“What did you do then, Charley?” I asked.
“I said to Bert, ‘I reckon they’re burglars. We got to catch ’em.’ I didn’t think me and Bert could do it on our own, so I said to him: ‘You wait ’ere and watch. If you see ’em get into a car, take the number … just like they do in the pictures. I’m going to Constable Darkin. He’s not far off.’”
“That was very ingenious of you, Charley,” said Violetta.
“What, Miss?”
“Very clever. Very resourceful to go to Constable Darkin.”
“He was just going to have his tea. I said, ‘I’ve come to report a burglary.’ He wasn’t that shook up, was he? He said, ‘Oh yes, son.’ Just as if I was a little boy playing a game. Then I said, ‘At Captain Brent’s place … that Riverside Cottage.’ It was different then. He left his tea and said, ‘You’d better get back home, son.’ Then he got onto the telephone and I couldn’t hear what he said, ’cos Mrs. Darkin was talking and taking us to the door. She said, ‘You’ve done well, and now it’s time you was home.’ So I went to find Bert. He was still there watching. He hadn’t seen no more lights in the house. Then we heard the cars and two men came running out. We couldn’t see them very well. They got away though before the police got there. It wasn’t half something, wasn’t it, Bert?”
Bert agreed that it was.
I was thinking of James and wondering how the thieves had known he and Joe would be away at that time and what they could have hoped to steal in a cottage furnished for summer visitors.
Later on Constable Darkin came to Tregarland to tell the boys they had done very well. It was just an ordinary break-in, and the thieves had escaped before they could be caught.
“You did the right thing, son,” said Constable Darkin to Charley. “Always let us know if you see anything fishy round here.”
Then he roared with laughter.
“That be a good ’un,” he said, in case any of us failed to catch the aptness of the allusion.
And so it all ended happily and Nanny Crabtree withdrew her disapproval of the boys and their bicycles. In fact, she was rather proud of her protégés.
Kidnapped
IT WAS ONLY TWO weeks later when there was another alarm. This was a very serious one.
Again it started when Violetta and I returned from the Priory. If Nanny Crabtree had been in “a state” because the boys had not come home, now she was in a panic.
And so were we all.
Tristan was missing. He had been having his nap after he had had his meal, and Nanny herself liked to doze off at that time. It gave her a chance, as she said, to put her feet up. She would lie on her bed, which was the only way to rest properly, and she would leave open her bedroom door, which led into Tristan’s room.
He had been a little lively during the morning and did not drop off as quickly as he usually did, so that made it a little late and it must have been after three when Nanny settled down. She did not awaken until just on five, and was amazed when she did. It was not like her to sleep so long. She was usually a light sleeper. She would have expected Tristan to waken her before that. But when she went into his room she saw that he was not in his bed. She had been surprised, but not then unduly alarmed. He must have wandered downstairs, she thought. But Tristan was nowhere to be found. We were all very worried by this time. We had hunted everywhere. Tregarland’s was a very large house and there were all sorts of places where he could hide.
We searched and searched. Nanny kept moaning: “I can’t believe this. I’m a light sleeper, I am. I’ve always been ready to wake at the slightest sound from any of my children. And there he is … getting out of bed … going off like that. Where is he? Where is my baby?”
In the first few moments it did not occur to me that there could be anything seriously wrong. It was only as the time began to pass and there was no sign of Tristan that we grew seriously alarmed and decided to call the police.
Constable Darkin paid another visit to Tregarland’s and this was a very somber one. The house and grounds were searched. The great fear was the sea. Suppose Tristan had gone into the garden, wandered down to the beach and thought he would paddle? Suppose he had been carried out to sea on the waves? Unbearable possibilities came crowding into my mind.
Violetta and I went on searching, and the servants joined in. Gordon was very practical. He arranged search parties, discussed with the police what was best to be done; but as the night came on we were desperate.
I felt sick with horror. My darling child, who was learning to love me, to forgive me for my indifference, now loved me as much as he did Violetta and Nanny Crabtree, no, even more, because I was his mother. Where was he now? Crying for me. I could hear the satisfaction in his voice when he had said: “Got Mummy.”
This was too cruel. I did not deserve this. And what was happening to Tristan? Once before he might have died at the hands of a murderess, but for the vigilance of my sister and Nanny Crabtree. Not again, I thought, oh, not again.
I do not know how I lived through that night. We had searched the house and grounds thoroughly, so there was little hope that he was there.
Then where was he? I could hear the murmur of the sea. It was a quiet sea, but… was it possible that he had wandered down to the beach? He had been warned never to go down there alone. He was an obedient child on the whole, but one could never be sure what a child would do.
Violetta was beside me, close, and I knew she suffered as I did. As for Nanny Crabtree, she was quite distraught, muttering to herself. I think she was praying.
Gordon said: “There must be some explanation. He has wandered off somewhere.”
“A child out alone … at this time of night!” I cried.
Gordon said very slowly, with an effort, as though he were wondering whether it was wise to raise such a possibility: “We must not lose sight of the fact that someone might have taken him.”
“Taken him!” I cried.
Gordon nodded, and Violetta said: “You mean … kidnapped?”
“It could be so. If it is … we’ll get him back.”
“Who … ?” murmured Violetta.
“The family is not without means to pay a ransom.”
I clutched at the idea. It was better than thinking of him caught by the sea.
“Oh yes … yes,” I cried. “He’s been kidnapped. We’ll pay whatever they ask and get him back.”
“It is a possibility we should not lose sight of,” said Gordon.
I felt sure of it now. Otherwise where was he? Some wicked person was putting us all to this anguish for the sake of money. Anything … anything we had was worth giving to get Tristan back. I had been so immersed in my own affairs that I did not realize how much I loved him. He was more important to me than anything else.
There was no sleep for any of us that night. I felt a fierce hatred for those people who had taken him, and a contempt for myself because I had not loved him enough. I had a great desire to blame someone. How had Nanny Crabtree allowed herself to be so fast asleep when all that was happening to him? It was so unlike her. I remembered how she and Violetta had watched over him throughout those nights when they suspected someone was trying to harm him. Then … Gordon. A terrible thought struck me. If Tristan died, Gordon would inherit Tregarland. He was really holding it in trust for him now. Gordon was devoted to Tregarland. He had worked all his life on the estate. He was the son of old James Tregarland—if illegitimate—and he would inherit the place if there were no legitimate heir to come before him. And there was Tristan. Motive indeed.
Oh no! That could not be! Gordon would not be involved in such a thing. But what did I know of what went on in people’s minds?
And so it went on.
I did not know what to do. Search the grounds again? Just suppose he was somewhere there? The house … ?
We were frustrated and helpless. The police were searching for him.
Violetta said: “I cannot believe there is anything else we can do. Gordon i
s right. We shall hear news soon. I shall keep in easy call of the telephone. It may come that way.”
I could not bear it. I felt a desire to be by myself. I kept going over the past. I had staged an elopement, I had deluded myself into believing that it would all come right in the end. I had always pictured the future the way I wanted it to go. Then I thought of the last time Tristan and I had been together. I had read him his favorite story about the elephant who never forgot. He had leaned against me and laughed at the animal’s exploits and I had changed them a little, just for the pleasure of hearing him say: “No Mummy, he didn’t do that.”
Take everything I have … everything I want … but give him back to me, I bargained with the unknown powers.
I went to my room. I sat staring out of the window. I saw Simone below. She was talking to Violetta. I did not want to join them. I could not bear to talk to anyone.
One of the maids was knocking at my door. She had an envelope in her hand.
“This came for you, Mrs. Tregarland,” she said.
She gave it to me. My name and address were typed on it. I said: “This hasn’t come by post.”
“No, Mrs. Tregarland. It was just lying there on the hall table.”
When she had gone, I opened it and stared at the paper before me. I could not take in those words for a few seconds. I felt myself grow cold and my hands trembled as I read:
We have your son. He is safe so far. If you obey orders he will soon be back with you. You are to come alone to Hollow Cottage on the road to Pen Moroc on the Bodmin Road at five o’clock for your instructions. Hollow Cottage is about half a mile from the signpost pointing to Pen Moroc. If you show this note to anyone, your son will die. We are watching you. Bring this note with you. Remember, it will be dangerous if you try to trick us. Fail to come, and alone, and your son will die.
I could not believe it. It was the sort of thing I had read of or seen in films—and now it was happening to me!
My first impulse was to find Violetta. “If you show this note to anyone, your son will die.” No, I dared not take the risk. Then what? Go to this place … this Hollow Cottage on the road to Pen Moroc. I did know the road. I had been along it once or twice—a lonely stretch of moorland. I had not seen any cottages there, but I could find this one. At five o’clock it would be dark. I was afraid and yet excited. Any action was better than none.
At least I now knew that Tristan had been kidnapped. He was not drowned or lying dead somewhere. Never had I wanted to talk to my sister more than I did at that moment. Yet I dared not. I read the note again. This was the beginning. I was going to this place for “instructions.” What could they want? Only one thing, I supposed. Money. They would tell me what to do and I should have Tristan back when the ransom was paid.
I would go to this Hollow Cottage and I would go alone, for I dared not tell anyone of my plans.
Violetta would say I should tell someone … the police … Gordon … someone who would know what had to be done. But I could not take that risk.
My sister always said I acted rashly without due consideration. But what was there to consider when they had threatened to kill my son if I did not act as they commanded?
I left Tregarland at four o’clock. I must be there in good time. I managed to get away without being noticed. I had only one thought in my mind: to find out what these people wanted, to give it to them and get back my son.
It was dark early that evening, for it had been a dull day, even for November. By half past the hour, I was on the Pen Moroc Road. It was deserted.
I drove along slowly, looking out for Hollow Cottage. There was hardly any habitation in sight. I saw the signpost. Half a mile on then.
Peering about me in the gloom, I could see a building of some sort. It was in a small hollow, just off the road. Hollow Cottage. I felt sure this was the place.
It looked eerie. My heart was pounding so much I could not escape from the sound of it. It was like a drum in my ears. I drew up and got out of the car. I looked around me. All was silent. Was I too early?
I walked towards the cottage. It was uninhabited—a shell of a place. There was no lock on the door, so I pushed it open. It creaked as I did so. I stepped in cautiously. It was a derelict ruin of what had been a small dwelling.
I was sure I should never have had the courage to go into that place alone if I had not been overwhelmed by the need to have Tristan safe. I was thinking as I did so: Perhaps I should have shown the note to Violetta. But if those people harmed Tristan, I should never forgive myself. I had to do it this way.
I stepped into what had been a room. It was dark and I could see little. There was no one there. I was too early. I looked at my watch and saw that it was ten minutes to five. I should have to wait. My eyes were becoming accustomed to the gloom and I was able to make out a door at one side of the room. As I looked, it creaked and swung forward. My heart leaped in fear. A masked man was standing there.
It was unreal … like something I had read, seen in a film, or dreamed of.
A voice said: “It was wise of you to come, and alone, Mrs. Tregarland.” It was a cultured voice.
“Where is my son?” I cried.
“He shall be returned to you. It is a very small thing we want of you. All you have to do is bring it to us and your little boy will be returned to you. First, give me the note I sent to you.”
I took it from my pocket and put it into his outstretched, gloved hand.
“What is it you want from me?” I asked.
“You are a good friend of Captain Brent.”
I shivered. “What … ?” I began.
“You have access to his cottage. All you have to do is bring us a small metal box which you will find there. Today is Wednesday. On Friday at this time, you will bring the box here. Your little boy will be given to you in exchange for it.”
“I have no idea what little box … where is it? How can I be sure that you will give me my son?”
“There are some things you have to take on trust.”
“I could not trust anyone who would hurt little children.”
“Your child will not be hurt if you do this one thing.”
“Where … where is this box?”
“It is in Riverside Cottage. It will be in an inconspicuous place. But you have two days in which to find it.”
“Captain Brent will not allow me to take this thing.”
“He will not know that you have.”
“His batman …”
“Neither will be there. It should not be difficult. You have the key and they will both be absent for a week or so. Come, Mrs. Tregarland, surely the fate of your little boy is worth such a small effort?”
I did not know what to say. I had discovered that this was not an ordinary kidnapping for a ransom of money. I had been thrust into a bizarre web of spies and intrigue—the sort of thing which, until now, had been entirely divorced from real life. But we were living in strange times.
I was in this position because of my relationship with James Brent, who was obviously more than an army doctor. I saw now that his work was secret and dangerous.
I had to get away. I had to think clearly. I wanted to shout at this man: “I will not do this. Let me give you money.” I was being stupid. He did not want money. He wanted this box. And if I were to save Tristan, I had to find it.
I said as coolly as I could: “How shall I know this box when I see it?”
“I am giving you a diagram of it. It is about six inches by four. You will not fail to recognize it. Do not let anyone see it. Do your search by daylight when you do not have to show a light.”
That seemed significant. The burglars detected by Charley must have been working with this man.
I felt trapped, out of my depth, bewildered, one moment determined to go in search of the box, the next telling myself that I was caught up in something bigger even than the kidnapping of a child.
I had to get away from this place … and think.
&nb
sp; “Give me the diagram,” I said.
A black-gloved hand was held out. I took the folded paper and put it into my pocket.
“It is clear,” said the man. “Your child’s life depends on this. This time on Friday. Again, I must warn you not to attempt to trick us. You do not want to be responsible for your child’s death, do you, Mrs. Tregarland?”
I turned away and stumbled out of the house. I don’t know how I managed to drive the car back to Tregarland’s, but I did; no one was aware that I had been out.
For the rest of that evening, I went about in a daze. No one commented. They thought my mood was entirely due to Tristan’s disappearance.
Gordon, Violetta, and I sat at supper, pretending to eat. Old Mr. Tregarland was in his own room. We had decided we would not tell him the news yet. Gordon thought it would be too great a shock for him.
We went to our rooms early, as there was nothing we could do. There was an extension of the telephone in Gordon’s room, so that, if a message came through, he could take it.
There would be no message, I knew; but I could not tell them that.
I undressed and sat in a chair in my dressing-gown, staring out of the window, seeing nothing but the secluded cottage with the creaking door and the eerie gloom—going over every sinister second I had spent there.
I had to find the box. Tomorrow I would go down and begin the search. Clearly it was something of great importance, possibly to the enemy of our country and, if I found it, if I gave it to them, I should be working for these spies. How could I do that? Yet, if I did not, they would kill Tristan.
I should never have gone to that cottage. I should never have become involved with Captain Brent.
I thought of the pleasure of the last month when I had been really happy. I was in love with him in a light-hearted wartime way, as he was with me. One takes one’s pleasures with open hands in wartime without question. We were two free people; neither of us had commitments with other people. Why should we not bring a little joy into those dreary, war-stricken months?
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