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“Since I discovered how Peter died, I’ve always equated working in intelligence as being a bit of a risky business.”

Maisie smiled and touched Priscilla on the arm at the mention of her brother. She sipped the last of her coffee. “I’d better get going, Pris. I have to see Billy as soon as possible. If Sandra had gone to the trouble to break into the premises of her husband’s employer, and then summon the courage to do the same at the office of a man she didn’t know, you can be assured she acted with good reason.”

“Take care, Maisie, with this Cambridge business.”

“It’s perfectly all right, I promise you would not believe how very safe I am. It’s a college; it’s slow, quiet, and deliberate.”

“And a man was murdered there—I saw it in the newspaper, about the College of St. Francis. That’s where you are, isn’t it?”

“Oh dear—I promise you, I am safe. The college is not half as exciting as the press might have you believe. If you were there, you would be snoozing in the corner within minutes.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Maisie and Priscilla held each other for two or three seconds; then Maisie left, calling out to her friend as she walked down the front steps. “Keep me informed—let me know if she turns up, or if you happen to have an idea of where she might have gone.”

Maisie parked the MG in Fitzroy Street, turned off the engine, and sighed. Thoughts of Sandra extinguished all other concerns from her mind. Where is she? Is she safe? She closed her eyes. Not for the first time, the plight of the wounded animal came to mind. She knew that instinct would always take the wounded creature to its lair. But where was Sandra’s lair? As far as she knew, Sandra had left home at the age of twelve, when she was sent to work in service. Her father and mother both worked on the land, and with four daughters and no sons, there was little more they could do for the girls beyond school age, so they were sent to work in service. Like many young girls before her, Sandra had come to London alone, to knock on doors until someone offered her a job. Fortunately, she had not wandered far when she turned up at the door of 15 Ebury Place. She hardly knew her parents now, and had traveled down to Dorset only once or twice a year to visit them. Sandra had done well; considering it important to “better herself,” she had gone to the lending library once a week to collect three or four books that she would read when the day’s work was done, and before the light was turned out for the night. She had grown from a quiet but diligent girl into a young woman who, through hard work, intended to make life better for herself—and Maisie knew that for Sandra, life took on a sunnier hue when she became attached to Eric, who also worked for the Compton family before leaving their employ to become a full-time mechanic. How could anyone have known it was a job that was to kill him, and leave Sandra a widow at twenty-four? Where has she gone?

Billy looked up from his work when Maisie walked into the office.

“Afternoon, Miss.”

“Billy, how are you?”

“Not so bad. Had a nice drive down?”

“The road was fairly clear, and it’s a fine day, so I made good time.” Maisie set her briefcase on her desk and looped the handle of her shoulder bag over the back of her chair. She looked at the stack of papers on Sandra’s desk awaiting her attention.

Billy nodded towards the desk. “I don’t know where she’s got to, I’m sure. I don’t know if I should tell you this, but she’s missed a morning or two this week.”

“I know.”

Billy blushed.

Maisie drew up a chair to sit in front of his desk.

Billy shifted in his chair and nodded. “Miss, I’ve got to admit, I’ve been a bit worried, you know, in case you didn’t need me here, what with Sandra having done those commercial courses.”

“I didn’t take you on to type letters, Billy.”

He shrugged. “But I was thinking that since I’ve been working for you, you’ve had to get me out of trouble a few times, and look at Sandra, she’s no trouble at all.”

“She’s in dreadful trouble, Billy. She’s become a case, and I want you