She rested her head upon his shoulder. “I have been bearing this—for your sake. Cautiously stepping outside, he looked up towards the terrace. On the mantelpiece in front of her was a note addressed to her in Annabel’s handwriting. She wondered why he was so distinctive, so unlike other men, and it never occurred to her for some time that this might be because she was falling in love with him. One glance swept across the place and it was immediately apparent that Pottiswick had not, this time, been mistaken. It was a dark mysterious place, and what it was used for no one exactly knew; but it was called by those who had seen it the Well Hole. ‘But on the off chance—slim, I grant you —that there is a spy down there, I don’t want to miss the fun.
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