Time for Silence

The House in the Square

I LEFT MARCHLANDS WITH my father. Andrée, with Edward, was to come the following day. When I arrived at the house that I had known all my life, it seemed to have a somewhat sinister aspect. It harbored a spy!

My mother had been right about my coming to London. I was stimulated. I had not thought about Robert’s going to the Front for several hours.

I went straight to my old room. So familiar and yet…But of course it had not changed. There were the banisters through which I had watched guests arriving at my parents’ parties; there was the staircase at the top of which they had stood to receive guests; there was the dear old cubbyhole where I had shared secrets with Annabelinda, and where Charles had tried to listen to what we were talking about. But the old familiar places seemed to have become a little different. It was a house in which a spy was lurking.

A German spy! I thought. I wondered what he would look like.

But my father did not really think he was a member of the household. That seemed impossible. The staff was depleted now. Fewer servants were needed. Just enough, as my mother said, to keep the place ticking over. Some had gone to Marchlands, some had been called up to the army, others were doing war work of some nature.

“It’s different in wartime,” said my mother. “We only need a skeleton staff.”

That was what we had in London now.

I considered them all. There were the Cherrys, butler and housekeeper, who really had become custodians, there to make sure that everything was kept in order and that my father was looked after while he was in residence. They had been with us for years. I could not imagine them, under any circumstances, turning into spies. Mrs. Cherry was extremely patriotic and ready to tackle anyone who had a word to say about the old country. Mr. Cherry was a firm supporter of Mr. Lloyd George and talked knowledgeably about the Welsh Wizard. Mrs. Cherry looked up to Mr. Cherry. She was the loyal, adoring wife, accepting his superiority on all matters concerning the war while she herself remained controller of the household.

For the rest there was only the housemaid, parlormaid and tweeny: Alice, Meg and Carrie. Alice was fortyish and had been with us since she was twenty; Meg was eighteen or so and deeply involved with a young man who was somewhere in France; and Carrie was fifteen and simple.

“You take what you can get in wartime,” my mother had said of her.

I could not imagine any of them copying documents and conveying them to the enemy. I believed Carrie could not write; and when Alice corresponded with her sister in Devon it was a laborious business. She would sit at the table, holding a pen, which she regarded as though it were a dangerous implement, her tongue peeping out at the corner of her mouth while she showed the utmost concentration. As for Meg, she might have been more able, but she seemed to think of nothing but when her Jim was coming home and they would “get engaged.”

There were, of course, people in the mews. Mr. and Mrs. Menton had been there for years. And there was young Eddie—I don’t remember hearing his surname—who had come in when James Mansell had been called up for the army.

Much to the delight of Mrs. Cherry and the other females of the household, Andrée arrived with Edward the next day.

There were gasps of wonder at the sight of Edward.

“My goodness gracious me, hasn’t he grown?” cried Mrs. Cherry.

“How old are you, love?” asked Alice.

“I’m four and a bit,” Edward told her. “Next year I’ll be five.”

“Would you believe it?” said Mrs. Cherry. “Some people are clever. Five and all.”

“It is not clever,” Edward told her rather scornfully. “Everybody is five after they’re four.”

“My word, here’s a sharp one.”

Edward looked a little dignified. I could see he was determined to make them understand that he was no longer a baby and must not be treated as one. Mrs. Cherry made the mistake of calling him “Eddy-Peddy” which aroused his indignation.

“It is an Edward,” he told her. “Not an Eddy-Peddy.”

How they laughed at his “old-fashioned ways”!

“He’s a real caution,” said Meg. And they enjoyed having him in the house, as I knew they would.

In the evening I dined with my father. I said the mystery had deepened for me since I came to the house, for I was certain that none of the people here could possibly be concerned with the leakage of information.

“I am coming more and more to the conclusion that it must be some workman. But it has happened fairly consistently, so be on your guard,” he said.

I assured him I would be.

Three days after my arrival, Annabelinda came to the house. She was quite exuberant and seemed very happy.

“Oh, Lucinda!” she cried. “It is wonderful to see you. I’m glad you’re going to be in London for a while. We’ll be able to see something of each other. How are you?”

“Very well. No need to ask how you are.”

“Everything is perfect. I am so happy, Lucinda. Marcus is just marvelous. I’m meeting lots of people, too…interesting people. Army and all that. The trouble is we can’t entertain as we would like to. This place we’re in…well, it is only temporary, and when Marcus was there just alone it was all right. But it’s different now.”

“Now that he has a dazzling wife to show off to his friends.”

She smiled. “I’ve made him see that we have to get a house.”

“What, now? With everything so uncertain?”

“We have to have a place in London!”

“What about this ancestral home we have heard so much about?”

“Very grand…oh, yes, very grand indeed. But to tell the truth, it’s too close for my liking.”

“To close to what?”

“My feudal in-laws.”

“Are they so bad?”

“Worse.” She grimaced. “So stiff and formal. My mama-in-law is determined to make me into a model Merrivale…one of the family. An insurmountable task, I am sure, and it is more than I can endure.”

“So you are all for the London life.”

“Yes, I shall see that visits to the ancestral home are few and far between.”

“Sounds like a good basis for a happy married life.”

“Why do you always spar with me, Lucinda?”

“If I do, it is because it seems the natural thing to do.”

“Are you just a little bit jealous?”

“Not the tiniest little bit.”

“Then you ought to be. I suppose you are going to marry Rob.”

“Nothing has been arranged.”

“It will be. Poor darling. They don’t like it much…our parents, I mean…Robert’s having to go out there again. There is this course, though. It could be extended for a week or two, and then I suppose he’ll be properly equipped to go out and do what he has been trained for.”

“I do wish they would stop this fighting.”

“Don’t we all? I’m lucky that Marcus is at the War Office.”

“How does he feel about that?”

“You know how he is about everything! He laughs it off. It’s no life for a soldier, he says, but I think he had enough of fighting at Gallipoli.”

“You must be delighted to have him home.”

“But of course. I’m going to have lots of fun when we get this house. I’m searching for it now. I want something rather like this one. I love the staircase. Can’t you just see Marcus standing up there, with me beside him, receiving the guests?”

“Quite clearly.”

“Oh, this wretched war, surely it can’t last much longer? Just imagine when it is all over.”

“It will be wonderful,” I said, thinking of Robert’s homecoming. “Andrée is here…with Edward.”

“Oh, really?” She looked faintly hurt, and gave me a suspicious look, which she often did when I mentioned Edward.

“Why have you brought them?” she asked.

I replied sharply, “I expect you will be surprised to hear that I hate parting from Edward; and, do you know, I think he misses me, too, when I am away. And as I shall be up here for some little time—though we shall be going to Marchlands for the weekends—I thought he should come with me. Why don’t you come and see him?”

She hesitated, and I went on. “Andrée is always so interested in you. She thinks you are very attractive and she admires you so much.”

She brightened a little and allowed me to take her to the nursery where Andrée was sitting at a table writing and Edward was on the floor with a jigsaw puzzle.

“Mrs. Merrivale has called,” I announced.

Andrée sprang up. “How nice to see you, Mrs. Merrivale.”

“Brings back old times, doesn’t it?” said Annabelinda. “We shall never forget…any of us…that trip across France.”

“That’s true,” replied Andrée, taking in every detail of Annabelinda’s appearance and clearly expressing her admiration.

“It seems ages ago.”

“It does indeed,” agreed Andrée. “A great deal has happened since then…you and the major marrying…”

“It all turned out wonderfully for me,” said Annabelinda.

“I think I was lucky, too,” added Andrée.

“Edward wants to say ‘how do you do,’ ” I said to Annabelinda.

“Hello, Edward,” she said.

He looked at her with curiosity and replied, “Hello,” and added, “Why do you wear that funny hat?”

“Edward’s appreciation of haute couture is not fully developed,” I said.

“It’s not funny, Edward,” chided Andrée. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you,” said Annabelinda. And to Edward, “I’m sorry you don’t like my hat.”

“I do like it,” he insisted. “I like it because it’s funny.”

“What are you making with your puzzle, Edward?” I asked.

“It’s a cat. His whiskers are on this one…and this is the start of his tail.” He turned to Annabelinda. “At the bottom,” he went on, “it spells cat.”

“So clever,” she murmured.

Edward turned away and said, “Shall I do the elephant?”

“Well, he is your favorite,” I said.

He was not really interested in Annabelinda beyond her hat. I thought how strange it was that he should not know her for his mother. It occurred to me that there might have been some instinct which would show itself; but there was not.

I squatted on the floor and we completed the cat and started on the elephant while Annabelinda chatted with Andrée.

Annabelinda talked mainly about herself, and Andrée seemed quite content to listen. She was explaining that she was going house hunting. “Always such fun.” The major would be giving her a free hand. As long as it was somewhere suitable, that was all he would care about; and she knew exactly what he wanted.

They were deep in conversation about houses while Edward and I finished the elephant and started on the giraffe.

The first week at the house passed very quickly, though fruitlessly as far as any discovery was concerned. I was beginning to be certain that the spy could only have been some visitor to the house.

Mrs. Cherry was friendly with the housekeeper of one of my father’s friends and she occasionally came in to take a cup of tea. I could not believe that the portly Mrs. Jordan, who complained a great deal about her rheumatics, could possibly creep about the house searching for vital information without Mrs. Cherry’s being aware of it.

The, mystery deepened. It could only have been some casual workman who had called at intervals perhaps, as it had happened more than once. It was a pity my father could not question Mrs. Cherry, but the one thing he did not want was to call attention to his suspicions.

I was watchful. Sometimes I would wake in the night and sit up listening. One night I even went down to the study. The door was firmly locked and everything was in darkness.

We went to Marchlands on Friday afternoon. Edward was joyfully reunited with his pony, Billy Boy, and enjoyed the animal even more because of the short separation. And on Monday we were on the move again.

During the second week Robert called.

I was delighted to see him, yet fearful because I knew what this meant. The course was now completed and he would be going away.

I was right. He was to leave at the end of the week.

“Oh, Robert,” I said. “How I wish…”

He gripped my hand and said, “I’ll be back soon, you’ll see. I’ll tell you what I’d like to do. I’d like to take a walk in the park…just like we used to. Just go over the old ground to remind myself while I’m away. Not that I shall need reminding.”

“Let’s do it.”

We walked through the trees and down to watch the ducks, which years ago we used to feed.

“Everything looks the same as it always did,” said Robert. “We’re lucky not to have the enemy invading this country.”

“Oh, how I wish it could all be over…and that you had not to go away.”

“It can’t go on much longer. Things are moving in the right direction. It just means hanging on a little.”

“It will be four years in August,” I reminded him. “People keep saying it will be over soon, but it goes on.”

He put his hand over mine. “The end is coming. I am sure of it,” he said.

“But you are going out there again. You’re so calm about it…almost as though you don’t mind.”

He was silent for a moment, then he said, “I suppose I am one of those people who don’t always show what they are feeling. At the moment, I am wishing I could sit on this seat forever…with you.”

“I do love you, Robert.”

“I know. Do they say ‘like a sister or brother’…as the case may be.”

“No, more than that. It’s true I have always thought of you as part of the family, because your mother and mine were brought up together for much of their childhood. No, it is more than that. Especially with you. I could not bear it if you did not come back.”

“I’ll come back,” he said. “I’ll come back to you.”

“You asked me to marry you. Is the offer still open?”

“It will be open until you accept it…or marry someone else.”

“It is time,” I said, “that we were thinking about the future.”

“Do you mean…?”

“I mean that I am getting older and wiser. I’m beginning to understand myself. The thought of your going away has made me realize how much you mean to me. Robert, you must come back to me.”

“I’ll have everything I want to come back to now.”

“I should have told you before…”

“We could have had a hasty wedding before I went. Perhaps this is best. I never wanted to hurry you. I could see how you felt. You’ve known me all your life. There was no sudden realization. Love did not have to be implanted by Cupid’s arrow in one exciting second. It was always there for me. It started when I first saw you nibbling the edge of your blanket in your pram in this very park. All the tricks of romance were missing. We didn’t have to go through the preliminary stages. It made it difficult to realize.”

“For you, too, Robert?”

“Oh, no…no. I could see it more clearly. When you were seven years old I decided I wanted to marry you. I was a little put out by the difference in our ages at that stage, but thank Heaven when you get older the gaps don’t seem so wide.”

“Wise old Robert!”

“Not very bright in some things, I fear, but in this I know exactly what I want, and what is right for me and—I hope—for you.”

“I know it is right.”

“Then we are engaged to be married. Is that so?”

“It is.”

“How wonderful it is sitting here with you. Look at that small boy feeding the ducks. You see that greedy one….Oh, good, he’s been pushed aside and the little one’s got the piece of cake, or whatever it is. Oh, it is wonderful to sit on this seat and become engaged!”

I slipped my arm through his. I sensed his contentment and shared it until I reminded myself that in a few days’ time he would be in the midst of danger.

“I wish we were still at Marchlands,” I said. “I wish your leg was so bad you couldn’t go. I’d wish anything to keep you here.”

“This is the happiest moment of my life. I just want to enjoy it.”

“How can I enjoy it when you are going away, when I don’t know when I shall see you again?”

“I will come back.”

“How can you be sure? How can anyone be sure of anything in this fearful world?”

“I shall come back. We shall sit on this seat and there will be nothing to fear.”

“If only that can be! I am sorry to be so uncertain, Robert. We have wasted so much time because I was foolish. But at last I have had time to see things as they really are. What I want more than anything in the world is for you to come back safely to me.”

“I shall. I promise you. Dearest Lucinda, I shall come back.”

I had to believe him, for I could not bear to contemplate a future without him.

I spent the next day with Robert. I was catching his mood of optimism. We made plans for the future as though it were certain to come.

Then I said good-bye to him and he went off. I guessed it would not be long before he was on the battlefield. I tried not to think of it. I forced myself to plan for the future, to believe in it as he had.

Over dinner I told my father about my engagement.

He was delighted. “We—your mother and I—could not be more pleased,” he said. “It is what we have always hoped for. Robert is a wonderful young man. Not appreciated by some, because he is so modest. Such people are often taken at their own estimation, which can be a great mistake. Robert’s family will be pleased also. Perhaps Belinda would have liked a duke’s daughter for her son, but at least she is gratified by her daughter’s elevation to the aristocracy. At one time, your mother and I thought that you and Marcus…”

“Oh, no, it was Annabelinda for him.”

“I’m glad. There is no one we would rather see you marry than Robert Denver.”

“I know…but I’m afraid because he’ll be out there…in the thick of it.”

My father nodded his head gravely. “Robert has always struck me as a survivor, in his calm, quiet way,” he said.

I could not bear to think of Robert’s being in danger and my father changed the subject quickly. He said, “By the way…you haven’t seen anything…?”

I knew what he meant and replied, “No, and I can’t imagine who could possibly get in there.”

“I think it is certain that someone has been in there.”

“When?”

“Within the last few days.”

“I have been watchful.”

“You can’t be everywhere at once. The essence of this is secrecy. You must not let anyone see you are on the alert. I don’t like that key being in Mrs. Cherry’s possession. Not that I suspect her. But of course she doesn’t realize the importance of that key, and I can’t tell her. It’s a pity the room has to be cleaned.”

“I wonder if I could get the key?”

“How?”

“I mean, ask Mrs. Cherry to give it to me. Suppose I offered to clean the room?”

“Wouldn’t that be rather unusual?”

“Well, everything about it is unusual. Your study’s having to be kept locked, for one thing…no one but Mrs. Cherry having the key. I don’t see why I shouldn’t clean the room. If I had the key we could be sure no one could get in.”

“I think it would arouse too much suspicion if you asked Mrs. Cherry for it.”

“I’ll think of something.”

“Lucinda, be careful. You do realize how important this is, and if there is someone in this household…someone who is working for the enemy…well, such people could be dangerous.”

“I do know, but I am sure I can make it all seem natural.”

“I certainly don’t like the idea of there being a key that is not in my possession. I don’t like the thought of Mrs. Cherry’s going in. While she is working, the door will be open. She could be called away suddenly….I am certain that someone is getting into that room.”

“Well, I am going to find out, and the first step is to get the key, without which no one can get into the room, unless they come through the window, which is always locked; and as the room is on the second floor, an intruder would need the agility of a cat to get in. There’s not so much for me to do here as there was at Marchlands. Walk in the park…and play with Edward. I really don’t see why I should not clean that room. After all, there are not many servants in the house now. I could make that excuse. Leave it to me. I’ll get the key and that will set our minds at rest on that score.”

It was not so difficult to manage. I had always been on good terms with Mrs. Cherry, and Edward had made a special bond between us. She had thought the story of my bringing him from France was very “beautiful.” It was heartwarming, she said, like something in a novelette.

“Some would have left him behind. I mean to say…a young girl bringing home a baby like that. Well, of course, there was Mrs. Greenham. She’d never turn anyone away from her door, let alone a little baby. So I reckon it’s a beautiful story. And there he is, the little mite, as cocky as they come. What would have happened to him if he’d been left to those terrible Germans?”

She had always been fond of my mother, and now I had become almost a war heroine in her eyes, so I was on especially good terms with her.

I began by asking her for the key to my father’s study as there were some papers he wanted me to look out for him.

“Oh, that key,” she said. “It worries me a bit. Your father says I am never to let it out of my sight.”

“And you don’t, do you? It is just because he doesn’t want his papers moved about, you know.”

“I never touch papers. Besides, I thought they were all locked away.”

“Oh, yes, they are, I believe. But let me have the key.”

“I’ll get it for you.”

“Where do you keep it?”

“In the dresser drawer…right at the back of the cloths and things. It’s well hidden away there.”

She went to the drawer and produced the key, which I took from her.

“Mrs. Cherry, shall I keep the key?”

“Well, there’s times when I have to go in to clean.”

“You could ask me for it then, and I’d come and help you with the room.”

“You, Miss Lucinda!”

“I used to do all sorts of things at Marchlands. The hospital, you know. There’s not much for me to do here. I’d enjoy it. We could have a little chat while we worked.”

“Well, miss, I don’t right know what to say. Your father did tell me…”

“I’ll explain everything to him. I’ll keep the key and when you want it…just let me know.”

“Well, if that’s all right with you…”

“I think it will be. Let’s try it, shall we? I don’t like having too little to do.”

I put the key in my pocket. I thought, I shall always keep it with me. I went to my room telling myself I had managed that rather cleverly.

Alone in my room, I took out the key and looked at it. Things could fall out of pockets. I found a strong gold chain and hung it around my neck, tucking it down the bodice of my dress. There it would be safe.

When I told my father what I had done, he was clearly pleased.

“I shall feel much happier now,” he said. “And if anything else happens, we shall have to consider whether someone has a key to the room besides ourselves.”

“How could anyone come by that?”

“If they had stolen it from Mrs. Cherry, they might have had another made.”

“Wouldn’t they have to keep it some time to do that?”

“Not very long, I suppose.”

“She would have missed it. She was certainly worried about having it and was glad to pass it over to me. I shall see that no one goes into that room without my knowing.”

“It’s a comfort to have you here, Lucinda.”

I was susceptible to every sound in the house. I was sleeping lightly. Often a creaking floorboard would awaken me. I would imagine I heard someone creeping down the stairs…the sound of a key in a lock. Then I would feel for the key which I kept around my neck, even in bed. I realized that I was oversensitive. But there was a night when I thought I heard noises. I put on my dressing gown and went down to the study. I turned the door handle. The door was locked. I stood there listening.

Then someone called. “Oh…it’s you, Lucinda.”

I looked up. Andrée was leaning over the banisters.

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

“Yes. I thought I heard someone down here.”

“False alarm?” said Andrée.

“I’m sorry I disturbed you.”

“I’m a light sleeper…particularly since I’ve been looking after Edward. The least sound and I’m awake….”

“I must be the same. It’s chilly here. We mustn’t get chilled. Good night.”

I went into my room and shut the door. How foolish I was! Yet, on the other hand, if someone had been there, I should have caught him…or her. I had to be on the alert.

Spring would soon be with us. There was a certain hope in the air. We were forcing the enemy back with some success. The battle for the Somme had started and the fighting was fierce. Robert was constantly in my thoughts and I was tortured by speculations of what was happening out there. There was not much news, but the German successes which had occurred in the beginning were definitely halted. People were saying that we were winning the war of the U-boats and it would not be long before we were triumphant on land.

Frequently I saw Annabelinda. I had been to look at two houses with her. I told her I did not know why she wanted my opinion, because she never took any notice of it. She retorted that she knew exactly what she was looking for. It had to be something more splendid and grand than anything anyone else could have. I told her she would never find perfection, but she believed she would. However, I did find looking at houses a fascinating experience. I liked to explore the rooms, imagining all the people who had lived in them, while she was calculating how impressive those rooms could be made to look.

One day at the beginning of April she came to the house and I could see that she was not her usual exuberant self.

At last we were alone in my room and she burst out, “Lucinda, I’m worried.”

“I thought something was wrong.”

“Is it so obvious?”

“To me…yes. But then I know you so well.”

“I’ve had a note,” she said.

“A note? From whom?”

“From Carl.”

“You mean, Carl?…Carl Zimmerman?”

She nodded.

“And it has upset you, of course.”

“He wants to see me.”

“You won’t see him, will you?”

“It’s difficult.”

“Why? And what is he doing in England?”

“He was attached to the Swiss Embassy.”

“But I thought he’d gone from there and that was why he was able to work as a gardener at La Pinière.”

“He must have sorted that out. Anyway, he’s in England.”

“How did he get here?”

“I expect he is back in the embassy.”

“What does he want?”

“To see me.”

“Does he know…about Edward?”

“How could he?”

“He is his father. Perhaps it is about Edward that he wants to see you.”

I felt alarmed. What if he wanted to take Edward away?

“He wants to see me,” she said. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Why don’t you tell Marcus?”

“Tell Marcus!”

“Why don’t you tell him everything?”

“How could I?”

“Just tell him…that’s all.”

“How ridiculous! Of course I couldn’t tell him.”

“Then what are you going to do?”

“I don’t want to see Carl. I don’t want ever to see him again.”

“Well, don’t answer the note.”

“But he knows the address. Though how he got it, I can’t imagine. He’ll write again.”

“Then write and tell him you can’t see him.”

“Well…”

“Well what?”

“That note he wrote…it doesn’t sound as though he will take no for an answer.”

“As long as he doesn’t know he has a son…”

“You would bring that up!”

“It’s rather a salient point, isn’t it? It’s the only thing you need worry about. If he doesn’t know about Edward, all you have to say is, I don’t want to see you again. I’m a happily married woman, no longer a romantic schoolgirl. Good-bye.’ ”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Other people’s problems always seem simpler than one’s own. But it does seem a clear case to me. All you have to do is tell him you don’t want to see him.”

“It’s the way he writes. It’s almost like a threat. I’ve got to go and see him. I think he is still in love with me.”

“It might be blackmail.”

“What do you mean?”

“He may be desperate. What was he doing working as a gardener? Really, Annabelinda, the best thing you can do is tell Marcus everything. Then you will have nothing to fear.”

“How could I tell him!”

“I’m sure he would understand.” I thought of Miss Emma Johns and Janet. How could he judge Annabelinda harshly because she had taken a lover before marriage? He was, of course, what is called a man of the world. I guessed his emotions had not been deeply involved with Janet. So…surely he would understand.

“And then,” she went on, “what about Edward? Isn’t this awful bad luck? All this to come up now I am so happy, and everything is going perfectly.”

“One’s actions do have an effect on one’s life and one cannot be sure that the consequences will make themselves felt only at convenient moments.”

“Stop moralizing! What am I going to do?”

“If you are asking my advice, I would say go to him and explain. If he makes a nuisance of himself, then there is only one thing to be done, and that is tell Marcus.”

“It’s not only Marcus…it’s his family. Just suppose Carl went to them.”

“How would he know about them?”

“How did he know my address? Oh, it was all so wonderful…and now this.”

“Go and see him, Annabelinda. Explain that you are now happily married. He can’t possibly know that there was a child.”

“You’ve never betrayed me, Lucinda.”

“Of course I haven’t.”

“You might have done…” She looked at me tearfully and flung herself at me. “Oh, you are a good friend, Lucinda, and I’m not always good to you. Why do you put up with me?”

I heard myself laugh. “I don’t rightly know,” I said. “But you are Annabelinda, the intimate and tormentor of my youth. I’d always do what I could to help.”

“I don’t deserve it, Lucinda. I really don’t.”

Such an admission really disturbed me. Poor Annabelinda! I had rarely seen her so frightened. The only other time was when I had told her I knew about her indiscretion and Edward’s birth.

I truly wished that I could help her, but there was nothing I could do but advise her, and who could say that my advice was any use?

“Do go and see Carl Zimmerman,” I said. “Explain how you are placed now. Tell him it is finished between you, and say good-bye. If he’s a decent, honorable man, he’ll disappear and won’t bother you again.”

“All right, Lucinda. I’ll do that. I’ll go and tell him.”

I heard nothing from her for several days, and I was growing anxious.

I called at the house.

The parlormaid said that Mrs. Merrivale was resting and asked if she should tell her that I was calling.

I was amazed when the maid returned and told me that Mrs. Merrivale had a headache and was sorry she could not see even me. She would be in touch with me and she was sure that she would have recovered by the next day.

I guessed something was very wrong. It was unlike Annabelinda not to want to talk about her troubles, so I guessed she was very worried indeed.

I returned to the house. Andrée was sitting in the garden with Edward. The London garden was a square patio at the back of the house in which a few flowering shrubs were now beginning to show signs of spring blossoms.

Edward was reading aloud to Andrée in a halting fashion.

“Hello,” said Andrée. “How is Mrs. Merrivale?”

“How did you know I was going to see her?”

“You said you were.”

“Oh, did I? I didn’t see her actually. She isn’t well.”

Andrée smiled. “Do you think…?” She nodded toward Edward.

Pregnant? I thought. It was a possibility, but I thought it was more likely something to do with Carl Zimmerman.

I shrugged my shoulders. “I couldn’t say. She had a bad headache.”

“I suppose she leads rather a busy life, with all the people in military circles she has to see.”

“Perhaps.”

I sat there while Edward went on reading. I was thinking of Annabelinda and Carl Zimmerman. What a big part he had played in our lives, and yet I had seen him so rarely.

I remembered the first time, outside the cubbyhole when he had lost his way. And there was the amazement at seeing him working in the gardens at La Pinière, and lastly in Epping Forest with Andrée.

I said on impulse, “Andrée, do you remember that man in Epping Forest…the fair-haired one who asked the way?”

She looked puzzled.

“You remember…you were with Edward and I met you there.”

“I can recall several people who asked me the way while I was there.”

“This was not long ago.”

“Oh…I vaguely remember. Why? What was so special about him?”

“I just wondered what he said? Did he just ask the way, or any questions…about us…or Mrs. Merrivale? I think Major Merrivale might have been in the hospital at the time…though I’m not sure.”

Andrée continued to look puzzled.

“Questions?” she said. “I don’t remember anyone’s asking questions but the way. Why?”

I thought to myself, I’m being rather foolish, and I said quickly, “Oh…it’s of no importance…no importance at all.”

Annabelinda came to see me the following day. I noticed at once that there was a feverish excitement about her. I thought, Andrée is right; she must be pregnant.

I was in the garden once more with Andrée and Edward. We were playing Edward’s favorite game of the moment, “I spy with my little eye, something beginning with a…” and then the first letter of the object, only Edward was not quite sure of the alphabet just yet, so we used phonetics. “Something beginning with a ‘der’ or a ‘sha’ or ‘ber.’ ”

Edward was saying, “I spy with my little eye, something beginning with a ‘ter.’ ”

We pretended to ponder before one of us suggested it might be the tree…when Annabelinda appeared.

“Oh, hello, Lucinda,” she said rather too heartily. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I really did have the most awful head.”

“Oh, I quite understand.”

“But I did turn you away.”

“That’s all right. You’re better today, I hope.”

“I’m fine.”

Edward said rather reprovingly, “We’re playing ‘I spy.’ ”

“What fun,” said Annabelinda absentmindedly.

“It was something beginning with a ‘fler,’ ” went on Edward.

I looked at Andrée and smiled. We should have to devote ourselves to Annabelinda now that she had arrived. So we brought the game to a timely end by saying the answer must be a flower.

“Yes,” cried Edward, delighted.

“Well, we’ll play again later,” I said. And to Annabelinda, “Why don’t you sit down?” I made way for her on the wicker seat.

“I’ve found the most marvelous house,” said Annabelinda. “You must come with me to see it.”

“Where is it?”

“In Beconsdale Square.”

“Where’s that?”

“Not far from here. I’ve got the cutting. Listen: ‘Country mansion in the heart of London.’ Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“I can’t imagine a country mansion here.”

“That’s because you don’t use your imagination.”

“ ‘Beconsdale Square, Westminster,’ ” Annabelinda went on reading. “ ‘In a quiet London square, large family house built circa 1830. Drive in, garden of about half an acre. Large drawing room, suitable for entertaining, eight bedrooms, four large reception rooms, spacious servants’ quarters…’ Then it goes on for a bit. It sounds just right. I like the sound of the drive in. It sets it apart. I have a feeling that this is the one. I shall go to see the agents and make an appointment to see it. Promise me you’ll come with me, Lucinda.”

“Of course. I’m all agog.”

“I’ll let you know when.”

She was silent for a while. She was sitting still and rather tense.

“Do you feel all right, Annabelinda?” I asked.

“I’m just feeling…not very well. I wonder if I could go and lie down for a while?”

“Of course. Come on.”

I went into the house with her.

“I’ll take you to the room you use when you stay here,” I said.

“Oh, thank you, Lucinda.”

When we were there, she took off her coat, kicked off her shoes and lay on the bed.

“Annabelinda,” I said. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

She shook her head. “Just…not very well.”

“Is it…Carl?”

“Oh, no, no. I’m settling that.”

“You’ve seen him then? You’ve told him that you can’t see him anymore?”

“Yes, I’ve seen him. It’s just that…”

“Do you feel sick?”

She nodded.

“Are you…pregnant?”

“It…it could be.”

“Well then, rest a little. It’ll soon pass. I’ll stay with you.”

“No…no, Lucinda. You go back to the garden. I’ll be all right. I feel I just want to be quiet…alone. It’ll pass, I know.”

“All right. If there’s anything you want, just ring. Meg will come up.”

“Oh, thank you, Lucinda. I’d feel better if you went back to the garden and there was no fuss. I’ll feel better, I know I shall. It doesn’t take long for this to pass.”

“So you’ve had it before?”

“Once or twice. I hope it’s not going to be a regular thing.”

“It’s only in the first weeks, I’ve heard.”

“Thank you, Lucinda.”

I went out and rejoined Andrée and Edward in the garden. We must have been there for about half an hour when Annabelinda came out.

She looked better, relieved, I thought.

“How are you?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m all right now.”

“You look flushed.”

“Do I?”

“Well, you’re all right. That’s the main thing.”

“Yes. I’m all right now. I’m sorry it happened.”

“Never mind. Tell us about the house.”

“It really seems that this will be it,” she said.

“Annabelinda! All you’ve seen is this advertisement.”

“I have a feeling in my bones.”

“What does the major say about it?” asked Andrée.

“Oh, he doesn’t know. I want to find the house and then take him along and show him how wonderful it is. It seems just right. Secluded. It’s not easy to be secluded in London. It will be wonderful for entertaining. The war must be over one day. It can’t go on forever. Then this will be just what we need.”

When she left I walked back with her. “Just in case you don’t feel well on the way back,” I told her.

“Oh, Lucinda, you do take good care of me.”

“I always have in a way, you know. You think you are the worldly-wise, clever one, but when you come to think of it, I have looked after you far more than you have me. Yet you always behave as though I’m the simple one.”

“Forgive me, Lucinda. I wish I had been better to you.”

“I can’t understand you, Annabelinda…and I think it is for the first time in your life. You’re becoming human.”

She laughed, and when we reached the house she said, “Come in for a while.”

“Thanks, I don’t think I will. I ought to get back.”

“All right. And thank you…for being such a good friend.”

Changed indeed, I thought, as I walked home.

Perhaps it was because she was contented in her marriage and she was going to have a child. Motherhood changed people, softened them; and this pregnancy, unlike that with Edward, would be a happy one.

She must be thankful that she had come to this happy state.

There was an account in the paper of a derelict farmhouse along the coast three miles from Folkestone which had been the scene of an explosion. There was no explanation as to what had caused this.

There were comments from the local people. “ ‘I heard the noise. Deafening, it was, and then I saw the flames. The place went up like a matchbox on fire.’ ”

The verdict was that it was an example of wanton arson. There were no casualties.

My father asked me to meet him in his study, and when I arrived he shut the door and said, “I want to talk to you, Lucinda. You are absolutely sure no one has been in here? You have had the key in your possession all the time?”

“Yes.” I pulled out the chain and showed him the key. “It has been with me all day and night.”

“I don’t think any strangers have been in the house this last week.”

“I am sure not.”

“I must explain to you. You know everything is speeding up over there. The Germans are getting desperate. They firmly believed that they would have brought the war to a satisfactory conclusion long before this. The fighting on the Somme has been fierce. As you know, our factories are working at top speed. We have the arms now, and the only difficulty is getting them over there. The enemy is determined to stop them from reaching their destinations. It is vital for them to do so. They have to be stored in arms deposits before we can ship them across the Channel. The site of these storehouses is only known to a few, and certain information is leaking. It seems to come from me. I set a trap.”

Understanding dawned on me. I said, “That place in Folkestone?”

“Yes. There was nothing there. I had a document in my bureau. On it there were lists of ammunition that were supposed to be stored in this farmhouse which was derelict. It was near the coast and, according to this document, was due for almost immediate shipment. Lucinda, there was only one reason for blowing up that farmhouse, and that was because it was believed that we had stocks of ammunition there. And this happened because in my desk was this document. It was placed there as a test.”

“So then…it is someone in this house!” I cried. “Oh…I can’t believe it. What can we do?”

“Short of having a watcher always in the room, I can’t say. I shall not keep anything of importance there now. But what is vital is to discover the spy. We know now that there is one…in this house.”

“What can we do now?”

“We just go on as before. Always be on the alert. If anything extraordinary happens…however trivial…let’s talk about it.”

“Yes, father. I understand,” I said soberly.

I felt very uneasy. It was an eerie feeling, to know that someone near to us was working for the enemy. It had been proved.

I felt the need to be alone to think. I could not believe Mr. and Mrs. Cherry could possibly be concerned. Yet Mrs. Cherry had had the key. If any workmen came to the house, she would be the one to deal with them. Alice, Meg, Carrie—impossible! The Mentons? Eddie? Eddie was the most likely. He had not been with us so long. He was young. Perhaps he would be tempted. Whoever wanted such information would pay well for it.

I went for a walk and was wandering rather aimlessly when suddenly I saw the words BECONSDALE ROAD. There was a familiar ring about it. Of course, Beconsdale Square was where the house Annabelinda was going to see was situated.

The Square must be near the Road, I presumed, and it did not take me long to find it.

The houses were certainly grand. They were all different, which added to their attraction. Most of them were well set back from the sidewalks and had their drives.

They all appeared to be occupied by the affluent, which was what I had expected. I wondered which one was for sale. I walked around the square, in the center of which was a well-kept garden that I supposed was for the use of the residents, in accordance with the custom.

I found the empty house. It was certainly impressive, and I felt sure Annabelinda would be pleased.

I could not resist opening the iron gates and looking along the drive. The grass on the lawn needed cutting and the shrubs surrounding the house were overgrown. That gave the place an air of mystery. That would all be different when Annabelinda took charge. I could well imagine that the house offered just what she wanted.

I walked up the drive. If I met anyone I would say that a friend of mine was interested in the place and I should shortly be coming along with her to see it. There was a big brass knocker and I could not resist knocking. It sounded quite deafening in the silence all around.

The place was quite isolated because of the grounds surrounding it. I guessed it had been empty some little time.

There was no answer to my knock, which was perhaps just as well as I felt I was probably being a little officious. I went around to the back of the house and looked through windows. I could see the hall and wide staircase. It would be grand enough for Annabelinda, I was sure.

I could not cast off the eerie feeling the house aroused in me. But empty houses did have that effect—particularly one which, in spite of being situated in a London square, was somewhat isolated.

It must have been two days later when Annabelinda called. She was in a state of tension still, and I wondered what was happening, for I certainly felt that something was.

On this occasion she was anxious to be alone with me.

She said rather breathlessly, “I have decided that I am going to tell Marcus.”

“Tell Marcus!”

“Yes. I am going to tell him everything.”

“Everything?”

“I…I’ll see. I am going to tell him about Carl. I have to, Lucinda. I can’t go on. I can see I have got to.”

“You’ve seen Carl again?”

She nodded.

“And he is being difficult?”

She nodded again. “I can’t go on, Lucinda. I just can’t.”

“Don’t work yourself up into a frenzy. I think you are doing the right thing. I am sure Marcus will understand. After all, he is a man of the world.”

“People expect women not to have lovers.”

“Well, things don’t always work out as people expect.”

“You seem to think it is so easy.”

“Of course I don’t. But I feel sure it will be all right. If you didn’t tell him, you’d be worrying about Carl forever. If you tell him the truth, you’ll know that is the worst that can happen. At least you’ve faced it.”

“I shall choose my moment.”

“That’s sensible enough.”

“I’m thinking of it all the time. I am going to tell Carl I can’t do what he wants.”

“What does he want?”

“He…he’s still in love with me. He won’t give me up. He’ll make trouble, Lucinda.”

“I am sure you should tell Marcus. Then you’ll be well rid of Carl. Let him know you don’t care for his blackmail…for that’s what it is, isn’t it? Marcus will send Carl about his business.”

“It’s not easy, but I have to do it. Who would have thought all this could have come out of…that…?”

“Poor Annabelinda! But you are doing the right thing at last. Marcus must understand.”

“Do you think so?”

“He must,” I said firmly. “Come and see Edward.”

“I don’t feel up to it.”

“It will do you good. Andrée always likes to see you. She thinks you are so attractive and lead such an interesting life.”

“Well, I suppose I could.”

“Of course you could.”

I took her up to the nursery. Edward was sitting on the floor coloring pictures. Andrée was sewing.

Edward looked up and said, “Hello,” while Andrée laid aside her sewing and said, “Good morning, Mrs. Merrivale.”

“Good morning,” replied Annabelinda and sat down.

“You are better today, Mrs. Merrivale?” asked Andrée.

“Yes, thanks. Much.”

“I’m so glad.”

“You haven’t brought your funny hat,” commented Edward without looking up from his painting.

“You don’t appreciate this one?” asked Annabelinda.

I could see that Edward was mouthing the word appreciate. A new one for him. He would use it soon afterward in the way he always did. If he decided he liked it, it would figure in his conversations for the next days to come.

The newspaper was lying on the table. Annabelinda glanced at it. “They are still going on about that explosion,” she said.

“What a mercy there was no one there,” commented Andrée.

“I wonder who did it,” I said. “It seemed pointless. Like that place…you remember…Milton Priory.”

“Wasn’t that something to do with the gas?” asked Andrée.

“They did say something about that at the time,” I replied.

“I’m glad no one was hurt,” put in Annabelinda. “I’m very glad about that.”

She’s changed, I thought. She sounds as though she really cares. A little while ago she wouldn’t have given the matter a thought.

“By the way,” said Andrée, “did you ever see that house you were interested in?”

“Oh…I was forgetting. That was really what I came about.”

“Is this the one in Beconsdale Square?” I asked.

“Yes, of course. It sounds exciting.”

“I forgot to tell you. I took a look at it.”

“Really?”

“Only from the outside. At least, I suppose it was the one. It was the only one, as a matter of fact, that seemed to be empty in the square.”

“So you actually went there?”

“I came upon Beconsdale Road by chance and thought the square must be close by, so I did a little investigation. I went along the drive and looked in the windows. If it is the one I saw, it is going to suit you.”

“Well, I am going to see it tomorrow. I want you to come with me, Lucinda.”

“I’d love to see more of it.”

“You know exactly where it is. Could you meet me there at two-thirty? The agent will be there to let us in.”

“I’ll be there,” I said. “I must say I found it most intriguing.”

The next day I set out for Beconsdale Square. It was about two-fifteen, which I thought would give me just enough time to reach the house by two-thirty. I guessed Annabelinda would be on time, although normally she was inclined to be late. But this was something she would be enthusiastic about, even though she had Carl Zimmerman on her mind.

I arrived about a minute or so before two-thirty. There was no sign of the agent who was to meet us there.

I went up the drive and stood at the door. It was very silent. I was surprised that Annabelinda had not arrived. I strolled back to the gate and as I did so a man appeared. He was in striped trousers and black coat, and as he carried a briefcase, I guessed that he was the house agent.

“Good afternoon,” he said. “I am a few moments late…the traffic. Shall we go in, Mrs. Merrivale?”

“I am not Mrs. Merrivale,” I replied. “I’m a friend of hers. She wanted me to see the house with her.”

“Oh, of course. May I have the pleasure…?”

“Miss Greenham,” I said, and we shook hands.

“My name is Partington; John Partington of Partington and Pike. Well, I am rather relieved that Mrs. Merrivale is a little late. I hate to keep ladies waiting.”

“Yes, I’m surprised she’s late. She is so eager to see the house. As you say, the traffic can be a problem.”

“I am sure she will be attracted by this house,” he went on. “There is really something very special about it.”

“Yes, it looks interesting. There is quite a sizable garden, by London standards.”

“It really is the country house in town, and that’s the truth.”

“I’m very much looking forward to seeing it.”

He glanced anxiously along the drive. There was no sign of Annabelinda.

“She must be along soon now,” I said.

“Oh, I’m sure she will.”

A few more moments passed and still there was no sign of Annabelinda. He was beginning to be uneasy, and so was I. It was twenty minutes to three.

“Why don’t we go in?” I said.

He was thoughtful for a moment, then he said, “Yes, why not? If something has prevented her coming, you can tell her what you think. But I have no doubt that she will be here soon.”

He took a last look around, opened the door and stood aside for me to enter.

I stepped into the hall. It was spacious and there was the grand staircase that I was sure would please Annabelinda.

I walked across the hall, the sound of my footsteps echoing on the wood floor.

“It is lovely!” I said.

“A very desirable property.”

“Where do these doors lead?”

“Well, one would be to the kitchen, I imagine, and the other to one of the reception rooms.”

I opened that door. I was unprepared for what met my eyes. Annabelinda was lying on the floor, very still, and there was something about her which filled me with an increasing horror.

I stood for a few stunned seconds staring at her. I heard myself gasp, “Mr. Partington…”

“What is it, Miss Greenham?”

He came and stood by my side.

“My God,” he said. “She’s been strangled.”

I had knelt beside her. “Annabelinda,” I said. I kept saying her name over and over again.

She lay there inert. There was a look of surprised terror on her face, which was white and lifeless.

“Annabelinda,” I sobbed. “What was it? What happened?”

I heard Mr. Partington say, “We’ve got to get help….”

I could not rise. I just knelt there, looking at her.