We sat in silence for a while. Then I noticed that there had been no thunder for some little time and that the heavy rain had ceased.

“I must go,” I said reluctantly. “They mustn’t know that I have been here. Goodbye. Good luck. You are safe here for the rest of the day.”

“I will be watchful… and leave as soon as darkness falls. Thank you, my dear little girl. I shall think of you constantly … my beautiful young benefactress.”

He took my face in his hands and tenderly kissed my forehead. I felt very emotional. I wanted to do so much for him; but there was nothing I could do but remain silent.

I went across the hall. I stood at the door for a moment looking back, smiling at him.

I felt frightened suddenly, wondering if that was the last I should see of Romany Jake.

When I arrived home there was great consternation. Where had I been? My mother had sent the carriage over to Enderby to bring me back.

“Dear Mother,” I said, “I am not made of sugar.”

“And then we learned that you had already left.”

“I sheltered.”

She felt the sleeve of my gown. “It’s damp,” she announced. “Get it off at once. Where is Miss Rennie? Oh, Miss Rennie, see that Jessica puts her feet in a hot mustard bath at once.”

“Certainly Mrs. Frenshaw.”

I protested. “Really, this is absurd. I’m just a little wet.” And I was thinking, They sent the carriage over. Suppose someone had seen me go into Grasslands? Suppose they had come and found him?

I felt sick at the thought.

I must protect him.

I sat in my dry gown holding it above my knees while my feet were immersed in the hot mustard bath. Miss Rennie filled it again with hot water, when she thought it was getting a little cold.

“You should have stayed at Enderby. You could have come home in the carriage.”

“Such a fuss …”

How was he faring? Nobody else would call at the house this day and by nightfall he would be off.

I could not get out of my mind the horrible thought of his hanging by a rope. It must never be.

My mother came into the bedroom to see if her instructions were being carried out. She herself dried my feet, and while she was doing so there was the sound of voices below. She looked out of the window.

“It’s a stranger,” she said. “Oh, there’s your father. They’re talking earnestly together. I daresay this will mean a guest for dinner. I’ll go down and see. Now put on your stockings quickly. You’ll be heated from the mustard. You don’t want to catch cold.”

“Really, Mother,” I protested. “All this because of a little rain.”

“I don’t want you in bed with a cold. I have enough to do without that.”

In a way it was pleasant to be looked after and made to feel precious.

Then my thoughts were back with Romany Jake.

I went downstairs to see who had arrived. The whole family were gathered there with my father and mother. Claudine, David and Amaryllis. They were talking excitedly.

My father said: “This is my daughter Jessica. Jessica, this is Mr. Frederick Forby.”

Mr. Forby bowed and my father went on: “Do you remember the gypsy they called Romany Jake?”

I felt dizzy. I hoped I did not show how shaken I was.

“Mr. Forby is looking for him. We have to be on the watch.”

“Romany Jake?” I repeated.

“I thought he might come this way,” said Mr. Forby to my father. “We’re going to all the old haunts and I believe they were here last year.”

“Yes,” said my mother. “It was October. I remember they were at the Trafalgar bonfire.”

“October,” repeated Mr. Forby. “And not since?”

“Oh no, not since,” said my mother. “We should have been aware of them if they had been here.”

“They set my woods on fire,” put in my father. “I turned them off the land after that.”

“They say he is wanted for murder,” said David.

“That’s so,” said Mr. Forby.

“He’s a real villain then.”

“These gypsies have to be watched, sir. It’s usually petty crimes. Murder! Well, I have to say that’s rare enough. But we’re determined to get him.”

“Who was the victim?” asked Claudine.

“He was the nephew of the local squire. They were encamped near Nottingham.”

“Oh dear, that’s bad,” said my mother. “I thought perhaps it might have been a quarrel in the camp.”

“Oh no, the gypsy attacked the young man and killed him.”

“I hope they catch him,” said my mother.

I heard myself say in a rather high-pitched voice: “Why did he kill this man … the nephew of the squire?”

“Some quarrel over a girl. They’re a hot-blooded lot, these gypsies.”

I had to control myself. I wanted to shout: A quarrel over a girl! The squire’s nephew tried to rape her. Romany Jake was quite right to do what he did. Any man of chivalry would have done the same.

I must be careful. I must not betray the fact that I had seen him. I should somehow have to warn him that this man Forby was in the neighbourhood. I must be wary. He never should have come here.

They were talking about him. “A colourful sort of fellow as I remember,” said my father.

“I gather he is not a real gypsy.”

“What’s he doing living with them then?”

“It’s all rather odd. In fact he’s an odd fellow. We’ve been making enquiries. It seems he comes from quite a good family … somewhere in Cornwall. He’s known as an eccentric.”

“Who goes round committing murders,” said my mother.

“We don’t know of any others,” I said. “And it wasn’t murder. It was this girl…”

“Murder is murder, my dear young lady,” said Mr. Forby. “It is my job to see that the guilty are brought to justice.”

“But you said it was a quarrel over a girl. Perhaps …”

My father was looking at me with raised eyebrows and Mr. Forby went on: “We expect a bit of trouble with the gypsies. He seems to be a sort of leader in spite of not being one of them. Cornish name of Jake Cadorson. Romany Jake is just a nickname.”

“I remember the fellow,” said my father. “I quite liked his manner. He was reasonable enough when I went to order them off my land.”

“Hot-blooded,” said Mr. Forby.

“Where are they searching for him?” I asked.

“All along the coasts. I’ve got my men out. We’re determined to get him. He’ll try to leave the country. I think he’ll make for the east coast. Harwich most likely. But for the war I’d have expected it to be the south coast. But he couldn’t very well get to France at a time like this. No, I reckon he’ll make for Harwich.”

I felt myself tremble. I thought: He will go straight into the trap.

I had to see him.

“I’m going to all the houses round here,” went on Mr. Forby. “I’m warning them to keep a look out. If anyone should see this man we want to know right away.”

I made an excuse to get away. I went to my room, got into my riding habit and slipped out of the house. I saddled my horse and rode out.

The trees were still dripping with moisture and the ground was damp after the storm. The bushes looked as though they had had a battering. Why does one notice these things when one’s thoughts are deeply involved elsewhere?

I reached Grasslands. It was very silent. I dismounted and tied my horse to the mounting block. I went to the door and rang the bell. I called through the keyhole: “It’s all right. It’s Jessica…”

I heard his footsteps. The door was opened and he stood there.

Just at that moment there was a shout. My father and Mr. Forby were galloping towards the house.

“No, no!” I cried.

Romany Jake looked at me and the pain in his eyes hurt me more deeply than I had ever been hurt before.

They had leaped from their horses. Mr. Forby produced a gun.

“It’s all up,” he shouted.

I felt as if I were going to faint. My father put his arm round me. “It’s all right,” he said. “I’m here.”

Two men appeared as if from nowhere. I had never seen them before but I knew that they were Mr. Forby’s assistants.