A Lesson in Secrets_ A Maisie Dobbs Novel - Jacqueline Winspear [62]
The gray building with a low-pitched roof was set in its own grounds, but they were neither so lush nor so grand as those surrounding the college. Maisie brushed some lint from the shoulders of a navy-blue jacket, which she wore with a cream linen skirt and blouse. On this occasion, she wore a light straw hat with a broad dark-blue silk band, and with a broader brim than she might usually wear. She clutched her shoulder bag and briefcase, opened the main door, and entered the building. A woman in an office to the right opened a hatchlike window and called to her.
“Are you Miss Dobbs? Mr. Headley’s four-o’clock meeting?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Take a seat, if you wouldn’t mind, and I’ll telephone his secretary.”
“Thank you.”
Maisie listened to the one-sided conversation.
“Valerie? Yes, I’ve got Mr. Headley’s four-o’clock here. Right you are—and when you come down we’ve got your pools coupon here; the Vernons’ man will be round on Friday to collect. Yes, I’ve told her to wait. About five minutes—I’ll tell her.”
The woman poked her head out of the window. “Mr. Headley’s secretary will be down in about five minutes. Would you like a cup of tea?”
Maisie shook her head. “No, thank you.”
Five minutes later a woman who was about the same age as Maisie came downstairs to escort her to Dunstan Headley’s office.
“We’ve been very busy today, what with one thing and another. Mr. Headley’s expecting you now.”
She showed Maisie into a room with bookcases on one wall; however, instead of books, each shelf held a series of ledgers with a year inscribed along the spine, or perhaps another indication of the contents: “Hong Kong, Supply” or “Singapore: Accounts” or “France: Orders.” She had not been completely clear on the type of commerce conducted by Dunstan Headley, but understood it involved purchasing materials in one country and shipping them to another for manufacturing, then to a series of other countries for sale. The actual items manufactured and sold depended upon what was deemed to be in demand by purchasers in that country.
“Miss Dobbs.” Dunstan Headley leaned across a large desk of dark wood with a pattern carved into each corner. He held out his hand. “What a pleasure to welcome you to my office. I’m not used to lecturers from the college going out of their way to visit me, so I’m curious as to the purpose of your visit.” Headley did not move from behind his mammoth desk, reminding Maisie of the captain who would rarely leave the wheelhouse of his ship. He was a stocky man, bald but for wisps of brushed and oiled gray hair at the sides of his head. His eyes were pale blue, and he wore a dark-gray suit, a white shirt, and a tie the color of pewter. Beyond a gold pocket watch, there was no indication of his wealth. Indeed, the offices were comfortable but not ostentatious in any way. Maisie recalled seeing Robson Headley, and thought the son must favor the mother, given his height, yet his eyes were the same pale blue, and he had inherited a certain squareness of jaw from his father.
“I wanted to see you about Greville Liddicote. I know this is premature, but I have thought that in time people might wish to read more about his work, and I am considering writing a short biography. I thought I would start by talking to those who knew him best, who had some insight into his motives for founding the college.”
“Well, he was certainly an interesting character, to be sure. I must confess that I am still shocked by his death. It’s worrying that there are some questions regarding the cause.” Headley did not look at her when he spoke, but leafed