A Lesson in Secrets_ A Maisie Dobbs Novel - Jacqueline Winspear [67]
“I see.” Maisie ran the telephone cord through her fingers. “Delphine Lang, a teaching assistant at the college is, apparently, a member of the Ortsgruppe. She travels to their meetings in London, and brings her young man with her. He is British.”
“Probably nothing to worry about, to tell you the truth. MacFarlane’s men and Section 5 are keeping their eyes on our homegrown Fascists, but so far they don’t seem to be making too much hay—the conservatives won’t have much to do with them, and they seem a lot more of a threat than they really are.”
Maisie sighed. “So, you’re not really worried about these developments.”
“Not until I get a memorandum telling me I should be.” He paused. “You seem worried, though.”
“It occurred to me, Brian, that infiltration of our venerable seats of learning would be something that might be on the agenda for these groups—impressionable young people, perhaps, waiting for a cause to support. And I’ve been reading about the NSDAP; their rhetoric has become increasingly inflammatory, to say nothing of anti-Semitic. They have gained considerable ground in Germany, especially when most of the population feels it was not served well by the Peace Conference.”
“Good points, Maisie, but not quite your bailiwick. Find out what, if anything, is going on at the college. An association with the Ortsgruppe is certainly of interest, but as I said, we’ve been kept up to date, and they’ve done nothing to alarm us yet. All a bit run-of-the-mill, actually.” He paused. “I’m looking at your teaching timetable now—shouldn’t you have a class this morning, Miss Dobbs?”
Maisie was surprised that Huntley seemed to be making a joke, so she answered in kind. “I’m playing truant. I’ll telephone you again soon, Brian.”
“One thing, Maisie.”
“Yes?” She heard him shuffle papers, as if looking for something specific.
“There’s a meeting of the London Ortsgruppe this evening. An address in Cleveland Terrace. I’ll have the details delivered to your office—I take it you’ll be in London later today?”
“Yes.”
“And don’t worry about your secretary, Maisie. She’s been released from police custody, into the safekeeping of Mr. Douglas Partridge.”
“How—?”
“We really don’t want complications or unnecessary attention drawn to you or your activities. Do try to keep her thoughts on her work, whether that work is for you or Mr. Partridge. Good-bye for now.”
As Maisie had no opportunity to end the call with a “Good-bye” in return, she set down the receiver and stepped out of the telephone kiosk. She expected Brian Huntley to be keeping tabs on her, but was surprised at his knowledge of Sandra’s dilemma. She was relieved to hear that the young woman had been released from police custody, but also understood that such a release came with strings attached, and hoped that Sandra would abide by the restrictions of those strings. It seemed she had become blindly headstrong since her widowhood, and though Maisie knew she might have good reason, she was determined to sit down with her new employee and find out exactly what was on her mind. Only then could she help her.
The sun was shining again now; a gentle breeze had blown up and she hoped for a pleasant journey. It would be a good deal more enjoyable, she thought, if she did not feel a deep concern about the Ortsgruppe, and about Delphine Lang’s involvement in the organization. And she was becoming increasingly perturbed whenever her thoughts turned to Robson Headley, a willful young man who appeared to have been rather indulged by a father who had already lost a beloved first son. Maisie wondered, again, about Greville Liddicote’s book. Already she knew of two people who had been touched by the book—touched enough, each in his way, to lay down arms. One had lost his life, charged with desertion and shot at dawn; the other had risked the same outcome with a self-inflicted wound. One British, one German. How many more young men—and women—might have been moved to some action by Greville