The Treasure at Poldarrow Point (An Angela Marchmont Mystery) by Clara Benson

scarecrow?’
    Barbara was indeed looking very bedraggled after her adventure in the tunnel, with damp clothes and shoes, and grubby hands and knees.
    ‘I found the tunnel,’ she said, ‘but I made a bit of a mistake and got trapped in there by the tide.’
    ‘I did warn you,’ said Angela. ‘Would you like something to eat?’
    ‘Yes please!’ said Barbara. She paused. ‘I did rather think you might be desperately worried and combing the area with a pack of bloodhounds,’ she said.
    ‘Don’t be silly,’ said Angela. ‘Cook is still here, I believe. I’m sure she’ll be able to rustle something up.’ She returned to her book, and Barbara gave it up and went inside.
    She returned some time later looking rather cleaner (Marthe had taken one horrified look at her and marched her off to wash) and with a stomach pleasantly full of cold meat and warm scones. Angela looked up and put down her book.
    ‘That’s better,’ she said. ‘You looked as though you had been ploughing a field with your face, or something.’
    ‘Why must Marthe scrub so?’ complained Barbara. ‘I’m sure she took off four inches of skin.’
    ‘One must suffer for beauty, apparently.’
    ‘Then I shall be ugly and happy,’ said Barbara. She sat down and pulled the cat off Angela’s lap and onto her own. It protested briefly then settled down to resume its nap.
    ‘How did you get out of the tunnel, by the way?’ asked Angela. ‘It’s still high tide.’
    ‘I came through the trap-door into the house.’
    ‘Really? I’m surprised they could hear you knocking from upstairs.’
    Barbara nodded and attempted to change the subject.
    ‘Did you have a nice time in Tregarrion this morning?’ she asked brightly, but Angela was not to be fooled. Her eyes narrowed.
    ‘Barbara,’ she said, ‘what did Miss Trout and Mr. Maynard say when they found you in the tunnel?’
    ‘Oh, very well,’ said Barbara, ‘I admit it. They didn’t know anything about it because I left the trap-door unlocked yesterday when we went for tea, and I sneaked out without anybody seeing me.’
    ‘But why did you leave it open?’
    Barbara looked sulky.
    ‘I just thought I might need to get through it urgently one day. And I did, didn’t I?’
    ‘Still, though, you oughtn’t to have done it—especially not when you particularly led them to believe you’d bolted it.’
    ‘Sorry, Angela,’ said Barbara, doing her best to look ashamed and carefully omitting to mention that she had done exactly the same thing again today.
    ‘I should think so. Now, tell me about the tunnel.’
    Barbara related her adventures of the morning and Angela forgot to look disapproving as she listened with interest.
    ‘It sounds as though it is exactly what it purports to be, then,’ she said, ‘and that is, a means of getting from the cove to the house. From what you say, it doesn’t seem as though anything is hidden down there, unless there is something in one of those barrels.’
    Barbara shook her head.
    ‘That’s no go,’ she said. ‘One of them fell to pieces when I touched it, and I rattled the other one ever so hard but it made no sound. And lots of people knew about the tunnel in the olden days, so it wouldn’t be the best place to hide something valuable. No, I think the necklace is somewhere in the house, and I mean to find it.’
    ‘Perhaps I shall come with you tomorrow.’
    ‘Will you?’ asked Barbara eagerly. ‘That would be splendid. Not that I’m scared, of course, but I should like to have you there to help.’
    ‘Why should you be scared?’
    ‘I told you—I’m not. And even if there are ghosts I’m sure they don’t mean any harm.’
    ‘What on earth are you talking about? Which ghosts?’
    ‘Don’t you remember? Miss Trout said the house was supposed to be haunted by an old man who wanders around upstairs in his nightgown.’
    ‘But you said you didn’t believe in ghosts.’
    ‘Of course I don’t!’ said Barbara stoutly. ‘Why,