But the street was quite deserted.

Belinda came the following day. She was brimming over with excitement. Bobby was with her; he looked only slightly less jubilant than he had appeared on his wedding day. I imagined how shocked and horrified he must have been on hearing Belinda’s confession; but she had managed to convince him that all would be well and it seemed he believed her.

She was soon in my room for a chat.

“It’s working,” she said. “Bobby’s being an absolute pet and Henry is behaving almost like a gentleman, which I never believed he would.”

“Which means he is doing exactly what you want?”

She laughed. “Same old Lucie!” Her tongue protruded in the old way. “It’s going to take a little time. Why do people always have to hang about so? Why can’t they get on with things? I don’t know why there has to be all this delay. But it is going to be done without fuss... and we’re hoping very few people will hear about it. So soon Bobby and I will be well and truly married... and we’ll never forget the part you played in this, Lucie.”

“I only did the obvious thing. There was, after all, only one solution for you.”

“But Henry could have turned nasty. He liked you a lot. He thinks you’re sensible.

He hated doing it but he could see it was no use trying to make me go back with him. Besides, there’s the baby.”

“You think that decided him?”

Belinda patted her stomach. “Dear little baby,” she said. “He’ll be strong and powerful.

Look what he is able to achieve merely by being here!”

I thought then that there was something rare in the way she was able to shift her troubles onto the shoulders of others and had an implicit belief that everything must come right for her and in some miraculous way, it did. Suddenly she said, “Joel Greenham is coming home. I saw it in the paper.” She looked at me quizzically. “He used to be a rather special friend of yours.”

“Fancy your remembering!” I said with faint sarcasm.

“Of course I remembered! It was quite exciting, and once you were going to marry him. And now he’s coming home!” She was watching me, her eyes sparkling. “He was kidnapped,” she went on. “He’ll soon be here.”

“Yes, I suppose he will.”

“Don’t try to pretend to me that you’re indifferent.”

“I wasn’t trying to pretend anything. Of course I’m not indifferent. They thought he was dead. It’s wonderful that he isn’t... and is coming home.” She nodded and I could see that she was contemplating all sorts of possibilities. So, in fact, was I. My thoughts were in a turmoil as they had been ever since I had read that paragraph. I was longing to see Joel and I was more than a little afraid. Another day passed. Celeste was certainly pleased to have us there. Her trouble was loneliness. Belinda was amazingly unperturbed about her affairs. She had clearly convinced herself that everything would soon be in order; as for Bobby, I think he was a little bewildered but was clearly still deeply in love with Belinda and certainly thrilled at the prospect of the baby.

I admired Belinda in a way. I wished I could bring the same attitude to my affairs that she did to hers.

I constantly scanned the papers for news. There was none.

Belinda said she wanted to do some shopping while she was in town. “It’s for the baby,” she explained. “Lucie, I want you to come with me.” So I went with her. She shopped as much for herself as the baby; and when we returned home, I thought Celeste looked a little excited.

When I was alone with her, she said, “Joel has been here. He’s very upset.”

“He came to see me?” I asked.

“Yes. His parents had told him that you were married but he thought he must have the news from you. When I told him that you were actually in London, he asked a lot of questions. He looked different, Lucie... older.”

“I suppose we all do, and what happened is bound to have affected him.”

“He knew about your father, of course. He said he must get in touch with you.” She looked at me anxiously.

“I suppose he would want to talk,” I said.

“He left a note for you.”

“A note? Where is it?”

“I have it here.”

She put her hand into the pocket of her dress and brought it out almost reluctantly.

I seized on it.

“Thank you, Celeste.”

I had to get away to discover what he had written. I went up to my room, sat on the bed and slit the envelope.

“Dear Lucie,” I read,

I want to see you. I could not believe that you are married. My parents told me first. They explained so much. But I have to see you soon. Could we meet tomorrow? Shall we say by the Round Pond in Kensington Gardens at half past ten? Do come. I shall be there.

Joel

I must go, of course. I had to see him. I had to explain. It was hard to live through the rest of the day. Time passed with maddening slowness. I was thankful that Belinda was so self-absorbed that she did not notice my mood.

The night which followed was a restless one for me; but it passed, and then I was walking across the Gardens to the Round Pond where Joel and I had met so often during our childhood. That was why it must have occurred to him that we should meet there. It was a bright day. Several children were sailing their little white boats on the Pond while vigilant nannies stood by.

And there was Joel. He had seen me and was striding toward me. He put his arms about me and held me close to him for a few seconds. Then he released me and looked into my face, I saw the anguish in his eyes and it matched my own. He took me by the elbows and continued to gaze at me.

“Lucie ...” he began.

“Oh, Joel,” I said. “I never thought to see you again.”

I knew then what a mistake I had made. I knew that he was and always would be the only one I really loved. I knew that I would never be really happy again. His eyes darkened as he muttered, “How could you?”

“I have to explain.”

“Let’s get away from here. Let’s find somewhere quiet where we can talk.” He took my arm and we walked rapidly away from the Pond toward the path where flowers grew on either side. We turned off to a patch of grass. There was a seat under one of the trees and he led me to it.

When we were seated he turned to me and said, “How could it have happened?”

“They told me you were dead,” I answered. “It was unbearable... after my father ...”

“I know what happened to your father... and then they told you... what did they tell you?”

“That you had been set upon by thieves after you left a meeting and were on your way to your hotel. You were missing, they said. And after a time we heard that your body had been discovered. You had been murdered, they said, you and James Hunter.”

“They should have told you the truth,” he said. “I would not have undertaken it if I had known they would not tell you.”

“The truth?” I cried.

He said, “It is true that I went out on this mission with my fellow Members of Parliament.

It was only when I was over there that the proposition was put to Hunter and me. We were younger than the others and more physically capable if the need arose. We had both done a little of this sort of work before and we were told that we had been selected to join the party because there was a need to carry out a little secret work... very secret. You know Buganda has recently become a British Protectorate, and in such cases there are always pockets of resistance to change in some quarters. There was a plot against the British brewing and Hunter and I were to discover the leaders of the proposed insurrection. It was necessary, of course, that they should be unaware of our intentions, and because of that we had to cast off our identities as Members of Parliament. We had to work in the utmost secrecy. Because we were Members of Parliament we should immediately be objects of suspicion to those we were meant to track down. So ... we were kidnapped, not by thieves, but by our own agents. Then we were made aware of what we had to do. It was given out that we were missing and later that we had been murdered. I did stipulate that my family and my fiancée must be told the truth. My father, as a well-known public man, could be trusted and this was conceded.”

“Your father did not tell me.”

“He decided you were too young to be trusted with such a secret. We were not officially engaged. He said that I had no fiancée; and a little word... even a look... could have betrayed the secret and perhaps cost us our lives. You must forgive him, Lucie. He was afraid for me.”

“He need not have been.”

“I know... but he was.”

“I went to see your parents. Your father was strange... aloof....”

He nodded.

“Oh, Joel ... if only I had known!”

“It seems as though fate was against us. And you, Lucie... you married that man.”

“I was bewildered... lonely. Rebecca... and everyone advised me. I had to start a new life, they said. It was too much... losing my father... and you. You see ... I was there with my father when it happened. I actually saw the man who did it. I saw the gun. I saw him fall. I saw everything. Then there was the trial ... and I was the one ... I was the one whose evidence condemned that man. And then, I lost you, too. I went to France with Belinda and Jean Pascal Bourdon. He is her father, you know. They all thought it would be good for me to get away... and on the boat I met the Fitzgeralds: Phillida and Roland ...”

“And you married Roland.”

“They were so good to me. He is good to me. He did a great deal to help. I felt I was becoming reconciled ...”

“Where is he now?”

“In Yorkshire. We are going to have a house there ... to be near Bradford where his business is. It’s the wool trade.”

“And you stopped caring for me.”

“I tried to ... but I didn’t succeed. I would always have remembered. But I could have been happy in a way with Roland, because he has always been so kind and understanding. But I could never forget you, and I can never forget what happened to my father.

I have been tormented by a terrible fear.”

“Tell me about it.”

“It is this man who murdered my father.”

“This Fergus O’Neill.”

“You knew of him?”

“He was a terrorist... not unknown in this country. The authorities here were aware of him. He was under observation. That was why it was so easy to pick him up. He had been involved in other cases and had nearly been caught on several occasions.”

“So you know of these things?”

“Well, I’ve done a little work... similar to that I was doing in Buganda. This Irish trouble has gone on for years. Who was it who said, ‘You can’t solve the Irish question, because if you did they would only find another question’? It’s been the case since before Cromwell’s days. It looks as though it will always be there, no matter what happened. I don’t think you need have any qualms about that man. Helping to convict him you have probably saved many lives.”

“There is one thing, Joel. Oh, it is so easy to talk to you. I haven’t been able to talk to anyone like this-except Rebecca since you went away.” He pressed my hand and I went on, “The night before my father was killed, I saw a man waiting on the other side of the road, watching the house. I saw him from my window. His hat blew off and I saw that he had a decided peak where the hair grew low on his forehead and there was a white scar on his cheek.”

“That’s Fergus O’Neill. That distinctive hairline was always against him. It made him so easily recognizable.”

“Joel, I saw that man standing on the same spot. It was after he had been executed.”

“How could that be?”

“That’s what I wonder. Was there another just like him? Had I helped to convict the wrong man?”

“You were in an overwrought state. Do you think you imagined this?”

“That is what they say. Rebecca said that was the answer and I came to believe it.

But ... it happened again.”

“At the same spot?”

“No. At Manor Grange.”

“Manor Grange?”

“Yes... only a few nights ago. You remember the Grange... the haunted seat?”

“Yes,” he said.

“I looked out of the window. The man was sitting there. As I looked he rose and bowed to me. I saw his hair... clearly. I saw the scar on his cheek.”

“No!”

“I swear I did.”

“You must have imagined it. Did anyone else see it?”

“No.”

“You were alone then?”

“Roland was with me. He came to the window... and there was no one there.”