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“Jamie!” Fran glared at her cousin crossly and he made a moue of regret as he looked back at Katie.

“Did I say the wrong thing?” he asked, putting his hand over Katie’s. “Everyone seems to be a bit bristly on the subject of brother John lately.”

Katie smiled at him. “I suppose it
could
be called a compliment,” she said jokingly. “You’d like me in the family, but not to the extent of marrying me yourself; even Janus was prepared to go
that
far.” She enjoyed his obvious discomfiture with the malicious joy of retaliation, and caught Fran’s mischievous eye as she added, “They’re not the marrying kind, these Dennison men, are they?”

“Not until they’re really pushed,” Fran admitted, and wrinkled her nose at her cousin in the heartwarming, intimate way she often did.

“Pity we have to leave without going past them,” Jamie said regretfully, his eyes seeking out his brother again. “I’d like him to know we’ve seen him.”

“Don’t be spiteful!” Fran scolded. “One day somebody will catch you out, and you wouldn’t like it if John interfered, would you?”

“He already has!” Jamie retorted sharply. “He interceded on Katie’s behalf at the Kismet a while ago, when she didn’t want to go into the casino. Funny,” he frowned thoughtfully, his blue eyes on Katie, disconcertingly like his brother’s. “He always seems to be around when Katie needs help or moral support. He must have second sight.”

“They’re leaving,” Fran said suddenly, and added, “They can’t have had much lunch. They haven’t been very long.”

“Then they may come past us this way,” Jamie said. “The door’s this side of the room, they have to come across.”

Katie watched as John Miller and his companion left their table and saw that he crossed the room on the other side, not coming within several tables of where they sat. She also noticed that the woman turned the other way and went into what was rather discreetly described on the door as the ‘ladies’ powder room’.

“Where is she?” Jamie demanded as he saw his brother pass by on the other side of the room without seeing them.

“She went into the ladies’,” Fran said, a frown creasing her brow. “We could have been wrong, you know, they may not have been together.”

“Of course they were,” Jamie said decisively. “We saw them.”

“But they may not have come together,” said Fran. “They may have just sat together, by chance and got talking. After all, they do
know
each other.”

Jamie grunted noncommittally, unconvinced.

As they passed the Barlow house on the way back, Katie looked across the water to the pleasant-looking white building with its garden, and the trees casting cool shade over the windows. It was not strictly part of St. Miram, but a suburb and a very expensive one, Katie thought, wondering at the doctor’s need to take patients as far away as Mare Green when he was so obviously a wealthy man.

“It seems funny,” she voiced her thoughts, “that Dr. Barlow should take patients, like my aunt, in Mare Green, when he runs that big house. He can’t need to, surely, he must be a pretty wealthy man.”

Jamie smiled, shaking his head. “Not Dr. Barlow,” he said. “The money’s Eleanor’s, and it’s not so far by road from Mare Green, you know, only about two miles, it’s following the curve of the coastline that makes it further by sea.”

“I see,” she looked thoughtful. “The modelling profession must be very rewarding from the look of things; it looks like a pretty expensive area.”

“Little Eleanor does very nicely, thank you,” Jamie gave a malicious grin. “It must, as you say, be a very rewarding profession.”

“It certainly is in her case,” Fran said wryly. “Like jewellery, etcetera.” She caught Katie’s eye. “And come to think of it, she doesn’t wear much jewellery, does she?”

“I’ve never seen her wear much,” Jamie conceded, “but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t any. She may have it as a sort of investment, I believe some girls do.” He turned quizzical eyes on his cousin. “How do you know she
has
jewellery?” he asked.

“Oh, we didn’t tell you, did we,” said Fran, “about la Barlow’s other boy-friend ?”

“I expect she has others beside big brother,” Jamie said reasonably. “Model girls usually do, I should think : I mean being seen with the right people in the right places is part of the job, I suppose.”

“And would you call a rather dishy type of Eastern male the right people?” Fran asked casually.

“That depends,” Jamie answered. “If he’s some sort of potentate I should think he’d count.”

“According to Katie he works at the Kismet,” Fran told him. “She recognised him.”

“Oh, did you?” Jamie turned to her. “Did I see him?”

“I suppose so,” said Katie. “He was standing by the entrance to the casino, looking rather smugly important. I wondered if he was the manager or even if he owned the place—a rather slinky-looking character who looks as if he might keep a harem.” She ignored Fran’s reproachful look.

Jamie nodded. “I know,” he said. “He
does
own it, actually. His name’s Kuran Bey, at least that’s the name he uses at the Kismet, but he might be Joe Smith from Camden Town in reality.”

Fran shook her head. “No,” she said with certainty, “he’s the genuine article.” She tossed her long fair hair back haughtily. “And
I
think he’s rather dishy, despite what Katie says.”

“We’ve rather strayed from the point,” Jamie pointed out. “We were talking about the fair Eleanor and her jewellery or lack of it; what connection does Kuran Bey have with that?”

“It’s a long story,” said Fran, but nevertheless launched into the telling of it.

Jamie pursed his lips thoughtfully, taking the launch round the point and into the harbour at Mare Green. “Interesting,” he commented. “And did you mention this little matter to big brother, by any chance?”

“Of course,” said Fran, her eyes wide, “I thought it might drive in the wedge between him and la Barlow. Katie thought I shouldn’t mention it to him, but she’s too kindhearted; anyway it doesn’t seem to have had much effect on him.”

“You must try harder,” said Jamie.

“No,” Fran shook her head, as they came up to the quay, “Janus said I wasn’t to mention it again to John or anyone.”

“Oh.” Even at a distance, Katie thought, Sir Janus kept a firm hand on his volatile family. “In that case—” he shrugged, cutting the engine and slinging a mooring rope ahead of him on to the quay.

Katie left them at the gates of Coral House and walked round to Webber Road slowly and deep in thought. So deep was she, in fact, that she failed to see John Miller until he put a hand on her arm and spoke to her. “Katie!”

She started almost guiltily and looked up into the vivid blue of his eyes, feeling her colour rise as she remembered her companions’ conversation at lunch time. “Oh, hello.” She would have sidestepped him and entered her aunt’s garden, but he still rested his hand on her arm.

‘You were daydreaming again,” he said with a ghost of a smile.

“I often do,” she said defensively. “It's a habit of mine; Jamie says I’m a romantic.”

“And are you?” The question surprised her and for a second she blinked at him uncomprehendingly, then shrugged.

“Perhaps so,” she admitted.

He dropped the restraining hand and thrust it into the pocket of his jacket. “And this morning,” he said softly, “I shattered some of your illusions.”

She was startled by the change in his manner from the last time she had been in his company. He seemed even more changeable than Jamie, who could switch from grave to gay in a matter of seconds. His reference to their brief, unrewarding visit to St. Miram came as a surprise, for she assumed that he would have wished to avoid further mention of it. “I had no illusions to shatter with regard to you,” she said, and wished she had not been quite so blunt. “I was under no illusion as to why you took me to—that place. You made that quite clear.”

“Did I?” He looked so genuinely surprised that she wondered suddenly if she had been mistaken. The blue eyes had that disconcerting steadiness that always unnerved her and she could not meet them without feeling absurdly schoolgirlish. “Why
did
I take you there, Katie?”

“To find out how much I could tell you about Miss Barlow and the man she was lunching with when Fran and I saw her; the owner of the Kismet,” she said. “You started talking about it and—” she hesitated.

“And I got sidetracked,” he said softly. “Jamie’s right, you are a romantic.”

She flushed angrily at what she considered a reference to her reaction when he kissed her. “I’m sure you must find my dislike of promiscuity very amusing,” she flared, “but I’m not used to being one of a trio, and I’m sure even Jamie, with his liking for girls, never had three at the same time!” She could have bitten out her tongue a moment later as she saw his expression change and the blue eyes go cold as ice.

“I presume you know what you’re talking about,” he said coldly, “because I’m sure I don’t. Perhaps you will enlighten me.”

“Oh, no!” She felt suddenly afraid, knowing that she had said too much already and that she could only become more deeply involved. She wanted only to get away from him and into the quiet refuge of Smuggler’s Rest. “I don’t have to explain anything to you,” she said, “any more than you have to explain why you take out Eleanor Barlow
and
her maid; it doesn’t concern me. I don’t want to know!”

To her chagrin and surprise he pulled her, none too gently, into the garden of Smuggler’s Rest, so that the dusty laurels and other shrubs screened them from the road. “Now,” he said, his hands gripping her arms painfully hard, “perhaps you’ll explain just what all that hysterical outburst meant.”

“I am not hysterical!” she denied indignantly, hearing Bridie’s shrill of protest from the house and wishing that her aunt would come out and investigate the reason. “And I don’t
have
to tell you anything.”

“Don’t you?” She did not like the look on his face as he said that “I take Miss Barlow out quite frequently, although you’re right, I don’t see that it concerns you, but since we’re holding an inquiry into my actions, please explain about her maid.”

His grip and his gaze were relentless and she despaired of her aunt ever appearing. “What made you say that?” he demanded, and when she did not answer he shook her. “Katie!”

“Stop it!” Her voice brought a fresh outburst from Bridie, but still no one appeared and tears rolled down her face as she swallowed her pride and her temper. “We saw you in the Shell House, Jamie, Fran and I, and Jamie said that the woman you were with was Anne, Dr. Barlow’s housemaid.”

“That’s all?” She thought she detected relief in his voice and she nodded. “Those two!” He shook his head despairingly. “They’ll always make a mountain out of a molehill whenever possible.” He still held her arms, but the cruel grip had eased and he looked at her less coldly. “I did share a table with Miss Bennett,” he said, “and since we are known to one another we naturally conversed.” He crooked his straight mouth into a brief smile. “The lady also allowed me to pay for her lunch. Now, perhaps you’ll pass the information on to my inquisitive cousins.”

“I’m sorry I lost my temper,” she said, brushing away a tear with her hand. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it at all, it wasn’t my business,” she smiled wryly. “You have enough to put up with from Jamie and Fran without my joining forces with them.”

“I have a feeling that you’re sometimes a reluctant ally,” he said shrewdly, “and I thank you for that.”

She felt relieved that he was no longer so angry, and looked into the vivid blue eyes to see the warmth that had been there that morning on the deserted beach. At that moment Aunt Cora opened the door.

AUNT CORA had the gift of restraining her curiosity which few women possess and she never, or seldom, asked Katie questions concerning her outings with the Dennison family, except to express the hope that she had enjoyed herself. Katie, grateful for her reticence, told her aunt most things, often making her laugh at the various antics of Fran and Jamie who were a constant source of amusement. Katie could see the old lady growing daily more happy and lively, even at times making amusing comments of her own on the events of the day.

She had expressed no great surprise at seeing John Miller with her niece and probably had no idea of what her appearance had interrupted, but once or twice Katie caught the old lady’s shrewd eyes watching her curiously. Dinner over that evening Katie told her aunt about the visit to St. Miram, about both visits in fact, omitting the brief, embarrassing moment when he had kissed her, but explaining the angry scene that she had seen end in a truce.

“I have said it before,” Aunt Cora said dogmatically. “There is more to John Miller than meets the eye.”

“Don’t you like him?” Katie asked, a mite anxiously, her aunt thought.

“Oh, yes,” Aunt Cora smiled and nodded her grey head, “now that I know him better, I find him quite charming, but deep, very deep.”

Katie laughed at her aunt’s knowing expression. “He has a business in London, so Jamie told me,” she said, “but he didn’t know what it was, which is curious,” she added thoughtfully, “when I consider Jamie’s considerable curiosity.”

“I don’t imagine that John Miller would have much difficulty in keeping anything to himself,” her aunt said, “and he hasn’t lived here, you said, for some time, so perhaps they haven’t bothered to find out. But still,” she added, “it is rather curious that his brother doesn’t know.”

Aunt Cora retired quite early most nights, although she slept very little, so she claimed, and tonight was no exception. She left Katie downstairs reading, a thing she had found very little time for since coining to Mare Green. It was after twelve when she decided that, wide-awake as she felt, she would go up to bed, and she put down her book, switching off the reading lamp as she left her chair.

Lit only by the street lamp across the road the room had a soft, tranquil look and Katie crossed to the window to look out. It all looked very quiet and still, not that Webber Road was ever a busy thoroughfare, but from what she could see between the shrubs and trees nothing moved at all until she saw someone walk down the path of the garden next door.