Free The Catherine Wheel by Patricia Wentworth

said, “I loved him,” though she didn’t use the words.
    Jacob was quick in the uptake. He nodded.
    “Ever tell you stories about the old place?”
    “Yes—lots of them.”
    “As what? Suppose you tell me some of them.”
    He was aware that she withdrew.
    “Why do you want to know, Cousin Jacob?”
    He chuckled again.
    “Well, I’ve given up business—I must have something to do. I might have a fancy to write down all I can get hold of about the old family place. It would make quite good reading. What did Acts tell you?”
    She answered without any hesitation.
    “He said there was a lot of smuggling in the old days, and it went on right down to his father’s time. He used to tell me stories of how they outwitted the customs officers.”
    Jacob nodded.
    “Quite a lot of that sort of thing in the eighteenth century, and well on into Victoria’s reign. There was a lot of lace, and silk, and French brandy landed all along this coast.”
    “How did they do it?”
    All this time she was in the lap of the chair, and he on the arm looking down at her. He cocked his head sideways and said,
    “Didn’t he tell you?”
    Jane looked about her. Everyone was talking hard except Freddy Thorpe-Ennington, who propped the mantelpiece and gazed at his now empty glass after the manner of a medium consulting the crystal. Whatever he saw, it had no reassuring effect. He appeared drowned in gloom, and at intervals shook his head in a despondent manner.
    Jane dropped her voice.
    “He said something about a passage from the shore—”
    “What did he say?”
    “He said nobody would find it unless they were shown. He said that it had beaten the Preventive men time out of mind. That’s what they called the customs officers in the eighteenth century.”
    “And a good bit after. Well, this is getting interesting. Go on.”
    Jane’s eyes widened.
    “There isn’t any more.”
    “Didn’t he tell you where the passage came out?”
    “On the shore.”
    “But this end—didn’t he tell you that?”
    “I don’t suppose he knew. They wouldn’t tell the children.”
    Jacob cackled.
    “Surprising what children’ll know without being told. Sure that’s all he told you?”
    Jane smiled sweetly.
    “I expect he was making most of it up anyhow. He used to tell me a bit of a story every night after I was in bed. Sometimes it was dragons, and sometimes it was pirates, and sometimes it was smugglers. And of course it made it much more exciting to hang the stories on to a real place like the Catherine-Wheel—”
    The door opened and Fogarty Castell came into the room with a bounce. He had a girl by the shoulder.
    It was the girl who had been walking with John Higgins on the cliff road. Without the frieze coat and the handkerchief over her head she could be seen to have a slim figure and a lot of black hair drawn up into a knot at the back of her head. She wore a dark blue indoor dress, and her eyes were exactly the same colour. She was extremely pretty but at the moment rather pale. Behind the black lashes the eyes had a startled look.
    Fogarty Castell took her up to Lady Marian, to Florence Duke, to Mildred Taverner. He kept his hand on her shoulder.
    Jacob finished his drink and said drily,
    “Fills the room, doesn’t he? A bit of a mountebank, our Cousin Annie’s husband. But why not? It pleases him so much more than it hurts us. Half Irish, half Portuguese—and under all that nonsense quite an efficient manager. And here he comes.”
    He came up with a flourish.
    “This is Eily Fogarty—me grandmother Fogarty’s second cousin twice removed, but she calls me uncle, and she calls your Cousin Annie aunt, seeing it’s all the uncles and aunts she’s got, and all the fathers and mothers too. And if there’s anything you or the other ladies are wanting, you’ll ring your bells and Eily will see to it. Or if you’d like to go to your rooms—”
    Jane felt quite suddenly that she had had enough of Jacob Taverner. She said,