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By Root 509 0

and wrote to his publisher, who passed on the letter. Greville and I began a fruitful correspondence, and when he invited me to visit him, I came as soon as I could.” Roth blinked several times as if to prevent his emotions from becoming evident. “He was something of a hero to me, you see. Plans to open St. Francis were under way, and when he asked if I would join as his deputy—he felt he knew me well enough, and also considered it a ‘message’ to have a deputy who came from Germany, the former enemy—I was excited by the offer and jumped at the opportunity to join him. You see, Miss Dobbs, in 1916, shortly after taking that ridge—and keeping that bloodstained copy of Greville’s book—I was sent home to Germany with a wound that no one could prove was self-inflicted.” He sighed. “I am aware of the rumors that accompanied The Peaceful Little Warriors and why it was removed from circulation in Britain, but as far as I know, the only mutiny caused by Greville Liddicote’s book was mine.”

Maisie had wanted to ask Matthias Roth about the intercollege debate, and why he and Liddicote had been at odds over the issue; however, it was clear that the man was barely in control of his emotions. Such moments were often difficult to gauge—should she take advantage of a person’s distress, using it as a moment to press him further? Or would she be better served by patience, by a level of consideration that would encourage the person to be more frank with her, more open, at another time? On this occasion, she decided upon the latter, though she had no doubt that MacFarlane would have expressed an opinion or two on her decision.

Part of her wanted to remain in Cambridge, though she knew she must go to London. As she made her way along the corridor towards Rosemary Linden’s office to inform her that she was leaving, she saw the secretary accompanying two visitors in the direction of the stairs; she suspected they were on their way to Matthias Roth’s office. One was a man of late middle age, with light-gray hair, a dark suit, white shirt, and black tie. His shoes were polished and he carried a black homburg. A younger man accompanied him, and such was the resemblance between the pair that Maisie assumed they were father and son, though the younger man was taller, and more suitably dressed for a summer’s day, wearing light-brown trousers and a cream linen jacket, an open shirt, and a white panama hat that he had not removed. Maisie waved good-bye to Miss Linden, and as they passed, the younger man took off his hat and smiled at Maisie. Her recollection was immediate—he was the man in whose company she had seen Delphine Lang in the park.

The day was fine for the drive back to London. As she navigated her way through the city of Cambridge, Maisie once again reflected upon her good fortune to have been educated in such a place. She remembered her first term at Girton, and the forays into town for tea with Priscilla, who always wanted to go from one shop to another and stay out past their curfew. Every time Maisie lingered to look up at another building with tall spires and noble buttresses, and stained-glass windows in rich hues, Priscilla would roll her eyes and say, “It’s only bricks and bloody mortar!” All about them, more and more young men were in uniform—so different from her return to complete her education after the war, when the distant laughter seemed to echo around those spires and along the Backs, where once a boy Priscilla was seeing had tipped a punt underneath overhanging willows, and they’d splashed onto the grass, drenched to the skin.

With Cambridge behind her, the journey was easy. Clouds scudding across the summer-blue sky threatened only the merest sprinkle of rain, so she stopped once to pull back the roof on the MG and stow her hat. As the road opened up, she considered the events that had unfolded since she had arrived at the College of St. Francis. She had often thought of the early stages of an investigation as something akin to working a tapestry; at times it was as if she were searching for loose threads so she could