just beginning,” Major Ramsey said. “The next person of interest is Leslie Turner-Hill. He is the director of Bothingham’s. You’re familiar with the establishment?”
“Yes,” I said. The auction house was one of the oldest in England. We had an acquaintance who had sold several pieces of art in its illustrious auctions. They were all forgeries, of course, so I thought it best not to mention it at the moment.
“He did a steady trade with members of the German high command before we got into the war,” Major Ramsey was saying. “Men who fancy themselves art collectors. Goering and the like. It’s quite possible he formed connections that will continue to prove beneficial to him throughout the war.”
Uncle Mick swore beneath his breath.
“It’s distasteful, of course,” I said, “but isn’t it a stretch between doing business with such people before the war and handing over government secrets to them now?” Even as I asked the question, I knew the answer.
“Money’s caused men to do worse, Ellie girl,” Uncle Mick said.
I wanted to be shocked that people like these could put monetary gain before the good of their country, but I found I could not be. Uncle Mick was right. While our family had always held themselves to certain standards, I had encountered a good many of Uncle Mick’s less savory associates over the years, men who would be willing to betray their own mothers for a few pounds.
“Money isn’t the only motivation, however,” the major went on. “The next potential conspirator is Matthew Winthrop. He’s a poet, of sorts. His father is in government, but, apparently, he’s formed some strong ideas of his own. He was in an underground political club with some of his school chums, a club that tried to mimic many of the policies put into place in Germany by Hitler.”
I made an expression of distaste. “But he’s committed no crime?”
“No. Not as far as we know. And, in all honesty, even if he—or any of them—had, it has been in our best interest to let many of these individuals continue to move about freely in society, so long as they’re being monitored.”
“Yes, I can see how that might prove to your advantage,” I said.
Uncle Mick nodded. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”
“Precisely.” He sat back in his chair. “The final person who might have reasons to conspire with the Germans is Jocelyn Abbot. She’s a socialite. You may have seen her name in the society columns?”
“I don’t often read them,” I said honestly. While other thieves might have scanned the pages of the gossip rags for information on potential targets, we had always chosen ours for their lack of notoriety. We weren’t after publicity or the kind of influence that would bring the law down hard on our heads.
“She’s from a very wealthy and well-connected family.”
“Of German heritage?” I guessed.
“Yes. Her grandfather was connected with Kaiser Wilhelm’s government, though they moved to this country before Miss Abbot’s father was born. Her family has given the impression of being staunchly pro-British ever since, but sometimes heritage runs deep. And there is another factor of interest. She is engaged to Barnaby Ellhurst.”
My brows rose. I knew the name well enough. Barnaby Ellhurst was an RAF pilot who had made a name for himself during the Battle of Dunkirk. His bravery and skill in battle had been lauded by Churchill himself. But he had disappeared while on a mission over France a month before, and no one had heard what had become of him. It was widely assumed he had been captured, though the Germans had made no such claims.
“You think she might have had something to do with his being shot down?” I said, leaping to the logical conclusion. “That she gave them information of some sort about his flight to France?”
“I think it’s possible.”
“But surely her fiancé’s life and freedom would mean more to her than Germany’s cause,” I said. “I find it incredible she would do something like that to a man she loved.”
“A declaration of love is not proof of it.” His voice was bland as he said this, but his expression hardened ever so slightly. Interesting. I tucked this observation away to ponder later.
“So you believe Harden stole the documents, intending to pass them off to one of these people who will, in turn, pass it off to a German contact. But Harden was murdered, perhaps because he got cold feet, and his killer will turn up at the party to pass the