When my father arrived, he was delighted to see Jean Pascal.

“I heard you were coming,” he said.

“Ah. The news travels.”

“You did not tell me,” I said. “I should have been so glad to hear it.”

“Thank you,” said Jean Pascal, with a little bow. He has not changed at all, I thought.

“You must dine with us,” said my father. “And we will talk later. Is that in order? Or would you prefer to talk first?”

“I think it would be delightful to sit at the dinner table in a civilized manner. We have had the enemy at our gates for so long. The peace of this place is too enticing for me to resist. Let us eat and chat of happier times than those which have recently befallen us.”

So we dined together—just the three of us. Jean Pascal talked of the life in France—the dangers, the uncertainties—and the difficulties of getting to England. It was all of immense interest, but I had the impression that both he and my father were biding time before they discussed the really important matters that were the reason for his visit.

As soon as the meal was over, my father said, “I think we should go to my study.”

Jean Pascal nodded, and my father looked at me and then questioningly at Jean Pascal.

Jean Pascal said, “I think it is necessary that Mademoiselle Lucinda share our talk. I think she already knows more than you realize.”

My father looked surprised and I was overcome with a feverish desire to know the real reason for Jean Pascal’s visit.

When we arrived at the study and entered it, my father locked the door.

“Yes,” said Jean Pascal. “This must be very secret.”

“I guess,” said my father, “that you are very deep in things over there?”

“Ah, mon cher, there is a great deal going on. Do not think we calmly accept them on our soil. We are working against them all the time. And with some success, I may tell you. It is because of our discoveries that I am now in England. There are certain people here who we are very anxious to bring to their deserts.”

He took a large envelope out of his pocket and from it took a picture, which he put on the table.

“Do you know this man?” he asked my father.

I gasped, for I was looking at a picture of Carl Zimmerman.

I said his name aloud.

“No, no,” said Jean Pascal. “This man is Heinrich von Durrenstein. He is one of the best and most experienced spies the Germans have.”

“Carl Zimmerman!” said my father. “He was with the Swiss Embassy before the war broke out.”

“Certainly he was here in the Swiss Embassy. He did some very good work there. Not so good for the allies, of course. You know him then, Lucinda?”

“Yes. I first met him here in this house. He said he had lost his way.”

I told them how I had seen him outside the cubbyhole.

“I remember,” said my father. “We thought there had been a robbery. Papers were disturbed. That was before I had any suspicions of the real motive. He made it appear like a robbery. The jewelry we thought had been stolen was later found. It is all coming back to me.”

Jean Pascal nodded slowly; he turned to me. “And you saw him next…?”

“In the gardens of La Pinière.”

“He did a good job there. He reconnoitered, found all the weak spots in the surrounding country and arranged for the German army’s headquarters at the school.” He looked at me. “I think, Lucinda, your father has to know. He has to see the whole picture clearly. This is too important a matter for us to hide anything.”

He looked at my father and went on. “He managed to seduce my granddaughter at the same time as he was working so assiduously for his country.”

My father was aghast.

“There was a child,” said Jean Pascal calmly. “I arranged for the birth and for the child to be cared for afterward. His foster-parents were killed during the bombardment of Mons and Lucinda stepped in. She rescued the child and brought him here.”

“Edward!” said my father. “And you…Lucinda…?”

“Lucinda was noble. Lucinda was wonderful,” said Jean Pascal. “She brought my great-grandson out of danger. She knew who he was, you see. She was in my confidence. She had to be, because of the way everything had worked out. With the help of Marcus Merrivale, she brought him out of France.”

“This is fantastic,” said my father. “I can’t believe it.”

“Strange things happen…particularly in wartime…and all this brings us to where we stand today. Now, Lucinda, I want you to tell me exactly what happened when you made your journey across France. You acquired a nursemaid for the child, did you not?”

I told him how we had met Andrée and her brother, and how Andrée had accompanied us to England and had become Edward’s nurse.

He sat there nodding, and then he took more pictures from the envelope, which he was still holding. There were six in all and he showed us one of them. It was of Andrée.

I looked at it in amazement. Jean Pascal smiled at me. “This is Elsa Heine. At least I think that is the name to which she has most claim. She works in close contact with von Durrenstein.”

“It’s Andrée!” I cried. “Now I am sure that I saw Carl Zimmerman in the forest with her. She convinced me that he was a stranger asking the way. Edward had said that a man talked to them in the forest, and when I mentioned this to Andrée, she said—rather coyly—that it was Tom Gilroy, one of the men from the hospital who was interested in her. It all seemed plausible enough at the time.”

“They are clever, these people,” said Jean Pascal. “So adaptable. They have to carry out their duties with efficiency. They can become nursemaids or gardeners…whatever the occasion warrants.”

“But…Edward is so fond of her.”

“Of course. She is an excellent nursemaid, and a very clever young woman into the bargain. Let us think about her. She has frequently been in this house since you came back from France. What luck for her that you brought her in! It was what was intended, of course.”

“Her brother…”

“More of him later. Let us consider your Andrée first.”

“I knew someone was getting into my room,” said my father. “We could not understand it. Mrs. Cherry was the only one with the key, until Lucinda had it.”

“The problem of a key to these people is quite a simple one. Clever Andrée would have managed to get a copy of that key very quickly. She would find some means of stealing it…long enough for her to do what she wanted. It explains how information leaked out. She had been systematically passing on what she was getting from this house.”

“How could we have been so stupid!” cried my father. “It is all so obvious.”

“Everything is obvious when one is aware of it,” said Jean Pascal. “So…we have the spy in the house. That was all arranged by the clever group. They worked well together. Now, my granddaughter’s death. It is involved in this, I am sure. Lucinda, my dear, you knew Annabelinda as well as anyone. Did she confide in you?”

“Yes, she did to a certain extent.”

“Then perhaps you can throw some light on this. The man she had known as Carl Zimmerman has returned to London. Did he try to see her, do you know?”

“Yes, and he wanted to see her again. She told me that he had threatened to tell her husband if she did not continue their affair.”

“The persistent lover! It is hard to believe von Durrenstein was that. The only thing he is ardent about is his work. He could not be so proficient at it if he allowed himself other interests. We have to look at it this way. Why did he come to see Annabelinda again? He was ardently in love with her? He had heard about the child and wanted to see him? That makes me smile. No. He came for a purpose. This could be useful. A husband in the War Office. Close friendship with this house. They already had Andrée installed here. But they could do with another to work for them. I’ll guess that he blackmailed Annabelinda, threatening her that if she did not help him in his work, which she was qualified to do because of her connections, he would expose her to her husband. Go on from there, please, Lucinda.”