Read Online Unlikely Traitors by Clare Langley-Hawthorne - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Clare Langley-Hawthorne
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the staircase leading up from the kitchen.
“Who is it?” she asked.
“Chief Inspector Harrison, Miss. He wishes to come upstairs and meet with you but wants to make sure all the curtains and blinds are drawn.”
Ursula raised an eyebrow. “All this cloak and dagger seems a bit unnecessary—the press are hardly likely to be skulking about near midnight—but you can reassure him everything is closed and he can come on up.”
She stretched her neck and rolled her shoulders, trying to clear her head.
“May I offer you and the Chief Inspector some refreshment?” Biggs asked.
“Tea would be lovely,” she replied. “Thank you.”
Biggs padded off down the stairs, soft-shoed as always.
Ursula walked back into the study and turned off the geometric glass and bronze lamp on her desk. The room dimmed, illuminated now only by the electric standard lamp in the far corner of the room. Ursula moved a chair next to the fretwork screen in front of the fireplace for Harrison and eased down in the deep leather armchair opposite.
Chief Inspector Harrison entered, closing the study door behind him carefully.
“Miss Marlow,” he said and paused beside the chair. He looked uncomfortable at being alone in her presence.
“Sit down, please,” Ursula urged. “You look tired,” she said. “I’ve asked Biggs to bring us some tea. It’s late. Have you had dinner? Supper?”
Harrison shook his head as he sat down.
“Then I’ll get Biggs to see what he can rustle up,” Ursula replied. She leaned forward resting her chin on her hands and gazed at him expectantly.
Harrison’s face was inscrutable. “I came because”—he chewed on his lip—“I think I might need your help.”
“Really?” Ursula answered, leaning back as she crossed her arms.
“Look,” Harrison replied. “I know it didn’t appear so at first, but I’ve had time to mull over things a bit more and I’ve started to have…”
“Doubts?” Ursula prompted.
“More than doubts,” Harrison answered. “I’m starting to be concerned about where this investigation is heading. Sir Buckley’s convinced Lord Wrotham’s guilty, but I’m worried no one has taken a step back and thought about Admiral Smythe’s files or the circumstances in which we found them.” Harrison traced the outline of his mustache with his index finger. “When I first moved to Scotland Yard I was assigned to the forgery section. Most of the cases involved obvious document forgeries—mortgages, wills and the like but one thing my experience taught me was to use my instinct. More often than not, if it looked too good to be true, it probably was.”
“You think the files could be forgeries?” Ursula queried.
Harrison licked his lips; he still looked uneasy. “I’m just saying, it seems a little too convenient that we found incriminating files in Admiral Smythe’s study—like they were deliberately left or even staged for us to find as soon as Admiral Smythe was reported missing. We only found Admiral Smythe’s notebook, however, after an extensive search that uncovered his secret wall safe. All the entries in the notebook were encrypted—but the files we found—”
“Were not?” Ursula supplied.
Harrison nodded.
“Do you think someone deliberately planted those files to implicate Lord Wrotham?” she asked.
There was a tap at the door and Biggs, entered carrying a tea tray and, preempting Ursula’s request, a plate piled high with Lancashire cheese, bread, and pickled onions for Harrison’s supper. Biggs placed the tray down on the sideboard behind Harrison’s chair, passed him the plate and poured them each a cup of Darjeeling tea. Harrison looked strangely embarrassed, as if he had not expected to be treated with such hospitality.
“Thank you Biggs,” Ursula said absently, her mind still processing what Harrison said. Biggs exited the room in silence. “Has Sir Buckley sent the files off for handwriting or fingerprint analysis?” she asked
“Who is it?” she asked.
“Chief Inspector Harrison, Miss. He wishes to come upstairs and meet with you but wants to make sure all the curtains and blinds are drawn.”
Ursula raised an eyebrow. “All this cloak and dagger seems a bit unnecessary—the press are hardly likely to be skulking about near midnight—but you can reassure him everything is closed and he can come on up.”
She stretched her neck and rolled her shoulders, trying to clear her head.
“May I offer you and the Chief Inspector some refreshment?” Biggs asked.
“Tea would be lovely,” she replied. “Thank you.”
Biggs padded off down the stairs, soft-shoed as always.
Ursula walked back into the study and turned off the geometric glass and bronze lamp on her desk. The room dimmed, illuminated now only by the electric standard lamp in the far corner of the room. Ursula moved a chair next to the fretwork screen in front of the fireplace for Harrison and eased down in the deep leather armchair opposite.
Chief Inspector Harrison entered, closing the study door behind him carefully.
“Miss Marlow,” he said and paused beside the chair. He looked uncomfortable at being alone in her presence.
“Sit down, please,” Ursula urged. “You look tired,” she said. “I’ve asked Biggs to bring us some tea. It’s late. Have you had dinner? Supper?”
Harrison shook his head as he sat down.
“Then I’ll get Biggs to see what he can rustle up,” Ursula replied. She leaned forward resting her chin on her hands and gazed at him expectantly.
Harrison’s face was inscrutable. “I came because”—he chewed on his lip—“I think I might need your help.”
“Really?” Ursula answered, leaning back as she crossed her arms.
“Look,” Harrison replied. “I know it didn’t appear so at first, but I’ve had time to mull over things a bit more and I’ve started to have…”
“Doubts?” Ursula prompted.
“More than doubts,” Harrison answered. “I’m starting to be concerned about where this investigation is heading. Sir Buckley’s convinced Lord Wrotham’s guilty, but I’m worried no one has taken a step back and thought about Admiral Smythe’s files or the circumstances in which we found them.” Harrison traced the outline of his mustache with his index finger. “When I first moved to Scotland Yard I was assigned to the forgery section. Most of the cases involved obvious document forgeries—mortgages, wills and the like but one thing my experience taught me was to use my instinct. More often than not, if it looked too good to be true, it probably was.”
“You think the files could be forgeries?” Ursula queried.
Harrison licked his lips; he still looked uneasy. “I’m just saying, it seems a little too convenient that we found incriminating files in Admiral Smythe’s study—like they were deliberately left or even staged for us to find as soon as Admiral Smythe was reported missing. We only found Admiral Smythe’s notebook, however, after an extensive search that uncovered his secret wall safe. All the entries in the notebook were encrypted—but the files we found—”
“Were not?” Ursula supplied.
Harrison nodded.
“Do you think someone deliberately planted those files to implicate Lord Wrotham?” she asked.
There was a tap at the door and Biggs, entered carrying a tea tray and, preempting Ursula’s request, a plate piled high with Lancashire cheese, bread, and pickled onions for Harrison’s supper. Biggs placed the tray down on the sideboard behind Harrison’s chair, passed him the plate and poured them each a cup of Darjeeling tea. Harrison looked strangely embarrassed, as if he had not expected to be treated with such hospitality.
“Thank you Biggs,” Ursula said absently, her mind still processing what Harrison said. Biggs exited the room in silence. “Has Sir Buckley sent the files off for handwriting or fingerprint analysis?” she asked
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