“It was exactly as he had said. As we passed from the flagstones around the pool through a large open double gateway we found ourselves moving out across a loose lawn to an iron table and chairs beneath a huge oak, where the grass grew sparse and the roots were visible, and other young trees to our right—willow, magnolia, maple—were fighting to make a grove.

“I could see the word ‘Lasher’ carved deep into the bark of the oak tree and there was a strange sweet fragrance in the garden, a perfumelike fragrance—something that I could not associate with flowers. I was shy of asking what the scent was.

“We sat down at the black iron table. It was set with cups and saucers for us and a tall thermal pitcher, which he lifted now to serve.

“ ‘Hot chocolate, mon fils, what do you say to that?’

“ ‘Oh, marvelous,’ I said with a laugh. ‘How absolutely delicious. I never expected it.’ He filled my cup.

“ ‘Ah,’ he said, as he filled his own, ‘you have no idea what a treat it is for me.’

“We sipped, waiting for the temperature to become comfortable, and I saw there were animal crackers on the plate and the old poem by Christopher Morley came to me about this very repast:

Animal crackers, and cocoa to drink,

That is the finest of suppers, I think;

“Quite suddenly, Oncle Julien recited the next two lines:

‘When I’m grown up and can have what I please

I think I shall always insist upon these.’

“We both laughed.

“ ‘Did you plan it on account of the poem?’ I asked.

“ ‘Well, I suppose I did,’ he responded. ‘And because I thought you’d enjoy it.’

“ ‘Oh, I’m so thankful. What a thoughtful thing to do.’

“I felt high. I felt happy. This man wouldn’t separate me from Mona. He would understand love. But I was forgetting something. I had heard the name Julien Mayfair, I was sure of it. It was in some connection, but I couldn’t remember. . . . Surely not from Mona. No.

“I looked up and to the left at the long three-story flank of the Mayfair house. It was immense and silent. I didn’t want it to shut me out.

“ ‘Do you know of Blackwood Manor?’ I asked suddenly. ‘It was built in the 1880s. I know this house is far older. We live out in the country. But you have the charm and stillness of the country right here.’ I felt foolish for my candor. What was I trying to prove?

“ ‘Yes, I know of the house,’ he said, smiling agreeably. ‘It’s very beautiful. And my coming there was a macabre and romantic experience, which I wouldn’t divulge to you in any detail, except that I must. It bears heavily upon your love for Mona. And so the light must shine in the dark.’

“ ‘How so?’ I was suddenly alarmed.