Hawke's Tor by E. V. Thompson Page A

there had been very many women in Tom’s life, the unsociable hours kept by a policeman had seen to that. He would like to have spent a little more time with Verity, preferably just the two of them, but he knew she would be leaving Cornwall in just a few days – and he had a murder to investigate.
    When he had completed the paperwork that required his attention in the Bodmin police headquarters, Tom set off on Amos’s riding horse for North Hill and Berriow Bridge, his intention being to interview the two possible suspects who had not been available on the previous day.
    His first call would be on George Kendall, the man reputed to have a violent temper and who, although married, was said to have had a tempestuous affair with Kerensa and been extremely angry when she had ended it.

    He would next visit the home of Jowan Hodge, who he felt must be a very lucky and shrewd man. Few copper miners had made money from their vocation … and kept it. Although rumoured to have had an affair with Kerensa, he was said to be happily married, in sharp contrast to Kendall.
    Hodge was said by the landlord of the Ring o’ Bells to have had trouble with Kerensa because she did not want the affair to end, even though she was married and had a baby. The inn-keeper had suggested this was because, thanks to his wise investments, Hodge was now a comparatively wealthy man.
    Halfway across Bodmin Moor and lost in thought about the questions he was going to put to the two men, Tom looked up and saw a young girl hurrying across the moor ahead of him. As he drew nearer he could see she was dressed in the manner of a gypsy, wearing a brightly coloured blouse and a skirt which was shorter than was customary among countrywomen. She was also barefooted and her long black hair hung loose almost to her waist. When he came close enough for her to hear horse and rider she turned her head but did not slow her pace.
    Reaching the gypsy girl, Tom reined in the horse alongside her and said cheerfully, ‘Hello, you’re a long way from anywhere.’
    Giving him only the briefest of glances, she replied, ‘I could say the same of you.’
    â€˜True,’ Tom conceded. ‘Where are you going?’
    â€˜That’s none of your business. Where are you going?’
    â€˜I’m heading for North Hill. I thought if you were going that way I might offer you a lift, up behind me.’ The girl was small and slight and he believed the horse would be hardly aware of the extra weight.
    This time the girl’s glance was longer and more searching and Tom was aware she was considering the advisability of accepting
his offer. He was about to explain he was a policeman when he remembered that gypsies and policemen rarely got along together. He checked himself – and would be glad he did so.
    â€˜All right. I’ve certainly done more than enough walking for one day – and it’ll get me home a sight faster…. Give me your hand.’
    He reached down and, grasping his extended hand, she leaped up and the next moment was straddling the horse behind him, exposing an expanse of leg which would have shocked women who lived more settled lives. Now, having helped to lift her on to the horse, Tom realized he had been right about her weight, it must have been less than half his own, even though she was probably eighteen or twenty years of age.
    They rode in silence for a while, with Tom very conscious of her arms which tightened about his waist whenever the horse made an unexpected movement. He was also aware that she occasionally rested her head against his back, as though tired.
    He was first to break the silence between them, saying, ‘This must be better than walking. Had you walked far before I met up with you?’
    â€˜ Too far. I left our wagon at dawn this morning to walk to my grandmother’s home, about three miles from where you met me, and was on my way back again.’
    â€˜That’s a long