Free Death and the Cornish Fiddler by Deryn Lake Page B

visibly starting to relax. The weeping had stopped and along with it the high hysterical voice. Indeed her speech was now quite quiet and slow.
    “As I think you saw, Mr Rawlings, Isobel ran away from me down the street. I followed but being older I can’t run as fast as she, further my clothes impeded me. In any case I saw her sprint into the fields at the street’s end. Then I briefly lost sight of her as she disappeared into some trees. But then I saw her again as she hurried on. To cut to the heart of the matter I had some difficulty getting to the Pond because of the marshy land surrounding the Cober but I managed to make my way round it and there lay this enormous lake.”
    “Tell me, did you see Isobel there?”
    “No, no. I feel that she had already fallen in by the time I got there.”
    “But you have nothing to prove that. It’s only what you suspect.”
    “Come now, Kathryn. We walked right round the lake - a distance of about five miles, I might add - and nowhere was there a sign of anyone having fallen in. It is all in your imagination. I swear it.” Tim Painter had joined them and was doing his best to cheer up his light-of-love.
    Mrs Pill shook her head. “I know that she has gone. You cannot deny a mother’s instinct.”
    “I’m not denying it but I think you’re wrong,” Tim answered impatiently, and John caught himself thinking that the man was hardly sympathetic.
    He cleared his throat. “Madam, if I might suggest you retire and have a rest. I have informed the Constable of the turn of events and he has agreed to organise a search tomorrow. But it is his contention that Isobel will return before nightfall. And I think there is a good chance that he might be right.”
    Kathryn made signs that she wanted to rise and Anne Anstey heaved her to her feet. “Now you get some sleep, Mrs Pill, my dear. I promise to be here when you wake up again.” John asked, “Would you like me to accompany you to your room?”
    “No, I shall be perfectly all right. I’ll just go down for an hour or two.”
    And with that she staggered out, accompanied by the everpresent Mrs Anstey.
    Elizabeth looked directly at John. “What are the chances of the child having fallen in?”
    He raised his shoulders. “How would I know? The Pool is certainly large and deep but without any evidence one could not possibly say.”
    “But what do you really think?”
    “I shall wait and see if she returns before I say anything further.”
    Tim Painter spoke up. “Well, now that she’s gone I think Kathryn might well be right. I mean where did the child disappear to? She hasn’t been seen since this morning and that is a long time ago now.”
    The three of them stared at each other helplessly and it was at this moment that there was a movement in the doorway. Turning they saw the Constable, breathing hard and somewhat red in the face.
    “Ah, Sir,” he said, advancing on John, “wasn’t it you who came to report a missing child earlier?”
    “Yes, that’s right. Why, do you have news of her?”
    “Yes, Sir, I do. She, or a child answering her description, has been seen.”
    “But I didn’t give you her description,” the Apothecary answered.
    “Never the less, she’s been spotted.”
    “Where?” asked Tim Painter.
    “Up in the town, beyond the school and close to the church.”
    “What was she doing?” asked Elizabeth.
    The Constable roared with laughter. “Why, bless you all, she was dancing of course.”
    John was not sure who ran the faster, him or Tim Painter. Panting up the street to where the Guildhall stood, they turned left into the steeply sloping lane that led to the church. They pounded down this, going as fast as they could, at the same time calling out, “Isobel? Where are you?”
    There was no answer but they did not let that deter them. Instead they ran towards the holy building and, only slowing their steps slightly, sprinted the last few yards over open country to where the church stood