Unlikely Traitors (20 page)

“And when you do,” Ursula replied, with a rueful glance at her now dirt-streaked skirt and blouse, “you’re going to teach me how to use one of these.” She pointed to the revolver, thinking of how her father’s life had been ended by just such a weapon. “I’ve had just about enough of being on the receiving end!”

James merely laughed before he took her hand and steadied her as they began their descent down the steep mountain side.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“How do you feel about Australia?” James called out as he dashed between the trees and across the dirt road to where Ursula’s motorcar was sitting idle.

“How do I…What on earth are you talking about?!” Ursula exclaimed. She scrambled to keep up with him. By the time she reached the car, James was already cranking the engine and before she could climb into the driver’s seat, he was at the wheel, starting to maneuver the motorcar down the narrow mountain roadway.

“I am quite capable of driving, you know!” Ursula protested as she hoisted her skirt inside and shut the passenger door. She looked down at the oilskin package James had placed on the seat between them. “And what’s all this about Australia?”

James took no notice, but, with a quick glance behind him, deftly navigated his way down the winding road.

“I was thinking Australia may be as safe a place as any at the moment,” James finally said, his eyes never leaving the road.

“If you think I’m going to be bullied into complying with whatever plans you and Lord Wrotham concocted for my so-called safety, you’re sadly mistaken,” Ursula retorted, holding onto the inner door handle as the motorcar lurched and bounced.

James shot her a sideways look. “So the attempt to poison you and Lady Wrotham doesn’t bother you?”

“Of course it does,” Ursula replied. “But it also makes me more determined than ever to find out exactly what this game is all about.”

“Game?” James prompted.

“That’s what Lord Wrotham called it—he said he wasn’t sure what the game was, but he that we needed to wait and see how it played out.” She gripped the handle once more. “Could you also try and be a bit more careful; I’d rather not revisit the breakfast I had this morning!”

James, ignoring her last comment, said: “you’re willing to risk your life for a game—a game you don’t even understand?!”

“If it means clearing Lord Wrotham’s name, then yes.”

“Ah,” James replied enigmatically before falling strangely silent. For the remainder of the drive back to Bad Liebenstein he said no more about her fleeing to Australia.

They entered the outskirts of the spa town as the afternoon shadows were lengthening. “What should I tell Lady Wrotham and Lady Winterton? About you, I mean?” Ursula asked.

“I would prefer that you said nothing,” James replied. “The fewer people who know about me or where I am, the better…”

Ursula chewed her lip uncertainly.

“Don’t worry,” James said, as the motorcar drew up outside the Gästehaus Rosenhof. “I’m just as committed to seeing how this game plays out as you.”

He unbutton his Norfolk style jacket and tucked the oilskin package he had unearthed inside.

“If I’m right, this contains Lord Wrotham’s field book. He carried it with him on all our missions—I noticed, of course, that all his entries were written in a numeric cipher of some kind but he never divulged the key to it. So you see, Miss Marlow, he kept secrets, even from me.”

“Can I look at his field book?” Ursula asked.

James shook his head. “It will be safe with me, don’t worry.”

“Perhaps I would be the best one to have it—who knows, maybe I can help decipher it?” Ursula resisted the urge to command James to hand the book over, suspecting he was likely to be unmoved by her pleas. James’ self-possession indicated a determination just as great as hers, and his loyalties, it was clear, lay with Lord Wrotham not her.

“Chief Inspector Harrison and Sir Buckley think Admiral Smythe probably used a book key for the code he used in his notebook,” Ursula offered. “Perhaps Lord Wrotham was using the same?”

“That wouldn’t surprise me,” James replied.

“Don’t you think I might have a better chance of deciphering it than—” Ursula began.

“Lord Wrotham once told me, with more than a touch or irony I admit, that you were probably the only person who would be likely to guess the key,” James replied.

“Then why not let me have the notebook so that I can try?!” Ursula urged.

James shot her a sardonic smile. “I never said I wanted it to be deciphered.”

Ursula looked at him in confusion. “But surely—”

“Since I don’t know what it contains, and since Lord Wrotham has chosen not to divulge the book key to you, I can only assume he wants it to remain as it is—encoded. As far as I’m concerned, my job is to keep the field book as well as you under my protection until Lord Wrotham orders otherwise.”

“But—”

James’ expression halted her protests. His face was set in a manner she recognized all too well. She would have to wait to win this particular battle.

With the ease of one used to acting as chauffeur, James hopped out of the driver’s seat and came round to open the car door. “I will contact you in a few days,” he said. “I’ll see what I can uncover about the Count’s present whereabouts. Since the fire, he has all but disappeared, afraid, no doubt of McTiernay.”

“Surely Scotland Yard would have sent someone to protect him?” Ursula said.

James shrugged. “He chose to leave England and I doubt that anyone at Scotland Yard can help him now. Besides, as I said, he’s had his own personal bodyguards for at least a year—the Count’s been paranoid about his personal safety for a while.”

“But you think McTiernay is in Germany, don’t you?” Ursula asked.

“Possibly,” James admitted. He looked at her intently for a moment. “You know McTiernay could have been behind the attempt on you and Lady Wrotham’s life, so I wouldn’t trust anything from him. If McTiernay is in Germany we should take all necessary precautions—in the meantime,” James gestured to the sanatorium building nestled in the woods behind her. “You’d better see how the dowager’s…er…treatments, are going.”

With obvious reluctance Ursula turned and walked through the doors of her Gästehaus.

Ursula took the first opportunity she had—between entertaining Lady Wrotham’s litany of complaints and avoiding Lady Winterton’s inevitable questions regarding her excursion that morning to Count von Bernstorff-Hollweg’s castle—to reflect on the sudden appearance of James and the discovery of Lord Wrotham’s field book. Surely James must have some inkling why Lord Wrotham thought that she, of all people, would be able to guess the code used? Ursula glanced over to her trunk—on the top her favorite poetry books, many of which Lord Wrotham had purchased for her, lay prominently on display. If only she had the field book, then, at least, she would be able to start the process of deciphering it. But would it really be so obvious as to be the book of Tennyson’s poetry that Lord Wrotham usually carried with him? That seemed unlikely. It would jeopardize the need for secrecy and Naval Intelligence would have already tried and, no doubt, discounted that theory. James would know all the books Lord Wrotham usually had in his possession, but he was refusing to help and, besides, Ursula doubted that Lord Wrotham would use any book so readily observable. He was too clever for that. Ursula sighed and, in her frustration over not having access the Lord Wrotham’s field book, threw one of the cushions from the divan across the room.

Lady Winterton opened the door and had to duck as the cushion flew past.

“That bad, huh?” she observed.

“Sorry,” Ursula apologized. From the harried look on her face, Ursula could tell Lady Winterton had just spent time with Lady Wrotham. “You look as though you could do with tossing a few cushions around the place—was the dowager really that bad?”

Lady Winterton sat down and grimaced. “Let’s just say that I’ve had enough lectures from her on the benefits of dietetic treatment for her so called ‘nervous afflictions’. She has also met some old friend of hers, Herr Hubert, I think he’s called…”

“Oh, I remember him,” Ursula said. “He gave a series of lectures in London last year.”

“I thought I’d heard the name before—well, with any luck he’ll take Lady Wrotham off our hands for a bit. She said he has invited her to come to his private clinic in the Southern Tyrol to ‘purge herself of all worldly concerns’.”

“Hmmm…an extended private clinic visit could be just the ticket,” Ursula mused. She got up and stood by the window. She knew both Julia and Lady Winterton’s maid, Grace, were attending to their work in the laundry. Unlike the large sanitarium where Lady Wrotham was staying, their small gästehaus afforded them a measure of privacy and seclusion—though it was a mere half a mile walk along the path through the thick fir forest to reach the sanatorium. Ursula stared out across the trees now. Though there were still patches of snow on the ground, the climate was as mild as the brochure had promised. At least there was none of the damp fog that always made London so depressing in winter.

“How did your visit with the Count go?” Lady Winterton asked, seating herself in an armchair by the fire. “We haven’t had a chance to chat really since you got back yesterday afternoon.”

“No luck, I’m afraid,” Ursula replied, moving away from the window. She walked over to join Lady Winterton by the fire. “His castle turned out to be little more than a burnt-out ruin. A fire apparently occurred last week and destroyed everything. The Count escaped, but no one knows where he is now.”

“The castle was a ruin?” Lady Winterton asked.

“Razed to the ground I’m afraid,” Ursula confirmed as she sat down.

“So was there nobody there? Nothing at all to be found?”

“Nothing and no one,” Ursula lied. “It was a total waste of my time.”

“Oh my dear,” Lady Winterton sympathized. “What bad luck!”

“Isn’t it just!” Ursula replied trying to keep her tone light.

“Don’t lose heart, Ursula,” Lady Winterton said quietly. “I’m still happy to see if any of my family contacts have heard where the Count may have gone, difficult though that may be given it’s not the social season yet.”

“Thank you,” Ursula said, suppressing a sigh. ‘I’m not sure what to do really. I don’t want to stay away from England too long.”

“No, of course not…” Lady Winterton replied before asking, after a pause, “Have you heard anything from him?” She let the question linger.

Ursula shook her head. She’d had no letters at all from Lord Wrotham. “All I’ve got is Pemberton’s telegram saying that a trial date has been set for June,” Ursula said. She nodded in the direction of the small coffee table upon which the telegram lay open.

“That still gives you a few months, m’dear…” Lady Winterton reminded her.

“I know,” Ursula said, but that fact failed to rouse her. A few months seemed little time enough to discover the truth. She felt as though she had already wasted too much precious time.

“And,” Lady Winterton said, picking up her embroidery, “it’s not as if Lord Wrotham’s going anywhere.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

After three long grey days, under skies that threatened snow then rain, James finally made contact with Ursula. She and Lady Winterton were returning from a morning walk and, as they unburdened themselves of coats and hats and sturdy walking shoes, the proprietress of the gästehaus informed Ursula that there was a note waiting for her at the reception desk. After handing all their outdoor wear to Julia and Grace, Ursula and Lady Winterton headed into the small front parlor. As she passed the reception area, Ursula took the note and folded it quickly into her skirt pocket.

“Aren’t you going to read it?’ Lady Winterton asked.

Ursula shrugged noncommittally but Lady Winterton only scrutinized her face more closely. “Why all the secrecy?” she asked.

They chose a table beneath the window and, after asking for ‘kaffe und kuchen’ for two, Ursula opened the note and proceeded to read it to herself under the watchful eye of Lady Winterton.

The note said simply:
He is now believed to be in Prague. Hope to know more soon
.

“Well?” Lady Winterton demanded.

“It’s nothing,” Ursula said. “Just a note from Herr Hubert, that’s all…” but she could tell Lady Winterton was not deceived.

“Herr Hubert’s handwriting is far more gothic,” Lady Winterton said. “So spill the beans old girl and tell me what’s really going on.”

The waiter arrived with a tray bearing a silver coffee pot, cups, plates and a tiered silver holder of cakes. Ursula took the opportunity to consider her reply as she poured her coffee.

“The note is from Lord Wrotham’s chauffeur, Archibald James,” Ursula said.

“Really?” Lady Winterton replied, using her napkin to wipe up the splash of coffee that had spilt on the tablecloth. “I thought you said he had disappeared.”

“Yes,” Ursula hesitated, uncertain whether she should let Lady Winterton into her confidence. “Turns out he’s here in Germany.”

Lady Winterton raised an eyebrow.

“I suspect,” Ursula confessed. “James may have been a bit more than just a chauffeur—I think he worked with Lord Wrotham on the…er…clandestine matters he attended to here in Germany.”

“That would make sense,” Lady Winterton replied. She placed two sugar cubes in her coffee using the silver tongs with an air of practiced composure. “He was once a policeman after all.”

“You certainly seem to know a great deal about him!” Ursula exclaimed.

“Of course,” Lady Winterton replied calmly. “I visited the Wrotham household often enough over the years to know all the staff gossip. My lady’s maid, Grace, always tells me everything and James is, as you know, a handsome man.”

“Can’t say I’d noticed,” Ursula admitted as she took a sip of coffee. “So what else do you know about James?”

“Oh,” Lady Winterton said airily as she lifted her cup to her lips. “I know he was in the army before he joined the Metropolitan Police—and that while he was there he worked under Chief Inspector or, as he then was, Sergeant, Harrison.”

The cup in Ursula’s hand froze for a minute. Lady Winterton laughed. “I thought you knew!” Ursula shook her head. Lady Winterton’s wiped her mouth with her napkin before continuing, in more somber terms. “Then you don’t know the circumstances that led to him leaving the police…”