Terry swung open the door and took off after the intruder, speeding along the shadowy path. But in an instant, the intruder jumped high into the air, grabbed hold of the eight-foot wall, leaped over it and vanished into the night.

Terry stared at the wall in astonishment.

He re-entered the house and sat on a chair opposite his mother, watching while his father consoled her and served her hot tea. He drifted away in his thoughts, trying to imagine the intruder; to see what he could deduce from the intruder’s appearance.

First of all, the black cloak was undoubtedly old. It had holes in several places, and showed clear signs of ageing. Secondly, the intruder was about five-foot ten.

A few moments later he was just about ready to give up when he remembered how the intruder had jumped. “That’s it!” he exclaimed, “It was a woman!”

Terry explained to his parents that when the perpetrator climbed over the wall, the hood of her tattered black cloak slipped off her head. “She had this beautiful long black hair,” he said, “that glistened in the moonlight.”

After Melina had gone back to bed, Mr. Thornhill asked his wife how she had known that there was a perpetrator in the house. She told them that she had difficulty falling asleep that night, and so she decided to have some warm milk. Whilst she was in the kitchen, she suddenly noticed the woman standing next to the kitchen table.

“She must have climbed in through the window,” she ascertained.

Then Mrs. Thornhill recalled something else about the incident. The intruder had left an envelope on the table!

Walking over to the kitchen, she discovered that the envelope was signed with the initials M.F.. She handed it to her husband. Opening the envelope, a note fell out.

I warn you to leave the mansion before you find it. Or worse, before they find you!

“What do you think it means?” Terry asked.

Mr. Thornhill glanced at his wife. She looked a bit terrified. “It’s probably just a stupid prank,” he said, “I’ll notify the police in the morning. But what we all need right now is some shut-eye.”

Terry was excited to wake up the next morning. His best friend, Joe, who was in the same school he used to be in, was coming to visit.

After a quick shower and breakfast, he waited on the couch whilst reading a book.

Suddenly, he noticed his mother answering the door. That’s strange, he thought, I guess I was so wrapped up in the book that I didn’t hear the doorbell. He jumped to his feet, thinking that his guest had arrived. But he was shocked when he saw who was at the door.

It was their caretaker!

“I thought I asked you not to come around here anymore,” she answered sternly.

“Please ma’am,” Smith began, speaking with a thick accent. “Won’t you hear me out? I’ve been the caretaker of this house for decades! What happened yesterday was a mistake, honest! I just--” he glanced at the ground, disheartened.

Melina walked down the stairs sleepily, stretching her arms and yawning wildly. She noticed the caretaker standing by the door, smiling at her.

“Uncle Smith!” she cried cheerfully. “When will you be taking me out for ice-cream again?”

Terry didn’t wait for his reply. He escorted her to the kitchen and prepared breakfast for her.

Mrs. Thornhill thought about her daughter’s reaction. Maybe he wasn’t a criminal. Maybe he really was trying to be kind. She decided to give him his job back. “When will you be able to start?”

He smiled earnestly. “Tomorrow,” he said, “I’ve been living in a hotel while the plumbing work was being done here,” he explained. Thanking her repeatedly, he walked out through the gate, waving goodbye.

Later that day, Terry’s friend Joe had finally arrived.

“Sorry man, I was tied up at the airport. My dad got my mom these really cool concert tickets of her favourite singer. It’s their anniversary today.” Noticing his puzzled expression, he continued, “My parents, not the singer.”

“Oh, so that’s what the phone call this morning was about,” Terry replied thoughtfully.

“It’s all great and all, except I’m going to have to stay with my whacky aunt for two whole days! Did you know that she doesn’t have any electronics in her house? I mean, not even a phone! I’ll be bored to death!”

Terry grinned. “You could always stay here. My mom says you’re welcome anytime.”

After a long game of football, Joe ushered Terry inside. He announced that he had recalled something of significant importance.

“First and foremost, they accepted my application; I got into Bedford High!” he exclaimed. “But that’s not all. Apparently, this house was built by an extremely distinguished commander in the American army back in World War II.”

Joe went on to explain that he had also come across some startling theories regarding the reason behind a commander building a mansion in a town like this. People say he was stationed here to protect something of high value.

“That’s some legend,” Terry replied. He looked incredulous.

“It’s true!” Joe argued. “If you want, I could ask Mary to look into it. As much as I hate to admit it, skilled as I am, she’s ten times better than me when it comes to computers.”

After seemingly endless persuasion, Joe managed to convince Terry to pay her a visit. They agreed to meet her the following day.

It’s not that Terry disliked her, but for some reason she always looked at Terry funny. Joe didn’t seem to be aware of this.

At lunchtime, Terry found that he couldn’t stop thinking about what Joe had said.

A soldier, World War II, conspiracy theories, and a valuable secret—something important enough to have a decorated war veteran play guard dog. It was the perfect story, so how could it be true?

But what if it was true? What if the story really wasn’t a tale? He would have to find out if his home housed any secrets. He decided that he was too impatient to wait until tomorrow.

There was one place he could go right now, the library. The librarian was pretty old. Maybe he had lived through the war. That would mean he knew about the rumour. Yes, he thought gleefully, it was the best place to start.

After lunch, Terry filled Joe in on his plans. They decided to leave after dark. That way, not many people would be in the library, if not any people.

Terry soon found out that convincing his parents of the need to visit the library at such a late hour was the easy part.

Half an hour past their arrival, the last of the avid readers were finally clearing out. They approached the librarian’s desk silently.

He was an elderly, white-haired man, who wore a shiny, striped grey suit. He was engrossed in a book and didn’t notice the teenagers waiting in front of the desk.

Joe cleared his throat loudly.

The librarian looked up from his book, adjusting his round retro-styled spectacles. “Yes,” he began, staring at them blankly, “Can I help you?”

Terry decided to beat around the bush for awhile, in order not to raise suspicion. “I was wondering if you knew anything about World War II through personal experience. It’s for a school project.”

The librarian was eager to begin. He talked for several minutes—about the allied and axis powers, the reason for the war, and how it had ended six years later.

Fifteen minutes later, Terry decided that it was time to end the chit-chat. “Sir,” he began, eyeing the librarian closely, “What do you know about a commander being stationed in this town a long time ago?”

The librarian cast an appraising look at the boys. He was clearly spooked. He glanced outside through a window in several directions before asking the boys to leave. He then escorted the boys outside, returned inside and switched off the lights. Moments later, the windows of the adjoining building started to glow. It was apparent that the librarian had retired for the day.

Before Mr. Thornhill had arrived to pick up the boys, Terry had warned his friend not to discuss anything on their ride home. He said that he didn’t want his dad to worry unnecessarily.

As they entered the mansion, a warm smell of fried chicken and mashed potatoes greeted them. After washing up, they hurried over to the dining room.

Terry and Joe gobbled down their food quickly and excused themselves. They were far too eager to discuss the incident than to relish the savoury delicacies that Terry’s mother had prepared.

Leaving their dishing in the sink, they hurried to the terrace. Terry gazed at the vastness of the starless sky. “It’s dark out tonight.”

Sitting down on the stone fence, he asked Joe what he thought of the librarian.

“Well, he seemed compassionate and eager to share his knowledge with us at first. But after you mentioned the commander, he just clamped shut.”

“What exactly is the commander’s story?” Terry muttered, staring at the boundless sky. But neither his mind nor the stars offered him any ingenious solutions.

Stroking his blond hair unwittingly, Joe asked Terry what he thought the librarian was hiding.

“I don’t know yet. For now I suppose we’ll have to rely on Mary. Hey, you want to sleep up here tonight? There’s a pleasant breeze blowing.”

Acknowledging Joe’s nod as a positive signal, Terry descended down the stairway to fetch sleeping bags.

In his absence, Joe suddenly noticed a dark silhouette creeping through the yard. It was too caliginous to make out who it was, or even whether it was a man or a woman.

For a moment, he almost lost sight of the gloomy figure. Moving his eyes frantically, he soon noticed the person bending over. Seconds later, the person hurled something towards the mansion.

Crash!

The sound of shattering glass echoed through the mansion. Losing sight of the silhouette yet again, Joe hurried downstairs and ran into the yard. He was joined by Terry. Together they searched the premises but were unable to locate the intruder. Whoever had caused the window to shatter was long gone.

Re-entering the bedroom, Terry began to sweep away the pieces of glass. A large rock lying opposite the window caught his attention. It had a piece of paper attached to it. Joe walked into the room as he unfolded the note.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s a warning,” Terry replied. “It says to leave the mansion. Or next time it will be somebody’s skull that gets shattered.”

At the end of the note, the familiar initials M.F. were scribbled threateningly in red ink.