Midsummer's Eve

I sped down to the cellar. I had to be careful because I did not want the servants to hear. They would think it so odd that I had not asked them to bring the wine.

I had rarely been down here. It was dark. It was some little time before I could find what I wanted. Then I must find glasses. I must have been away for more than five minutes.

All the time I was pondering on his strange behaviour. I could not understand why he had asked so soon for wine.

There was a surprise for me when I reached the room. He was not there. Of course, he had been very nervous. Had he thought that someone was coming and made his escape?

It was all very strange.

I set down the wine and looked out on the street. There was no sign of him. It was very mysterious.

I went upstairs. No one was about. I stood listening. I thought I heard a sound from above.

Cautiously I went up the next flight of stairs. I was standing at the bottom of those steps which led to Uncle Peter's sanctum. I looked UP and to my astonishment saw that the door was open.

Uncle Peter must be home.

"Uncle Peter," I called.

There was no answer. I went up and looked in. Joe turned to face me. He looked pale and shaken.

I cried: "What are you doing here? This room is always locked. How did you ...”

"Hush," he said.

I advanced into the room. I had never been there before. It was as I had expected it would be-an office. There was a big desk and several iron riling cabinets.

"It's Uncle Peter's private office," I said.

Joe was putting some papers into his breast pocket.

"I'm ready to go now," he said.

"You must come down at once. This door is supposed to be locked. How did you get in?”

He did not answer that. He just said: "Let's get down.”

I said: "I don't understand. Someone must have left the door open.”

We came silently down the stairs to the hall.

"I must go now," he said.

"No, no, Joe," I cried. "I want to know what you were doing in Uncle Peter's room.”

I drew him into the little room into which I had first brought him.

I said: "You have taken something. Joe, what are you doing?”

"There was something I wanted. Understand, Annora, I have to do this. You'll understand in time and you'll see why.”

"But I don't understand. How did you know the door was open?”

"It wasn't. I opened it.”

"You ... you haven't a key. No one has a key except Uncle Peter and Aunt Amaryllis.”

"I learned how to open locked doors. It's an art. Someone at Frances's place taught me how to do it. When you know how, it's not difficult.”

"Frances's place!”

"Yes. Someone whose profession it is to unlock doors.”

"You mean a thief ... a criminal!”

"Look," he said, "I don't want to involve you in this, Annora.”

"But you unlocked the door. They'll know you've been there.”

"I can't relock it. They'll just think they forgot to lock it.”

"But what did you take?”

"I can't tell you now, Annora. I must go. I have to go now ... at once.”

"So you came here ... just to do that?”

"I knew you'd help me. We've always been good friends. I knew you'd be on my side.

I must go now ... quickly. Goodbye, Annora.”

My first thought was that no one must know he had called. I took back the wine and the glasses. Then I went to my room.

I had thought he was going to ask me to marry him and he had come to steal something from my uncle's study. I felt stupidly bewildered and very, very uncertain. Should I tell them? I felt a certain loyalty to Joe. And yet what of Uncle Peter?

I tried to shut out of my mind the memory of Joe standing in Uncle Peter's room putting papers into his breast pocket. I could not stop thinking of him any more than I could of Rolf leaping over a bonfire.

I was in a terrible state of uncertainty. I simply did not know what I should do.

Helena returned full of excitement about her trousseau. I pretended to listen to her prattle and did not hear a word of it.

I expect Aunt Amaryllis thought she had failed to lock the door. She would be very upset and perhaps hastily lock it and say nothing about it. She would hate Uncle Peter to think she had been careless where his instructions were concerned.

I was quite bemused. I could not understand it. I did not want to discuss it even with Peterkin.

And then suddenly I learned what it was all about.

Following on the Cresswell case it was like another chapter in the same story.

"Corruption in High Places. Weil-Known Politician in dubious Clubs Scandal": "Exclusive story in the Gazette": "Read all about it.”

"I should have thought," said Aunt Amaryllis, "that everyone is tired of reading about these political scandals. I believe a lot of them are made up just to make sensational headlines and sell the papers. I shall not read it.”

But of course she did.