Time for Silence

The Man in the Forest

IN JULY OF 1917 ANNABELINDA and Marcus were married.

With my parents, Aunt Celeste and Robert, I went down to the Denver home for the occasion.

Aunt Belinda greeted us with suppressed excitement. There was no doubt of her satisfaction in the marriage.

“Marcus’s parents will be arriving the day before the ceremony,” she told us. “I think they will be leaving the day after.” She grimaced. “They are very grand, of course, not like Marcus, who is the dearest man. I think he is a little in awe of them. Annabelinda says she feels very much as if she is on approval. However, they can’t do much after the wedding, can they? I’m exaggerating, of course. I’m sure they’ll be very nice guests. They’ll adore Big Robert…and my young one, too. Those two get on with most people. In any case, the Denver family goes back as far as theirs. It just happens they didn’t manage to secure a dukedom on the way. All they got was a baronetcy.”

“I wouldn’t worry about such a trivial matter, if I were you,” said my mother.

“Who’s talking about being worried, Lucie? Certainly I’m not. Nothing can go wrong. Once this ring is on my daughter’s finger and it is all signed and sealed, the matter is closed. And at least Marcus is a darling. We all adore him. They will be leaving almost immediately after the ceremony for the honeymoon. It’s a pity they can’t go somewhere romantic like Florence or Venice. But it will have to be Torquay…and then Marcus has to get back to work. Wars are such a bore. They spoil everything.”

“Yes,” said my mother. “People’s lives and even honeymoons.”

“Still the same old Lucie. But in spite of everything, this is fun. Wait till you see Annabelinda’s wedding dress.”

“I am sure it’s magnificent,” said my mother.

Marcus’s parents arrived. His father was affable and obviously quite fascinated by Aunt Belinda, who had made a great effort to attract him. His mother was undoubtedly formidable. She was gracious rather than friendly; and I guessed at once that it was she who was so insistent in reminding them of their ancient lineage and noblesse oblige.

Fleetingly I wondered what she would have said if she had known of Annabelinda’s lapse from virtue. I had a feeling that she would have done everything in her power to prevent the marriage—and that power would have been great.

I sat in church next to Robert. I watched Annabelinda come up the aisle on Sir Robert’s arm. They looked very well together; he tall and very pleasant-looking, because of that expression of good will toward the world, of which I had always been aware, chiefly because his son had inherited it. As for Annabelinda, she was startlingly beautiful in a dress of white satin and lace, and there was a wreath of orange blossoms in her hair.

The marriage ceremony began, and I saw Marcus put the ring on her finger. I listened to them, taking their vows. And I could not stop myself from imagining that I was there in her place. I had had my dreams and an occasion like this brought home to me how ridiculous I had been.

“It is experience,” my mother would have said. “You learn something from it.”

What I had learned was that I must never deceive myself again.

The strains of the Wedding March flowed out and there they were—surely one of the most handsome couples who had ever been married in this church—coming down the aisle and looking wonderfully happy.

Then we went back to the Denver home for the reception.

Aunt Belinda was greeting everyone, saying what a beautiful service it had been, what a handsome bridegroom, what a beautiful bride. They were cutting the cake…Annabelinda wielding the knife and Marcus helping her, then drinking the champagne from the Denver cellars. Speeches followed.

Aunt Celeste was standing beside me.

“Aren’t they charming?” she said. “Just what a bride and groom should be. I wish my brother were here to see them.”

“I wonder what Monsieur Jean Pascal is doing now?” I said.

She shook her head.

“You haven’t heard anything?” I asked.

She shook her head again. “It could not be easy to get news. I don’t know where the enemy is in his area. One doesn’t hear anything.”

“They wouldn’t have gone to Valenciennes, I suppose. That would be very close to the fighting.”

“My brother himself was hardly ever there. The Princesse went now and then. I daresay they are at the château. I wish I could get some news.”

“It’s nearly three years since all this started. I can’t believe it.”

Aunt Celeste nodded. “I am so relieved that you and Annabelinda were able to get home.”

“Yes, thanks to Marcus.”

“And how romantic this has turned out. It has made me think a lot about my brother. It would have been wonderful if he had been able to be here today.”

Robert came up.

“You look sad,” he said. “Why is it that there is always an element of sadness about weddings?”

“They remind people of so much,” I said.

“Yes, I suppose so. Let me fill your glasses.”

He signed to the waiters while Aunt Celeste stared ahead, thinking of her brother who was somewhere in France.

The speeches were over, the bride and groom had left for Torquay. Robert said to me, “It’s hot in here. Too many people. Let’s slip outside.”

I was glad to and we went into the garden.

“It’s beautiful out here,” I said.

“You like it, don’t you?”

“I always have. I used to love coming here when I was little. You were always nice to me, Robert. Although I was quite a bit younger than you, you never reminded me of it, like Annabelinda, who did all the time.”

“Oh, no one takes any notice of Annabelinda.”

“I did. She’s two years older than I and never let me forget it.”

“Well, you are old enough now not to be concerned about those two years.” He stood still, looking about him. “There is something special about one’s own home,” he said. “Somehow it seems as though it is a part of you.”

“I know.”

“The paddock over there. I used to ride round and round on my pony, feeling very adventurous. I’ll never forget the first day I was let off the leading rein. There’s the old oak tree. I climbed that once. I’d done something I shouldn’t have and I thought I’d hide myself so that they couldn’t find me.”

“I can’t think you ever did anything very bad.”

“Oh, please,” he said. “You make me sound impossible. I was always in trouble with Nanny Aldridge, I can tell you.”

“Well, very minor peccadilloes, I am sure.”

“You’re laughing at me.”

“Well, you are, and always have been, good. One could rely on you…unlike Annabelinda.”

“You mean dull.”

“Why do people think goodness is synonymous with dullness?”

“Because it is often a kind way of saying one is unimaginative.”

“And winning medals on the battlefield?”

“That was chance. A lot of people deserved them and didn’t get noticed.”

“I won’t listen to such talk. You were never dull, and I always loved it when you arrived.”

“Lucinda, will you marry me?”

I was silent and he went on. “It is what I have always wanted. I know that both our families would be delighted.”

I could still find nothing to say. I could not plead surprise, for there had always been this very special friendship between us, but on Annabelinda’s wedding day, when I was admitting to myself that I had had very tender feelings toward her bridegroom, was not the time. My emotions were in too much of a turmoil.

I heard myself stammer, “Robert…it’s too soon. I hadn’t thought…”

“I understand,” he said. “You want to think about it. Marriage is a serious undertaking.”

Still I was silent. To marry Robert! Everything would be pleasant, comforting. I should live here in this beautiful place. My mother would be delighted. She loved Robert, as so many people did. Annabelinda would be my sister-in-law. It was strange that that should be one of the first thoughts that occurred to me.

Robert was saying, “I know you like me, Lucinda. I mean you don’t really find me dull.”

“Do get that foolish notion out of your head. You are not dull and I am very, very fond of you.”

“But…” he said sadly.

“It’s just too soon.”

A smile crossed his face. “I didn’t lead up to it, did I? I just blundered in. Trust me.”

“No, Robert. It’s not that at all. It is just that I don’t feel ready.”

“Let’s leave it. Forget I said anything. We’ll talk about it some other time.”

“Yes, do let’s. You know how happy I always am with you. I was so pleased when you came to Marchlands. But just now…”

“You don’t have to explain. I am going to ask you again.”

I turned to him and put my arms around him and for a few seconds he held me against him.

“Yes, Robert,” I said. “Just a little time, please.”

“That’s fine. I’ll ask you again. There’s one thing I haven’t told you.”

“What is that?”

“I have to go before a medical board in three weeks’ time.”

“What does that mean?” I asked in alarm.

“They’ll assess how fit I am.”

“They couldn’t possibly send you out there again!”

“We’ll have to see.”

Some of the guests were coming out into the garden and Aunt Celeste joined us.

I felt very unsettled and disturbed. I could not bear the thought of Robert’s leaving England.

I was relieved when Robert’s visit to the medical board had to be postponed. There was a slight complication with his leg. It needed more rest, Dr. Egerton decided, and therefore the medical board would have to wait for a few weeks.

Edward was now four years old. I was not sure of the actual date of his birth, but my mother had suggested we make it the fourth of August. That was the date when Britain had declared war on Germany.

“Let us have something pleasant to remember it by, as well as all the horror,” said my mother.

Edward was now quite a person. He was very curious about everything, full of energy, quite fluent and very amusing. We all thought he was an exceptionally bright child, and it was a little more than prejudice, I do believe, that made us feel this.

He was interested in birthdays because they meant parties. He had been to one or two with other children in the neighborhood and now it was his turn.

We invited about ten local children. There was a cake with four candles, and Andrée and I, with help from my mother when she could spare the time, planned some games that would be suitable for the children.

Edward was devoted to Andrée, but I think he had a rather special feeling for me. I had always tried to be with him as much as possible. In spite of the fact that I myself had had an excellent nanny, my mother had always been closer to me than anyone else. I wanted Edward to feel the same about me. I wanted to make up for his mother’s callous desertion and the loss of his loving foster-mother. I did not want him to be deprived of anything in life.

I used to read a story to him every night before he went to sleep, and I knew how much he looked forward to that.

Andrée used to say, “He loves me as his nanny, but you as his mother.”

“Poor child,” I said. “How sad it all was for him.”

“Don’t expect me to feel pity for him!” she retorted. “I think he is one of the luckiest of children. Here he is, with every luxury…surrounded by love. He’s got your mother, you, me…and the servants all dote on him and would spoil him if I didn’t look out.”

“It’s because he is adorable.”

I could see she was thinking of her own childhood, which had been so different. Poor Andrée! I was so glad that she seemed happier with us.

There were ten children in all at the party. But the nursery was a big room. It would be the schoolroom later, as it had been such a short time ago when I had studied with Miss Carruthers. Books were stacked in the cupboard; the big table with the ink stains on it was covered by a white cloth. On it were jellies, tarts and scones, and in the place of honor, the birthday cake.

There was great fun with Edward’s trying to blow out the candles, and then the children crowded around and consumed the treats with relish. After the food was cleared away, we played games.

There was a good deal of laughing and shouting. “Pass the parcel” was a great favorite, with everyone shrieking with delight when the music stopped and the one who was holding the parcel took off another wrapper; there were more expressions of delight when the music started again and the parcel went on its way, to fall as a prize into the hands of the child who held it when the music finally stopped and a paint box was revealed.

They scrambled their way through “musical chairs” and “statues.” Andrée was a very good organizer and was able to control the children with the right amount of benevolent authority that is essential on such occasions.

As it was a fine day, we went into the garden and there they could run about as much as they wished. When it was time for the guests to go, Edward, standing beside me, received their thanks with dignity. Andrée had gone up to the nursery, and Edward and I were alone.

I smiled down at him. “It was a good party, wasn’t it?” I said.

“It was a good party.” He had a habit of repeating such statements as if he were in agreement with them.

“So now,” I went on, “you are well and truly four years old.”

“Next time I’ll be five.”

“Yes, five years old.”

“Then six, seven and eight.”

“You’re making the years go too quickly.”

“When I’m ten, I’ll go riding without James.”

“Yes, I daresay. Where do you like to ride best?”

“I like the forest best.”

“Do you ride there with Andrée?”

He nodded. “James, too. Sometimes just Andrée.”

“And you like that?”

He nodded again, “I like the forest.”

“Why?”

“Trees,” he said. “And people.”

“People?”

“The man.”

“What man?”

“Andrée’s man.”

“Andrée meets a man, does she?”

He nodded.

“What? Every time?”

“A lot of times. They talk. They walk the horses. Andrée keeps looking at me. She says, ‘Stay there, Edward.’ ”

“And do you stay there?”

He nodded.

“Do you know the man? Is he someone from the hospital?”

He shook his head vigorously.

“So, he’s a stranger?”

“He’s a stranger.” He mouthed the word and repeated it as he often did when he heard a word for the first time.

“The forest’s nice,” he said. “When I’m five I won’t have a leading rein. I’ll ride fast. I’ll gallop….”

“I am sure you will.”

I was thinking about Andrée’s meeting with a stranger. A man. Well, she was young; she was quite good-looking. It hadn’t occurred to me before that she might have an admirer.

We were halfway through September, and Robert was still with us. Dr. Egerton still was not entirely satisfied and thought that a little more rest was needed. He said he wanted to keep his eye on this patient for a little longer.

We were all relieved. Often I would feel Robert’s wistful eyes on me and I wanted then to do anything to comfort him. I was fully aware of how miserable I should be if he went away and what terrible anxiety I should suffer wondering what was happening to him. The third Battle of Ypres had begun and there was particularly bitter fighting at this time. The casualties were great. I used to shudder when bad cases were brought to us, and I always thought, That might have been Robert.

Sybil Egerton talked to me about him. We had grown accustomed to calling her Sybil now. “Mrs. Egerton” was too formal and she was no longer “Miss Carruthers.” She was at the hospital every day, arriving with her husband and staying until early evening. She was very efficient, practical, a little brisk and quite unsentimental. This suited some of those who were severely wounded, for she made them feel that they were not so badly off as they had imagined and that there were others far worse. She used to read to those whose eyesight was damaged, and it made my mother and me smile to see her in one of the little rooms with those who could get there, reading Dickens to them. It was like a small class and she was very much the schoolmistress, but it happened to be just the treatment they needed. Marrying the doctor had added to her stature.

She announced to me in her straightforward manner, “Robert Denver is in love with you.”

I did not answer and she went on. “He is a good man and you could not find anyone more suited to you.”

“I’ve known him all my life,” I said.

“So much the better. He is the antithesis of his sister.”

“I know.”

“I’m sure he would make you happy. Marriage is the ideal state…providing it is the right marriage.”

Having found satisfaction herself in this state, she felt herself qualified to help others to do likewise.

She was smiling wisely at me, indicating that if I needed any advice on the matter, I should come to her.

My mother also talked to me of Robert.

“It seems odd to want to hold back someone’s recovery, but I do hope Robert stays with us a little longer. Surely this miserable war must come to an end soon. He does care for you, you know.”

“Sybil was talking about him.”

“Oh, yes, she was telling me how pleased she would be to see you settled. I think you are very fond of Robert.”

“Yes, I am. He…he has asked me.”

“You haven’t said no.”

“I am not sure….”

“I see. He’s a good man, Lucinda. One of the best. He’s like his father. Who but Sir Robert would have put up with Belinda all these years?”

“I can’t be hurried into anything so serious.”

“You’re not still thinking of…?”

It was always thus between us. We knew each other’s minds so well that we followed the working of them without having to put it into words.

“My dear Lucinda,” she said. “It’s all for the best that it ended like this. I don’t think you would have been happy with him. He is very attractive and has all the social graces…but there is something superficial about him…something too worldly. You would have been disappointed. You’re not like that at all. You’re honest and sincere. He was brought up in a different atmosphere from the one you were. There would have been irritations in time.”

“Whereas I’ve known Robert all my life.”

“That’s no drawback.”

“There are no surprises,” I said. “It’s all so predictable.”

“Marcus came to you in a dramatic way. It was all rather romantic…not so much while you were living it perhaps, but when you look back. That’s what so often happens in life. The things we anticipate with such excitement and look back on and find so amusing are often quite uncomfortable while we are actually living them. As I say, he appeared on the scene; he took charge of everything; he took you out of danger. Of course he seems romantic. At one time I thought you and he…I tried to reconcile myself, but I didn’t really like it because I felt it wouldn’t work. He’s charming, but he’s suave. I know people like him. He goes out of his way to please, but somehow I don’t think his feelings go deep…if you know what I mean. He seemed to be very interested in you until Annabelinda appeared again. I know she made a dead set at him, but she couldn’t have forced him to ask her to marry him, could she? He had to want to…and he asked her so soon. Sometimes, my dearest Lucinda, something happens in life which hurts…but when it’s past you can look back on it and see that it is all for the best.”

I nodded and she came to me and kissed me.

“The war must soon be over,” she said. “Then everything will work out well for us all, I know. We shall all be looking at things differently…more normally, more naturally.”

I hoped she was right.

I thought a great deal about what she had said. Robert would go away soon. Perhaps I should never see him again. Perhaps my mother and Sybil were right. Perhaps I should marry him. It was what he wanted. Sometimes I thought I wanted it, too.

Why did I hesitate? Because I was not like Marcus and could not turn to another so easily. He was so different from Robert—what they called a man of the world. He had a secret family and had been almost nonchalant about it, as though it were natural for a man in his position. Perhaps it was.

I did still think of him with pangs of longing, and I often wondered how he and Annabelinda were getting on together.

I found during that period that I wanted to be alone, to think about what was happening. Perhaps in wartime, with death and separation constantly at hand, one saw things less clearly than one did in the calmness of peace. Then life went on more or less predictably. During war, one never knew when one was going to hear bad news; one never knew what catastrophe was going to strike.

I liked to sit on an overturned tree trunk which had been lying in one part of the forest for as long as I could remember. It was quiet and peaceful there; the trees growing thickly around it made it a secluded spot.

I was constantly asking myself why I hesitated about accepting Robert’s proposal.

Accept him, said common sense. You should marry one day. You want children. Look how you feel about Edward. As my mother said, I had seen Marcus in a romantic light…escaping from danger with him when he was like some hero from an old legend. But he had not turned out to be what I had believed. He had made me care for him and then had quickly turned from me to Annabelinda. And then I had made that discovery about his secret life. I wondered how many secrets there were in his life. With Robert one would always know. Everything he did would be open and honest.

And as I sat there brooding, I became aware of the sound of horses’ hooves. Someone was riding nearby. I heard voices. Andrée and Edward. I would surprise them. I made my way through the trees. There was a small clearing just beyond, and it was from this direction that the voices came.

I emerged from the trees and there they were. Edward was on his pony; Andrée was holding the leading rein, and with them was a man.

Immediately I remembered my conversation with Edward when he had told me that they met a man in the forest.

“Hello,” I called out.

There was silence, broken by Edward who shouted, “Lucinda!”

I advanced. And then I clearly saw the man to whom Andrée was talking. For a few moments we stared at each other.

“Oh, hello,” Andrée said.

The man took off his hat and bowed.

“Good-bye,” he said. And to Andrée, “Thanks.” Then he disappeared through the trees.

I thought I was dreaming. When he had taken off his hat, I was sure. I recognized that thick yellow hair. It was Carl Zimmerman.

I felt stunned. Then I wondered if I had been mistaken. True, it was only the third time I had seen him and always in strange circumstances: long ago outside the cubbyhole; in the gardens of La Pinière; and now, here in the forest, talking to Andrée. What could it mean?

“Who was that?” I said.

“He was asking the way,” she said.

“I…I thought it was someone I knew.”

“Really?”

“You found us, Lucinda,” Edward said.

“Yes, I found you.”

“Like hide-and-seek. Can we play hide-and-seek when we get home?”

“I daresay we might,” promised Andrée.

I wanted to ask questions about the man whom I believed to be Carl Zimmerman, but I did not feel I could do so in front of Edward. One can never be sure how much children understand. They often appear to be not listening when they are taking in everything. I kept thinking that if it had been Carl Zimmerman, he would be seeing his son for the first time. He would not know, of course, but what might have been an ordinary encounter in the forest had taken on a dramatic turn.

Secrets, I thought. Everywhere there were secrets.

I took the first opportunity of talking to Andrée.

“That man you were with…” I said.

She wrinkled her brows and looked puzzled.

“The man you were talking to when I came upon you in the forest.”

“Oh, you mean the one who was asking the way?”

“Yes. I just wondered if you’d seen him before?”

“No. Why should you think that?”

“Oh, it was something Edward said about your meeting a man in the forest.”

“Edward?”

“Yes, he said he’d seen a man.”

She flushed slightly. “Oh, he must have meant Tom Gilroy.”

“Isn’t he one of the male nurses?”

“Yes. The big strong one.”

“Oh, I know.”

“Well, we have been rather friendly, and we have met once or twice in the forest.”

“Oh, I see.” I smiled. It was natural that a girl like Andrée should have an admirer. But I was still shocked by the encounter with Carl Zimmerman. Then I began to think I might have been mistaken.

I had soon convinced myself that the stranger who had asked Andrée the way had merely looked like him. After all, the meeting had been over in a few minutes.

Nineteen-seventeen was coming to an end. It had been a momentous year. There had been a revolution in Russia, and the armistice between that country and Germany had released more German forces to be used on the Western Front. Nearer home, just before Christmas, Robert had been called before the medical board in London and pronounced fit for military service. The news depressed us considerably, though Robert took it philosophically.

“Couldn’t hang on much longer,” he said with a grimace.

“Oh, Robert,” I cried and clung to him.

I almost said that we should become engaged. If he had pressed me then, I should have said I would marry him. I kept telling myself that I loved him. He was far more perceptive than he pretended to be, and I believe he did not want to force me to a decision until I was absolutely sure.

Just after Christmas he came down to Marchlands and told us that he was going to do a course on Salisbury Plain and would be there for six weeks.

We were jubilant.

“Six weeks!” said my mother. “And the course does not start until mid-January. It’s a reprieve.”

“You’re very fond of Robert, aren’t you?” I said.

“My dear Lucinda, who could help being fond of Robert? He’s one of the nicest people I know.”

I felt that I was being gently nudged toward Robert, which made me feel I wanted to hold off. I could see what the future would be. The Denver estate would be my home, Aunt Belinda my mother-in-law, Annabelinda my sister-in-law.

I should be close to my own family, of course. I should see Marcus often. But perhaps he and Annabelinda would go off to foreign places—Bombay, Madras, Colombo. My life would be very little different from what it always had been.

My father came down to Marchlands for most weekends.

“He looks a little strained,” said my mother. “I do hate his being alone up there for most of the week.”

He and my mother went for walks in the forest. I think he had very few secrets from her and I sensed that they were both uneasy.

It was January. Robert was no longer at Marchlands, having left for the course.

“It doesn’t seem the same without him,” my mother said. “He is always so cheerful, so understanding. I think you miss him very much, Lucinda.”

“Yes, I do.”

“I have an idea. Why don’t you get away from Marchlands for a while? Why not go to London and be with your father? I worry about him up there on his own. You’d be company for him.”

It did seem a good idea, for I was missing Robert very much.

I was getting worried. There was no sign of an end to the war, and when the course was finished, Robert would have to go out there into danger. There would be less to remind me of him in London and I should see him when he came back from the course.

“I should miss Edward,” I said. “And I think he rather depends on me.”

“Perhaps he and Andrée could go up with you. Then you’d have plenty to do.”

“Andrée might not be so eager.”

“She seems to enjoy trips to London.”

“Yes. But now she is getting friendly with Tom Gilroy, I think.”

“Really? Nice man, Tom.”

“So I think and, apparently, so does she.”

“How did you know?”

“Edward rather betrayed it.”

“Edward?”

“He told me that they met a man in the forest. And Andrée told me it was Tom Gilroy.”

“Oh, I’m glad.”

“Why do people who are happily married want to arrange marriages for everyone else?”

“Because they want them to enjoy similar marital bliss, of course.”

We laughed.

“Sound out Andrée,” said my mother. “See what she says. She need not be there all the time if she’s so anxious to be with Tom.”

I did sound out Andrée. I was amazed at her response. Her eyes lit up.

“Oh, yes, I should like to go to London for a spell,” she said.

“I thought perhaps you might not…now…”

“It would be exciting for a while.”

“Do you think Edward would like it?”

“He’ll like it if we’re there, though he might have a few qualms at being parted from his new pony.”

“We shall come back most weekends.”

“Then there will be a reunion with his pony. He will love it.”

At dinner that night, my mother said to my father, “Lucinda is coming up to London for a while to look after you. She thinks you’re looking peaky.”

He smiled at me. “Thank you, Lucinda. Let’s go for a nice long walk tomorrow morning, and we’ll have a chat.”

I felt there was something significant about that remark and that there was some special reason why my parents wanted me to go to London, apart from the fact that they both thought a change of scene might stop my brooding over Robert’s departure for the Front.

I was right, as I learned in the forest the next morning.

It was an ideal day for walking. There was a brisk chill in the air, but a wintry sun could be seen between the clouds and the wind was less penetrating among the protective trees.

The forest was the natural place to walk. We had done so all our lives. There was a certain feeling of security there. One could talk without being overheard.

My father took my arm and said, “Lucinda, I want to talk to you very seriously. I have discussed this with your mother and we both think you might be able to help.”

“I?”

“Yes, listen. We are very distressed.”

“Distressed? Who?”

“I…and my friends. You know, don’t you, that I am involved in certain work?”

“I know there has always been something of a mystery…and that it was not concerned with your parliamentary life.”

He nodded. “There is no need for me to tell you that I am talking to you very confidentially.”

“I do understand that.”

“Lives could be at risk. There is no doubt of that. A careless word…you know how it is. You remember what happened at Milton Priory?”

I nodded.

“That was sabotage. It was due to a leak of special information that was in my possession.”

“I knew there was something mysterious about it and how upset you were.”

“It is not the only instance. I keep certain papers at the house in London. You see, my part in all this…is in a way unofficial.”

“I realized it was something like that, ever since Mama told me about the time when you were in Africa and were reported missing….”

“Well, even she doesn’t know all the details, but I want you to come up to London because I think you can be of help to me.”

“How can I do that?”

“There is nothing much, except to watch.”

“In the house, you mean?”

He nodded. “There are certain papers of mine which are being seen and copied…and passed on to the enemy.”

“Do you mean there is a spy in the house?”

“Well…there has been no break-in. It seems as though someone in the house…”

“One of the servants?”

“Perhaps. Or someone they are acquainted with…a friend…a visitor…a workman.”

“Looking at secret papers and passing them on to the enemy! I can’t believe it.”

“I am away for most of the day. It would not be impossible for someone to be let into the house…to get to my room.”

“What a terrible thing! Someone in the house…a traitor! I suppose someone has to go into your room to clean?”

“I have told Mrs. Cherry that I do not want anything disturbed there, and for that reason, I have asked her to clean the room herself. She has a special day for doing it, and for the last few weeks I have made sure that on that day there is nothing of importance in the room.”

“I see. So in your bureau important papers are normally locked away.”

“I make sure that they are.”

“And you have the key to the bureau?”

“Yes, and it never leaves me. Until a few months ago, I used to have a spare key in a drawer. Now the two keys are in my possession all the time. What I want is for you to be watchful. My study will be locked from the outside. Only I and Mrs. Cherry have keys. You will be in the house while I am away. You can be alert for anything you consider to be suspicious.”

“It’s very melodramatic.”

“We live in melodramatic times.”

“I do hope I am going to be of use to you.”

“Your mother is sure that you will be. But more of all this later…when we are there.”

It was with considerable excitement that I made my preparations to leave for London.