We'll meet again

My first impulse was to find Violetta. "If you show this note to anyone, your son will die." No, I dared not take the risk. Then what?

Go to this place ... this Hollow Cottage on the road to Pen Moroc.

I did know the road. I had been along it once or twice-a lonely stretch of moorland. I had not seen any cottages there, but I could find this one. At five o'clock it would be dark. I was afraid and yet excited. Any action was better than none.

At least I now knew that Tristan had been kidnapped. He was not drowned or lying dead somewhere. Never had I wanted to talk to my sister more than I did at that moment. Yet I dared not. I read the note again. This was the beginning. I was going to this place for "instructions." What could they want? Only one thing, I supposed. Money. They would tell me what to do and I should have Tristan back when the ransom was paid.

I would go to this Hollow Cottage and I would go alone, for I dared not tell anyone of my plans.

Violetta would say I should tell someone... the police ... Gordon ... someone who would know what had to be done. But I could not take that risk.

My sister always said I acted rashly without due consideration. But what was there to consider when they had threatened to kill my son if I did not act as they commanded?

I left Tregarland at four o'clock. I must be there in good time. I managed to get away without being noticed. I had only one thought in my mind: to find out what these people wanted, to give it to them and get back my son.

It was dark early that evening, for it had been a dull day, even for November. By half past the hour, I was on the Pen Moroc Road. It was deserted.

I drove along slowly, looking out for Hollow Cottage. There was hardly any habitation in sight. I saw the signpost. Half a mile on then.

Peering about me in the gloom, I could see a building of some sort.

It was in a small hollow, just off the road. Hollow Cottage. I felt sure this was the place.

It looked eerie. My heart was pounding so much I could not escape from the sound of it. It was like a drum in my ears. I drew up and got out of the car. I looked around me. All was silent. Was I too early?

I walked towards the cottage. It was uninhabited-a shell of a place.

There was no lock on the door, so I pushed it open. It creaked as I did so. I stepped in cautiously. It was a derelict ruin of what had been a small dwelling.

I was sure I should never have had the courage to go into that place alone if I had not been overwhelmed by the need to have Tristan safe.

I was thinking as I did so: Perhaps I should have shown the note to Violetta. But if those people harmed Tristan, I should never forgive myself. I had to do it this way.

I stepped into what had been a room. It was dark and I could see little. There was no one there. I was too early. I looked at my watch and saw that it was ten minutes to five. I should have to wait.

My eyes were becoming accustomed to the gloom and I was able to make out a door at one side of the room. As I looked, it creaked and swung forward. My heart leaped in fear. A masked man was standing there.

It was unreal ... like something I had read, seen in a film, or dreamed of.

A voice said: "It was wise of you to come, and alone, Mrs. Tregarland.”

It was a cultured voice.

"Where is my son?" I cried.

"He shall be returned to you. It is a very small thing we want of you.

All you have to do is bring it to us and your little boy will be returned to you. First, give me the note I sent to you.”

I took it from my pocket and put it into his outstretched, gloved hand.

"What is it you want from me?" I asked.

"You are a good friend of Captain Brent.”

I shivered. "What ... ?" I began.

"You have access to his cottage. All you have to do is bring us a small metal box which you will find there. Today is Wednesday. On Friday at this time, you will bring the box here. Your little boy will be given to you in exchange for it.”

"I have no idea what little box... where is it? How can I be sure that you will give me my son?”

"There are some things you have to take on trust.”

"I could not trust anyone who would hurt little children.”

"Your child will not be hurt if you do this one thing.”

"Where ... where is this box?”

"It is in Riverside Cottage. It will be in an inconspicuous place.

But you have two days in which to find it.”

"Captain Brent will not allow me to take this thing.”

"He will not know that you have.”

"His batman..”

"Neither will be there. It should not be difficult. You have the key and they will both be absent for a week or so. Come, Mrs. Tregarland, surely the fate of your little boy is worth such a small effort?”

I did not know what to say. I had discovered that this was not an ordinary kidnapping for a ransom of money. I had been thrust into a bizarre web of spies and intrigue-the sort of thing which, until now, had been entirely divorced from real life. But we were living in strange times.