We were all too excited at the prospect of the Cornish visit to pay much attention to that, and the next day we left for Paddington and the West Country.

It was a long journey across the country through Wiltshire, with its prehistoric sites, to red-soiled Devon where the train ran along the coast; and then across the Tamar and we were in Cornwall. Very soon after that we arrived at our destination.

Dermot was waiting for us on the platform.

He and Dorabella greeted each other with rapture; then he welcomed the rest of us. His car was in the station yard.

He summoned a porter who touched his cap, and he was told to bring the luggage to the car.

“Yes, Mr. Tregarland, sir,” he said in a Cornish accent. “You be leaving that to me, sir.”

The luggage was put into the boot of the car and we drove away.

“It is so good to have you here,” said Dermot.

My father was seated beside him in the front, my mother with Dorabella and me at the back.

“It’s good to be here,” said my father. He sniffed appreciatively. “Wonderful air,” he said.

“Best in the world, we do say, sir,” said Dermot in a fair imitation of the porter’s accent. “You know how people are. Theirs is always best. They delude themselves into believing it.”

“It is not a bad idea,” said my mother. “It makes for contentment.”

“I can’t wait to see the house,” said Dorabella.

“That is something you will have to do, my dear,” said my mother. “But not for long. How long, Dermot?”

“It will be for some twenty minutes,” he told her.

“Everything seems to grow so well here,” said my father.

“We get lots of rain and very little frost to kill things off. We’re a cosy little corner of the island, in fact. Though our gales can be terrific…very wild. There is something about the place which reminds me of the Böhmerwald, though it is very different. They have their trolls…and Thor, Odin, and the rest, but I can tell you we have our little gang of supernatural beings who have to be placated at times. Piskies…knackers…and specially those who have ‘the powers,’ as we call them. They can do the most frightful things to you merely by looking at you.”

“You are making us tremble,” said my mother lightly.

“Don’t worry. Ignore them and they will do the same to you. It is only those who go looking for them who get the unpleasant surprises.”

“It sounds fascinating,” said Dorabella.

Dermot took his eyes from the road to smile at her.

We went through a village with stark gray stone cottages and a plain rather dour-looking building which I took to be a church.

The trees almost met across the road, making a roof for us to pass under; there was lush foliage growing everywhere; and the luxuriant beauty of the country made up for a lack of architectural elegance.

Then I saw the sea and black rocks about which the waves broke rhythmically, sending up white spray into the air.

“Not far now,” said Dermot. “Down there…” He indicated with his head “…is the little town. A fishing village, really—not much more; the river divides it into two, West and East Poldown, joined by an ancient bridge which was built five centuries ago. There are a church and a square…and the quay, of course, and there you’ll see the fishermen mending their nets or bringing in the catch while their boats are bobbing up and down in the water. We don’t have to go down into the town now. Actually, it’s only about half a mile from the house. We can see it from the windows.”

We were going uphill and came to a high road. And there, ahead of us, was the house itself.

It looked impressive, perched as it was on the edge of the cliff. It was not unlike Caddington and must have been built around the same time. I thought, Dorabella will be going from one ancient house to another.

“It’s wonderful,” said Dorabella. “Dermot, you didn’t tell me how beautiful it was.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he replied. “When I saw your home I thought it was very fine indeed, and I wondered what you would think of this.”

We were all murmuring our appreciation. I did not say that I thought it had about it an air of menace. I dismissed the thought. It was due to that jaundiced view I was beginning to take of everything since what I had seen at the schloss. Also, it was taking me yet another step away from Dorabella.

There was a drive up to the gate house; we passed under this and were in a courtyard.

“Here we are,” said Dermot. “Come along in. Someone will take care of the bags. Oh, there you are, Jack.”

A man came forward. He touched his cap to us.

“Take the luggage, Jack. Tess will show you where it goes.”

“Aye, sir,” said the man.

We went into a stone-floored hall with a high-vaulted ceiling. As we did so, our footsteps rang out on the floor and I noticed the customary array of weapons on the walls very similar to ours at Caddington, to signify that the family had done its duty to the defense of its country, I had always supposed. There was a similarity about hundreds of such houses all over England.

A woman was coming down the staircase at the end of the hall. She was dressed in a pale blue cotton gown with white collar and cuffs. I knew who this was before Dermot introduced us, because he had already described the household to us.

She would be Matilda Lewyth, who had looked after the house since Dermot’s mother had died and he was about five years old. She was, in fact, the housekeeper, but not known as such because she was a distant connection of the family. I gathered that she had fallen on hard times when, as a widow, she had come here with her son, Gordon, to manage the household for Dermot’s father. She had stayed and looked after it to everyone’s satisfaction and had been doing so over the last twenty years. We all knew who Matilda Lewyth was.

She welcomed us now as our hostess.

“We are so pleased that you have come,” she said. “Dermot has told us all about you. And this is Miss Denver…”

“Dorabella,” said Dorabella. “And I know you are Mrs. Lewyth.”

“And Sir Robert and Lady Denver,” she said, turning to my parents. “And…”

“Violetta,” I introduced myself.

“Violetta…Dorabella…what pretty names!”

We explained about the operas and there was gentle laughter.

“What a romantic idea! We are so glad you came all this way to see us,” said Mrs. Lewyth. “You will meet Dermot’s father at dinner. He suffers…from gout…and is very often confined to his room. But he is very eager to meet you. We have to be careful with him. He is more than a little infirm. Then there is my son, Gordon. He has grown up here and is deeply concerned in estate business. He runs the place…practically.” She sent a deprecating smile in Dermot’s direction. “He and Dermot between them,” she added quickly.

She turned to Dorabella. “But I suppose Dermot has told you a great deal about the family.”

“Oh, yes,” said Dorabella. “He has talked about you all.”

“And now, you must be tired. It’s a long journey. Would you like to rest before dinner?”

“Oh, no,” cried Dorabella. “I’m far too excited for that.”

Mrs. Lewyth smiled indulgently and looked at my parents.

“We are not really tired,” said my mother. “We’re just longing to meet everybody.”

“Well then, I’ll have you shown to your rooms and then you can wash…unpack, perhaps, and then come down and have a chat and a drink before dinner.” She looked at her watch. “I’ll have dinner put forward a little, but I’ll make sure there’s time for a chat beforehand.”

We were taken to our rooms. The house was so large that there was plenty of accommodation and Dorabella and I had a room side by side.

I stood in the center of mine and surveyed it. My suitcase was already there. It was a large room with a high ceiling; the windows were leaded and the curtains of heavy dark blue velvet. It was not overfurnished; there was a four-poster bed, a heavy ornate wardrobe, a chest on which stood two highly polished candlesticks, a dressing table with a swing-back mirror, two easy chairs and two smaller ones, and a table with a wash-hand basin and ewer. There was not a great deal of light from the leaded windows and it seemed full of shadows; and because one could not but be aware of its antiquity, one could not help wondering how many people had slept here…and what tragedies…and perhaps comedies…had occurred within the seclusion of these walls. I was in a foolish and fanciful mood, and I could trace it all back to that horrific experience in the schloss. I told myself I must get that out of my mind.