him. I was wrong on that score. It seemed that he took care to keep himself out of the papers. When one owned a section of the news, I supposed one could dictate what was newsworthy.
It was, however, easy to see the way that Sir Nigel’s interests lay; he didn’t make much of a secret about his leanings in the sort of articles he published in his paper. I asked for the papers from a year ago and saw that he was particularly keen on keeping relations with Germany on steady footing. The articles in the paper went on at length about the benefits to be gained from a peaceful relationship and all that we had already gained since the last war. There was little doubt of The Old Smoke’s position when it came to hostilities with Germany.
I couldn’t help but wonder what motivated that position. After all, no one was keen to go to war, but it had become increasingly obvious that it was going to be difficult to avoid a conflict. Why had he been so opposed to it?
I could only think that there must be some reason he was particularly invested in promoting Germany’s interests.
There was one article that was of particular interest that was not in The Old Smoke but The Times. It wasn’t about Sir Nigel, but about his nephew, John Myron, who had returned from Germany, where he had been in diplomatic service. The article insinuated that Mr. Myron was relieved to leave Germany behind him, but I wondered what the true connection was there. Did sympathy for the country run in the family?
I flipped through several more papers before I saw a headline that gave me pause: JOHN MYRON KILLED IN AUTOMOBILE ACCIDENT.
I skimmed the lines below. The accident had taken place a month ago. “John Myron, former aide to the ambassador to Germany, was killed in a car crash Friday night returning to London from Torquay, where he had been staying at Larksong, the seaside home of his uncle, Sir Nigel Randolf. Police believe the hooded lights on his car prevented him from seeing the curve in the dark road until it was too late.”
Curious. Had it really been an accident? Or something more sinister?
There was nothing to be learned about Jerome Curtis, Sir Nigel’s majordomo, as the major had referred to him. I assumed that, as Sir Nigel’s bodyguard and enforcer, he would take care to keep himself in the background. I did recall what the major had said about Curtis being associated with racketeers and having a short boxing career, but I could find nothing relevant and I soon gave up the chase.
Next, as part of my search for Jocelyn Abbot, I found articles dating back to around the time I remembered hearing about the fate of the RAF pilot Barnaby Ellhurst. If Miss Abbot’s missing fiancé was another victim of her entanglement in espionage, I felt I should learn more about him. It wasn’t long before I came across articles about his heroics. He had flown a Hawker Hurricane and shot down a number of German planes. Even after his aircraft had begun to malfunction, he had managed to stay in the air long enough to stop a Messerschmitt before it could strafe a boat deck full of soldiers.
The young man was impressive, all right. In perhaps the third or fourth article I found about him, there was a picture of him with a woman. A quick glance at the article told me this was Jocelyn Abbot.
I studied the picture. She was tall, blond, and very beautiful. Chicly dressed and expertly coiffed. One could almost smell her expensive perfume looking at her. In the photo, she was clutching Barnaby Ellhurst’s arm as she looked at the camera. He was looking at her.
I wouldn’t necessarily have put them together. Barnaby Ellhurst was handsome in a rugged sort of way—unruly dark hair, angular features, sharp eyes—but he didn’t seem to be the kind of man that would draw a socialite. I noted that they hadn’t become engaged until after he’d made a name for himself. Was that why she had formed the connection? Perhaps she had been instructed to get close to one of Britain’s most illustrious young pilots. After all, his disappearance had been a jolt to the nation’s morale.
There was another article in one of the smaller, more gossipy papers about Jocelyn Abbot after he disappeared. TWICE THWARTED IN LOVE? the headline read. “After a broken engagement with one