The Pool of St. Branok by Philippa Carr Page A

profits. They did not work hard as their fathers had; they gambled and drank too much and they went only to the mine when they needed to replenish their coffers. And then one night they went to the mine and all the gold was gone. There was nothing there. It had returned to being an old Scat Bal.”
    “Well, it served them right, didn’t it? They should have kept to the bargain … particularly when dealing with people who can produce gold out of a tin mine and cut off supplies when they are being cheated!”
    “You are very skeptical, I think.”
    “Never mind, I liked the story. There are two morals in this one. Don’t be afraid for if you are bold you will prosper. That is shown by the two men investigating the knocking; and then: Don’t cheat … especially if your victim is more powerful than you are.”
    I laughed at him.
    I said: “If Uncle Peter buys an estate and you manage it, I wonder where it will be.”
    “I have to make up my mind,” he said. “There are so many possibilities. What I shall do I think is look for some obliging knackers and ask them to find me a gold mine.”
    “You are never really serious, are you?”
    “Yes, sometimes, very serious.”
    We were silent for a while. I inhaled the strong moorland air and was happy.
    When I look back at that day, I think it was the end of my happiness.
    In spite of my imaginings about Grace Gilmore she returned to Cador as she had arranged. I saw her in the sewing room on the morning after she came back. I had a dress which I rather liked and I thought it was too short. I wondered if it were possible to let it down without spoiling it.
    I felt then that there was a restrained excitement about her, and I wondered what had happened when she visited her aunt.
    I asked her if she had had a pleasant visit. For a moment she looked startled. Surely she could not have forgotten.
    She said: “Oh yes … thank you, Miss Angelet. Very pleasant.”
    “I suppose your aunt was very interested to hear you had come to Cador.”
    “She seemed pleased that I had found a place.”
    “Mama was very pleased with the alpaca.”
    “I am very happy about that.”
    “Is your aunt a dressmaker, too?”
    “Oh no, no.”
    “I thought perhaps it ran in the family. Miss Semple who used to do dressmaking here had a mother who was a dressmaker … and so was her grandmother, I believe.”
    She said: “I am sure I can make a good job of this hem, Miss Angelet.”
    I had the impression that she thought I was prying and my mother had told me as well as the servants that that was forbidden. She knew how interested I was in people and how I could not rest until I had discovered what I wanted to know about them.
    I said: “Thanks, Miss Gilmore. I’ll leave the dress with you.”
    I left then but I continued to think about her.
    The very next day we heard about the escaped convict.
    I had been riding with Ben and we had gone out as far as the Pencarron Mine. He seemed to have become interested in mines since I had told him the story of the knackers’ gold.
    When we came back we rode down to the harbor. He wanted to look at the sea.
    As we came through the town we saw a little knot of people gathered together staring at something fixed to the wall. We went close. It was a poster.
    I saw Jim Mullens, one of the fishermen whom I knew well, and I called to him: “What’s all the fuss about, Jim?”
    “Oh, Miss Angel, there be a terrible to-do. It’s this here convict who has got out of Bodmin Jail. Real dangerous they say he be.”
    I dismounted and led my horse forward. Ben did the same.
    We saw the rather crude drawing of a man. He had strongly marked brows under a pair of wild-looking dark eyes and thick dark curly hair.
    “This man is Dangerous” said the big black words on the poster.
    I read on. He was one Mervyn Duncarry and he had been about to go on trial for murder when he had escaped from Bodmin Jail.
    Mrs. Fenny was there having left her cottage to be closer to the