FORBIDDEN PLACE 7

THE AINSWORTH ARMS had merited a mention in every good-food guide covering Devon. Though its restaurant was fully booked, the landlord always kept a table in reserve for Lord Burnet or his friends.

The pub occupied a prime position at the top of the main street winding down to the crescentshaped bay, an ancient hostelry which had opened its doors to travellers since the Middle Ages. That night was no exception. Every room had been taken, the holiday season being in full spate.

Karen was charmed by this fine example of a traditional coaching inn, a place of sooted beams hung with polished horse brasses, and open fireplaces that would blaze with logs in cold weather. Gleaming copper warming-pans adorned the panelled walls, and a collection of willow-pattern china, ships in bottles, enamelled signs and a hundred and one curios.

Their table was in the wide semi-circular window looking out over the harbour. The dying sun spread a dazzling copper path across the sea, and masts reared int