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“When will you make the arrest?” asked Maisie.

“I hate these religious meetings, really I do.” MacFarlane wiped his plate with the remaining wedge of fried bread. “We’ll wait until everyone has left the church afterward, and then make our move.”

Maisie nodded.

“But you won’t be there, Maisie,” he added.

“What do you mean, I—”

MacFarlane looked at Stratton. “Would you see if that dear lady wouldn’t mind making up a plate for our good man behind the wheel out there—I’ll bet he’s so hungry he could shake hands with his backbone.” Stratton looked from his superior to Maisie, and left the room. As soon as he heard the door close, MacFarlane continued. “Orders from Huntley. Directly the service is over you will return to London. He wants to see you.”

“But—”

“But, no. You’re playing a different game, Maisie. This is not your arrest, though we couldn’t have done it without you. You’re working for the funnies now, and once you’ve worked for them, they’ll be keeping tabs on you. They want you out of the way while we do our job, then you come back to the college tomorrow afternoon clean as a whistle, though as far as I can see, you’ve done as much as you can here.”

“I think so—though there is a term to finish.”

MacFarlane threw his table napkin down, pushed back his chair, and stood up. “You’ve done a good job, lass. I know how you must feel, but this is police work. Now, eat up that breakfast, or you’ll waste away.”

Matthias Roth led the procession of staff and students to the church, with one of the students carrying the college flag high enough for all around to see. In rich color and intricate embroidery, Saint Francis of Assisi was depicted with the face of a cherub and a bright halo above his head. His long, brown robe appeared on the flag as if made of silk, and he was surrounded by woodland animals, with a white dove at rest on his outstretched hand. Underneath the image of the saint for whom the college was named, the words Make me an instrument of peace had been woven into the fabric.

Roth was flanked by Alan Burnham and Dunstan Headley, and behind them walked Robson Headley along with other benefactors, followed by college staff. Francesca Thomas was as elegant as ever in a black dress with a matching jacket and black heeled shoes, while Delphine Lang, in a black dress of fine gauzy fabric over silk, seemed almost ethereal with her fair hair drawn back in a chignon. Maisie joined the other staff members and students, and as they filed into the church, at the back she saw the Thurlow family seated in a pew, with Ursula alongside in her wheelchair. She smiled at Maisie and nodded, while Alice sat stone-faced.

Dunstan Headley eulogized Greville Liddicote, and spoke of his deep abiding love of humanity: the love that inspired him to write a simple children’s book that touched the hearts of soldiers on both sides of war’s divide. Then Matthias Roth stepped forward to read the Prayer of St. Francis. Maisie looked around the congregation as words from the prayer filtered through.

. . . grant that I may not so much seek

to be consoled as to console;

to be understood as to understand;

to be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive;

it is in pardoning that we are pardoned . . .

She was aware of some movement towards the back of the church and turned to see that MacFarlane had arrived alone. He did not seek out a place to be seated, but stood with his head bowed and his hands clasping the hat he had removed upon entering the church.

The vicar led the congregation in the Lord’s Prayer, and, following another hymn and a blessing for the deceased and those who mourned him, the service came to an end. Maisie filed out slowly among the column of the people who had admired, hated, loved, respected, and doubted Greville Liddicote, and though she did not stop to speak to MacFarlane, she acknowledged him with a brief nod, which was met in kind. Once outside, she stopped to greet the Thurlows, then walked across to the yew tree that stood sentinel over the lych-gate. She lingered there under the deep evergreen