urge to push it back behind my ear.
“I am certain you’ll be quite presentable,” he said, in that charming way he had of hovering right between compliment and rudeness.
“Now,” he said, rising from his chair. “We’ll discuss things further with your uncle.”
He went to the door and pulled it open. “Davies,” he called. “Send in Mr. McDonnell.”
I heard an indistinct sound at the end of the hallway. Davies hopping to, no doubt.
Major Ramsey came back to his desk. “Difficulties with the telephones,” he said. “I can’t ring Davies from here at present.”
That was as good an opening as any to ask what I’d been wondering since the first night I’d been brought here. “What sort of operation is this, anyway?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean this,” I said, waving my hand to indicate the house in general. “This clearly isn’t a government building.”
“No,” he said. “It’s a private residence that’s been requisitioned.”
“Whose residence is it?” I asked.
There was a brief pause. “Mine.”
The door opened and Uncle Mick came in before I could reply.
I ought to have realized. After all, his office had a comfortable, settled feeling to it, and he moved about as though he owned the place. Then again, he moved about that way everywhere he went.
Still, I had to adjust the category into which I’d placed him in my head. I had guessed he was probably from a well-off family, but, somehow, a Belgravia residence was a level or two up from what I’d assumed.
“Good morning, Mr. McDonnell,” he said.
“Good morning, Major.”
The two of them acted as though they hadn’t been prisoner and jailer a few short hours ago. How quickly we adapt in wartime.
Uncle Mick took a seat and accepted a cup of the major’s sooty coffee, and then we got down to business.
“I’ve informed Miss McDonnell that we have further need of your … unique set of skills,” Major Ramsey said. “You’ll both be asked to sign the Official Secrets Act, and you’ll be paid for your services.”
“We’ll do what you need us to, Major, but for our country,” Uncle Mick replied. “Not for money.” I recognized that slight lift of his chin. My uncle was a proud man. We might not always be honest, but we worked for what we had nonetheless.
The major was, as usual, unmoved. “All the same, it is preferable for us to pay you than to have you make your money … elsewhere.”
It was clear enough what he meant, but he decided to make it clearer. “What I’m saying is this: if I hear of any illegal activities occurring, I won’t hesitate to turn either of you over to the proper authorities.”
I nodded. Perhaps I was growing accustomed to the major’s rough edges because I didn’t even feel annoyed by the threat. Deep down, I knew we were fortunate to get this chance. I felt, for once, grateful to the major rather than antagonized by him. It would be a weight off to know we had a bit of money coming in.
Uncle Mick seemed to feel the same way, for a small smile crossed his lips and he gave the major a jaunty salute. “Righto, sir.”
“Now that that’s settled, we’ll get back to the matter at hand,” the major said as he sat back in his chair again. “The man whose body we stumbled across was called Harden. He was the owner of a factory, at which weapons are currently being produced.”
My senses prickled at this newest bit of information. It didn’t take a genius to make the obvious inference. “Then the documents were weapons information,” I said.
The major tipped his head. “He had a meeting scheduled to pass them off tomorrow night, if his datebook is correct.”
He gave Uncle Mick a brief summary of what he’d told me about the party at Sir Nigel Randolf’s house, casually dropping in the fact that I’d be attending as his date. Uncle Mick glanced at me at this point but said nothing. I supposed he’d have something to say later.
“How do we know whoever killed him wasn’t who he planned to meet at the party, surprising him early, so to speak?” Uncle Mick asked.
It was a fair point. “If they already have the documents, they’ll have no need to turn up at the rendezvous point,” I pointed out. Rendezvous point. Two days in government service, and I was already beginning to pick up their lingo.
“There would be little reason to kill him in his home, not when the papers were coming to them at