“What is this secret?”

“He is going to tell you. We were discussing it last night and we came to the conclusion that it is the best way. Your father thought at first that you were too young, but, well, everything that has been happening lately has jerked you out of your childhood. You’ll understand and do all you can to help, I know. I’ve convinced him of this. He’s in his study now. Let’s go to him.”

My father was waiting for us.

“Here she is,” said my mother. “We can rely on Lucinda. She understands.”

“Sit down, my dear,” said my father. “This must sound very mysterious to you.”

“It does,” I answered.

“Your mother has told you that I am involved in certain matters.”

“Yes, she has.”

“It’s about Milton Priory.”

I was taken aback. “Milton Priory!” I said.

“Yes, Milton Priory,” he repeated. “You know, don’t you, that you must not give an indication to anyone at any time of this?”

“I understand that.”

“I don’t want people talking about it…as you were inclined to do. I want it believed that the explosion was caused by a Zeppelin or a gas leak…something that could happen in any place at any time. I know you were especially interested in the place, but you must stop speculating about it. Keeping the mystery alive arouses people’s curiosity, so you must stop talking of it and if the subject is raised in your presence, do everything you can to divert the conversation away from it. I don’t want people prying…investigating….”

“Why not?”

“Listen, Lucinda. The Priory was being used by the Government as a research center. Important experiments were being carried out there. A secret place was needed for these experiments. We are surrounded by spies, as countries are in war. We cannot trust anyone. It was very important for the location of this research to be kept secret. It was on my recommendation that the Priory was chosen. There it was, an almost derelict house, empty for some years. A great amount of work was needed to make it habitable as a residence. It would be acceptable in the neighborhood that people should be there. And there was a show of restoring the place while the essential work was being carried out. That was what was happening at the Priory.”

My father paused and looked at me.

“And you think that spies discovered this and blew it up?” I said,

He nodded “That is exactly what I think. But who? I feel very deeply involved as it was my suggestion that the work should take place there. I had secret documents in London giving important details of the place and the work which was being done.”

“What work was it?”

“Too complicated to explain. Experiments with a new armored vehicle which would be valuable on the battlefield. It was being perfected. And now much of the work has been destroyed.”

“Completely?” I asked.

“Oh, no. But it will set us back months. The worrying fact is that certain documents in my possession must have been seen by someone who has made use of them—with this result, in the first place, the nature of the work has been revealed to the enemy; in the second place, they have learned where it was being carried out…and in the third place, they have found a means of blowing up the house.”

“I remember the caretaker and the dog. He was guarding the place, of course.”

“Now, Lucinda, one of the most alarming aspects of the whole matter is that someone must have got into the London house…someone who had seen secret papers which were kept there for safety. Who could it be? There was no break-in. At least, if there was, I knew nothing about it.”

“You mean, it could be someone in the house?”

“Well, not necessarily living there. It could be someone who has access. Perhaps a workman coming to do some job. Your mother and I have talked this over. You were so interested in the Priory. I have explained why I want you to stop talking of it. But there is something more. I want you to be watchful, Lucinda. If you see anything…anyone act suspiciously…let me or your mother know at once…whoever it is. We cannot eliminate anyone from this. You can see what danger there is. I want to know who saw those secret papers in my room, who made it possible for the Priory to be destroyed.”

“Yes,” I said. “I want to know, too.”

My mother took my hand. “I’m glad you know about this, Lucinda,” she said.

“The idea of someone’s coming into the house…going through my papers…is intolerable,” said my father. “It makes one realize how dangerous the times are. So, Lucinda, keep quiet about the Priory. Avoid bringing up the matter…and keep your eyes open.”

“I will,” I said. “Oh, I will.”

THE SPRING HAD COME and little seemed to have changed. It would be two years in August since the war had started, and those who had prophesied that it would not last six months were silent. Even the most optimistic no longer believed that the end was in sight.

I had had two letters from Robert, heavily censored, and I had no idea where he was except that it was “somewhere in France.” He was often in my thoughts, and so was Marcus. I think I was more anxious about Robert, who was out there in acute danger. Marcus at least was safe in a hospital bed, although he must have been badly wounded to have been there so long.

I had seen Annabelinda at infrequent intervals. She and her mother came to London and stayed at our house, even though we were at Marchlands.

It was May—a beautiful month, I had always thought—on the brink of summer, the days not yet too hot, and the hedges were white with wild parsley and stitchwort. I took long walks in the forest. It was quiet, just as it had been when William the Conqueror and Henry VIII had hunted there.

Then I thought of that terrible battlefield where Robert would be. I dreamed about him in the trenches. I could see him with that rather deprecating grin, and I knew I could not bear it if he did not come back. What I wanted to hear more than anything was that he was coming home on one of the troopships…perhaps slightly wounded, enough to keep him with us…as Marcus was.

We saw little of Uncle Gerald. He was in France now. People were looking grim. There was no longer any excitement about the war—except for people like Charles, whose ideas of it were far from reality.

Annabelinda came to Marchlands with her mother.

Aunt Belinda was very effusive. She was involved in all sorts of charities, but knowing Aunt Belinda, I guessed that her main task would be delegation. She would arrange for others to do the work and take credit for it when it was done.

Perhaps I was unfair in my judgment and exaggerated a little, but when I saw how my mother worked, I did feel a little impatient with the Aunt Belindas and Annabelindas of this world.

“Dear Lucie,” gushed Aunt Belinda. “So busy with all this wonderful work. You’ll be decorated before the war’s over, I’m sure. And you deserve it, dear.”

“I am rewarded without that,” my mother replied. “It is a joy when you see these men getting better. And we are lucky to have the forest so close.”

Annabelinda and I rode through the trees. She was rather disgruntled.

“I’ve had enough of this wretched war,” she said.

“Do you think you are the only one?” I asked.

“Certainly I don’t. That’s why someone should put a stop to it. Do you realize I am nearly nineteen years old?”

“Well, I suppose you must be. I shall be seventeen in September.”

“We’re getting old. If this miserable war goes on for another two years…just think. What about us?”

I laughed at her.

“What’s amusing?” she demanded.

“I was just thinking about all those men who are out there fighting. Your own brother, for instance. And you ask, what about us!”

“Oh, Robert will be all right. He always has been.”

“This is war!”