MARK had trouble sleeping. He lay awake for what seemed like hours, his mind tossing over the horror that Stephanie had related, and how he had on impulse reacted to her story. He felt ashamed. He thought he sensed Stephanie breathing steadily at his side, as if asleep, but every time he turned in the bed she murmured softly—and at time she seemed to suppress a sob. He wished he could make it up to her, to somehow unsay the words he had uttered, but it was too late for that. At length he returned to the sofa and tried to sleep in a curled-up position, but sleep would not come for a long time. With Stephanie no longer at his side, his thoughts turned away from tenderness and sympathy towards her, and hardened into pure rage at the unknown young man who had inflicted this atrocity upon her. ‘Something needs to be done’: that was the thought that churned through and through his mind. At last, when the night was almost over, sleep did come.

Dawn was late coming and the skies were still grey when Stephanie came in, fully dressed, and roused him. Mark could hear sounds of breakfast being prepared, and he got up and dressed, still somewhat preoccupied. Stephanie drew him down and the two of them sat side by side on the sofa. Mark’s face was set in a grim rictus. For a long time he said nothing.

“I’m going to get him,” he snarled at length. “I’ll get him, and then I don’t know what’ll happen. After what he did to you, I want to kill him—”

“Mark!” burst in Stephanie, horrified. “For God’s sake, think what you’ve just said! Please think! It’s not like you, talking of murder indeed! You’ve always been to me the kindest and gentle of souls.” She passed over the ugly things he’d said last night. “And that’s why I love you so much,” she continued.

“And I love you too,” replied Mark. “But that’s how I feel, about that man. I can’t rest without doing something about it. But I’ll make a promise: I will think things over for a few days. Just so long as you too make a promise. Will you promise, if I choose to hunt that beast down, you’ll not try to stop me? I’ll probably just give him a sound beating. Satisfied?”

Stephanie thought for a while. Then she grinned. “Well, I did knee him in the groin, when he first tried to come on to me. That must have hurt, if I know anything about men.” Mark nodded. “Yes,” she continued, “that brute deserves all that’s coming to him. Just so long as there’s no killing, I’ll go along with you. But don’t forget, we’ve got a wedding to look forward to.”

Still with some misgivings in her mind, she took Mark’s hand and led him into the kitchen where breakfast was already on the table and Martha and Margaret were deep in conversation. The older women fell silent as the young couple entered, and both Stephanie and Mark guessed that their liaison and their forthcoming marriage had probably been under discussion. Little was said during the meal.

“One thing we absolutely must do,” began Stephanie, as she finally laid down her knife and fork, “is we must look up Amelia. She must be worried sick about Rachel and Michael.”

“But we haven’t any news of them to report,” put in Mark, doubtfully.

“We do know that they got away from Kentak all right—and that they were making for Rigo. That’s something. Anyway, she’ll be pleased to see us.”

“And I’d like to meet her too,” added Martha. “But remember I’m supposed to be back in Kamach, some time…”

“I thought you had two months,” said Mark. “We’ve only been away a week or two.”

“Yes I know, the Sheriff gave me two months. But I need to get back to my needlework. I need the money and my customers need the work! Besides, I’m a bit worried that my landlord might install a new tenant if I stay away too long.”

“Well, then, we’ll just pay a quick visit, shall we? Where does Amelia live now?” asked Mark.

“She’s staying with her sister in a cottage at Nutcott: that’s a little hamlet about six miles west of here,” explained his mother. “You should be able to get there and back in a day.”

“Yes, I remember the place. We’ll need to take the cart though: Martha doesn’t ride. If I recall, the road is just about suitable for carts, is it?”

“I’ve been there myself in the trap, although it was in better weather: you should be all right.”

With that, and with the weather looking set fair for the day, clear but cold again, the three of them, Stephanie, Mark, and Martha, decided to set out for Nutcott straight after breakfast. Just as they were getting the cart ready, Dennis and Theo turned up to do their work at the farm. Dennis confirmed that the Nutcott road was passable, although there had been some snow in the past few days. He advised them to take a spade.

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They set out, both Stephanie and Martha in high spirits, although Mark was somewhat pensive, wondering how they were to explain to Amelia that they hadn’t actually found Rachel, and that he’d spent almost all the money she’d given him. He had fallen quiet once again, and seemed disinclined to join in the conversation. The journey went smoothly: after about three miles they encountered some snow on the road, and at one place the road was blocked by a small drift, but a few minutes with the spade soon cleared it. The horse seemed to be enjoying the spin, and once past the drift it broke into a canter. In a matter of a little over an hour they were at Amelia’s.

It was a slightly older woman, who introduced herself as Jennifer, Amelia’s sister, who answered the door to them, and once they had explained their visit, she promptly welcomed them indoors. Amelia was there, looking a little older and more careworn than when they had last seen her. As expected, she was thrilled to see them, and smothered them with kisses. When Martha was introduced, Amelia showed her astonishment, coupled with delight at learning that Stephanie—Sophie—had tracked down her long-lost mother—and Martha too was not spared an embrace. Amelia instantly welcomed Martha as if she were an old friend, and explained that they could talk freely: she already knew about Stephanie’s ‘problem’, and that it made no difference to her—and also that it had been she who’d suggested the name ‘Stephanie’. Martha smiled at that, especially when Amelia explained how she’d chosen the name.

It was Mark who was still subdued at this reunion, pondering as to how he was to explain to Amelia how little progress they’d made on tracking down Rachel. But he need not have worried. It was Amelia who brought up the subject.

“I expect you’re waiting for me to ask you, Mark and Stephanie, how far you’ve got in your search for Rachel and Michael,” she began. “Well, I do want to know about your progress, but in the meantime there’s something else I want to show you.” And she went over to a small desk, unlocked a drawer, and brought out a letter in its envelope.

“This arrived only a few days ago, and I’m a bit puzzled by it. It was forwarded from my old address. Take a look,” handing the letter to Stephanie.

The envelope was addressed only to ‘Amelia’, at the farm where she had until recently lived.

Stephanie decided to read the letter out loud.

> “Dear Madam,

>

> “If you are indeed the mother of ‘R’ , travelling east with her husband ‘M’ , I should like you to know that they are both safe and well at present, staying with my son and myself at our smallholding which is some distance to the northwest of Rigo. I’m sorry that I cannot be more specific as to our location, but there is always the risk that this letter may go astray.

>

> “They are helping out with the farm at present, but once the weather improves they plan to set out for Rigo.

>

> “With kind regards, Peter.”

There was complete astonishment at this news. The sender hadn’t given his full name or address, so there was no way of replying. He hadn’t even given Rachel’s or Michael’s first names, just their initials. Was the letter genuine, and could the sender be trusted? Jennifer, who explained that she had some experience as a writer, asked to look closely at the letter, and she judged, from the handwriting and style, that it was from a well-educated man—older rather than younger—possibly a man who was himself skilled in writing. Whatever the origin, if this message was authentic it would be enough to raise their hopes about the couple’s welfare.

They all decided, after much discussion, to take the letter, for all its vagueness, as truthful. What would anyone have gained by fabric­ating such a message? And it was plain enough that the writer had taken precautions against his letter falling into the wrong hands. But there could be no mistake about its meaning to the rightful recipient: a letter addressed to ‘Amelia’ mentioning ‘R’ and ‘M’ could only be referring to Rachel and Michael.

After this unexpected reprieve, Mark had no qualms about deliver­ing their own scanty news—that Rachel and Michael had stayed the night at Michael’s friends in Kentak and had narrowly evaded pursuit. Amelia seemed satisfied—she was still buoyed up by the belief that Rachel was safe in Peter’s hands—whoever ‘Peter’ was—for the time being.

Both Jennifer and Amelia insisted that the visitors should stay at least to lunch, and they busied themselves with its preparation. Jennifer’s husband, who had been out on his building work, arrived in time for the meal. Around the table much was discussed: especially Stephanie’s and Mark’s adventures since they left Waknuk. They were careful not to say anything about Stephanie’s feet—not knowing how much Jennifer and her husband knew. And of course there was no mention of the unpleasantness at the inn at Ashapi. But there was much to entertain their hosts, and it was already well into the after­noon when Stephanie and Mark finished their account.

Guessing that much of their money was spent, Amelia was only too ready to press some more of her ample savings on Mark; while he made a show of protesting, he was inwardly extremely grateful. The extra cash would certainly see them through their further adventures for a while.

Although their hosts were anxious for their guests to stay longer, it was plain that the cottage was too small to accommodate them all overnight, and the visitors were anxious to return to Mark’s home while it was still light. So after effusive farewells, they climbed back into the cart and set out on the return journey. They reached Margaret’s farm without incident just as it was beginning to get dark.