The adulteress

He didn't answer. There was a strange look in his eyes. The thought suddenly struck me that he had brought me here for a purpose other than to speak of his future, and an unaccountable cold fear took possession of me. This was the man who was Jessie's lover, who had calculatedly brought her here to become Uncle Carl's mistress, to fleece him of what she could. They must have planned it together. They were unscrupulous people. I had a great desire to say a hasty good-bye to him and go back to the Court as fast as I could and when I was there pack my bags and go home to Jean-Louis, to Lottie, to my mother and Sabrina.

He said: "Come and look at the trees. I'm going to get some good fruit there this year."

His voice sounded different ... strained in some way.

I hesitated. Something told me to get away.

And then suddenly I heard a noise. Someone was knocking on the door. Then I heard a familiar voice. Dickon's! And he was coming toward us.

"I did knock. But the door was open. Oh ... hello, Zipporah. Amos, I came over to talk to you."

"I'm busy," said Amos.

"Oh, all right. I'll wait. Looking at the garden, are you? He's very proud of his garden, Zipporah."

I noticed the bulge in his coat. So he was still carrying the pistol.

"I wanted to ask Amos a few questions about the tenants," he said.

"Then I will leave you two to talk," I answered.

Dickon almost leered at me. "I'm not driving you away, I hope."

"No, no," I assured him. "I was on the point of leaving."

Amos looked resigned and I wasn't sure whether he was angry or relieved. I could imagine that Dickon might be becoming a nuisance to him.

As I walked back to the Court I thought how often Dickon seemed to be where I was. I could almost believe he was following me. However, on this occasion I had been quite pleased to see him. I was really quite alarmed in that garden alone with Amos Carew. There seemed to be no logical reason why I should have been. I think the fact was that the situation here was beginning to upset me more than I had believed possible.

I really wanted to get away ... back to normality. There was nothing else I could do here.

When I came into the hall Jessie was there. She started when she saw me and turned a shade paler.

"Are you all right?" I asked.

"Yes... . Did you see Amos?"

"Yes, I saw him."

"And ... was everything all right?"

I raised my eyebrows. It was not the first time I had resented her interrogations and felt an irresistible urge to remind her of her position.

"We had our talk," I said and walked past her.

I could feel her staring after me.

I went to my room thinking about Amos Carew. It was natural that he should be worried about his position, for it was quite clear that Uncle Carl could not live much longer in the state he was in. I think I had allowed myself to grow too fanciful. I was as bad as Jessie with her ghost.

I had one or two sewing-jobs to do. I could have given them to one of the maids but preferred to do them myself. There was a tear in my skirt where I had caught it on a bramble— not much but it should be done at once—and a button was half off my dressing gown and the stitches in a petticoat had come undone. I would do them this afternoon. I had no sewing material and I knew that the maids went to Jessie's room to get them.

I knocked at the door. There was no answer so I went in. My eyes went at once to that blank space on the wall. That was where the crucifix had hung. It was no longer there. Of course it wasn't. It was in the haunted patch and Jessie was the one who had put it there.

I forgot all about the sewing materials and went back to my room.

What did this mean? I asked myself. Why should she have taken the crucifix from her wall to put it in the wasteland?

It meant that there was a grave there in the wasteland. Whose? Wild thoughts chased each other through my brain. A possibility had occurred to me.

I had to find the answer.

One thing was becoming certain: I was in the midst of intrigue and what was shown to me was not the true state of affairs.

I wished there was someone whose help I could ask. I wished the Forsters were there, or that calm practical-looking doctor. Could I go to him? No! The people to whom I should go were Rosen, Stead and Rosen. Mr. Rosen already knew of the rather unconventional menage at Eversleigh Court.

What could I say? The housekeeper has put her crucifix in the wasteland ... ?

I would have to have more tangible evidence than that.

I must think about this clearly, reason it out. I must know the best thing to do. I went over everything that had happened. The strangeness of the atmosphere in this house. But I had felt that on my very first visit.

It would soon be suppertime and I must face them all; after that there would be my visit to the sick room. I must be watchful. I must not be so easily gullible. I must realize that I was here with scheming, unscrupulous people. And what part was Dickon playing in all this? He was devious and I was an enemy. I really must discover all I could and then go to Mr. Rosen.