A Lesson in Secrets_ A Maisie Dobbs Novel - Jacqueline Winspear [88]
Chapter Fourteen
It took a while for Maisie to locate the administration office at King’s College in the Strand. The grand Byzantine Gothic buildings overlooked the Thames on one side, and proved to be something of a maze for the new visitor. Following a wait of over half an hour in the records office, she made her way to the room of Dr. Trevor Petit, lecturer in politics and history. Petit was tall and thin, with silver hair; he wore a gray jacket and trousers, though they did not match and could not be referred to as a suit. A collar stud had come loose, and he kept touching his neck to stop the starched collar from riding up towards his ear while she introduced herself and informed him that she wanted to find out more about a young man called Robson Headley. Maisie explained that he was representing the College of St. Francis in a debate, and she was endeavoring to assess the potential for success. Petit did not seem to doubt her story, though she suspected he might think twice about the reason for her questions after she had left his office.
“I’d like to know what he was like as a student—I understand he left the university only three years ago, so you’d probably remember him.”
“That’s right; I remember him quite clearly.” Petit pressed his collar down and straightened his tie. He looked at Maisie. “May I be candid, though I would not care for these thoughts to be attributed back to me?”
“Of course. My visit is informal; anything you tell me is in absolute confidence.”
Petit nodded, and folded his arms. “I couldn’t stand the chap. Opinionated, unable to engage in constructive debate—bear that in mind, Miss Dobbs—and something of a troublemaker, despite those baby-faced looks.”
“How did he cause trouble?”
“He seemed quite unable to stand back and demonstrate intellectual curiosity without extreme involvement. If he joined a team of any sort—he was a runner, for a while—he would go at it tooth and nail. There was no middle ground, and that extended to his politics. He could not simply argue a point in tutorial, for example. With most students, there might be argument or dissent in the classroom, then when the class is over, it’s off to the common room and they’re still talking about it, but not necessarily with a venomous ferocity. Well, Headley wasn’t like that—he would harangue people. I had heard that on one occasion, he was so intent upon continuing an argument that he woke up a fellow student by throwing stones at his window at night, trying to get him to come down and finish the row outside. The police were called.”
“Oh dear, he does seem rather passionate.”
“I call it being spoiled. His family have indulged him, and I cannot see him changing overnight, though I would hope he has mellowed.”
“Did he become involved in any particular political groups?”
“I can’t think of anything off hand, though he did try to start something himself. It was a group that countered the stance of pacifists—there’s quite a pacifist movement among students, you know—he was maintaining that an inability and unwillingness to take up arms, along with peaceful overtures towards our enemies, would lead to a disease of weakness. He would hold meetings outside, try to get other students to join him in challenging the man on the street to be part of the cause—and at a time when the man on the street is probably more interested in making a day’s living. Passionate? Yes. And misguided. And he isn’t quite as bright as he thinks he is; quite a mediocre student, actually.”
“You have been most forthcoming, Dr. Petit. I wonder if your fellow lecturers would share your opinion.”
“Granted, I didn’t like Headley, but I think he offended other members of staff, too—it was talked about, especially when he started holding meetings, trying to be a leader, talking about entering politics, and so on. He was giving off a lot of hot air—though I have to admit, when I learned his older brother was killed in the war, I wondered if that might account