Gold By Gemini

Here and there we could find pieces of rotten trellis among the dense foliage. Once we came upon a large ruined hut by the water. There were at least three decorative wooden bridges.

'Betty Springer said they used to have dances along here.'

I wasn't interested. No engineering works, and I wanted evidence. The valley narrowed again a little way on. The trees crowded closer and the undergrowth closed in on our riverside path. The water ran faster as the ground began to rise. I didn't see any point going on. Ahead, an enormous viaduct crossed the valley. The beck coursed swiftly beneath, gurgling noisily. It looked deep and fast. We headed back past the lagoons and took the ascending fork from the bridge, talking about Bexon. The path was only wide enough for one at a time. I told her over my shoulder how I'd got the taxi-driver to find the place.

'Are you sure this is where he stayed?'

'Betty remembered him.'

Janie really found it first, a brick kiln set in the hillside. Overgrown, like the rest, but reassuring.

'Look how flat the path is here.' She pointed out the iron rails set in the ground. The path ran on the contour line seawards from the kiln.

'That's odd. It looks dead level.' The flat path was wider now than any other on the hills.

'For hauling bricks?' she suggested.

'Maybe.'

It was a little railway. We traced it inland. It ended in a hillside glade. There we found a ruined station, wooden, collapsed into the forest down the steep slope. We walked back, almost hurrying now. A railway means an engineer. Maybe Bexon worked on it, probably a scenic run through the woods to view the sea from the headland or something. Of course, I thought. There'd be a junction further inland with the road. And on the road there was still a working steam railway. Hence Bexon's choice of Groundle Glen. It's where his railway ran.

I became excited. We followed the rails seawards. Some parts were quite overlain by small landfalls but at least you could see where the tracks ran from the shape of the incised hillside. We had difficulty getting past where sections had slid down into the valley but managed it by climbing upwards round the gap - using gorse bushes to cling to. We eventually emerged round the cliff's shoulder in full view of the sea. Still the tracks ran on, high round the headland. A tiny brick hut lay in ruins at one point near the track. Curiously, a fractured water-tap still ran a trickle of its own down the cliff face. Over the years it had created its own little watercourse.

The railway finished abruptly at a precipitous inlet, narrow and frighteningly sheer.

'Dear God.'

At the bottom the sea had been dammed by a sort of stone barrier set with iron palings, now rusted. It was lapped heavily by the sea. I didn't like the look of it at all.

Nor did Janie. I'm not a nervy sort but it was all a bit too Gothic.

'It's creepy,' she said, shuddering.

'Why dam it off?' I asked her. 'Look across.'

There seemed to be a sort of metal cage set in the rock face. It was easily big enough to contain a man. Anyone in it could scan the entire inlet. But why would anyone climb into it? A wave larger than before rushed in and lashed over the rusty barrier. If Bexon had anything to do with building that he really was round the bend. There seemed no sun down there though the day was bright elsewhere. Some places are best avoided.

This was one.

'Come on.'

We hurried home, scrambling hurriedly along the railway track until we met the path.

From there we took our time.

'It was ugly, Lovejoy,' Janie said.

She invited Betty Stringer over for coffee, a cunning move. We described our walk. I just happened to have the map out, quite casual.

'Your friend used to go over there,' she said brightly. 'Every day, practically. He used to get so tired. Always rested on the bridge.'

'Bexon?'

'Yes. He spent a lot of time walking along the glen.'

'Is it an old railway?'

'Yes. For people to see the seals.'

'Seals?' I put my cup down. 'Seals?'

'You didn't get that far, I suppose.' She traced our map with her finger. 'Follow the tracks and you come to where they kept the sea lions. You watched them being fed by their keeper. He threw them fish, things like that, but that was years ago. It's a sort of inlet.'

Both Janie and I were relieved. We avoided each other's eyes. We'd thought of all sorts.

'Did, er… Bexon say anything about it?' I asked, trying to smile in case the answer was not too happy.

'Oh yes. He kept on about it all the time. He used to help mend it years ago,' she said brightly.

He would. Not a happy answer at all. If that's where he spent his time, was it where he'd remember something best?

'Why the hell didn't he just stick to railways?' I asked Janie when Betty had gone. 'That seal pen's like something in a Dracula picture.'

'He mentioned other places.'

'So he did!' I said, brightening. 'So he did.'

'Good morrow, friends!' It was Algernon, wearing a deerstalker and tweeds. 'All ready to go searching?'

'Let's go.'

CHAPTER XVIII

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WE WENT to buy large-scale maps. I can't do without them in a new place, partly because I always have the addresses of antique shops and collectors about my person.

While Janie went to the grocer's I pulled Algernon aside on the pavement.

'When I tip the wink,' I said urgently, 'make some excuse to stop the car.'

'Why?'

'Because we'll be near an antique shop,' I explained.

He still looked puzzled. 'Lovejoy. Why is it always antiques?'

I recoiled, almost knocking an old lady down. There he stood in the cake-shop doorway, your actual neophyte antiques dealer. Typical. At that moment I really gave Algernon up.

'Never mind, Algernon,' I said, completely broken. 'It's just something that comes from breathing.'

'All ready?' Janie was back. We'd parked the car dead opposite Refuge Tower, now partly sinking its little island into the encroaching tide. 'Incidentally,' she warned, smiling prettily at us both, 'no sudden mysterious excuses to make stops near unexpected antique shops. Okay, chaps?'

'What do you take me for?' I said innocently.

I avoided Algernon's accusing gaze as we got in. Janie was rolling in the aisles so much at her really hilarious witticism she could hardly start the engine.

'What a lovely smile the lady has,' I said coldly. 'Are they your own teeth?' I only made her giggle worse. That's women for you.

'We're embarking to visualize entrancing spectacles of natural miracles!' Algernon cut in merrily, his idea of light chitchat. Cheerfulness from Algernon's enough to make people suicidal.

I'd the copies of Bexon's diary with me. We listed all the named sites, putting them in the same order Bexon had.

'It's less distance,' said He-of-the-Blurred-Vision, 'and more economical on petrol to proceed circumferentially round Castletown, with -'

'Hold it.' I was suddenly suspicious. 'You seem to know a lot about these place names.'

'So does everybody else, Lovejoy,' he said with maddening arrogance.

'Except me,' I pointed out. We were gliding upwards to the south of Douglas town.

'Motor-bikes,' he explained. 'The races.'

I'd heard of the IT races. Naturally, Algernon would know. I'd never seen him without a racing magazine. He started to tell me about engine classifications but I said to shut up.

'We'll do it Bexon's way,' I replied huffily. I saw Janie hiding a smile and explained, 'It's more logical.'

'Yes, darling,' she said, the way they do.

'Right, then.' We drove on in stony silence.

The Isle's a lovely place. The coolth gets into you quickly. You unwind and amble rather than sprint. Even the Lagonda began coasting, giving the feeling of a thoroughbred cantering on its home field.

We drove that day what seemed a million miles. After each place that Bexon had mentioned I took a vote. I had the veto, because of my detector bell, though Janie complained about being tired after only four hours or so.