"No one would do the work. You know they used to bury suicides at the cross-roads? Well, one was buried here. That was when—when the post was set up…."
A little shiver accompanied her words.
"I see," said Anthony. "The body was staked, wasn't it? What a barbarous old world it was! I don't wonder they were afraid of the place."
"It's supposed to have been an old usurer who came from these parts and had ruined all sorts of people in his time."
"And why did he kill himself?" said Anthony.
"I forget. There was some mystery about it. I remember an old, old shepherd telling me some of the tale, when I was a little girl, and my nurse came up in the middle and scolded him and snatched me away."
"Quite right, too," said Anthony. "And if she was here now, History would probably repeat itself." With a sweep of his arm he indicated the country-side. "Was this your nursery?"
Valerie nodded.
"In the summer." She hesitated. "I'll show you my window, if you like. It's the best part of a mile, though."
Anthony laughed and turned to summon his terrier.