A Lesson in Secrets_ A Maisie Dobbs Novel - Jacqueline Winspear [7]
“Same man,” interjected MacFarlane.
Huntley continued. “He resigned his position at Cambridge in late 1917—it’s generally thought he was asked to do so—and he went on to found a college, also in Cambridge, in 1920.”
Maisie nodded.
“The book that got him into so much trouble was an embarrassment for His Majesty’s government,” said Huntley. “It was a controversial story about a group of fatherless children who go to live in the woods, and who decide to journey to France to end the war.”
“That doesn’t sound too inflammatory to me, though I haven’t read the book,” said Maisie.
“We managed to have most copies confiscated; however, there was an efficient underground acquisition of books by various pacifist organizations—the last decade, as you probably know, has seen a significant rise in the number of such groups. While it appears at first blush to be fairly harmless, the book was written in such a way as to undermine morale both on the home front and indeed on the battlefield, should it have reached the hands of serving men. The plight of orphaned children will always tug at the heartstrings, so we circumvented the distribution to the extent that we could. We did not want the books reaching men in the ranks. Even those with limited literacy would be able to understand a children’s book.”
“I understand,” said Maisie. She did not care for Huntley’s tone regarding the “men in the ranks,” but made a mental note to see one or two booksellers who she thought might be able to acquire a copy of the offending book.
Huntley glanced at his notes again. “The College of St. Francis was founded by Liddicote on the back of donations made to him by the wealthy parents of several young men who were killed in the war, and who were his students at Cambridge. It is housed in what was once a rather substantial grand house on the outskirts of the city—the property itself was a donation from the grandparent of one of those unfortunate young men—and Liddicote began to recruit students, who come from the seven corners of the world to better their proficiency in the English language and to study English and European literature and the moral sciences. It is no secret that an emphasis on the maintenance of peace in Europe underpins much of the teaching. I should add that proximity to the long-established hallowed halls of learning in Cambridge makes it an attractive proposition to those who wish to have an immersion in the culture of our nation—and as a bonus they can always say they were ‘educated in Cambridge,’ without giving details.”
“You were an Oxford man, weren’t you, Mr. Huntley?”
“Guilty, as charged.”
“It was that slight acidity of the tongue when you spoke of Cambridge.”
“Let it be said that neither of your good seats of learning could be as acid as the school of hard knocks where I come from,” said MacFarlane.
“Quite,” said Huntley.
Maisie leaned forward to pour more tea. “So, how can I help you?”
“We—Special Branch and the office of which I am a representative—believe that the school and its activities are worthy of more detailed investigation, though we do not wish our inquiries to be transparent to Liddicote or the students. That’s where you come in, Miss Dobbs.”
“How?”
“An advertisement has been placed in The Times Educational Supplement.” Huntley passed a newspaper cutting to Maisie. “Liddicote’s college is asking for a junior lecturer in philosophy. You clearly have the academic background to meet the demands of such a position—you graduated from Girton having studied the moral sciences—and you have the necessary training to be able to conduct an investigation.”
“But there will be many, many applicants for this job.”
“On a practical level, we are able to control the applications received at the college; of those reaching Liddicote’s desk, yours will be the only curriculum