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.”