The Art of Love. Elizabeth Edmondson

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      ‘There’s a group of anarchists we at the Special Branch are keeping our eye on, too, since we don’t want to see any trouble from that direction, either.’

      ‘You’re hardly going to tell me that Malreward is a secret anarchist or Leninist?’

      ‘No. It’s stranger than that, and therefore possibly more sinister. He’s given quite a substantial sum of money to the Communist Party, but also to several groups of quite a different persuasion. And to the aforesaid anarchists.’

      ‘It doesn’t smack of intense political conviction.’

      ‘It does not. And it doesn’t fit in with the reasonable, moderate Conservative person he appears to be.’

      ‘It sounds to me as though he’s intent on stirring up trouble. Of one kind or another.’

      ‘Exactly. And the sums involved are quite large, and we’d like to know where they’re coming from.’

      Max shook his head. ‘That’s no mystery. He’s a very rich man.’

      ‘Yes, and we have access to his accounts and to his bank, and these funds haven’t passed through any of what you might call normal channels.’

      ‘That just means he’s had the sense and know-how to cover his tracks.’

      ‘We have reasons to believe that Sir Walter has sources of income other than those arising from his perfectly open and respectable business dealings.’

      Max’s heart sank. He didn’t like what he was hearing, not one bit. What had Cynthia got herself into? ‘Out with it. Drugs?’

      ‘It doesn’t look like it, although that was our first thought. Yet he is up to something crooked, I’m convinced of it, and when you read the file, you’ll come to the same conclusion.’

      ‘It seems incredible to me. Why should a man who has built himself a large fortune and reached the position Sir Walter has feel a need to have any underhand or criminal dealings? Why jeopardize the chance of a post in the government?’

      ‘Then tell me why, if he’s an honest and upright citizen, does he pour large sums of money into subversive organizations?’

      ‘Perhaps he feels this country needs a wider political base, so that matters are more thoroughly debated from both sides of the political divide.’

      ‘And perhaps a flight of purple pigs are going to sail past the window,’ said Pritchard.

      Coffee was brought, and Pritchard lit a pipe. Max gazed into the fire, watching as flames licked round a new log and another log broke and fell into the grate in a shower of sparks.

      Pritchard took a good draw on his pipe, then removed it from his mouth and let out a stream of smoke. ‘This comes close to home for you. Your sister, now…’

      ‘Yes.’ If Sir Walter were revealed to be up to anything dangerous or crooked, the repercussions for Cynthia would not be pleasant. She had suffered a certain amount of vilification over her divorce, coming as it did after her flagrant flaunting of herself in Sir Walter’s company, and among her set, her husband was very well liked.

      He wasn’t going to pass judgement; he had wished Cynthia would be more discreet, but it wasn’t her way. On the other hand, it might turn out that Sir Walter was not up to anything illegal, let alone criminal. A man could choose to give money where he wanted, there was no law against handing over sums of money to any political movement that wasn’t actually banned. It could be a quirk in his character, there could be a dozen reasons for such behaviour, although Max felt in his bones that there was more to it than the whim of a rich man.

      ‘I took the liberty of mentioning the circumstances to my superiors,’ said Pritchard. ‘And — ’

      ‘If this is a job assigned to me, I’ll do it,’ said Max without hesitation. ‘If my sister ends up made uncomfortable by it, well, that’s too bad. One can’t let emotional and personal ties get in the way of what has to be done. I take it my brief is to find out if Sir Walter is making money on the side, if he has ties to any foreign political groups — that’s what your lot are really afraid of, isn’t it? — and what else he might be doing with his money.’

      ‘You’re very brutal about it. Mrs Harkness — ’

      ‘Is a grown-up. If she plays with fire, she may get burnt. What background information do you have on Sir Walter?’

      ‘I brought the file with me.’ Pritchard dug into his brown leather briefcase and pulled out a buff folder, stamped Secret. He passed it to Max. ‘Knighthood three years ago, member of the Conservative party, everything above board. He owns a house in London, another one in Wiltshire. There are gaps, however. He came to England before the war, from France, where he has another house.’

      ‘As does my sister,’ said Max. ‘In the same place as Malreward, that’s how they met. I wonder if she’s going to France for Christmas…’ His voice tailed off, and he was silent for a while, thinking about what Pritchard had told him, turning possible approaches over in his mind. ‘If she is, I can invite myself to spend Christmas with her there. Although she might, of course, be staying at Malreward’s villa.’

      ‘Isn’t that mixing your personal and professional lives rather too closely?’

      ‘No, I don’t think so. It could be useful in both ways.’ Max gave Pritchard a direct look. ‘I’m fond of my sister. She might not thank me for it, but if Malreward turns out to be a crook of some kind, the sooner she finds out the better.’ He didn’t add, preferably before she marries him and finds herself in God knows what kind of a mess.

      ‘Is it a very strong attachment?’ Pritchard asked. ‘With society ladies, it’s not always easy to tell.’

      ‘Is that a polite way of asking if she likes his wealth rather than the man?’

      Pritchard looked taken aback by the coldness in Max’s voice. ‘It is not. It is only that women of her — of your — class live according to a different set of rules than those which apply where I come from.’

      Max raised a hand to acknowledge the rebuke. ‘True enough. However, I believe women generally find Sir Walter an attractive man. He has a masculine energy about him, and the aura of success has its own appeal.’

      ‘A virile man,’ Pritchard agreed. ‘And a forceful one. I shouldn’t like to cross him.’

      ‘That’s exactly what you’re proposing I do, however.’

      ‘He won’t be aware that you have any interest in him, not the way you work. Your sister doesn’t know what you are, what you do?’

      ‘No,’ said Max.

      Which was probably true inasmuch as he had never told her; on the other hand, he had a suspicion that, unlike the rest of his family, she had a good idea that his apparently idle life wasn’t entirely what it seemed.

      Max paid the bill after a mild protest from Pritchard, and the two men walked out into the pale sunlight which was just filtering through scudding clouds. They stood on the corner of Kettle Street, watching the traffic in Holborn rushing past, red buses the only patches of СКАЧАТЬ