A Lesson in Secrets_ A Maisie Dobbs Novel - Jacqueline Winspear [92]
“Professor, I wonder if I might put one more question to you.”
“I’ll try to answer it.”
“You seem to know something about the founding of the college—I wonder if you have any idea who ‘the Readers’ might be?”
“The Readers? Yes, of course. As soon as he realized that The Peaceful Little Warriors had had something of an effect on people, beyond being a book for children, Greville kept a list of people who had been in touch with him, with the intention of approaching them for donations to get his college going. Dunstan Headley is obviously a Reader; so are many people who read the book and who lost sons to the war. And there are former soldiers on the list, too, and various people who have since served on the faculty—in fact, Matthias Roth is a Reader, as far as I know. I seem to remember Greville telling me that he had made him deputy principal not least because he had put his life savings into the college, such was his belief in what the college stood for. And I confess, I suspect I am on the list—I made a small contribution after Greville resigned; I thought it was the least I could do. Mind you, you should remember, though the book was withdrawn from circulation, Greville kept a few copies for himself, which he was able to put onto the market at an inflated rate, and the subsequent escalation of his reputation rendered all his other books very successful indeed. He was a wealthy man, you know. And he was clever too—his desire to leave a legacy came from an unexpected quarter.”
“His books or the college?”
“Both. You see, that’s what Greville wanted—a sort of fame, if truth be told. I think we’ve all come across people who want recognition on a broader scale than might otherwise be available to them. As a senior fellow at the university, I might have expected a level of acclaim, but that would be due to the very small pond in which I swim. Greville wanted something bigger, and the notoriety The Peaceful Little Warriors gave him presented a perfect opportunity. You see, prior to writing that book, I had never heard him voice any opinion regarding the worthiness—or otherwise—of the war. He had never claimed to be a pacifist, but the book, its reputation, and then his resignation from the university, gave him an impetus to find something new—and so the College of St. Francis was born. Greville Liddicote was reinvented, if you will, as a man of peace for the students of the world. And money flowed in from those who had been so pained by their losses, and who wanted to see something better come of it all.” He sighed, as if breathless after speaking for so long. “And, Miss Dobbs, I have to say this—good for him, because ultimately I do not doubt his commitment to the maintenance of peace so actively championed by his work at the College of St. Francis.”
At the door, Maisie slipped on her jacket, and, holding out her hand to the elderly man, decided to press her luck with a final question. “Professor Henderson, can you think of anyone who would want to see Greville Liddicote dead?”
“I suppose I could think of a few—though none who would ever do anything about it. I understand police inquiries are in progress, but I would venture to guess it is just a formality. I am sure he must have died from some natural cause or another.”
The church clock was striking seven as she passed on her way to meet the two policemen.
“What’ll it be for you,