The pool of St Branok

Uncle Peter said: "She was probably lured out of the house to where her kidnappers were waiting."

"She would never have done such a thing," I cried. "She would have been scared. If I had been here she would have told me. This wouldn't have happened if I had been here."

"It is all very mysterious," said Uncle Peter, "and unfortunate that she should be staying at this house."

I felt impatient with him. He was afraid, even at a time like this, that there would be some scandal which would harm Matthew's parliamentary image; yet he would also be wondering if there might not be some good publicity in it. I could imagine his weighing this up. It was how he looked on everything.

"What we have to think about is Morwenna," I said. "Where it happened is not important. All that matters is that it has happened."

"We have to consider all the details carefully," put in my father. "Where it happened ... might be very important."

"Her parents will know by now," said Aunt Helena. "I can't bear to think what their feelings are at this moment."

"But what are we going to do?" I asked.

"We shall hear something in due course," said Uncle Peter. "There will be a demand for a ransom, I expect. It has probably been sent to her parents. They are the ones they will have their eyes on."

"It will be terrible for them," said my mother.

I imagined Mr. and Mrs. Pencarron receiving a demand for money in exchange for the return of their daughter and threatening ... what? ... if they did not comply.

I felt frantic with anxiety. I could not bear to think of Morwenna in the hands of desperate men.

Later that day Mr. and Mrs. Pencarron arrived in London. They had aged considerably.

It was immediately clear that they had no news of Morwenna.

"I can't understand all this," said Mr. Pencarron. "Our girl ... what has she done? Why should they do this to her?"

"We should never have let her come to London," mourned Mrs. Pencarron. "I always knew it was a wicked place."

"We'll find her," said my father firmly.

"You will, won't you?" pleaded Mrs. Pencarron. "What do you think they are doing to her?"

"They won't harm her, that's for sure," replied my father. "They can only bargain for her if she is alive and well."

"Alive ... you don't think ..."

"Oh no ... no ... What I am telling you is that if she is well they can bargain for her. I expect sooner or later they will be asking for some money."

"I'll do anything to get my girl back," cried Mr. Pencarron. "They can have all I've got."

"We'd do anything ... anything," sobbed Mrs. Pencarron.

I went to her and put my arms round her. "She's all right, Mrs. Pencarron. I know she'll be all right."

"Did she say anything to you?" she asked piteously. "Did she seem frightened that someone was going to take her away?"

"I was in Derbyshire with my parents," I explained. "I wasn't here. But I just feel she is all right. She must be."

"And you weren't here," said Mrs. Pencarron almost accusingly.

I shook my head.

They were absolutely brokenhearted. Mrs. Pencarron kept telling everyone that she had given up hope of having a child ... and then they had their little Morwenna. They would give anything ... anything they had ...

"If the press come round don't tell them that," said Uncle Peter. "The demand will go up. We will have to play this carefully."

We were all relying on Uncle Peter. The existence of his dubious clubs from which he had made his great fortune was what my father called an open secret in the family, which meant that everyone knew of it and kept up the pretense that Uncle Peter's business was perfectly respectable. But he would have knowledge of the underworld; all kinds of people came to his clubs; the matter would be better in his hands than anyone else's.

He said there should not be too much said about the case until there was some notion as to what it was all about.

There must come a demand soon. The best thing for us to do was to wait for it.

It was hard. It was four days since Morwenna had disappeared and there was no news.

The Pencarrons, who had been taken off by my mother to Uncle Peter's house where there was room for them, did not help matters. They were in a state of utter despair. If I had a chance I would tell Morwenna that she must never again think of herself as unloved. She meant everything to her parents.

Uncle Peter was making inquiries. The police were asking questions and we were all getting desperate. And then, one morning, when I was thinking Here is another day without news, a cab drew up at the door and from it alighted Morwenna. She was not alone. A man was with her. I recognized him at once. He was Justin Cartwright, the man who had retrieved her purse when it was stolen from her.

"Morwenna!" I cried. "Where have you been?"

I was so delighted to see her that I had to stop myself from bursting into tears of relief. I hugged her to make sure she was real. I gazed at her. She looked very happy.

"Where have you been?" I demanded. "We have all been frantic."