only thing I heard was a faint snore round about five o'clock.
I woke Thomas at seven this morning, intending to go up with him for
the first visit of the day; but he slipped off on his own while I was in Windsor Castle. I met him coming back across the bridge.
He said all was well and Father had been pleased with the bucket of
nice hot water he had taken up.
"And I'm beginning to believe he really is working--he was certainly writing when I opened the door. He's calm, and he's getting much more co-operative- he had all his dinner things packed in the basket ready for me. And he says he'd like his breakfast now."
Each time we have gone up with meals today, he has been writing like
mad. He still asks to be let out, but without wasting much breath on
it. And when we took the lantern this evening, he said:
"Come on, come on- I've been held up for that."
Surely, surely he wouldn't carry on a bluff for so long? I would have let him out tonight, but Thomas says he must show us some of his work first.
It is now nearly four o'clock in the morning.
I didn't wake Thomas at two because I wanted to bring this entry up to date;
and the poor boy is sleeping so exhaustedly- he is on the sofa here.
He didn't think there was any need for us to keep watch tonight, but I insisted--apart from the fear of anything happening to Father, the
barometer is falling. Could we remain adamant if it rained heavily?
Thomas is firmer than I am. He sent an umbrella down with the
lantern.
I have looked out of the south window every hour--our main reason for choosing the gatehouse to spend the night in is that we can see
Belmotte Tower through one window and keep a watch on the lane through the other. Though who would come to the castle in the middle of the
night? No one, no one. And yet I feel like a sentinel on guard.
Men must have kept guard in this gatehouse six hundred years ago
...... I have just had another look at the tower. The moon is shining full on it now. I had a queer feeling that it was more than inanimate stones. Does it know that it is playing a part in life again-that its dungeon once more encircles a sleeping prisoner his Four o'clock now.
Mother's little clock is beginning to seem alive in its own right--a
small, squat, busy person a few inches from my hand.
How heavily Thomas is sleeping! Watching sleeping people makes one
feel more separate than ever from them.
Heloise is chasing rabbits through her dreams--she gives little
nose-whimpers, her paws keep twitching. About honored us with his
company till midnight; now he is out hunting under the moon.
Surely we must let Father out tomorrow--even if he still won't show us his work? His upturned face looked so strange as he took the lantern
from us last night--almost saint like as if he had been seeing
visions.
Perhaps it was only because he needed a shave.
Shall I wake Thomas now this journal is up to date? I don't feel at
all sleepy. I am going to put the lamp out and sit in the
moonlight...... I can still see well enough to write. I remember
writing by moonlight the night I started my journal. What a lot has
happened since then!
I shall think of Simon now. Now? As if I didn't think of him all the
time! Even while I have been so worried about Father, a voice in my
heart has kept saying: "But nothing really matters to you but Simon."
Oh, if only Rose will break her engagement off, surely he will turn to me someday? There is actually a car on the Godsend road! It is
strange to watch the headlights and wonder who is driving through the night.
Oh, heavens! The car has turned into our lane!
Oh, what am I to do? Keep calm, keep calm--it has only taken the wrong turning.
It will back out, or at worst turn round when it gets to the castle.
But people who get as far as the castle usually stop to stare at it and if Father has heard the car, could his voice possibly carry? It just
might, in the still night air. Oh, go back, go back!
It is coming on and on. I feel like someone keeping a journal to the
last second of an approaching catastrophe.
The catastrophe has happened. Simon and Topaz are getting out of the
car.
XVI
I went into the kitchen just as Topaz was striking a match to light the lamp. I heard Simon's voice before I saw his face.
"Is Rose here?"
"Rose ?" I must have sounded utterly blank.
"Oh, my God!" said Simon.
The lamp shone out and I caught his look of utter misery.
"She's disappeared," said Topaz.
"Now don't be frightened--it's not an accident or anything;
she left a note for Simon. But was she looked at him quickly, then
went on: "It didn't really explain anything. Apparently she went off this morning. Simon was away driving his Mother to stay with some
friends-Rose hadn't felt like going with them. He stayed there for
dinner so didn't get back to the flat until late. I was out all day
sitting for Macmorris and went to a theatre with him- I only got home as Simon was reading Rose's note.
We thought she might have come here to be with you--so we drove
straight down."
"Well, she's safe, anyway," I said to Simon.
"I had a telegram from her--though it only said she'd write when she could and would I please try to understand." It had just dawned on me that the bit about understanding didn't refer to our quarrel at all,
but to her running away.
"Where was the telegram handed in?" said Topaz.
"I didn't notice. I'll get it and see."
It was in my bedroom. As I dashed off to the front stairs I heard
Topaz say: "Fancy Mortmain sleeping through all this!" I was afraid she would go up to wake him before I got back, but she didn't.
I spread the telegram out under the lamp.
"Why, it's from that little seaside place where we went for the
picnic!" I said to Simon.
"Why on earth would she go there?" said Thomas.
"And why couldn't the silly ass explain in her note ?"
"She explained all right," said Simon.
"Thanks for trying to spare my feelings, Topaz, but it's really rather pointless." He took the note from his pocket and put it down by the telegram.
"You may as well see what she says."
It was just a penciled scribble:
DEAR SIMON,
I want you to know that I wasn't lying in the beginning.
I really thought I loved you. Now there is nothing I can do but beg
your forgiveness.
Rose "Well, that's that," said Thomas, shooting me a private "I told you so" look.
"But it's not final," said Topaz, quickly.
"I've been telling Simon it's just a fit of engagement nerves--she'll feel differently in a day or two. She's obviously gone to this place
to think things out."
Simon looked at his watch.
"Would you be too tired to start right away ?" he said to Topaz.
"You mean, go after her? Oh, Simon, are you sure that's wise? If she wants to be on her own for a bit? "I won't worry her. I won't even see her, if she doesn't want me to. You can talk to her first. But I
must know a little more than I do now."
"Of course I'll come, then. Let me just have a word with Mortmain first his She moved towards the kitchen stairs, but I got in front of her.
"It's no use going up," I said.
"What, is he in London again ?"
"No-was I shot a look at Thomas, hoping he would help me out.
"You see, Topaz-was "What is it? What are you hiding from me?" She was so scared that she forgot to be a contralto.
I said hastily: "He's perfectly all right, but he's not upstairs. It's good news, really, Topaz- you'll be terribly pleased."
Then Thomas took over and said calmly: "Father's been in Belmotte Tower for two days. We locked him up to make him work- and if we're to
believe him, we've done the trick."
I thought he had put it with admirable dearness, but Topaz asked a
great many frantic questions before she took it in. When she finally
did, her rage was terrific.
"You've killed him!" she screamed.
"Well, he was alive and kicking last night," I said.
"Wasn't he Thomas his "Not kicking," said Thomas.
"He'd quite settled down. If you've any sense, Topaz, you'll leave him there for a few more days."
She was already at the dresser, where the key to the tower usually
hangs.
"Where is it? Give it me at once! If I don't get that key in two minutes I'll hack through the door with an axe!"
And wouldn't she have enjoyed that I could tell she had stopped being really frightened because her voice was most tragically sepulchral.
"We shall have to let him out now," I said to Thomas.
"I would have tomorrow, in any case."
"I wouldn't," said Thomas.
"It's going to wreck the whole experiment." But he went to get the lantern.
The moon was down, but the stars were still bright when we went out
into the courtyard.
"Wait, I'll get my flashlight from the car," said Simon.
"I do apologize," I told him, as we followed the others across Belmotte bridge.
"We've no right to drag you into our family troubles when you're so worried."
He said, "Worried or not, I wouldn't miss this."
No sound came from the tower as we climbed the mound.
"Now don't go yelling that you're coming to rescue him," I said to Topaz.
"You know what it's like being wakened up suddenly."
"If he ever does wake!