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labrador had been lying on the
    rug in front of the hearth, and as Davina came slowly into the room
    he got up ponderously and ambled across to put a damp but
    welcoming nose into her hand. Then he put his head back and gave
    a deep-throated bark.
    'Quiet, you old fool,' a woman's voice called from the regions
    behind the bar. 'What's the matter with you?'
    The curtain that hid the doorway through to the other bar was
    pushed aside and she came in, small and dark with glasses pushed
    up on her forehead. She put her hand to her mouth in mock dismay
    when she caught sight of Davina.
    'There now,' she said. 'Me calling him names, and he was only
    trying to tell me you were here. What can I get you?'
    'I'd like a lager.' Davina hoisted herself gracefully on to one of the
    tall padded stools along the bar counter and returned the woman's
    smile. 'And a sandwich, if that's possible.'
    'More than possible,' the woman said briskly. 'There's ham, cheese
    or turkey. Or I've a menu somewhere ...' She began to fill a glass
    with lager, peering round for the menu card as she did so.
    'Turkey would be fine,' Davina assured her.
    'Come far, have you?' The woman set the glass down on a mat and
    pushed it towards Davina. Her twinkling eyes frankly assessed the
    classic lines of the cool shirtwaister dress, and the cost of the gold
    chain Davina wore round her throat.
    'Quite a way,' Davina agreed noncommittally. The lager was
    ice-cold, frosting the outside of the glass, and she sipped it
    gratefully.
    'It's chilly in here.' The landlady hunched her shoulders in a slight
    shiver. 'Shall I put a match to the old fire for you?'
    'Oh, no, please.' Davina put out a detaining hand. 'It's a gorgeous
    day. Perhaps I could take a chair outside.'
    'No need for that. There's a patch of grass at the back and a few
    tables. You can sit and look at the river and I'll bring your
    sandwiches out to you.'
    'Do you get many tourists?' Davina asked, gathering up her handbag
    and preparing to follow.
    'Oh yes. Surprising it is. Families, mostly, which is why I have the
    tables outside—for the children, see. Funny old licensing laws we
    have. And there'll be more visitors, I daresay, if the old mill up the
    valley gets working again as they reckon.'
    'Mill?' Davina raised her brows questioningly.
    The woman nodded vigorously. 'An old woollen mill. Very
    dilapidated, but they say it will work again. Fine thing, too, for
    Moel y Ddraig when it does. A bit of local industry to keep the
    youngsters from drifting away.'
    She led the way along a narrow passage and flung open the door at
    the end.
    'Through the yard, see, and round the corner,' she directed. 'I'll bring
    your lunch in a minute.'
    It was a wide lawn, sloping gently down towards the river at the
    bottom. Davina strolled down to the bank and stood on its edge,
    gazing down into the clear fast-flowing water. It was quite shallow
    at this point, but further out there were deeper pools and in one of
    these two small boys stood fishing happily. They gave Davina a
    friendly wave, and she waved back, suddenly enjoying the fresh
    sparkle of the water and the kiss of the sun on her face.
    The sandwiches which arrived with amazing promptness were
    delicious—thick slices of turkey breast with a slight sprinkling of
    salt laid between chunks of undoubtedly home-made bread. The
    butter too had a taste which had nothing to do with supermarkets.
    Even the crusts were good. When she had finished, Davina sat back
    with a sigh of repletion. She smilingly refused an offer of apple pie
    and cream, but accepted a cup of coffee.
    'You don't do bed and breakfast, I suppose?' She was only
    half-joking. It had occurred to her that she would need to stay
    overnight somewhere, and that the inn would make as good a base
    as any.
    'I'm sorry, I don't.' The landlady set a cup of coffee down on the
    small iron table and added a bowl of brown sugar. 'But Mrs Parry
    might be able to help you, that is if she's not full up with