In the Still of the Night

room to change into his hiking clothes, he discovered that his manuscript was missing. He was frantic and tried to rouse everyone to mount a thorough search.
    When he came back to report this to Lily, Addie said, “You’ve just put it down somewhere and forgotten. Calm down and think rationally when you last saw it. Taking a walk with us will clear your head.”
    Julian West had said he had work to do. Raymond and Rachel went for a ride to town with Robert. It wasn’t until Lily and Addie were setting out for their walk that Lily said, “I haven’t seen Lorna Ethridge this morning.“
    “I didn’t hear her stirring,“ Addie said. “I imagine she’s the sort of woman who sleeps late in the morning.”
    Cecil, who was interested enough in gossip to forget his manuscript for a moment, said, “That sounds like a criticism. Don’t you like Mrs. Ethridge?“
    “I despise her, as a matter of fact,“ Addie said. “But I can avoid her quite nicely in a big house like Grace and Favor. Oh, what a lovely little daffodil. Did you plant these, Lily?“
    “No, they’re wild. Or someone planted them years ago.”
    Cecil took the hint that Lorna was a forbidden subject. “How long have you and your brother lived here, Miss Brewster?“
    “Only since last August, and you must call me Lily. We inherited the house from our great-uncle. My brother and I have never lived in a rural setting before, except in the summers when we stayed in the family beach house in Massachusetts for a couple weeks and occasional autumn visits to our house in North Carolina. I’ve come to enjoy it quite a bit, but Robert’s having a little more trouble with it. He’s a city person. He misses the night life.”
    Cecil said, “I wouldn’t. I’m an early to bed, early to rise person. I do my best work in the mornings. I did oversleep a bit today, however. There was an odd noise in my room and several people seemed to be roaming around in the halls and slamming doors.“
    “I noticed that, too,“ Lily said. “The strange noise in your room was caused by Mad Henry. He’s apparently replaced the bell pull wires with telephone wires to make a calling system. Of course, no one is ever in the basement servants’ quarters to answer either the call or the bell pulls. But he means well, I suppose.”
    Addie picked a tiny red tulip and stuck it in the buttonhole of her shirt. “What is the manuscript you’re working on now, Professor Hoornart? Another book of your reviews? I enjoyed the last one very much and added a great many books to my reading list on your recommendations.”
    Cecil stood up a little straighter and smiled benevolently. “I’m glad to hear that. But no, my current project is another biography. Of Mr. Julian West, in fact. Which is why I was so very glad to be invited here. But I’m worried about my manuscript and notes. I had them just last night.“
    “It must not be easy to do a biography of Julian West,“ Lily said. “I understand he’s a very solitary person and never gives interviews. I was very surprised that he accepted our invitation.“
    “Interviews aren’t really the most important thing,“ Cecil said. “I’m really examining the body of his work. One can’t help but reveal one’s true nature when one is a writer. Especially a writer of historical fiction. One’s changing views of life creep into the work.“
    “And how do you think his work has changed?“ Addie asked.
    “I presume you’ve read all his work, Miss Jon-son? The early works were more balanced. Not more cheerful, exactly, but they had a sense of irony that was often somewhat amusing in spots. More even-handed. His work after the war is missing that. The irony is bitter, the views are bleak. It’s a significant change, and well it should be. After hearing all he said last night, I can see quite well what caused the difference in style. I was talking about it last evening with Lily.“
    “I suppose you’d change enormously after a horrible experience like that,“ Lily said. “The sheer brutality…“
    “I believe a great many men who survived that war were severely altered,“ Cecil said. “My cousin had a husband who suffered shell-shock. He’s never gotten over it. His wife left him because he couldn’t talk about anything but the war and had horrible nightmares and would wake screaming almost every night. He’d been a very mild, interesting and pleasant person before. He became a frightening stranger to