 'Drop a stone down, then you can hear how deep it is. Like thunderstorms. You know, counting the seconds between the lightning and the  thunder to see how far away the storm is.'

 

Simon picked up a loose chunk of rock from the edge of the hole and poised it over the blackness. He let go, and it dropped out of sight. They listened.

 

After a long time Jane sat back on her heels. 'I couldn't hear anything.'

 

'Nor could I.'

 

'Try again.'

 

Simon dropped another stone into the hole, and again they strained their ears to hear it strike the bottom. Nothing happened.

 

'There wasn't anything then either.'

 

'No.'

 

'It must be bottomless!'

 

'Don't be an idiot, it can't be.'

 

'Perhaps it comes out in Australia,' Barney said. He looked nervously at the hole.

 

'It just means the noise was too far away for us to hear,' Simon said. 'But it must be tremendously deep. I wish we'd brought a rope.'

 

'Look in your pockets,' Jane said. 'They're always full of junk. So are Barney's. At least Mother's always saying so when she has to empty them. You might have some string or something.'

 

'Junk yourself,' Simon said indignantly, but he turned out his pockets on to the rock.

 

The results, though interesting, were not very much help. Simon laid out an array of belongings including his knife, a very dirty handkerchief, a little scratched glass-covered compass, two and sevenpence-ha'penny, a stump of candle, two screwed-up bus tickets, four toffees in battered cellophane wrappings and a fountain pen.

 

'Well,' he said, 'we can have a toffee each anyway.' He handed them round solemnly. The toffees were slightly furry at the edges where the cellophane had come loose, but tasted none the worse for that. Simon gave the fourth to Rufus, who made a few grimacing attempts to chew it and then swallowed it whole.

 

'What a waste,' Barney said. He emptied his own pockets, in a shower of sand: a green glass marble with an orange pip in the middle; a small white pebble, a sixpence and four farthings, a headless lead sailor, a handkerchief miraculously much cleaner than Simon's, and a thick piece of wire curved round at both ends.

 

'Whatever do you carry that around for?' demanded Jane.

 

'Well, you never know,' Barney said vaguely. 'It might come in useful. Come on, let's have a look at yours.'

 

'Nothing in them,' Jane said, a trifle smugly. She pulled both her pockets inside out.

 

'Well, you brought your duffle coat,' said Simon. He crossed the rocks, climbed down to the grass of the headland where they had been standing, and brought the jacket back.

 

'Here we are. One handkerchief. Two hair-grips. Just like a girl. Two pencils. A box of matches. Whatever d'you want those for? '

 

'Like Barney - they might come in useful. A lot more useful than that old bit of wire anyway.'

 

Simon felt in the other pocket. 'Money, a button ... what's this?' He brought out a reel of cotton. 'Now that's an idea. Pretty daft thing to carry about, but it might help us find how deep the hole is.'

 

'I'd forgotten I had that,' Jane said. 'All right, you win, I carry junk round too. But you must admit it's sensible junk.'

 

She took the cotton-reel from him. 'It says there's a hundred yards of cotton on this. Well, no hole could be that deep, surely?'

 

'I wouldn't be surprised, with this one,' Simon said. 'Tie something to the cotton, and lower it down.'

 

'Have to be something pretty light,' Barney said. 'Or it'll break.'

 

Jane unwound a length of cotton and pulled on it. 'Oh I don't know, it's pretty strong. Here,I know, give me that bit of wire.'

 

Barney looked at her doubtfully, but handed it over. Jane tied one end of the cotton to its curved end. 'There. Now we just lower away and wait till it hits bottom.'

 

I know a better way.' Simon took the reel back, and put one of Jane's pencils through the hole in the middle. It was just long enough to protrude at either side. 'See, you hold on to both ends of the pencil and the reel unwinds of its own accord, because of the weight. Like playing a fish.'

 

'Let me do it.' Jane knelt down beside the hole and dropped the wire into its dark mouth. The cotton-reel spun round as the thread disappeared, and they held their breath. Then suddenly the reel slowed, turned wearily and came to a halt. Just as they were thinking that the wire had reached firm ground, they saw the end of the cotton blowing loose.

 

'Bother,' Jane said in disappointment. 'It's broken.' She looked down into the blackness in a vain attempt to see where the cotton had gone. Simon took the reel from her and examined it.

 

'Half the cotton's gone, anyway, and it still hadn't hit anything. That means the hole must be at least fifty yards deep. That's a hundred and fifty feet. Good grief!'  He tapped Jane on the shoulder. 'Come on, dopey, you won't see anything down there.'

 

Jane flapped her hand at him, still bending over the hole. 'Shut up.'

 

They waited patiently until she straightened herself, red in the face. 'I can hear the sea,' she said, blinking in the sunlight. 'Of course, you can hear the sea. So can I. It's just over the edge of the headland.'

 

'No, no, I mean you can hear it down there.'

 

Simon looked at her, tapped his head and sighed.

 

But Barney lay down close to the hole and put his head inside. 'She's right, you know,' he said eagerly, looking up. 'Come and put your ear down here.'

 

'Hmmm,' said Simon sceptically, and lay down beside him. Then he heard very faintly, coming up from the depths of the hole, a hollow booming sound. It faded and then rose again, slow and regular. 'Is that the sea?'

 

'Of course it is,' Jane said. 'That deep gonging sort of noise, don't you recognise it? The sort of noise waves make when they wash into a cave. And think what it means ... the hole must go all the way down through the cliff to the sea, and there must be an entrance down there. And that's where the Cornishman hid the grail.'

 

'But it can't go all that way.' Simon sat up slowly, rubbing his ear. 'Couldn't this be vibration or something, coming through from the edge of the rocks down below? '

 

'Well, I ask you, does it sound like it? '

 

'No,' Simon admitted. 'It doesn't. Only ... how could anyone have made such a narrow little hole so deep? '

 

'Goodness knows. But he did, didn't he? Perhaps that little shell I found was thrown up through it somehow.'

 

'Then if the grail is down there, we have to get at it from the entrance where the sea comes in. There must be a cave. I wonder if we can climb round from the harbour? '

 

'Listen!' Barney suddenly scrambled to his feet and stood upright, his head cocked. 'I heard something. Like an engine.' Simon and Jane stood up, and listened to the distant waves and the wind. They could hear sea-gulls crying, the plaintive yelping calls blown gustily towards them from below. And then the noise Barney had heard; the low thrumming of an engine from the direction of the harbour.

 

It was Simon who caught sight of the long white bow of the yacht moving out round the curve of Kemare Head. He crouched low. 'Get down, quickly!' he said hoarsely. 'It's them! It's the Lady Mary!'

 

Barney and Jane dropped to the ground beside him. They can't see us if we keep behind the rocks,' Simon said quietly. 'Don't move, anyone, until they've gone out of sight.'

 

'I've got a gap here,' Barney whispered. 'I can just see them through the rock ... Mr Withers is on deck, and his sister with him. Their skipper's not there, he must be in the cockpit ... they're looking this way, not up here, they seem to be looking at the cliffs ... Mr Withers has got binoculars ... now he's put them down, and ,he's turned to his sister to say something. I can't see the expression on his face, they aren't near enough. I wish they'd come closer in.'

 

'Oh!' Jane swallowed, husky with agitation. 'Suppose there is a cave down there, where the grail is, and they see it!'

 

The idea was paralysing, and they lay rigid, three minds wishing the boat away. The noise of the Lady Mary's engine grew louder, passing the end of the headland close below them.

 

'What are they doing?' Simon hissed urgently.

 

'I can't see, there's a rock in the way now.' Barney wriggled with frustration.

 

The noise of the engine filled the air. But it did not stop. As they listened, breathless, it grew gradually less, moving away across the sea.

 

'I can see them again now, there's another gap ... he's still looking at the coast through the binoculars. I don't think he's seen anything, it looks as if he's still hunting ... now they've gone round the corner.' Barney rolled over and sat up. 'If they are looking for a cave, how did they know? '

 

'They can't know, they haven't seen the map,' Jane said in anguish. 'They couldn't possibly. I mean even if the vicar is in league with them, and they know about the outline I drew in the guide-book, it hasn't got any sort of clue. I didn't put any of the clue marks in.'

 

'But if they don't know where to look, why are they looking in the right place?'

 

'I think,' Simon said reassuringly, 'it's just part of their routine. I mean, they don't know where to look, so they look everywhere. Great-Uncle Merry said something like that the very first day we talked. It's like the way they searched the house - all at random, without any sort of plan. Perhaps they've thought of the idea of a cave, vaguely, and they're scouring the whole coast in case they find one. Not just this part, but all the way up and down. They don't know there is one.'

 

'Well, we do. If it's there, why didn't they see it?'

 

'Perhaps they did,' Barney said gloomily.

 

'Oh no, they can't have done. They'd have stopped. At any rate they wouldn't have gone on looking like you said they were. You did say that, didn't you? ' Jane looked at him nervously.

 

'Oh yes - old Withers was still squinting hard through his glasses when they went out of sight.'

 

'Well then.'

 

There's one other thing it might be,' Simon said reluctantly. He paused.

 

'What?'

 

'We heard the sea, so the mouth of the cave might be covered. It might be under water. That could be why they didn't see it. There are lots of underwater caves in Cornwall, I remembered reading about them somewhere. It might not have been like that when our Cornishman hid the grail, but perhaps the land's sunk a bit in nine hundred years.'

 

'Well, that's good,' Barney said. They'd never be able to find it then.'

 

Simon looked at him, and raised his eyebrows, 'Nor should we.'

 

Barney stared. 'Oh. Oh, surely we could. You can dive pretty well.'

 

'We wouldn't have a chance. I can dive, but I'm not a fish.'

 

'I suppose the whole thing would be full of water,' Jane said slowly. 'And the grail would be under the sea, and all eaten away like wrecks of ships.'

 

'Covered in barnacles,' said Simon.

 

'It can't be. It mustn't be. He said over the sea, and it must be over the sea.'

 

'We shall just have to find out. Great-Uncle Merry will know.'

 

They stared at one another in consternation. 'Gumerry! I'd forgotten all about him.'

 

'Where is he? '

 

'We've been up here for ages. He must have woken up hours ago.'

 

'Barney, what exactly did you ask Mrs Palk to tell him? '

 

'I said would she say we'd gone for a walk with Rufus, he'd know where. She looked at me a bit funny, but she said she'd give him the message. I tried to make it sound like a game,' said Barney, very serious.

 

'I do hope nothing's happened to him,' said Jane anxiously.

 

'Don't worry, I expect he's still snoring,' Simon said. He looked at his watch. 'It's half past eleven. Let's get down quickly before the yacht comes back. We might not be so lucky next time - if they come back under sail we shouldn't hear them. I wonder why they didn't last time, there's more than enough wind.' He frowned.

 

'Oh never mind,' Barney said. 'Let's go and find Gumerry. Round the back again - that boy might still be watching the front.'

 

'No, we shall have to go the front way. Gumerry might be coming up. I've got a feeling we haven't much time left. We shall just have to risk getting caught. Come on.'

 

 

 

Chapter 11

 

 

But as soon as they came down within sight of the harbour they saw that there was no question either of passing unseen or of being caught.

 

The streets round the harbour were thronged with people; fishermen and shopkeepers in their Sunday suits, wives in their best summer dresses, and more gay crowding tourists than the children had ever seen in Trewissick before. All the boats, swaying

level with the quays on the high tide, were moored at one side, leaving a clear rectangle of water marked out with strings of bobbing white floats. As they came down the road they heard the faint thud of a starting-pistol, and six brown bodies flung themselves into the water and began thrashing in a white flurry of spray across the marked course. The crowd began to cheer.

 

'It must be the end of the swimming gala,' Jane said eagerly, caught up in the carnival atmosphere below them. 'Let's go and watch for a minute.'

 

'For heaven's sake,' Simon said in despair. 'We're on a mission. We've got to find Great-Uncle Merry before we do anything else.'

 

But there was no answer to the doorbell of the Grey House, as they stood on the doorstep with knots of shirt-sleeved visitors chattering past them up and down the hill. And when Simon had gone round to the back and retrieved the front-door key from its secret place in the toolshed, they went inside to find the house quite deserted.

 

Great-Uncle Merry's bed was neatly made, but there was no sign, in his bedroom or anywhere else, to tell them where he had gone. Mrs Palk was nowhere to be found. There were three plates of cold mackerel and salad covered up on the kitchen table, left for their lunch. But that was all. The house was spotless, silent and neat - and empty.

 

'Where can he have gone? And where's Mrs Palk? '

 

'Well, that's easy enough. She'll be outside watching the swimming with everyone else. You know how she was drooling about carnival day.'

 

'Let's go and find her. She must know where he is.'

 

'Tell you what,' Barney said. You two go down to the harbour and I'll run up to the top of the hill and see if Gumerry has gone up there after all. I'd be able to see him if he's climbing the headland, it takes quite a time to get to the top.'

 

Simon thought for a moment. 'All right, that seems sensible enough. But for goodness' sake keep out of sight of the yacht if you see it coming back. And come down to us as quick as you can, we don't want to get separated. We'll be down there on the quay where the start of the swimming is.'

 

'Righto ' Barney made off, but then turned back. 'I say, what are you going to do with the manuscript? If we don't find Gumerry and we're all on our own, d'you think it's safe to go on carrying it about?'

 

'A lot safer than I'd feel if we left it anywhere,' Simon said grimly, looking down at the case in his hand. 'I'm going to hang on to it whatever happens.'

 

'Oh well,' Barney said cheerfully. 'Don't drop it in the harbour, that's all. Cheerio. Shan't be long.'

 

'I'm glad he's so bright about it all,' Jane said, as the front door slammed. 'I wish I were. It's as if there's someone waiting behind every corner to pounce on us. I only feel safe when I'm in bed.'

 

'Cheer up,' said Simon. 'You're still suffering from last night. I was scared then too, but I'm not now. Try and forget about it.'

 

'That's all very well,' said poor Jane miserably, 'but everyone seems to be turning out to be bad now, and it isn't even as if we knew what sort of badness it is. Why do they all want the manuscript so much? ''Well,' Simon wrinkled his forehead, trying to remember what Great-Uncle Merry had said on the first day, 'it's the grail they want, isn't it? Because it stands for something, somehow. And that's why Gumerry wants to find it as well. It's like two armies fighting in history. You're never quite sure what they're actually fighting about, but only that one wants to beat the other.'

 

'Great-Uncle Merry's like an army sometimes, all in one person. Those times when he goes all peculiar and distant and you feel he's not quite there.'

 

'Well, there you are, then. It's the same with the others. They're a kind of bad army. Up on the standing stones last night, even before we knew they were there, you could still feel the badness.'

 

'I know,' Jane said fervently. 'Oh dear, I should feel much better if we knew where Great-Uncle Merry was.'

 

'We shall know as soon as we find Mrs Palk. Buck up, Jane.'

 

Simon patted her awkwardly on *the shoulder. 'Come on, let's go down to the harbour. Barney'll get there before us at this rate.'

 

Jane nodded, feeling a little better. 'Oh - Mother and Father will be coming back this afternoon. D'you think we ought to leave a note?'

 

'No, we'll be back long before them.'

 

They went out of the Grey House, leaving it to its silence, and walked down the hill to the harbour. Unfamiliar children were running all over the place, ignoring their anxious calling parents; and the sleepy little shop which sold ice-cream down on the quay was festooned with flags and posters and doing a roaring trade.

 

Simon and Jane threaded their way along the side of the harbour, through the wandering crowds, to the course marked out for the swimming gala. But they felt as if they were paddling against a current; all the crowds were moving towards them, and when they reached the right place they found everything was over. Only a few boys and girls dodging wet through the crowds in swim-suits, and the bobbing lines of floats on the empty water, showed that there had been a swimming gala at all.

 

One of the swimmers brushed past Simon, and as he glanced up at the wet brown body he recognised the face below the dark water-flattened hair. It was Bill.

 

The boy's mouth opened and he paused belligerently; but then in an instant, changing his mind, he scowled and disappeared, running barefoot through the crowds towards the front quay.

 

'Hey, Jane! Jane!' Simon called urgently. She was a few paces ahead of him, and had not noticed Bill.

 

A deep voice said in Simon's ear, 'Your young friend lost un's race. He'm not in a very good temper. They Hoovers be all the same.'

 

Simon looked round, and saw the beaming wrinkled brown face of the old fisherman they had met on the day they first encountered the boy Bill.

 

'Hallo, Mr Penhallow,' he said, reflecting how odd the greeting sounded. 'Was he in the swimming gala, then? '

 

'Aye, that he were, the race for the championship. Be'aved 'isself badly as usual too, lost by a few yards and turned 'n's back on the winner when the lad went to thank'n for a good race.' He chuckled. 'The winner were my youngest.'

 

'Your son? ' said Jane, who had turned back to Simon's call. She looked at Mr Penhallow's weather-beaten face; he looked much too old to have a son young enough for a swimming race.

 

'A's right,' said the fisherman equably. Tough little lad. He'm sixteen now, on leave from the Merchant Navy.'

 

'I say,' said Simon, impressed. 'Could I join the Merchant Navy when I'm sixteen, d'you think? '

 

'You wait awhile,' said Mr Penhallow, twinkling at him. 'Tis a hard life at sea.'

 

'Barney says he wants to be a fisherman like you now,' Jane said. 'With a boat like the White Heather.'

 

Mr Penhallow laughed. That's an idea won't last long, neither. I'd take 'n out with us one night if he were a bit bigger, then he'd soon change his tune.'

 

'Are you going out tonight?'

 

'No. Havin' a rest.'

 

Jane, suddenly feeling one of her shoes damp, looked down and found she was standing in a pool of water. She moved hurriedly. 'Those swimmers must have splashed about a lot. There's puddles all along the quay.'

 

'Not just the swimming, my love,' Mr Penhallow said. 'Tis the tide. It came right over there this morning - spring tides be higher than usual this month.'

 

'Oh yes,' said Simon. 'Look - there are bits of seaweed right at the back of the path. It must have washed right up to the wall. Does it often come as high as that? '

 

'Not often. Once or twice a year, usually - March and September. 'Tis strange to have such big tides in August. I reckon 'tis because of these strong winds we been havin'.'

 

'How low will it go down?' Jane said, fascinated.

 

'Oh, a long way. Th' 'arbour don't look pretty at any low tide, but it do look worse at the biggest springs. Lot of stinkin' old mud and weed that 'ee don't normally see. You wait till about five o'clock today. Still, I dare say you'll be watching the carnival like everyone else then.'

 

'I expect so,' Simon said vaguely. He was thinking furiously; it was as if the fisherman's words had touched a spring in his brain. 'Mr Penhallow,' he said, carefully casual, 'I suppose when you get a really low tide like that there's a lot more rocks than usual uncovered outside the harbour? '

 

'Oh, a good old lot,' the fisherman said. 'They do say 'tis possible to walk all the way round from Trewissick harbour to the Dodman, that's two-three bays beyond Kemare Head. But that be nothing more'n a tale - I dare say the rocks be uncovered, but the tide'd be coming up again before you was half-way there.'

 

Jane was only half-listening. 'Mr Penhallow, we were looking for Mrs Palk, she's the lady who keeps house for us. Do you know her?'

 

'Know Molly Palk?' said Mr Penhallow, chuckling. 'I should say I do. Nice lass, she used to be - still is, but she turned a bit miserly when old Jim Palk died. Costing your mum and dad a pretty penny, I'll be bound. Do anything for a few extra pound, would old Moll. Now I come to think of it, course, she'm your young friend Bill's auntie, too.'

 

'Mrs Palk is?' Jane said amazed. 'That awful boy?'

 

'Ah,' Mr Penhallow said, placidly. 'The two sides of the family don't have much to do with each other mind. Most of Trewissick forgets they'm even related. Don't suppose Moll likes people to know.'

 

'I think Great-Uncle Merry told me once,' Simon said. 'I'd clean forgotten. He said Bill was Mrs Palk's no-good brother's son.'

 

Jane said thoughtfully: 'I wonder whether ... Oh well, it doesn't matter now. Have you seen her anywhere about?'

 

'Let me see, now, I did pass the time of day with her. Oh, ah, up on the front quay. She were all dressed up for the carnival, some funny affair on her head, helping with the procession, most like, I reckon you'll still find her up by there, unless she've popped in to have her dinner.'

 

The crowds had thinned round them now, milling about instead on the front quay, with here and there groups of bandsmen in bright blue uniform, clutching large curly silver instruments and wearing ill-fitting blue peaked caps. Simon and Jane peered across the harbour, but they were too far away to be able to distinguish faces.

 

'Well, I must be of to find my young Walter. Real cock-a-hoop he'll be. Remember me to our liddle fisherman, midears.' Mr Penhallow toddled of along the quay, grinning to himself. Jane, who had been wondering what it was about him that seemed different, realised for the first time that instead of the blue jersey and long thigh-boots he was in a stiff black suit, and shoes that squeaked.

 

'I don't think he should have talked like that about Mrs Palk,' she said, troubled.

 

You don't know, it might be important,' Simon said. 'Anyway, what are we going to do now? We've got to find Mrs Palk to know where Great-Uncle Merry's gone. But Mr Penhallow says he saw her on the other side of the harbour, and we told Barney we'd meet him there.'

 

'I wonder where Barney is? He's surely had time to get up to the top of the road and back by now. Look, you go and see if Mrs Palk is over there, and I'll wait here till he comes.'

 

Simon rubbed his ear. 'I don't know, I don't like all this splitting up. We haven't got Great-Uncle Merry, we haven't got Barney for the moment, and if you and I split up, nobody will have anybody else at all. Any one of us could get nobbled and the others not know. I think we ought to keep together.'

 

'Well, all right,' Jane said, 'We'll wait a bit longer. Let's go back to the corner of the front quay and we can cut him off. That's the only way down here, he'll have to pass it.'

 

As they walked back they saw the Trewissick band forming up across the harbour, with the crowd bobbing and weaving round them and children darting excitedly to and fro on the edge. One or two strange figures stood out among the white shirts and summer dresses; tall, fantastically coloured, decked with ribbons and leaves, with monstrous false heads set on their shoulders.

 

'They must be part of the carnival procession.'

 

'I think it's starting. Listen, what a horrible noise.'

 

The band had begun a wavering brassy tune that resolved itself gradually into a recognisable march.

 

'Oh come on, it's not that bad,' Jane said. I expect they're more used to fishing than playing trumpets. Anyway, it's very cheerful-sounding. I like it.'

 

'Hmmf. Let's sit on the wall here at the corner, we can catch Barney when he passes.' Simon crossed into the road and looked up the hill. 'I can't see any sign of him. But there's so many people about it's difficult to see properly.'

 

'Oh well,' Jane hoisted herself up on to the wall, wincing as the rough slate rubbed the skin behind her knees. 'We'll just wait. Hey listen, the music's getting louder.'

 

'Music!' said Simon.

 

'Well, it is ... Oh look, the procession's started! And they're coming this way!'

 

'I thought Mrs Palk said they would go straight up the hill.'

 

'Perhaps they go up from this corner of the harbour instead of the other. Or perhaps they go all round the village first ... look, they're all dressed up. And they're playing that thing Mrs Palk was singing this morning, the "Floral Dance".'

 

'We've got a good view, anyway,' Simon hopped up to sit on the wall beside her.

 

Slowly the crowd drew near them along the front quay, children running and jumping about in front of the red-faced puffing band. Behind them, edged by delighted pushing throngs of visitors, came a dancing file of the fantastic figures they had seen from across the harbour, the monstrous heads lurching and hopping in a slow parody of dance, and others, masked and disguised, weaving in and out of the crowds. Here and there they swooped on the bystanders, taking pretty girls by the hand, pretending to strike squealing old ladies with a ribboned wand, guiding the visitors and villagers to join hands and dance with them in rows across the width of the street. 'Pom ... pom ... di-pom-pom-pom ...' the music boomed in the children's ears where they sat on the wall, and the crowds eddied all round them on the corner, overflowing up the hill as well as down.

 

Jane, beaming round her in delight at the tops of the giant grinning heads, suddenly stared across the crowd. She pointed, and shouted something in Simon's ear.

 

Simon could hear nothing but the music, thrumming round him till the wall seemed to shake. 'What?' he shouted back.

 

Jane ducked her head close to his ear. There's Mrs Palk! Look! Just over there, with feathers on her head, behind the man covered in leaves. Quickly, let's catch her!' And before Simon could stop her she had slipped down from the wall and was on the edge of the crowd.

 

Simon jumped down after her and caught at her arm just as she was about to push her way across the crowd between two dancing, laughing files. 'Not now, Jane!' But he too was swept along for several yards by the dancing crowd before he could draw her back into a clear space. They stood pinned against the far wall of the road, away from the harbour, hemmed in by others standing watching the carnival procession dance by.

 

And that was why they did not see Barney, who had been threading his way down the hill-road past the Grey House, dodge between people's legs to slip round the corner of the wall, ignoring the procession; and run as fast as he could along the inner quay to the place where they had agreed to meet.

 

 

 

Chapter 12

 

 

It took Barney a long time to make his way down the hill past the house. There had been no sign of Great-Uncle Merry on the headland. On the road, knots of wandering people were scattered maddeningly about in his path, and three times he had to stand aside as a car came grinding up the steep narrow slope. Barney dodged impatiently to and fro, in and out, with Rufus at his heels.

 

Half-way down the hill he heard music from the other side of the harbour, and through the heads he caught sight of the dancing procession moving forward along the quay. Slipping his finger inside Rufus's collar, he side-stepped through the thickening crowd and down the hill as fast as he could, darting through every visible gap like a shrimp in a pool.  But when he reached the corner of the harbour the procession was upon him, and he could see nothing at all but an impenetrable wall of legs and backs. He wriggled through behind them, the din of the music thumping in his ears, until he was out of the crowd at last and on the quay. With a sigh of relief he let go of Rufus's collar, and ran with him towards the deserted corner where he had arranged to meet Simon and Jane.

 

There was nobody there.

 

Barney looked round wildly. He could see nothing to give him the slightest hint of where the others had gone. Reasoning with himself, he decided they must have caught sight of Mrs Palk. She had been very keen on the idea of the carnival and the dancing; she must be in the procession. And it had been Simon's and Jane's job to go and find her, as it had been his to go and scout on the headland. They must have gone chasing her, knowing that he would guess where they had gone.

 

Satisfied, Barney went off to find the carnival. He followed the last of the crowd still drifting up the road. Even down in the sheltered harbour the wind was blowing in from the sea, but now and again it dropped for a moment, and Barney heard a tantalising snatch of music come wafting over the roofs from somewhere in the village. Pom ... pom ... di-pom-pom-pom ...' All round him people were wandering aimlessly about, idly talking ... 'Where've they gone?'... 'We can meet them at the ground'... 'But they dance through the streets for ages yet' ... 'Oh, come on.'

 

Disregarding them, Barney set off down a little side turning, with Rufus still loping patiently at his heels. He wandered from one winding lane to another, down narrow passages where the slate roofs almost touched overhead, past neat front doors with their brass knockers gleaming golden in the sun, through cobbled alleys where front doors opened not on to a pavement but straight on to the street. For a small place, Trewissick seemed to be an extraordinary endless maze of winding little roads. Straining his ears all the time, Barney followed the sound of the music through the maze.

 

He made one or two false turns, losing the sound. Then gradually the band grew louder, and with it he began to hear the hum of voices and the rasping shuffle of feet. He snapped his fingers to Rufus, and broke into a trot, swinging from one quiet deserted little alley into the next. And then suddenly the noise burst on him like a storm, and he was out of the muffling narrow street and among the crowds, out in the sunshine filling a broad road where the procession jogged and danced by. 'Come on, my white-headed boy,' someone called to him, and the people near by turned and laughed.

 

Barney could not see Simon and Jane amongst the dancers, and there seemed little chance of being able to get to them even if he did. He gazed fascinated round him at the bobbing giant heads, the bodies beneath them fantastic and gay in doublets and red, yellow, blue hose. Everywhere he saw costumed figures, a man dancing stiff as a tree, a solid flapping mass of green leaves, pirates, sailors, a hussar in bright red with a tall cap. Slave-girls, jesters, a man in a long blue silk gown made up as a pantomime dame; a girl all in black, twirling sinuous as a cat, with a cat's bewhiskered head. Little boys in green as Robin Hood, little girls with long fair hair as Alice; highwaymen, morris-men, flower-sellers, gnomes.

 

It was like nothing he had ever seen before. The dancers whirled in and out of the crowd on the edge of the street where he stood; and then suddenly, before Barney knew what was happening they were dancing round him.

 

He felt someone catch at his hand, and he was drawn out into the centre of the dancing crowd, among the ribbons and feathers and bright bobbing heads, so that his feet fell into step with the rest.

 

Breathless, grinning, he glanced up. The black-gloved hand holding one of his own belonged to the figure of the cat, twirling in the skin-close black tights with a long black tail swinging out behind, and whiskers bristling long and straight from the headmask fitting over the cheeks. He saw the eyes glint through the slits, and the teeth flash. For a moment, among the dancing figures all round, he saw close to him one in a great feathered Red Indian head-dress, with a face startlingly like Mrs Palk's. But as he opened his mouth to call, the black cat seized both his hands and wheeled him round and round in a dizzy spiral through the ranks of the crowd. People glanced down at him and smiled as he passed, and Barney, giddy with the music and the speed and the twisting black limbs of the cat before his eyes, flung himself laughing round where it swung him ...

 

... Until he came up with a sudden halt against the long white robes of a figure dressed as an Arab sheikh, moving with the rest so that the robes were swung wide and billowing by the breeze. And glancing up through a world swaying with his own giddiness, Barney had time only to glimpse a slim figure and a dark-skinned lean face, before the cat swung him by the hands straight into the out-swung muffling folds of the man's white robes.

 

The robe twisted round him as he staggered, still laughing, in the sudden gloom. And then, so quickly that he had no time even to feel alarmed, the man's arm came round him like an iron band and lifted him from the ground, and the other hand muffled his mouth in the folds of the cloth, and Barney felt himself being carried away.

 

Before he could struggle, he was swung in a scuffling moment through the roaring music and the crowd. Pushing ineffectually against the man's chest, he felt him run a few steps and heard the noise of the voices and the band suddenly grow fainter. He kicked out blindly and felt his toes hit the man's shins. But he was only wearing sandals, and could do no great harm: the man gave a muffled curse but did not pause, jolting him along for a few more steps until Barney felt himself swung higher into the air and dropped on to a padded seat that protested with the noise of springs.

 

The robe fell loose from his mouth. He yelled, and went on yelling until a hand came back and pressed hard against his face.

 

A girl's voice said urgently: 'Quickly! Get him away!'

 

A voice almost as light as a girl's but masculine, said curtly: 'Get in. You'll have to drive.'

 

Barney suddenly lay quite still, all his senses alerted. There was something familiar about the second voice. He felt a coldness at the back of his neck. Then the pressure of the hand over his mouth relaxed a little through the cotton folds, and the voice said softly, close to his ear, 'Don't make a noise, Barnabas, and don't move, and nobody will be hurt.'

 

And suddenly Barney knew the black-masked figure of the cat, and the dark man in sheikh's robes. He felt the seat judder slightly as the noise of a powerful car's engine coughed and then rose in a throbbing howl. Then the note deepened, and he felt a lurch, and knew that he was being driven away.

 

Rufus jumped nervously back from the shuffling, dancing feet that had enclosed Barney in the crowd. Tentatively he put his nose forward to follow, once, twice, but always a heel came up in the way with an accidental kick, and he had to dodge away. From a safer distance, he barked, loudly. But the sound was lost at once in the booming music and the clamour of the crowd. Alarmed by the shattering noise and bustle suddenly filling his small world, he put his ears back flat against the side of his head; his tail was down between his legs, and he showed the whites of his eyes.

 

He retreated further from the noise, waiting hopefully on the corner of the street for Barney to reappear. But there was no sign of him. Rufus moved uneasily.

 

Then as the band drew directly opposite, blowing and banging only a few yards away, rocking every corner with the rise and fall of music that to a dog's ears was a menacing roaring noise, Rufus could suddenly stand it no longer. He gave up all hope of Barney, and turning his back on the clamour of the carnival, he padded away down the alley with the tip of his tail sweeping the ground and his nose lowered, sniffing his way home.

 

 

Simon and Jane rejoined one another at the corner of the harbour, quiet again now in the sunny afternoon.

 

'Well, I've been back to where we said. He isn't there.'

 

'I had a good look in the house. He hasn't been there either.'

 

'D'you think he could have gone of after Mrs Palk? '

 

'I keep telling you, it couldn't have been Mrs Palk you saw.'

 

'I don't see why not. If only you hadn't stopped me I could have grabbed her.'

 

'How could we meet Barney here if you- ' Simon began.

 

'Oh all right, all right. But we haven't met him.'

 

'Well then, he can't have come down from the headland yet.'

 

Jane's expression changed. 'Oh dear. Perhaps he's got into trouble up there.'

 

'No, no, don't worry when we don't need to. More likely he's found Great-Uncle Merry after all and they're both up there still.'

 

'Well, come on then, let's go and look.'

 

 

The car swayed and growled as if it were alive. Barney lay wrapped up like a parcel in the robe which Mr Withers had slipped from his own shoulders as he dropped him in the car. He decided that it must be a sheet; the smell of it under his nose was like clean laundry on the beds at home. But he wasn't at home. He muttered peevishly under his breath, and kicked at the side of the car.

 

'Now, now,' said Mr Withers. He took hold of Barney's legs and swung him none too gently round into a sitting position, at the same time pulling the sheet clear of his face. 'I think perhaps we might let you emerge now, Barnabas.'

 

Barney blinked, dazzled by the sudden sunlight. Before he could open his eyes properly to look at the road the car swung squealing through a gap in a high wall, and slowed down, its wheels crunching on gravel, along a tree-lined drive.

 

'Nearly there,' Mr Withers said placidly.

 

Barney twisted his head to glare up at him. He could still barely recognise Mr Withers's face through the dark-brown stain that turned him into an Arab; the eyes and teeth glinted unnaturally white, and behind the make-up the man seemed withdrawn and pleased with himself, almost arrogant.

 

'Where are we? Where are you taking me? '

 

'Don't you know? Ah no' - the dark head nodded wisely - 'of course, you would not. Well, you will know soon, Barnabas.'

 

'What do you want?' Barney demanded.

 

Want? Nothing, my dear boy. We're just taking you for a little ride, to meet a friend of ours. I think you'll get on very well together.'

 

Barney saw, through the trees, that they were coming to a house. He looked down at the sheet still twined round him, and wriggled to move his arms free. Mr Withers turned quickly.

 

'Take this stupid thing off me. I feel silly.'

 

'Just a little joke of ours,' Mr Withers said. 'Where's your sense of humour, Barnabas? I thought you were enjoying yourself.'

 

He leaned over and began pulling the sheet free as the car drew up outside the peeling front door of a big, deserted-looking house. 'You'll have to hop out, if you can. I can't loosen it properly in here.' He spoke casually, easily, with no trace of menace in his voice, and as Barney glanced up at him suspiciously the white teeth shone briefly again in a smile.

 

The girl slipped out of the driving seat, moving like a snake in her black tights, and came round to open the door at Barney's side. She helped him out, and spun him round to pull the sheet away. Barney staggered, his arms and legs so stiff with cramp that he could hardly move.

 

Polly Withers laughed. Her head was still a fantastic sight in the close-fitting black cat's mask, covering all her face but the eyes and mouth. 'I'm sorry, Barney,' she said companionably. 'We did overdo it a bit, didn't we? You danced jolly well, I thought, I was almost sorry to stop. Still, never mind, now we'll go and have some tea, if it isn't too early for you.'

 

'I haven't had any lunch,' Barney said irrelevantly, suddenly remembering.

 

'Well, in that case we must certainly get you something to eat. Good gracious, no lunch? And it's all our fault, I expect. Norman, ring the bell, we must feed the poor boy.'

 

Mr Withers, making a concerned clicking noise with his tongue, crossed from the car and pressed the bell next to the big door. He was all in white still, but in shirt-sleeves and white flannels without his Arab robe. His bare arms were stained the same dark-brown as his face.

 

Barney following him slowly with the girl's hand resting lightly on his shoulder, was puzzled by their friendliness. He began to wonder whether he had been seeing everything in the wrong light. Perhaps this was after all only a joke, part of the fun of carnival day. Perhaps the Witherses were perfectly ordinary people after all ... they had never actually done anything to prove beyond doubt that they were the enemy ... perhaps he and Simon and Jane had got things all wrong ...

 

Then he heard footsteps echoing faintly within the house, clumping gradually nearer, and the door was opened. At first he did not recognise the figure in tight black jeans and a green shirt. Then he saw that it was the boy Bill Hoover, who had chased Simon for the map. And in a moment he remembered the scene on Kemare Head that day, and the greed on Miss Withers's face when she had looked at the map, and he knew that they had not been wrong after all.

 

Bill's face lit up out of its down-turned sullenness as he saw Barney, and he grinned across at Miss Withers.

 

You got'n, then? ' he said.

 

Mr Withers cut in quickly, stepping forward and almost pushing the boy out of the way. 'Hallo, Bill,' he said smoothly 'we've brought a young friend of ours on a visit. I don't think anyone will mind. We could all do with something to eat, run and see if you can manage to rustle anything up, will you?'

 

'Mind?' the boy said, 'I should say not.' He looked at Barney again with the same eager, unpleasant grin, then turned and disappeared down the long corridor, calling something into an open doorway as he passed.

 

'Come along in, Barney,' the girl said. She propelled him gently through the door and shut it behind her. Barney looked round him in the long empty passage, at the marks of damp on the fading wallpaper; and he felt very small and lonely. He heard a deep voice call from somewhere inside the house: 'Withers? Is that you?'

 

Mr Withers, who had been standing surveying Barney with a slight smile, jumped and put his hand half-consciously up to his collar. 'Come,' he said curtly. He took Barney by the hand and led him down the corridor, their footsteps echoing on the uncarpeted wooden floor, to the doorway of a room at the far end.

 

It was a big room, dark after the blazing sunlight outside. Long windows stretched from the floor to ceiling in one wall, with long shabby velvet curtains half pulled across, and the light that shafted in between them fell on a big, square desk in the centre of the room, its top littered with papers and books. The room seemed empty. Then Barney jumped as he saw a tall man move in the shadow beyond the sunlight.

 

'Ah,' said the deep voice, 'I see you have brought the youngest of them. The white-haired child. I am most interested to make his acquaintance. How do you do, Barnabas?'

 

He held out his hand, and Barney, bemused, took it. The voice was not unpleasant, and rather kind.

 

'How do you do?' he said faintly.

 

He looked up at the tall man, but in the half-light he had only a vague impression of deep-shadowed eyes under dark, heavy brows, and a clean-shaven face. The smooth edge of a silk jacket brushed his hand.

 

'I was about to have a cool drink, Barnabas,' the man said, as courteously as if he were talking to someone older than himself. 'Will you join me?' He waved his hand towards the shadows, and Barney saw the glint of silver and a white cloth on a low table beside the desk.

 

The boy has had nothing to eat, sir,' Miss Withers said behind Barney, in a peculiarly hushed, reverent voice. 'We thought perhaps Bill could fetch something ...' Her voice died away. The man looked at her, and grunted.

 

'Very well, very well. Polly, for goodness' sake go and change into some normal clothes. You look ridiculous. The necessity for fancy dress is over, you are not at the carnival now.' He spoke sharply, and Barney was astonished at the meekness with which Miss Withers answered him.

 

'Yes, sir, of course ...' She slipped away into the passage, sleek and inhuman in the black cat's skin.

 

'Come in, my boy, and sit down.' He spoke softly again, and Barney came slowly forward into the room and sat down in an armchair. It creaked with the crackling rustle of wickerwork, and he suddenly felt for an instant that he had been in the room before. He glanced round, his eyes growing accustomed to the dim light, at the dark walls and the shelves of books rising to the ceiling. There was something ... but he could not place it. Perhaps it was just that the room reminded him a little of the Grey House.

 

As if he read his thoughts, the man said: 'I hear you are on holiday in the Grey House, above the harbour.'

 

Barney said, surprised at his own daring, 'It must be a very interesting house. That seems to be the only thing anyone ever says to us.'

 

The man leant forward, resting his hand on the edge of the desk. 'Oh?' The deep voice rose a little with eagerness. 'Who else has asked you about it?'

 

'Oh, no one important,' Barney said hastily. 'After all, it's a nice house. Do you live here, Mr - ? '

 

'My name is Hastings,' the big man said, and at the sound of the name Barney again felt the flicker of familiarity, vanishing as soon as it came. 'Yes, I do. This is my house. Do you like it, Barnabas?'

 

'It's rather like the Grey House, as a matter of fact,' Barney said.

 

The man turned back towards him again. 'Indeed? Now what makes you say that  '

 

'Well -' Barney began; but then the door opened again and the boy Bill came in carrying an enormous tray with a big jug of milk and some bottles of lager, glasses, and a plate piled with sandwiches. He crossed the room to where the tall man stood and put the tray down on the desk; nervously, just within reach, as if he were frightened to come too near. 'Mis' Withers said for someth'n to eat, sir,' he said, gruffly, already backing towards the door. The man waved him away without speaking.

 

The sight of the sandwiches made Barney realise how long it was since breakfast, and he felt more cheerful. He sat back in the creaking chair and glanced round him. It could have been worse, he thought. The mysterious Mr Hastings seemed to mean him no harm, and he was beginning to enjoy the sight of all their enemies cringing in terror before someone else. He took a sandwich from the plate held out to him and bit into it cheerfully. The bread was soft and new, with plenty of butter, and in the middle there was some delicious kind of potted meat. He began to feel better still.

 

Mr Withers moved silently across to the desk and poured him out a glass of milk, then began opening the bottles of lager. The big man called Hastings sat down in the chair behind the desk and swung gently from side to side, regarding Barney thoughtfully from beneath his heavy brows. He said softly, conversationally, 'Is it buried under the Grey House, Barnabas, or one of the standing stones?'

 

Half-way through a gulp of milk, Barney suddenly choked. He groped for the desk and put his glass down with a bang, and leaned forward, coughing and spluttering. Mr Withers, soft footed, crossed to pat him on the back. 'Dear me, Barnabas,' he murmured, 'has something gone down the wrong way? '

 

Barney, his mind working furiously, went on coughing for rather longer than he needed to. When he looked up he took refuge instinctively in innocence. 'I'm sorry, I caught my breath,' he said. 'Did you say something? '

 

'I think you heard perfectly well what I said,' Mr Hastings said. He stood up again, towering very tall over Barney in the low chair, and walked over to the window with a glass of lager in his hand. The light fell on his face for the first time, and watching, Barney felt a slight chill of uneasiness at the flat permanent scowl of the brows and the grim lines running down to the mouth. It was a strong, far-away face, something like his great-uncle's, but with a frightening coldness behind it that was not like Great-Uncle Merry at all. Barney found himself wishing very much that there was somebody to tell Great-Uncle Merry where he had gone.

 

Mr Hastings held up his glass to the window. The sunlight shone through it clear and golden. 'An ordinary glass of beer,' he said, abstractedly, 'until you hold it against the light. And then it becomes quite transparent, you can see right through it ...' He swung round on Barney so that he was silhouetted dark and menacing against the window again. '... As transparent as every single thing that you children have been doing, these past days. Do you think we have not seen through it all? Do you think we have not been watching ? '

 

'I don't know what you mean,' Barney said.

 

You may be a stupid little boy,' Mr Hastings said, 'but not I think as stupid as all that ... come along. We know that you have found a map, and that with the help of your esteemed great-uncle, Professor Lyon' - his mouth twisted on the words as if he were tasting something unpleasant - 'you have been attempting to trace the place to which it leads. We know that you have come very near the end of that track. And since, my dear Barnabas, we cannot afford to risk your reaching the end of it, we have decided at last to draw in the net and put a stop to your little quest. That is what you are doing here.'

 

Barney shivered at the menace in the cold deep voice. His mouth felt very dry. He reached forward and picked up the glass of milk again, and took a long drink. 'I'm sorry,' he said blinking wide-eyed at Mr Hastings over the rim of the glass and licking a moustache of milk away from his upper lip. 'I don't know what you mean. Could I have another sandwich, please? '

 

Behind him he heard Mr Withers's sharp intake of breath, and for a second a very small voice deep inside his brain crowed with triumph. But he watched the tall figure by the window apprehensively. It seemed to grow for a moment and loom still more menacingly over him. And then it moved abruptly, back into the dim shadow of the rest of the room.

 

'Give him another sandwich,' Mr Hastings said. 'And then you can go, Withers. You know what you have to do. We haven't much time. Come back when I ring.'

 

Mr Withers, his dark-stained face scarcely visible in the gloom, pushed the plate of sandwiches across to Barney's elbow. He said obsequiously, 'Yes, sir,' and ducking his head in a bow he went out of the room.

 

Barney took another sandwich, feeling fatalistically that whatever was likely to happen, he might as well eat. 'Why do they all call you sir? ' he said curiously.