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By Root 555 0

canopy, and watched those who had paid their respects leave the church and go on their way. Soon there were only a few stragglers, at which point two policemen in uniform and one plainclothesman approached the church. MacFarlane emerged with his hand holding Matthias Roth’s arm in a firm grasp, and as soon as they were beyond the church door, the policemen approached and Roth was handcuffed. It was obvious he was weeping as he was escorted to a police vehicle and helped aboard. MacFarlane gave instructions to a policeman before turning to beckon another motor car, which drew up alongside the lych-gate. Maisie stepped back so that he did not see her; once he had departed, she stepped into the churchyard. The sun moved behind a cloud, and at once she was chilled by the events of the day.

“Miss Dobbs!”

Daniel was on the other side of the lych-gate, astride his bicycle.

“Miss Dobbs—did you see that? I think the police have just arrested Dr. Roth.”

Maisie made her way along the flagstones, securing the gate once she had stepped through onto the pavement.

“Yes, it seems so.”

“What do you think it’s about—perhaps he murdered old Liddy.”

Maisie gave a half-smile. “I really couldn’t say, Daniel.”

“But what if he did, why do you think he’d do such a thing?”

Maisie could see the concern in the young man’s countenance; he was filled with questions.

“Remember your myths. Go back to the legends, and perhaps those great philosophers we’ve been studying. See what they have to say about the despair that assails a man when he discovers his hero has feet of clay. And see if there is comfort for the man who learns that the words of one he has worshipped—words that inspired men to make a stand that would lead to their deaths—were not his, but stolen from another. Greville Liddicote was Dr. Roth’s hero. But he was just a man, not a god beyond doubt, and I believe Dr. Roth wanted him to be something more.”

“I—I think I understand, Miss Dobbs.” The student looked down at the bicycle clips on his trouser legs. “Might I ask if what I said to you yesterday had anything to do with Dr. Roth’s arrest? The policemen came to see me early this morning to ask questions.”

Maisie shook her head. “No, it wasn’t anything you said.” It was another lie, and Maisie wondered again at her ability to speak untruths without a telltale catch to her voice, or color rising to her cheeks. “I would imagine the policemen simply realized there were some outstanding interviews and they wanted to get them completed before the service. That your observations proved to be useful is, really, nothing you should concern yourself with. You could not have lied, after all.”

“I think I might have, if I thought my words would send Dr. Roth to the gallows.”

Maisie sighed. “I’d better be off, Daniel. I have to be on my way.”

“See you tomorrow afternoon, Miss Dobbs—oh, and I left my assignment for you in the office.”

Maisie walked back to the college, which was Sunday quiet; many of the congregants had returned to their lodgings for a late lunch, and those remaining were in their rooms. A funeral could dampen the enthusiasm of even the most exuberant student. Miss Hawthorne was in the office, trying to catch up, and they both commented on the lovely send-off given to Greville Liddicote by the staff and students of the college he’d loved. Maisie collected student homework from her pigeonhole, then walked out to her motor car, which she had left parked on the road a short distance from the entrance to the college. She placed her burden of books and papers on the passenger seat next to her, then left the MG and made her way back to the college and out to the grounds until she reached the path of St. Francis. She began the meditative walk, her thoughts on Matthias Roth and the twist of fate that led him to take the life of a man he admired so much that he had changed the course of his own life.

On the day Dunstan Headley had marched through the French doors into Greville Liddicote’s office, Roth was still struggling to persuade Liddicote to agree to the debate. He could not