*'Oh, Wenna, you're a comfort to me."

"Don't 'ee fret, my dear. Wenna's beside 'ee."

Caroline was quiet then. She lay still with her eyes closed while Wenna thought of the slender neck in her strong hands, and the green eyes, wide with horror, staring dumbly, asking for mercy which should not be given.

There was quietness throughout the house. In half an hour it would be midnight.

In her room, Melisande waited, her cloak wrapped about her, her shoes in her hand.

A board in the corridor creaked. Melisande was tense, listening.

Cautiously she opened her door and a small plump figure glided in.

Peg said: "Be you ready then, Mamazel?"

"Yes, Peg."

Peg whispered: "The back door be unbolted. Mrs. Soady said not to forget to bolt it when we did come in. We'll pick up- the food as we go out. 'Tis all ready. Come."

They tiptoed downstairs, every now and then pausing to make sure that no one in the house was stirring; down the back staircase, through to the servants' hall, where they could breathe more freely, for if they awakened any of the servants that would be of no great importance as the adventure had the blessing of Mrs. Soady.

Into the great stone kitchen they went, where two neat packages lay on the table.

" 'Tis roast fowl," whispered Peg. "Tamson Trequint be terrible partial to roast fowl. Mrs. Soady said she'd give a beautiful spell for a wing or a bit of the breast. Now then ... be you ready?"

"Yes," said Melisande.

1(14 IT BEGAN IN VAUXHALL GARDENS

"Then come on."

Out through the back door they went.

"Keep close to the house," whispered Peg, "just in case someone has heard and looks from the windows."

But they had to cross the park.

"Hurry," said Peg. "We must be there by midnight. That be terrible important. A midnight spell be the best you can have. More like to work ... so says Mrs. Soady; and her'd know, being a pellar."

When they reached the high road, Melisande turned to look about her. The country was touched with the white magic of the moon; it cast a light path on the waters. The rocks looked like crouching giants; on the water there gleamed an occasional phosphorescent light, ghostly and fascinating.

"What be looking at?" demanded Peg. "What be over there by the sea?"

"It's so beautiful."

"Oh, 'tis only the old sea."

"But look at the shadows there."

"Only they old rocks."

"And the lights! Look! They come and go."

"'Tis mackerel . . . nothing more. Them lights do mean we'll have mackerel the next few days . . . like as not. Come on. Do 'ee want a midnight spell, Mamazel, or did 'ee come out to look for mackerel?"

It was eerie in the woods. Some of the trees gleamed silver like ghosts from another world, others were black and menacing like grotesque human shapes. Now and then there would be a movement in the undergrowth.

"What be that?" cried Peg.

"A rat? A rabbit?"

"I've heard of people what comes out alone at night being carried off."

"We're not alone."

"No! I wouldn't have come out alone . . . not for a farm . . . not for roast fowl every day of my life. That I wouldn't. The Little People don't carry 'ee off in twos, so 'tis said. All the same, I be scared. Better say Jack o' lantern."

Peg began in a trembling voice:

"Jack o' Lantern, Joan the Wad, Who tickled the maid and made her mad, Light me home; the weather's bad ..."

"But we do not want to be lighted home and the weather is not bad," pointed out Melisande.

"Well, we dursen't say 'Light me to the witch's cave.' I don't know that piskies be terrible fond of witches. I do reckon we might get pisky-led if we was alone. I'm terrible glad we'm not."

They pushed on, and Peg screamed when a low branch caught her hair and she could not immediately extricate herself. They both felt that at any moment they would see hundreds of little figures making a ring round them, tickling them until they were mad, leading them away to regions below the earth. But Melisande was able to release Peg, and after that, they took to running; and they did not stop until they reached Tamson's hut.

Wenna had heard the creaking of the stairs. Wenna slept lightly.

Someone was creeping about the house, she decided.

Wenna had her own ideas. She thought she knew. Wouldn't it be just like him? She reckoned that the wicked Mamazel, the daughter of Babylon, was creeping up to his room. She pictured the terrible deeds they would perform.

What if she caught them together? That wouldn't do though. It would only bring sorrow to Miss Caroline. No! But she could go to the master with her tales.

She went to the door of her room. She slept in the room next to Caroline's.

Pray God, Miss Caroline don't wake, the poor lamb! she thought,

She waited. There was no sound now. Had she been mistaken? Had she been dreaming? But she would keep a sharp look out, she would. One little slip and she'd be off to the master. He couldn't keep a harlot in his house . . . not one who was going to rob his legitimate daughter of a husband. But perhaps he was shameful enough for that! Hadn't he brought that woman's daughter into the house to live alongside Miss Caroline?

She went back to her room, but as she was about to get into her bed she heard a sound from without. So, they were meeting out of doors. Why hadn't she thought of that!

She was at her window. The lawn was bright with moonlight. She listened. Yes. Surely footsteps. If only she were down there! But they were keeping close to the house. Where were they off to to do their wickedness ? On the sweet pure grass! Let them catch their deaths and die.

Now she saw them—two figures; one was Mamazel, the other was short and squat. Peg!

And what were they doing, and where were they going? They were making their way towards the woods.

Suddenly she knew, and the thought filled her with misgiving.

She knew why girls went out in pairs round about midnight. She knew why they made their way to the hut in the woods.

She sat at the window, waiting.

Melisande shuddered as they stepped into the hut. It was dimly lighted by a lamp which hung from the ceiling and smelt strongly of the oil. A fire was burning in a hollow in one corner of the hut. Two black cats lay stretched on the earthen floor. One rose and arched his back at the sight of the visitors; the other lay still, watching them with alert green eyes.

"Be still, Samuel," said a gentle voice. " 'Tis only two young ladies come to see us."

The black cat settled down on the floor and watched them.

On a table several objects lay in some disorder. There were pieces of wax, wooden hearts and bottles of red liquid which had the appearance of blood. There were charms made of wood and metal, a chart of the sky and a great crystal globe.

About the clay walls herbs were hung. There was a wooden beam across the ceiling of the hut and from this hung dark objects in various stages of decomposition. Two live toads were near the fire; a pot was simmering there; the steam which rose from it smelt of earth and decaying vegetables.

Tamson Trequint had risen. She was a very old woman whose untidy grey hair fell about her shoulders; her skin was burned brown by the sun and wind and she was very thin. Her eyes were black and brilliant and her heavy lids suggested an eagle.

"Come in. Come in. Don't 'ee be scared," she said. "Samuel won't hurt 'ee. Nor will Joshua. What have you brought me?"