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By Root 463 0

over the next day or so—they’ve been informed of his death, of course. The son and daughter are in their mid-twenties and, as far as we know, didn’t have much to do with their father. We understand he and his wife lived quite separate lives; she more or less left him when he lost his Cambridge appointment and became obsessed with founding the college, so she took the children back to Oxford, which is where they had met. Apparently she died in 1925, and the children chose to remain with her family—they didn’t want to go back to their father.” Stratton kicked at a stone as he spoke. “We’ve also discovered that our friend Liddicote was something of a philanderer when he was younger: had an eye for the ladies, especially young students, it seems.”

“Oh dear, family troubles and a wayward eye—more muddying of the waters. I wondered why there was no family at the assembly.”

Stratton went on. “They were told about it, and according to Roth they’ve been informed about the memorial service, but we don’t know if they’ll come. The son is now in London, an architecture student, and the daughter is in Bath, with some relatives.”

“Right then, this will never get the eggs cooked on this little case, will it?” MacFarlane’s voice boomed behind them. “We can’t be chatting all day, can we, children? Ricky? Maisie?”

Maisie saw Richard Stratton look away as MacFarlane approached. She knew that Stratton only ever used the name “Richard” when introducing himself by his Christian name. Any abbreviation without an invitation to do so represented a certain unwelcome familiarity, and Maisie could not imagine Richard Stratton saying to anyone, “Call me Ricky.” She watched Stratton’s expression as he turned back to answer a question put to him by MacFarlane. Ah, he doesn’t like MacFarlane. He doesn’t like him at all.

Maisie was in front of her second-year class, a larger group than usual, as apparently Francesca Thomas had to leave the college due to sickness—she was suffering from a very bad cold—and it was felt that her students would be best served by joining the junior lecturer’s philosophy class. Maisie had written two words on the blackboard with a crisp new stick of chalk: Good and Evil. Soon the class was in full swing, and, following readings on the nature of the opposing forces, a vibrant discussion ensued in which the nature of those two elements within the human condition was debated. As the class drew to a close, Maisie set homework for the students, and asked whether there were any final questions. A student put up his hand.

“Yes, Daniel.”

“Miss Dobbs, will you be helping the debate team prepare for the competition?” Daniel, from Sweden, spoke with only a slight accent, testament to several years spent in a British boarding school while his father traveled the world on business, accompanied by his mother.

“I don’t believe so, although I know that several of our staff are very involved in the debate, under Dr. Roth’s leadership. Why do you ask?”

Daniel shrugged as he gathered his books and made his way to the front of the class, while his fellow students began moving towards the door. “Our discussion today is so connected to the subject of the debate—good and evil; the Oswald Mosleys and Adolf Hitlers of this world—are they for the good or the bad? Are they misguided leaders or prophets? And what about the forces in Spain?”

Maisie nodded and smiled. “Good questions, Daniel—perhaps to ponder along with your homework. We might well discuss each of these men and their philosophies next time, so come prepared. Are you one of our debaters?”

“I’m a stand-in, in case someone is ill. I might have made it, but they had to make a place for someone who isn’t technically a student here.”

“Who’s that?”

“The son of one of the board members. He wanted to debate but doesn’t belong to a college—I think he’s already been to university in London and now works for his father. He’s been given an opportunity to stand for the college. Despite the fee my father is paying for my extended education here, it seems the governor’s son trumps any skill I