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“So all is revealed.” He looked at her earnestly. “Now what are you going to do about it? Tell the police?”

“No, of course not,” she shook her head. “I won’t give you away, I promise.”

“You’re not only a romantic, you’re a little crook.” He sounded mildly scandalised at her promise. “But,” he warned, “your silence includes everybody, including your aunt and the two inquisitive cousins, understand?”

She nodded, wondering at his trust in her. “And that is why Fran hasn’t to inquire too closely about Eleanor Barlow?” she asked shrewdly.

“No more questions, Katie,” he said firmly. “The less you know the better; and it’s high time I took you home.”

“Good heavens!” she glanced at her wrist watch. “It’s after twenty past one!”

He released her from his arms and took her hand, guiding her over the darkness of the turf until they reached the beginning of the path.

“I did hear someone talking below the cliff, didn’t I ?” she asked as they walked, and for answer he looked at her without speaking, a ghost of a smile round his mouth. “So,” she mused, undeterred by his silence, “that was why Clay Pengarth was so reluctant for me to be right, why he didn’t want an investigation to see if there was anyone there,” she glanced at him, seeking for a sign of admission, but he made none. “So therefore,” she concluded her supposition, “Clay Pengarth must be one of you, as well.”

“I said you were to say nothing more,” he warned her, “so please oblige me by starting now.”

“All right, I’m sorry,” she said, and was silent until they were about to enter the yellow spotlight of the first street lamp, almost outside Coral House, While still illumined only by the moon and in the shadow of a wind stunted tree, he halted her.

“Wait,” he said sharply, “I can hear a car.”

Katie heard it, too, and recognised the boisterous roar of Jamie’s open two-seater even before it came into sight. “Jamie,” she said, not realising that she spoke in a whisper. He pulled her back into the shadow of the restless tree branches and she felt the tightening of his hand on hers as they stood waiting for the approaching lights. A fleeting glimpse of two fair heads was all she had and the headlights splashed briefly across the bottom of the cliff path before turning into the drive of Coral House.

“Give them a few minutes,” he whispered close to her ear, “and keep quite still in case Fran lets Goliath out for a few minutes.” Seemingly Goliath was not to be disturbed as, following the noisy bang of two car doors, silence followed. Katie waited with bated breath, her heart beating with a childish excitement until a tug at her hand set them walking again. She turned her head as they went past the gateway of the house, but she could see nothing in the shadows cast by the garden trees.

“I wonder where those two have been until this hour,” he said, a note of reproof in his voice at which she could not restrain a smile.

“To the Kismet,” she said, “I could have gone with them, but I thought it was time I spent some time with Aunt Cora. I decided to have a quiet evening at home.”

“What made you change your mind?” The unexpectedness of the question and the sharpness of his voice made her wary.

“I just felt like a walk,” she said. “It was a lovely night.”

They had turned into Quay Road, silent and bare in the moonlight, and she risked a glance at him, to be met with the steady, disconcerting look she dreaded. “You’re lying, Katie,” he said softly.

“I am
not,"
she insisted, but unconvincingly. “Why else would I have been out at that time of night?”

“Because you followed me.” He still held her hand or she would have stopped indignantly in her tracks.

“Don’t pull me along,” she objected. “I’m not a naughty child, and I wish you’d stop treating me like one!”

“Do I?” Again the question was unexpected and she glanced up at him to see the half smile round his mouth. “I’d still like to know why you followed me.”

“I
didn't
follow you,” she insisted. “Why should I? You flatter yourself!”

“Not at all,” he said wryly. “I’m convinced it was nothing other than curiosity that made you come.” She made no answer, but walked beside him in aggrieved silence, realising the futility of arguing with him. “I saw the light on in the lounge of your aunt’s house just before I came out,” he said suddenly. “I delayed leaving the house as long as I could and I’d just decided that I couldn’t leave it any longer when the light went out, just as I closed the door behind me.”

“I’d been reading,” she explained.

“And you
still
say you didn’t follow me?”

“You sound like a—a policeman instead of a crook,” she flared at him spitefully, “cross-questioning me like that!”

To her surprise he laughed, a quiet, deep sound only just audible in the silence. “Did you follow me?” he insisted.

They had turned into Webber Road and the lamp on the comer revealed her flushed cheeks as he looked down at her enquiringly.

“All right,” she admitted crossly, “I did.”

“Why?” He sounded genuinely curious and she flicked him a brief glance of query.

“Why, I just couldn’t think where on earth you could have been going at that time of night,” she said, as if it was the best reason in the world.

He nodded as if it was exactly the answer he had expected. “As I said,” he pointed out, “nothing more than curiosity.” He crooked his mouth into the half smile again as he looked at her. “Oh, Katie, that curiosity of yours! You just thought you’d find out, you couldn’t resist it.”

“And I
did
find out,” she reminded him, resenting his criticism. “I know all about you now.”

“Not all,” he corrected her quietly as they neared her aunt’s house. “A little knowledge is a dangerous thing. Don’t forget that or I may have to remind you, sharply.”

They had come to a halt in the open gateway and Katie wondered apprehensively if she would be able to get back into the house without waking her aunt, but uppermost in her mind was his warning, and she gazed at him wide-eyed as he faced her, his face half in shadow. “Is that a threat?” she asked, half seriously.

“You might call it that,” his voice held no trace of amusement “Your silence is important to me, Katie. Please don’t make me sorry I trusted you.”

“I promised I wouldn’t say anything,” she protested, “and I won’t. I wouldn’t go back on my word.”

“I know,” he said. “I just have to be sure.”

“You can be,” she assured him. “Please believe me, John. I won’t give you away, not to Fran or to anybody.” She looked at him, standing half in the shadows, his good-looking face rather stem as usual, and wondered suddenly what trick of fate had decided to make this aloof, independent man reliant on her silence. It was fantastic when she remembered his almost patronising manner towards her at Fran’s party, his patriarchal behaviour with Jamie. He could be ruthless, she guessed, and she felt a momentary shiver trickle along her spine as she thought of the possible risk she ran, keeping this conspiracy of silence or worse, not keeping, for she had no doubt that he would show no mercy towards her if she did tell anyone about his illegal activities.

“Katie!” he whispered, and she started out of her reverie. “You’re daydreaming again. It’s time you were in bed and asleep.” He glanced up at the dark windows of the house. “Will you be able to get in without waking your aunt?”

“I hope so,” she said. “It depends on Bridie. She doesn’t usually bark when she’s upstairs with Aunt Cora and she’s getting used to hearing me come in late.”

“When you’ve been out with Jamie, I suppose?” he said, and sounded disapproving.

‘Yes.” Her answer had an edge of defiance.

‘You have a lot of late nights,” he commented. “I know Jamie, he’s a night owl.”

“Like you?” she challenged, and saw him tighten his straight mouth. “I’d better go,” she said hastily, “and catch up on my beauty sleep.”

To her surprise he smiled. ‘You don’t have to worry about
that”
he said. “Goodnight, Katie.” He sounded incredibly like his brother as he leaned towards her, his hands gentle at the softness of her throat brushing aside the tendrils of hair from her neck as tenderly as Jamie ever did and bringing his lips down on to hers until her head bent back against his fingers.

It was a kiss such as she had never known before, and despite its gentleness had such passion and warmth that it left her breathless and a little dizzy as she clung to him for a timeless moment before he released her. “Good night,” he whispered against her cheek, and put her away from him, turning out of the gate without a backward glance.

If Aunt Cora did hear her come in she did not call out, and Bridie merely snuffled disapprovingly at the door as she passed. Sleep, she felt, was impossible, even more so than before she had followed John from his house and along the cliff path, but despite her racing thoughts the tiredness of a healthy body would not be denied and she fell into a deep sleep, undisturbed until Aunt Cora woke her next morning.

“I’ve never known you to sleep so late before, Katherine,” she said, eyeing her niece with a frown of curiosity between her brows. “Are you all right? You haven’t been in the sun too much, have you? You look a little flushed.”

Katie laughed. “Everyone seems determined to give me a touch of the sun,” she said. “I’m perfectly well, Aunt Cora, as fit as a fiddle.”

“And as lively as a cricket!” her aunt commented dryly. “I brought you some coffee and asked Mrs. Hard to delay your breakfast until I discovered if you wanted any or not.”

“Oh, I don’t think so, thank you,” Katie said, sipping the scalding hot coffee gratefully. “I’m glad of the coffee, though, it’s lovely. Thank you for bringing it, but you mustn’t wait on me, you know.”

“I was a little worried in case you weren’t well,” Aunt Cora confessed, “but I can see now that I need not have been.”

“No, I’m fine. I was latish coming to bed last night, that’s all.” She offered no further explanation and her aunt asked for none, although Katie sensed that she would like to have done. Her conscience was going to be sorely tried, she felt, as far as Aunt Cora was concerned.

“I’ll leave you to drink your coffee,” her aunt said, “and I’ll tell Mrs. Hard that you won’t be needing any breakfast, if you’re sure about it.”

“Quite sure,” said Katie, and glanced out of the window at the sun already hot and sultry, slanting obliquely into her room. “It’s going to be another lovely day, Aunt Cora.”

“Yes,” her aunt smiled at her bubbling enthusiasm, “I’m sure it is. Bridie and I will stay indoors out of the sun, but I’m sure that you young people will enjoy yourself in it.”

“I did promise to see Fran this morning,” Katie said, and smiled at her aunt apologetically. “Are you certain you don’t mind, Aunt Cora? I seem to leave you alone an awful lot, and it doesn’t seem quite fair when you’re so good to me.”

The rather stern old face softened as she looked at Katie, so warmly beautiful with her dishevelled hair and softly flushed cheeks, so full of life and the joy of living. “The summer is so short, Katherine. Enjoy it while it lasts,” she said, and Katie felt that she referred to more than a few fleeting weeks on the calendar.

THERE seemed to be no one at the house next door when Katie left Smuggler’s Rest and she assumed that John Miller would be out somewhere, probably painting up on the cliffs, which seemed to be as favourite a spot with him as it was with her. She almost wished that she had not promised to call on Fran, and thought how long ago it seemed since they had sped, the three of them, towards Mare Green, discussing Eleanor Barlow and her mysterious boy-friend, yet it was less than twenty-four hours ago.

At the thought of Eleanor Barlow some of her lightheartedness vanished, to be replaced by a nagging thought that she was protecting the cool, sharp-tongued model from trouble as much as she was John Miller, and the thought gave her no pleasure. The thought of the woman being part of the smuggling scheme did not please her at all, but it did explain the package that had been passed across the table in the restaurant. It would, she thought, be what the crime books described as that pay-off! Much as she would have liked to see Eleanor Barlow on a smuggling charge she could not say anything without involving John Miller, and that, she told herself, she could not do.

Fran was stretched out lazily in a cane chair when Katie, escorted by Golly, came through the house to the terrace, and she raised her sunglasses to peer at her briefly. “Hello, Katie, find a seat,” she greeted her. “It’s going to be a marvellous day again, I can feel it in my bones.”

“All alone?” Katie looked round the deserted terrace before choosing another long chair, out of the sun, but near enough to Fran to make conversation easy.

“Janus is in Sea bar, on business,” Fran said, “and the heavenly twins went shopping in St. Miram.”

“And Jamie is still in bed, I suppose?” Katie smiled, remembering the late hour when she had seen Jamie and Fran come home.

“No,” the reply was unusually short for Fran and the blank, dark lenses gave nothing away.

“Oh, I beg his pardon,” Katie said lightly.

“What made you think he would be?” Fran asked, again with unaccustomed brevity.

Not to be caught out, Katie smiled knowingly at her. “A, You said you were going to the Kismet last night, you invited me if you remember, and B, knowing Jamie, it was probably the wee sma' hours before you got home, which makes it likely that he’d be sleeping on this morning.”

“I’m not,” Fran pointed out, the dark lenses still directed straight upwards, “and neither are you.”

Katie hesitated, imperceptibly, she hoped. “I
didn't
come, if you remember,” she said slowly. “I decided to stay home for a change.”

“Uhuh,” the blank lenses were turned in her direction and were lifted to reveal Fran’s blue eyes alight with mischief. “Only you
didn't
, did you?”

“I read until after twelve,” Katie said truthfully, and wished her cheeks would not colour so treacherously.