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“Well, it was,” Fenella admitted. “But he didn’t know. I overheard him talking to Aunt Gina, begging her—oh, there was no mistaking what he meant—not to encourage me to think that he could ever—”

“Poor devil, what a spot to be in,” Martin said under his breath. “And so that was why you changed your mind and phoned me up at the hospital—”

“Oh, Martin, I feel so ashamed about that!” Fenella said, her cheeks burning. “And you never asked me why—”

“I was too scared that if I did and you should, sooner or later, have realised that a chap doesn’t propose to a girl just to convince her that he doesn’t believe she hit him over the head, then you might start asking questions which I wasn’t prepared to answer just then. I knew only too well that if you knew I loved you, you’d be off like a scalded cat—now what are you laughing at?”

“Just your choice of words,” she explained, chuckling again. “Oh, it was a very vivid simile, I admit, but not exactly flattering, was it ?”

“All right, if you’re going to be so particular!” Martin said tolerantly. “Let’s say a wild bird. Will that do?”

“Much better,” Fenella conceded. “Go on! ”

“Love, there isn’t much to say. I’d no idea what was behind your sudden change of mind, but one thing I did know—that my only hope of it ever becoming a real engagement was to wait, praying that one day, you might—”

“Grow up and stop being silly?” Fenella suggested softly.

“That wasn’t quite the way I was going to put it,” Martin said, “but—” and he stopped short.

The quiet peace of their sanctuary had been shattered by the unmistakable sound of a shotgun being fired, muffled, yet louder than one would have expected in the circumstances.

“The sound must have travelled down the fissure,” Martin said in a hushed voice as if he was afraid that someone might overhear him. He stood up, switched on the torch and walked over to the passage to the outer cave. “Yes, it must have been that. There’s too much water outside and it’s making too much noise for the sound to have travelled that way.”

He came back to her and Fenella put out a trembling hand. Instantly he was beside her, holding her close.

“I know, darling,” he said tenderly. “But try not to let your imagination run away with you. It could have been no more than Polwyn letting it off as a warning to someone not to come closer. He wouldn’t be such a fool—”

“Fm not so sure,” Fenella said tremulously. “After all, he was foolish enough to attack you! ”

“But we don’t know that, Fenella,” he reminded her. “In fact, the police—”

“I’m certain it was him,” Fenella said positively. “For one thing, he’s got such a queer look in his eyes, as if he’s a bit crazy. And for another, I’ve noticed that lately the other men have been avoiding him. As soon as he comes anywhere near them, they find an excuse to sheer off. I’m certain they believe it was him, and they’re taking good care they don’t get involved!”

Martin was silent. What she had said confirmed his own impressions and he was at a loss to know what to say to reassure her,

“You think the same thing, don’t you?” she asked quickly, interpreting his silence.

“Yes, I do,” he admitted. “And for that matter, so does Anthony. Which surely means that he won’t be so stupid as to take unnecessary risks—”

“Yes, of course it does,” Fenella agreed, forcing herself to speak cheerfully. “How long will it be now, Martin?” He looked at the luminous face of his watch.

“I don’t see how it can be less than about five hours, darling,” he said regretfully. “Not cold, are you?” as he felt her shiver.

“Not really. Just cool. I don’t suppose the temperature varies here more than a degree or two at any time, do you?”

“Probably not,” he agreed, and for a while both of them made an effort to talk, but with the sound of that shot, the outside world had intruded into the tranquillity they had found together in the little cave, and after a time, they fell silent—wondering, fearing what might have happened.

Now and again Fenella dozed briefly, but as the strain of waiting grew, that became increasingly difficult. Thirst began to trouble them—

Several times Martin went down the little passage and each time he reported that the water was lower—lower still, yet not low enough. They must wait—the last hour dragged interminably.

Then, suddenly, there was the sound of someone moving through shallow water and a voice hailed them. It was Anthony, reassuringly alive and unharmed. Slowly and stiffly they made their way down to him, to blink like owls in the half-light of the big cave.

“Good gracious, it’s still daylight,” Fenella marvelled. “It didn’t seem as if it could be when it was so dark in there. Anthony, what’s happened?”

“Polwyn’s been arrested,” Anthony said briefly. “But we’ll leave the details for the moment Come down a bit lower and I’ll carry you to the boat.”

“Oh no, you won’t,” Martin said coolly. “That’s my privilege!”

“Oh!” Anthony commented comprehendingly. “Like that, is it?”

“Exactly like that,” Martin said emphatically. “Now then, darling—”

It was good to be out in the bright sunshine again, to feel the warmth seeping into one’s bones. Good, too, to drink the hot tea from the thermos Anthony had brought with him, but sheer bliss to look at Martin, see in his face something that brought the colour surging to Fenella’s cheeks every time their eyes met.

And to Anthony, watching and noting their complete absorption in one another, came a feeling of such utter relief that he could have found no words to describe it. To see little Fenella so happy with Martin was terrific, for her sake, but he wouldn’t have been human if he hadn’t appreciated the significance that their romance had for him.

He was free—free to enjoy his own belated happiness without any sense of guilt or self-reproach. And though he could honestly say that without Aunt Gina’s machinations the idea of marrying Fenella would never have occurred to him, he knew perfectly well that he would have been deeply distressed if the girl he’d always regarded as a young sister had been permanently hurt on his account. Well, that couldn’t happen now, thank heaven. And he would see to it that Aunt Gina would never interfere with his or Fenella’s affairs in future—if, indeed, she wanted to. He hoped with all his heart that her marriage to George Franks would bring so much happiness and fresh interests into her life that she’d have no time or inclination to attempt to run other people’s lives.

They were into the estuary now, and a few minutes later Anthony came alongside the harbour wall where Rosemary was waiting with the big car.

She jumped out as they came up the stone steps and hugged first Fenella and then Martin with impartial fervour, and each of them responded with all the more enthusiasm because here, very obviously, was a Rosemary whom Martin had never seen before and who, to Fenella, was her old friend come back at last. Her eyes were bright and shining and her lips curved into a smile that revealed a forgotten dimple—Rosemary was happy, and to two other people themselves in love, it wasn’t very difficult to guess why, particularly when one saw that same look reflected in Anthony’s face.

And back at Lyon House, they had confirmation of the state of affairs, if that was needed, in Rosemary’s easy, charming assumption of the duty of hostess.

“Now then, darlings, what order do you want things in? Shower, drink, food—? You say it, we do it!”

“Well, as far as I'm concerned, in just the order you said them in," said Martin. “But how about you, Fenella ?”

“Me, too," she confirmed, and went upstairs to her old familiar room with Rosemary, who announced that she’d brought a change of clothes over from Poldean House.

“And what’s more, I chose the prettiest one I could find,” she said proudly. “I was sure you’d be celebrating!”

“Oh?” Fenella paused half way through taking off her grubby dress. “Why were you so sure?”

“Oh, honey, be your age!” Rosemary begged, her eyes mischievous. “A nice dark cave and hours to wait— there’d be something vastly wrong if you and Martin hadn’t discovered how completely silly you are about one another! Really, I think you ought to be grateful to Polwyn! But for him—”

Fenella’s face grew grave.

“Just what did happen, Rosemary? Was anyone hurt when that gun went off?”

“Oh, you heard that, did you? Yes, one of the policemen was slightly hurt. You see, when I got back here, Anthony telephoned through to the police, who got down to the harbour in an incredibly short time. They commandeered Martin’s cruiser and went round by sea while Anthony kept watch in case he tried to get up the cliff path. I think Polwyn’s a bit crazy, you know, because there’s still no evidence against him and certainly no proof that he intended shooting Martin. He might well have been able to talk himself out of it if he hadn’t lost his head and wounded a policeman. That’s asking for trouble!”

“Yes, it would be,” Fenella agreed, putting on her dressing gown. “Goodness, this shower’s going to do me good! I feel absolutely filthy!”

‘Yes, I expect so,” Rosemary agreed absently. And then, in a totally different manner: “Fenella, do you mind if I wait until you come back? There’s something I want to ask you to do, or rather, not to do—”

‘Yes, of course, wait,” Fenella said quickly. “I’ll be as quick as I can. There’s nothing wrong, is there, Rosemary? I mean, everything’s all right for you and Anthony, isn’t it?”

“So right!” There was a warmth and richness in Rosemary’s voice that Fenella had never heard before. “That’s why I’m so determined that it shall stay that way if it’s humanly possible—”

When Fenella came back, Rosemary was inspecting her face narrowly in the dressing-table mirror, having evidently been touching up her make-up.

“You’re lovelier than you’ve ever been before,” Fenella exclaimed impulsively, and as their reflected eyes met in the mirror, Rosemary smiled.

“I’m happier than I’ve ever been before,” she said softly as if that explained everything, and to Fenella’s mind, it did.

“What was it you wanted to ask me?” she said as she put on the clothes Rosemary had brought over for her.

“Oh—yes!” Rosemary swung round on the dressing-table stool. “It’s about Mrs. Trevose, Fenella. In my own mind I’m pretty sure that the reason why she and Captain Franks went off was because of what she’d said to me about Anthony. I think, after I’d left her, she must have realised that this time she’d really gone too far. It’s true that when I said I didn’t believe her, she told me to ask Anthony or you, but I’m pretty certain she thought pride would keep me from doing anything of the sort—and it very nearly did. But not quite—and I think she must have realised that there was a real likelihood of me taking her at her word. And though she knew that what she'd said was true, she must have realised that Anthony would never forgive her for making mischief. Oh, I’m honestly sorry to be worrying you with this, but it’s you or Anthony—and that’s the whole point. If it’s humanly possible, I don’t want him to be told what Mrs. Trevose said because I don’t want there to be any trouble between them through anything I’ve said or done.”

“That’s generous of you," Fenella said with very real appreciation.

“I can afford to be generous,” Rosemary said simply. “But in any case, what good would it do to have a row—and there would be one, of that I’m certain.”

“So am I,” Fenella agreed. “All right, Rosemary, I won’t say a word about it, not even to Martin.”

“Bless you!” Rosemary said gratefully, and gave Fenella a hug before leaving her to finish dressing. ’ But for several moments, Fenella didn’t move. What an amazing day it had been! It had started just like any other and yet now, as it drew to a close, the futures of four people were altered beyond belief from what they had been only a comparatively few hours earlier.

A soft sound interrupted her thoughts. Someone in the garden was whistling just below her window. She leaned out of it and saw Martin smiling up at her.

“If Juliet looked anything like you do, I don’t wonder Romeo lost his heart,” he said softly. “Will you be long, darling? Because Anthony’s laying on something rather special and he’s getting impatient—and so am I!” he added. “Do you know, it’s well over an hour since I kissed you?"

“I’ll be down in two minutes," Fenella promised. “Meet me at the bottom of the stairs.”

"I'll do that,” Martin smiled, and was as good as his word.

As she reached the hall he took her hands in his and held her at arms’ length.

“What have you been doing to yourself?” he wanted to know. “You’re different—more lovely, more entrancing—”

“Someone uttered an incantation,” she told him mischievously. “And there I was—somebody quite different from what I'd thought! It’s your doing, Martin ! Don’t you know that?”

“If that’s true, then I’m the proudest as well as the happiest man in the world!” he told her. “Kiss me, sweetheart, just to convince me it’s true! ”

A door opened suddenly.

“I thought as much,” Anthony said with exasperated resignation. “Look here, you two, I'm opening a bottle of first-class champagne in exactly one minute. Do you want some or not?”

“Rather!” Martin replied, still keeping hold of Fenella’s hand. “Though to be perfectly honest, I feel as if I’ve already had some! At any rate,
something's
gone to my head! ”

Anthony grinned and led the way back to the drawing room and Rosemary. The long garden doors were open and they framed a picture of a golden summer evening.

“Perfect!” Martin said softly. “A perfect setting—”

Anthony, busy with the gold-foil-wrapped bottle, laughed across the room to Rosemary.

“Would you believe it, they actually think that the whole world was created especially for their benefit, whereas we know it was entirely on our account! ”

The golden wine foamed creamily into the four glasses. Anthony handed them to the other three and lifted his own.

“Here’s to four very happy people,” he said softly.

Later, when a rather hilarious dinner was over, he turned to Martin and suggested that they should get down to practical considerations.

“I’d better start off by telling you that our plans are made,” he announced. “I’m going to see Sir Geoffrey in the morning to put him and Lady Lancing into the picture, but we’re getting married by special licence just as quickly as possible—three or four days at the outside. That’s a certainty with which no one is going to interfere. It’ll be a very quiet affair—Rosemary’s people, you two. That’s the lot. We’re going to have a week’s honeymoon and then, when we come back, we’d like to have Fenella come back and live here until the two of you get married. And,” he added determinedly, “I’m going to give Fenella away. I’m dead set on that. How about it, Fen?”