plenty of other political trouble to keep us busy, but I’m sure you know that.’ He rose to his feet, extending his hand. ‘Take care of yourself, Pitt. You have a difficult and dangerous job, and your country needs you more than it will ever appreciate.’
Pitt shook his hand and thanked him, going out into the night without any awareness of the sudden chill. The coldness was already inside him. Narraway arrested for murder — it seemed unbelievable! What Stoker had said of Narraway’s bank betraying him could be true, although he did not believe it. The rest seemed a curious set of exaggerations and lies. Pitt could not accept that Narraway had fallen apart so completely, either to steal anything in the first place, or to so lose the fundamental values of his past as to behave in the way Stoker had described. And surely Stoker must at the very least have noticed Charlotte?
Or was Stoker the traitor at Lisson Grove?
He was floundering, like a man in quicksand. None of his judgements was sound. He had trusted Stoker, he had even liked Gower. Narraway he would have sworn his own life on. . He admitted, he still would do.
Croxdale’s carriage was waiting to take him home. He half saw the shadow of a man on the pavement who moved towards him, but he ignored it. The coachman opened the door for him and he climbed in, sitting miserable and shivering all the way back to Keppel Street. He was glad it was late. He did not want to make the intense effort it would cost to hide his disillusion from Daniel and Jemima. If he were fortunate, even Minnie Maude would be asleep.
In the morning he was halfway to Lisson Grove when he changed his mind and went instead to see Vespasia. It was too early for any kind of social call, but if he had to wait until she rose, then he was willing to. His need to speak with her was so urgent he was prepared to break all the rules of etiquette, even of consideration, trusting she would see his purpose beyond his discourtesy.
In fact she was already up and taking breakfast. He accepted tea, but he had no need to eat.
‘Is your new maid feeding you properly?’Vespasia asked with a touch of concern.
‘Yes,’ he answered, his own surprise coming through his voice. ‘Actually, she’s perfectly competent, and seems very pleasant. It wasn’t. .’ He saw her wry smile and stopped.
‘It wasn’t to seek recommendation for a new maid that you came at this hour of the morning,’ she finished for him. ‘What is it, Thomas? You look very troubled indeed. I assume something new has occurred?’
He told her everything that had happened since they last spoke, including Narraway’s arrest for murder and Pitt’s own dismay and disappointment over Stoker’s sudden change of loyalties, and the brutal details with which he had described Narraway’s falling apart.
‘I seem to be completely incompetent at judging anyone’s character,’ he said miserably. He would like to have been able to say it with some dry wit, but he felt so inadequate that he was afraid he sounded self- pitying.
Vespasia listened without interrupting. She poured him more tea, then grimaced that the pot was cold.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said quickly. ‘I don’t need more.’
‘Let us sum up the situation,’ she said gravely. ‘It would seem unarguable that you were wrong about Gower, as was everyone else at Lisson Grove, including Victor Narraway. It does not make you unusually fallible, my dear. And considering that he was your fellow in the service, you had a right to assume his loyalty. At that point it was not your job to make such decisions. Now it is.’
‘I thought Stoker was Narraway’s man too,’ he pointed out.
‘Possibly, but let us not leap to conclusions. You know only that he brought news of Victor’s arrest, and that what he reported to Gerald Croxdale about the embezzlement charge seemed to blame Victor, and also was untrue in other respects. He made no mention of Charlotte, as you observed, and yet he must have seen her. Surely his omission is one you are grateful for?’
‘Yes. . yes, of course. Although I would give a great deal to know she is safe.’ That was an understatement perhaps only Vespasia could measure.
‘Did you say anything to Croxdale about your suspicions of Austwick?’ she asked.
‘No.’ He explained how reluctant he had been to give any unnecessary trust. He had guarded everything, fearing that because Croxdale had known Austwick a long time perhaps he would be more inclined to trust him than to trust Pitt.
‘Very wise,’ she agreed. ‘Is Croxdale of the opinion that there is something very serious being planned in France?’
‘I saw nothing except a couple of faces,’ he answered. ‘And when I look back, it was Gower who told me they were Meister and Linsky. There was talk, but no more than usual. There was a rumour that Jean Jaures was coming from Paris, but he didn’t.’
Vespasia frowned. ‘Jacob Meister and Pieter Linsky? Are you sure?’
‘Yes, that’s what Gower said. I know the names, of course. But only for just one day, maybe thirty-six hours, then they left again. They certainly didn’t return to Frobisher’s.’
Vespasia looked puzzled. ‘And who said Jean Jaures was coming?’
‘One of the innkeepers, I think. The men in the cafe were talking about it.’
‘You think? A name like Jaures is mentioned and you don’t remember by whom?’ she said incredulously.
Again he was struck by his own foolishness. How easily he was duped. He had not heard it himself Gower had told him. He admitted this to Vespasia.
‘Did he mention Rosa Luxemburg?’ she asked with a slight frown.
‘Yes, but not that she was to coming to St Malo.’
‘But he mentioned her name?’
‘Yes. Why?’
‘Jean Jaures is a passionate socialist, but a gentle man,’ she explained. ‘He was a campaigner for reform. He sought office, and on occasion gained it, but he fights for change, not for overthrow. As far as I know, he is content to keep his efforts within France. Rosa Luxemburg is different. She is Polish, now naturalised German, and of a much more international cast of mind. I have Russian
‘Stretching as far as Britain?’ he said dubiously.
‘No, only in so far as the world is sometimes a far smaller place than we think. There will be refugees, however. Indeed, London is already full of them.’
‘What did Gower want?’ he asked. ‘Why did he kill West? Was West going to tell me Gower was a traitor?’
‘Perhaps. But, I admit, none of it makes sufficient sense to me so far, unless there is something a great deal larger than a few changes in the laws for French workers, or a rising unease in Germany and Russia. None of this is new, and none of it worries Special Branch unduly.’
‘I wish Narraway were here,’ Pitt said with intense feeling. ‘I don’t know enough for this job. He should have regarded Austwick as his protege — unless he knows Austwick is a traitor too?’
‘I imagine that is possible.’ She was still lost in thought. ‘And if Victor is innocent, which I do not doubt, then there was a very clever and carefully thought-out plan to get both you and he out of London. Why can we not deduce what it is, and why?’
Pitt went to his office in Lisson Grove, aware as he walked along the corridors of the eyes of the other men on him, watching, waiting. Austwick’s particularly.
‘Good morning,’ Austwick said, apparently forgetting the ‘sir’ he would have added for Narraway.
‘Good morning, Austwick,’ Pitt replied a little tartly, not looking at him but going on until he reached Narraway’s office door. He realised he still thought of it as Narraway’s, just as he still thought of the position as his.
He opened the door and went inside. There was nothing of Pitt’s here yet — no pictures, no books — but Narraway’s things had been returned, so that to Pitt it felt as if he were still expecting the man himself to come back. When that happened he would not have to pretend to be pleased, and it would not be entirely for unselfish reasons either. He cared for Narraway, and he had at least some idea of how much the job meant to him: it was his vocation, his life. Pitt would be immensely relieved to give it back to him. It was not within Pitt’s skill or his nature
