She busily ushered them into a large, high-ceilinged room off the wide hallway. Pictures of sea-going vessels, from ancient clippers to modern liners, adorned the walls and several detailed models of ships were encased in glass cabinets at various points.

'You wait, please. Miss Kirkhope will be down. She is expecting you.'

The maid left the room, still grinning enthusiastically as though their presence had made her day worthwhile. Bishop ran his eyes around the room while Jessica took a seat on an old Chesterfield, its dark brown bulkiness enhancing the maritime surroundings.

'Business can't be that bad,' he mused.

'It isn't that bad, Mr Bishop, but it lacks the impetus of a few decades ago.'

Agnes Kirkhope's sudden appearance in the doorway startled them both.

'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude,' Bishop apologized.

'That's quite all right, quite all right,' she said striding briskly into the room, her eyes alive with some private amusement. 'I must say this is my most impressive room, though. That's why I receive visitors here.'

She was a small woman, her body thin but ramrod straight, an alertness about her that defied the passage of years. Her hair was pure white but still had a wavy softness to it. She sat at the opposite end of the Chesterfield, her body at an angle so she could still face Jessica, and peered at them through tiny, gold-rimmed spectacles. There was still amusement in her eyes for the embarrassment she had caused Bishop when she spoke.

'I didn't expect two visitors.'

'No, I'm sorry, I should have said on the phone. This is Miss Kulek.'

The old lady smiled at Jessica. 'And who is Miss Kulek?'

'Jessica works for the Research Institute of Parapsycholog-ical Study.'

'Really.' Miss Kirkhope frowned. 'And what exactly is that?'

'We study the paranormal,' Jessica answered.

The old lady's frown increased. 'For any particular reason?'

Bishop grinned.

'To find out more about ourselves, Miss Kirkhope,' Jessica answered.

Miss Kirkhope sniffed as if to dismiss the subject. 'Can I offer you both a sherry? I like to indulge myself at least once a day. Anna! The sherry please!' The maid appeared as though she had been hovering outside the door waiting for the command. She beamed at them all.

'And I think the Cyprus,' Miss Kirkhope added, 'not the Spanish.'

Bishop and Jessica glanced at each other, sharing their own amusement at the slight. They restrained their smiles when the old lady turned her attention back to them.

'Now, Mr Bishop, you said on the telephone you would like to resume your investigation of Beechwood. Hasn't your dreadful experience last time put you off?'

'On the contrary,' Bishop lied, 'it's given me even more reason to investigate the property.'

'Why, exactly? And please do be seated.' She flapped a hand towards an armchair.

He sat on the edge of the seat, resting his forearms on his knees. 'There has to be some explanation as to why all those people killed themselves. There may well be some psychic forces at work in the house.'

'Really, Mr Bishop. The agents told me you were a most practical man despite your profession. You were hired originally to find more material reasons for Beechwood's disturbing atmosphere.'

'Yes, and I still hope to. But we can't just ignore what happened, we have to look for other . . . elements. That's why I'd like to take along Miss Kulek and her father, who is President of the Research Institute. They may discover more than I can on my own.'

The sherry arrived and was distributed by Anna who treated the amber liquid as if it was holy wine and left the room in a fluster of smiles.

'She's new,' Miss Kirkhope explained crisply. She raised her glass. 'Your very good health, my dears.'

They sipped their drinks, Bishop wincing at the sweetness.

'And what has suddenly encouraged you to resume your investigation, Mr Bishop? I wonder if the other recent happenings in Willow Road have rekindled your interest?'

He almost choked on his sherry.

'I ran my father's shipping business practically single-handed for years after his death with precious little help from dear brother Dominic.' She nodded towards a framed photograph standing on a nearby sideboard; the picture showed a pudgy-faced young man with curly black hair. The resemblance to Miss Kirkhope was minimal. 'True, we eventually went into decline, but that was the case of shipping in general, so please don't take me for a fool just because I'm an old woman. I follow the news and Willow Road is a name I'm hardly likely to forget.'

Jessica spoke up. 'We're very sorry, Miss Kirkhope, I hope we haven't offended you. Chris had no intention of going back to that house until I persuaded him.'

'If we're going to be frank, let's go all the way,' said Bishop. 'Jacob Kulek is hiring me to investigate Beechwood that is, if I get your permission. We don't want to drag up old memories for you, but Jessica and her father feel there is a link between Beechwood and the recent deaths in Willow Road.'

'Do you feel there is?'

Bishop hesitated before he answered. 'No, I don't. But . . .' he looked across at Jessica '. . . I think it's worth looking into. Jacob Kulek is a renowned figure in his field of work, so any opinion he has on this subject has to be respected. He knew your brother, by the way, and a man named Pryszlak, who was a colleague of your brother's.' He saw the old woman flinch at the mention of Pryszlak's name.

'I warned Dominic about that man.' Her lips were a thin line. 'My brother was a fool, little more than a buffoon, but Pryszlak was evil. I knew it as soon as I set eyes on him. A son of the Devil.'

Both Jessica and Bishop were astonished at the outburst. Just as suddenly, the tension left the old woman's body. She smiled at them, almost mischievously.

'I try not to let things bother me nowadays, my dears, but sometimes memories intrude. Now, assuming I gave you permission to enter Beechwood, what would your plan of action be?'

'You'd have no objections?' Bishop asked, surprised.

'I haven't said that yet,' came the curt reply.

'Well, first I'd like some background history on the house. I'd like to know about the activities that took place there in the 1930s. I'd like to know what your brother was involved in, Miss Kirkhope.'

'And if I decide not to give you any information?'

'Then as far as I'm concerned, the matter is ended. I won't investigate the house.'

Silence descended on the room. Bishop and Jessica studied Miss Kirkhope as she sipped her sherry thoughtfully. She stared down at the floor for a long time and there was a sadness in her voice when she finally spoke. 'Beechwood has been part of my family's history for many, many years. Dominic was born there, you know. An accident really. It was a country house for my parents, you see, built at a time when it really was open country in those parts, long, long before it became a residential area. My father sent my mother and me there for the weekend; he wanted her to rest. He was busy, so very busy, and Mother was seven months pregnant. He thought the change would be good for her.' She gave a bitter laugh. 'She had no rest that weekend. Dominic was premature; it was just like him to rush foolishly into the world before his time.'

Her eyes took on a faraway look as though she were studying an image in her mind. 'I was only seven at the time, and I was the one who found her at the foot of the cellar stairs. Why she went down there in the first place nobody ever found out. Mother certainly couldn't remember after the pain she suffered giving birth to Dominic. My God, how she screamed that night. I remember lying in bed listening, praying to God to let the baby die so it couldn't hurt Mother any more. She hadn't wanted to be moved, she would have had Dominic right there in the cellar if the servants hadn't ignored her pleas. I can still hear her screams of agony to this day as they dragged her up those steps. He came in the early hours of the following morning and I heard one of the servants say she wondered what all the earlier fuss was about because of the way he finally just plopped out on to the sheets.

'I don't think Mother ever really recovered from that dreadful night. She always seemed to be frail after that, always sickening for something or other. She loved Dominic, though. Oh how she doted on that boy! She would never go back to Beechwood after his birth, so Father began renting it out rather than let it go empty. It had become too modest for folk as grand as us, anyway! Our fortunes were rising rapidly, you see. I haven't seen the place myself since, had no wish to. But Dominic went back he must have been twenty-five, twenty-six, I can't remember how old exactly. He was inspecting several properties we owned at that time, doing his duty as Father's son, you see. But Beechwood held some strange fascination for him; I suppose it was because he was born there.'

Miss Kirkhope paused to sip her sherry, then suddenly looked up at the other two occupants of the room as if remembering they were still present and that her reminiscences were for their benefit. 'That was the real turning-point for Dominic, I think. Up until then he had certainly been wayward, but that was only the robustness of youth. He returned many times to Beechwood and we naturally assumed he enjoyed the company of the people who occupied the house. There seemed to be no harm in it although my father did warn him it wasn't wise for landlords to become too friendly with their tenants. The area was becoming more populated then and Beechwood was soon surrounded by other properties; it was still an impressive house, perhaps not the most elegant, but firm, solid, a house that would last forever. Dominic became rather an elusive character we never seemed to see much of him. It was only years later when the police informed my father that they had received complaints about the activities of Beechwood's occupants that we became alarmed. I think my father had already lost hope of Dominic following in his footsteps by that time and, in fact, I myself was fulfilling that role. I was, as they say, on the shelf I don't know why, I don't think I was unattractive in those days; possibly the shipping business interested me more than men. I think it was a relief to my father that he had at least someone to rely on, someone he could trust to help him in his business ventures. I'm afraid Mother had become progressively more fragile over the years and, God bless her, she wasn't much use to anybody. She only seemed to come alive in Dominic's presence which, of course, wasn't very often. Mr Bishop, you've hardly touched your drink. Perhaps you'd like something stronger?'

'Uh, no, it's fine. Thanks.'

'Then perhaps you'd be kind enough to refill my glass. Miss Kulek, another for you?'

Jessica declined and Bishop took the thin glass from the old lady to the silver tray resting on a small, ornately carved table. As he poured he prompted Miss Kirkhope. 'What exactly was going on in Beechwood?'

Anxiety deepened the many lines already ingrained on the old woman's face. 'Some new kind of religious sect was using the house as their church The Temple of the Golden Consciousness, I believe they called it. Something silly like that. There seemed to be so many ridiculous societies around in those days.' Her anxiety had given way to disdain.

'Unfortunately there still are,' Jessica said.

'Had your brother joined this religious sect, Miss Kirkhope?' Bishop asked as he handed her the sherry.

'Oh yes, he belonged to it. A full, practising member by that time. My father kept the more sordid details from my mother and me, but I gather sexual orgies played a large part in their worship. I suppose they could have got away with that but for the terrible row they made. The neighbours objected. Father cancelled the lease on Beechwood right away, of course, and ordered the tenants and their strange friends out. Dominic wouldn't come anywhere near us; he hid himself away somewhere. Suffering from shame, no doubt.'

'Who were these tenants?' Jessica asked gently.

'Oh, I can't remember their names, it was too long ago. A man and his wife or mistress I can't be sure now. They must have been insane, anyway.'

'What makes you say that?' said Bishop.

'They refused to leave. Nothing odd in that, I know, but when they were informed they would be forcibly evicted, they took a rather extreme stand.'

'What did they do? Barricade themselves in?'

'No,' Miss Kirkhope replied mildly, 'they killed themselves.'

Bishop felt his muscles tense and he knew by the expression on Jessica's face she had been startled too.

'For some reason,' the old lady continued, 'nobody seemed to settle in Beechwood after that. Stories, silly rumours spread by neighbours, saw to it. People would move in, stay perhaps a few months, then leave. I think a year was the longest anyone ever stayed in that house. My mother died, my father's health became poor, and I became even more involved in his business activities, so Beechwood was rather lost in the background of things. We had agents who looked after our various properties and they rarely bothered us unless a specific problem arose. I must admit I didn't give much thought to Beechwood over the years.'

'What of your brother?' Jessica enquired. 'Did he ever return to the house? Apart from the . . . last time, that is.'

'I don't know. Possibly. Probably. As I said, Beechwood held a special fascination for him. The only time I had any real contact with Dominic after the earlier scandal was when Father died. Let me see, that would be . . . 1948. He came for his share of the inheritance. He gladly relinquished any rights in the family business, but was rather chagrined at being left out on the property. Father, rather wisely, left it all to me, you see. I remember my brother wanted to buy Beechwood from me, but I refused, having recalled what went on there in the past. Quite enraged, he was, like a naughty little boy who couldn't have his way.' She smiled but it was only a sad memory.

'I didn't see much of him after that, nor did I want to. I didn't like what he'd become.'

'What was that, Miss Kirkhope?'

She looked steadily at Bishop, the smile still on her face. 'That is my secret, Mr Bishop. I only heard stories from other people and I had no proof that they were true; but whether they were or not, I've no wish to discuss it.' Her thin, white hands curled around her glass, the fingers locking together. 'The house remained empty for many years, until I decided to put it on the market along with the other properties I owned. I was no longer able to carry on with the business in an efficient manner and I placed responsibility in more capable hands. I still have a nominal place on the board, but hardly any influence in how the company is run. I sold the properties at a time when the company needed a swift injection of ready cash, but the respite, I'm afraid, was only brief. Still, I'm comfortable enough. There's not much financially that can touch me in my last years. That's one of the nice things about old age you have less of a future to worry about.'

'But you didn't sell Beechwood.'

'Couldn't, Mr Bishop, couldn't. That was the irony of it the one property I wanted to be rid of, no one would buy!' She shook her head in amusement. 'The Kirkhope Folly you might call it. Or the Kirkhope Curse. I even went to the lengths of having it completely renovated, but still nobody wanted it. The agents blamed it on "bad atmosphere". Apparently it happens occasionally in the property market. That's why your services were called upon, Mr Bishop, to officially "cleanse" the house, if you like.'

'I told the agent at the time I was no exorcist.'

'Nor did you have any belief in ghosts as such. That was why they chose you in particular. The estate agents informed me that unexplained disturbances in a place could often be due to nothing more than an underground stream running beneath the house, land subsidence or even shrinkage.'

'A great many strange happenings can be explained by a detailed site examination, Miss Kirkhope. Rappings, doors opening for no reason, creaks, groans, sudden pools of water, cold spots there's usually a logical explanation for them all.'

'Well, the agents felt sure you would uncover the cause.'

'Unfortunately, I didn't get the chance to.'

'No. But now you want another crack at it.'

He nodded. 'With your permission.'

'But your motives are not quite the same as Miss Kulek's and her father's.'

'No. Jacob Kulek and Jessica believe there is something sinister in Beechwood. I'd like to prove them wrong.'

'And I thought you were doing it for money,' Jessica said, the sarcasm heavy in her voice.

'There's that too.'

Agnes Kirkhope ignored the sudden antagonism between her visitors. 'Don't you think there has been enough publicity concerning Willow Road? Do you really think it's necessary to drag up the whole terrible affair of Beechwood again?'

'I told you earlier that Jacob Kulek's opinion is highly regarded in the field of psychical research. From what I know of him he's not a man to make rash judgements or speculate wildly. He thinks I may remember something more about the day I went to Beechwood. For my part, I'd just like to finish the job I started and, for reasons of my own, I'd like to prove him wrong about the house.'

'I promise you the investigation would be discreet,' Jessica said earnestly. 'We would report our findings to you before taking any other action.'

'And if you did, and I asked you not to take the matter any further, would you comply?'

'I can't say, Miss Kirkhope. That would depend.'

'On what you discovered?'

'Yes.'

With a loud sigh and a shrug of her shoulders, Agnes Kirkhope surprised them both again by saying, 'Very well. There's very little to interest an old woman like me nowadays. Perhaps this will throw some light into my rather dull life. I take it, then, that you will pay Mr Bishop's fee?'

'Yes, of course,' said Jessica.

'I think I would like to know why Dominic killed himself.'

'There's no way we'll find that out,' Bishop said quickly.

'Probably not. But perhaps I believe more in the mysteries of life than you do, Mr Bishop, despite your profession. We shall see.'

'Then we can go ahead?' asked Jessica.

'Yes, my dear, you can go ahead. There is just one thing.'

Bishop and Jessica leaned forward as one.

'You have a very short time in which to complete your investigation. In four days from now, Beechwood will be demolished.'