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    A Lesson in Secrets: A Maisie Dobbs Novel
    A Lesson in Secrets: A Maisie Dobbs Novel
    A Lesson in Secrets: A Maisie Dobbs Novel
    Ebook390 pages6 hours

    A Lesson in Secrets: A Maisie Dobbs Novel

    By Jacqueline Winspear

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    About this ebook

    Private investigator Maisie Dobbs receives her first assignment from the British Secret Service in A Lesson in Secrets, the eighth book in Jacqueline Winspear’s award-winning mystery series. Sent to pose as a junior lecturer at a private college in Cambridge, she will monitor any activities “not in the interests of His Majesty’s government.” When the college’s pacifist founder is murdered, Maisie finds herself in the midst of sinister web of murder, scandal, and conspiracy, activities that point towards members of the ascendant Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei—the Nazi Party—on Britain’s shores. An instant classic, and sure to captivate long-time Maisie Dobbs fans as well as readers of Agatha Christie, Elizabeth George, and Alexander McCall Smith, A Lesson in Secrets is “a powerful and complex novel, one that will linger in memory as a testament to her talent and her humanity” (Richmond Times-Dispatch).
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherHarperCollins
    Release dateMar 22, 2011
    ISBN9780062079237
    A Lesson in Secrets: A Maisie Dobbs Novel
    Author

    Jacqueline Winspear

    Jacqueline Winspear is the author of the New York Times bestsellers The Consequences of Fear, The American Agent, and To Die but Once, as well as thirteen other bestselling Maisie Dobbs novels and The Care and Management of Lies, a Dayton Literary Peace Prize finalist. Jacqueline has also published two nonfiction books, What Would Maisie Do? and a memoir, This Time Next Year We’ll Be Laughing. Originally from the United Kingdom, she divides her time between California and the Pacific Northwest.

    Read more from Jacqueline Winspear

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    Reviews for A Lesson in Secrets

    4/5

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    • 4/5
      My Title: Don't always judge a book by its cover – but Maisie, I still want an MG14/40!

      I actually came across this paperback book in a charity shop! The cover art design grabbed my attention. I was intrigued after reading the storyline on the back cover – so I bought it!
      This story is set in the summer of 1932. Maisie Dobbs, a psychologist investigator and former World War 1 nurse, takes an exciting change in her career, after accepting an undercover assignment directed by Scotland Yard's Special Branch and the Secret Service.

      Posing as a junior lecturer, Maisie is sent to a college in Cambridge to monitor any activities 'not in the interest of the Crown'. Fairly soon after taking up the assignment, the college's controversial pacifist founder and principal is murdered. Maisie soon discovers that the circumstances of his death appears to be linked to the suspicious comings and goings of faculty and students.

      Maisie is a likeable and interesting character. I liked the way she went about her business. I felt engaged with the book, although I have to say that I found the storyline a little slow, due mainly to the apparent complex nature of the investigation. I failed in my attempt to predict the murderer!

      There are several vulnerable characters in this story, and I liked the way Maisie showed her compassion and discretion, without affecting her role as a professional investigator. The story is extremely well written, but I would have liked a little more sense of drama, danger or suspense, at times!

      This is still an enjoyable read and my only decision now is – which novel to read next!
    • 3/5
      3.5. I have enjoyed all the books in this series. I recommend them!
    • 2/5
      This is my least favorite in the series so far. It was boring, to be quite honest. The plot in a nutshell: Maisie drives back and forth from London. Repeat. Scotland Yard police hang around, inconceivably not bothered by the fact that the person who found the body just up and disappeared. They don't care that the haven't interviewed one of the major suspects? Entirely unbelievable. Predictable Sandra side story. Maisie drives around some more. The end.

      I kept looking for some meat in the plot, but sadly, it wasn't to be found. I hope the next book returns to Winspear's usual standards.
    • 5/5
      Maisie is approached by the Secret Branch to work undercover at the university and report back anything that might be amiss. Her first few days on campus are turned upside down when the President of the university is murdered. Conflicted with trying to follow the orders of the Secret Branch, and to solve the murder with Scotland Yard, Maisie knows that her time is limited.

      Billy is holding down the fort at the office, when Sandra is arrested and then goes into hiding. Maisie is forced to leave the majority of the investigation into Sandra's disappearance.

      And where is James Compton? Maisie is conflicted and beginning to doubt their relationship because the stamp on the last letter indicated London and not Canada. Is there affair to be short lived?
    • 4/5
      Enjoyable as always.
    • 4/5
      Maisie Dobbs is an independently wealthy young woman in 1930s London with a degree in psychology who works as an independent private investigator. In this book she is recruited by the English security services to work undercover at a Cambridge college looking for evidence of anti-government activity. She is quickly drawn into a murder investigation when the college principal is found dead in his office.Dobbs is a likeable character - intelligent, sensitive, supportive, kind - and displays believable skills in detection and deduction. Winspear writes about the period well and honestly and her supporting characters always feel fully rounded.Focused more on solving the mystery than on out-and-out action this is an absorbing and interesting book.
    • 4/5
      Maisie begins working for the secret service in this one.
    • 3/5
      I dropped this down to a three because after the awesome of last book this wasn't as strong. The mystery was so so, the side story with British Intelligence was mostly to set up the next book, I think. Also there was this weird side story with James Compton that kinda went no where.
    • 4/5
      In the eighth book in the Maisie Dobbs series, A Lesson in Secrets, Maisie is working for the Secret Service at a pacifist college in Cambridge. The Secret Service is particularly suspicious of what they see as the country’s biggest threat: communism, while basically ignoring the rise of fascism and Nazism.This is a solid entry in this series, and one with a slightly different perspective for Maisie. 4 stars
    • 4/5
      This is a good read, but not as good as previous ones in the series. I'm looking forward to reading the next one and hope it is better.
    • 4/5
      Another great Maisie Dobbs mystery. If you like her, you'll like the book.
    • 5/5
      Another excellent Maisie Dobbs mystery. This time secrets of the realm. Concern over the rise of Hitler. Still seeing James but no wish to marry him. Maisie values her work more.
    • 3/5
      Still interesting as Maisie goes undercover (sort of). She keeps being picked up in cars for chats, and she always "alights the car". "alights" does not take an object. Maybe I'm doing the author a disservice and it's the reader who is misreading?
    • 4/5
      Maisie is beginning to adjust to the loss of Maurice Blanche, and to her new wealth, but her life is still in transition. As she is weighing her relationship with James Compton, and trying to convince her father to move from his cottage into the dower house, she is approached by Special Branch to take on a job rather different from her usual: On behalf of Special Branch and the Secret Service, she is asked to take a position as the junior lecturer in moral philosophy at the College of St. Francis in Cambridge, to look for any evidence of activity "not in the interest of the British Crown." The concerns of Special Branch and the Secret Service center around the pacifism and suspected leftist politics of the founder of the college and the senior staff.

      Almost as soon as she has settled into her new position, the founder and principal of the college, Greville Liddicote, is murdered. Maisie is told to leave the murder investigation to Special Branch, and concentrate on her own assignment, but of course it's not that simple. Investigating the staff of the college inevitably means uncovering information relevant to the murder.

      As Maisie makes her inquiries and gets to know the school and its people, she finds that Liddicote has a startling past, but not nearly so relevant to the Secret Service as they imagine. Meanwhile, with the First World War that has so dominated the series starting to fade into the past, rumblings of future troubles are making themselves felt, and Maisie finds the enthusiasm among some associated with the college for National Socialism and the rise of Adolph Hitler in Germany more disturbing than she can make her handlers understand.

      This is a quiet book, with disturbing overtones of what lies ahead, for Maisie, for her friends, and for England.

      Recommended.

      I borrowed this book from a friend.
    • 2/5
      This is my least favorite in the series so far. It was boring, to be quite honest. The plot in a nutshell: Maisie drives back and forth from London. Repeat. Scotland Yard police hang around, inconceivably not bothered by the fact that the person who found the body just up and disappeared. They don't care that the haven't interviewed one of the major suspects? Entirely unbelievable. Predictable Sandra side story. Maisie drives around some more. The end.

      I kept looking for some meat in the plot, but sadly, it wasn't to be found. I hope the next book returns to Winspear's usual standards.
    • 4/5
      Taking place in 1932 and underscoring Hitler's rising popularity among certain crowds throughout Great Britain and Europe, this is a fine addition to the Maisie Dobbs series, as full of nuance and twists and turns as the earlier novels.
    • 4/5
      Maisie is recruited by the secret service and goes undercover as a professor at a small college. Questions about peace and war are explored since this college has as its aim the achievement of world peace. Ms. Winspear sets the stage for the coming conflict of WWII by taking a look at Nazi party sympathizers in Britain.
    • 4/5
      Anther great entry in the Maisie Hobbs series. This book has Maisie branching out and working for the secret service in addition to her own private investigation practice. This book also moves forward the history of the series and there is now a great deal of talk about the rise of the Nazi party in Germany and beyond. I loved the background stories and the actual murder mystery of this episode. Highly recommended series.
    • 3/5
      I've loved all of the Maisie Dobbs books up to this point but this one took me quite a while to get through. Still well-written but I think I prefer the books where Maisie and Billy work together in London instead of apart.
    • 5/5
      Set in the years following WWI in England, the Masie Dobbs series employs a pervading sense of gloom felt as the people deal with the deaths of so many, disabled veterans, high unemployment, and the truly poor lower class. This series allows a ‘richer’ society to glimpse the difficulty of the time, and the amazing changes as one of the poor, Masie, begins to climb the ladder to a better life, albeit with the help of those above her and her brilliant mind. While some may argue that this was unusual for the time with the stability of the British class system, it is doubtful that anyone in any country climbed that ladder without help. That being said, Masie is very aware of her class, and even though her former mentor bequeathed her a fortune, she does not feel easy stepping into the middle class. The darkness from some of Winspear’s earlier Masie Dobbs novels lightens as Masie feels less pressure to count pennies, deepens her relationship with James Compton, and uses her fortune to help Billy Beale and his family. Darkness looms again on the horizon as Special Branch requests that Masie investigate a college founded to study peace. When Masie moves to the college to teach, a murder interrupts her original investigation plans. As usual, Masie moves slowly and discovers all the undercurrents by the end of the book.I have enjoyed each Masie Dobbs book, because I find this time particularly interesting, and all the characters have such depth. I find myself retaining the story, and returning to different parts to examine them further as an excellent story should.
    • 5/5
      Since I first received the third book in this series, Pardonable Lies, I’ve been hooked on this historical-fiction-mystery series. It’s set in a pretty fascinating time period — the early 1930s, just before the Second World War began. It details the rise in status of a young woman who is quite the investigator, who rises above both her station and her gender to become a rousing success in her field. The mysteries are fascinating, the characters are believable, and all in all the series is one that it’s very easy to get hooked on. I know I have become a bit addicted to the books in the last almost six years.Book eight finds Maisie Dobbs adjusting to her new life. She has just inherited a rather substantial fortune thanks to her mentor, the late Dr. Maurice Blanche. She has also inherited a fairly permanent assignment with the British government, working with His Majesty’s Secret Service to root out threats to the crown. Her first assignment is to go under cover at a Cambridge college to determine if there are any activities going on there that the government should be concerned about. Of course, this is a Maisie Dobbs book, so that assignment is immediately complicated — in this case, by the apparent murder of the school’s founder. Maisie is immediately involved in both her investigation for the government AND the investigation of the murder, because she sees the two as intimately related.In addition to this (as if it isn’t enough!), Maisie’s personal life is growing increasingly complex. Her budding relationship with James Compton is a bit stressed, with his trip to Canada lasting much longer than he had intended. Her father is courting, her assistant Billy is about to become a father again, and her new secretary is convinced that her husband’s death was more than just an accident. Can Maisie keep all of these plates spinning, or will everything come crashing down around her in chaos?Dedicated readers know the answer to that one; the truly fascinating part of these books is the HOW as much as anything.
    • 4/5
      This 8th installment of the Maisie Dobbs series presents a compelling murder mystery and, as always, digs deeper into the society and issues of the day. Here, Winspear examines the role of women in the underground during World War I, the role of women working in war intelligence both on the home front and on the Continent, and the role of the National Socialist Party and Fascism in England in the years between the World Wars. The most interesting aspect of this story, for me, was learning about the treatment of Pacifist in England during World War I. Maisie sets to work using her new found wealth to give back and help those in need, just as she was once helped herself, and her relationship with James Compton adds a small bit of romance. I highly recommend this book and the entire series; however, I will suggest reading them in order.
    • 3/5
      The great thing about this series is that time passes, and people change. The first book started after WWI, and now, in the latest, it's 1932, and Hitler is starting to be seen as a threat. Maisie, too, has changed from the grieving and shell shocked young woman of the first book.
    • 4/5
      Its 1932 and Maisie is asked by the Secret Service and Special Branch to become a junior lecturer in a private college in Cambridge in order to report back on any activities that might not be in British interests. As always the events and repercussions of WWI loom large, the college has been founded by the writer of a children's book which may or may not have caused both Allied and German soldiers in the trenches to mutiny. As her investigation continues, Maisie becomes concerned about the influences that the Nazi Party has in certain quarters of British Society. But Maisie also has personal concerns, she wants help her assistant, Billy Beale find a new home, as well as help a friend from service, Sandra, who is newly widowed. Winspear brings all the threads together in an unsentimental snapshot of British Society in the early 1930s, where the sorrows and pains of WII were slowly being replaced by concerns as to what the political upheavals in Germany might bring.
    • 5/5
      I love the Maisie Dobbs mystery series. Unlike so many on bookstore shelves these days, it's intelligently written and historically accurate. This, the eighth volume in the series, finds us at 1932. Maisie's mentor, Dr. Maurice Blanche, has died leaving her his entire estate, so Maisie is now in a much more secure financial position. She uses her new wealth to buy a house for her assistant, Billy Beale and his pregnant wife, Doreen. She also assists a former servant, Sandra, after her husband is killed in a suspicious industrial accident.The main plot, however, involves a new assignment given to Maisie by the British Secret Service. She is to pose as a lecturer in Philosophy at the College of St. Francis - a new school in Cambridge founded by a famous (or infamous?) pacifist - and to see if any suspicious activities "not in the interest of the Crown" are occurring. When the head of the college dies, Maisie is drawn into yet another murder investigation.In her investigations, she does find suspicious activities - group of Nazi sympathizers. However, the government men seem more concerned about the possibility of Communists at the college.With this volume we pass from the aftermath of World War I to events that will lead to the next war. Maisie's personal life, also seems to be becoming more settled as her relationship with James Compton seems to be growing into something more permanent and even her father is developing a late in life romantic attachment. I'm eagerly looking forward to the next installment in Maisie's life.
    • 4/5
      We've followed Maisie from her days as a maid in Lady Rowan Compton's estate, through her schooling and tutelage under the brilliant Dr. Maurice Blanche, her WWI service as a nurse in France, opening up her own private investigations/psychologist office, and now working undercover for the British secret intelligence as a university instructor in the current novel.Maisie takes on the job working to discover if there are any terrorists at the University. She hesitates at first, but remembers her late mentor Maurice's words to her that she needs to be open to the unexpected. While at the school, the dean is murdered, and Maisie finds herself assisting the police in their investigation as well.The dean had written a famous children's book about soldiers putting their weapons down and refusing to fight. There were rumors that this book had caused a large mutiny in France during WWI, with British and German soldiers laying down their weapons. This book plays a big part in the mystery, one that is intriguing indeed.I liked how this novel not only took Maisie out of her comfort zone of work, but forced her to face personal challenges as well. Her friend Sandra lost her husband, and Maisie took Sandra into her home and offered her a job. Sandra uses her position with Maisie to investigate her husband's death. I would like to see Sandra stay on as part of Maisie's office staff.Maisie worries about her father's health, and his refusal to move in with her at Maurice's home frustrates her. It is ironic that Maisie is so in tuned with other people's secrets and feelings, yet her father is able to hide something big from her.Billy Beale, her faithful assistant, is stubborn as well. Maisie has offered Billy a downpayment on a new home, one that will change his family's life forever and for the better, but Billy is hesitant to accept. The men in Maisie's life are frustrating her.And then there is her boyfriend James Compton, son of her benefactor, Lady Rowan. He is supposed to be away on business in Toronto, but Maisie finds out he has been in London. Is their relationship in trouble?I always learn something of historical interest in these novels, and in this one, we learn that women played a big part in wartime intelligence. Over 10,000 women worked for the Secret Service in London during the war, reporting troop movements, sabotaging the German enemy, and consorting with the enemy to get information. I will definitely be looking for information on this subject.The rise of the German Socialist Party, the Nazis, is on the horizon, and we see the beginning of the debate between the Brits who, weary of the lingering WWI problems, do not to wish to get involved in Germany's issues, and those Brits who see the dangers of the Nazi Party and Hitler's rise. I can't wait to see where Winspear takes this in future books.I really enjoyed reading the Maisie Dobbs series; I like Maisie as a strong female character, one young ladies can look up to. Not only is Maisie interesting, but the secondary characters are as well, and Winspear introduces many new ones in each book, rather than just relying on the ones we already know.I've learned much about Britain following WWI, an era I was unfamiliar with. It seems that while the methods of war have changed over the decades, the effects of it on the people who fought it, and those who love them, remain the same.If you like historical fiction with a strong female protagonist, and cozy mysteries, I highly recommend the Maisie Dobbs series.
    • 5/5
      Once again Jaqueline Winspear has created a delightful mystery featuring Maisie Dobbs. In this seventh book, Maisie finds herself working both on her own cases and for His Majesty's government while simultaneously trying on the mantle of junior lecturer in philosophy at St Francis College in Cambridge. One of the more interesting aspects of this particular book has to do with information about the use of women in the British Secret Service during WWI. Winspear continues to people her book with familiar and new characters who are multi-leveled and well described. As with the other Maisie Dobbs mysteries, I would highly recommend it.
    • 5/5
      I have loved this series from the beginning. I enjoy the depiction of both sides of English society during the period between the two Great Wars with the bonus of also having an interesting mystery in each one. Maisie dobbs is a fascinating character and we have seen her learn and grow while dealing with the effects of WWI on her life. In this episode we see her expanding her horizons in several ways and we get a glimpse of the problems facing England near the end of the long “weekend” before the breakout of WWII. I am eagerly awaiting the next installment.
    • 4/5
      Maisie is one of my favorite heroines. This book has Maisie working for Britain's Secret Service and working as a teacher at one Cambridge's Colleges. She is to uncover any radical activity that would threaten the Crown. She's only there one day when the head of the college is murdered. Meanwhile back in London, a former house maid, Sandra, of Lady Rowan's shows up at Maisie's office looking for work after her husband has been murdered. Billy has to investigate that on his own while awaiting the birth of another baby and his wife's fragile health. I miss the struggling making-ends-meet Maisie now that she's well-to-do and being courted by Viscount James Compton. I was hoping that she would get together with Straton.
    • 5/5
      I want to be completely honest in why I had chosen this book from Netgalley. There were actually two main reasons. The first is because growing up, my mom always said that she rarely knew anyone with her name, Maisie. It was a name that was passed down in the family for generations. However, my mom refused to name any of us with it because she felt it was too old fashioned.The second reason is because I have actually been looking into this period of history as I work on my family tree. So it was nice to see a fictitious piece about England set between the two World Wars.Even though this was the eighth book in the series and the first one I have read, I did not feel lost at all. I absolutely fell in love with the writing style of Jacqueline Winspear.I felt myself being transported back in time as I read through the adventures of Maisie as she hunted down clues to help solve the murder. This was not one of those mysteries with chase scenes, shoot outs, or other such action. Instead, it was more of a cerebral mystery where you follow along as she uncovers the truth.Now my sister loves to read cozy mysteries, but she has never read any of hers yet. So of course, I had to tell her all about it. She has already bought the first few books. She is going to pass them on to me so that I can start reading through the series. In conjunction with the Wakela's World Disclosure Statement, I received a product in order to enable my review. No other compensation has been received. My statements are an honest account of my experience with the brand. The opinions stated here are mine alone.

    Book preview

    A Lesson in Secrets - Jacqueline Winspear

    Prologue

    Maisie Dobbs had been aware of the motor car following her for some time. She contemplated the vehicle, the way in which the driver remained far enough away to avoid detection—or so he thought—and yet close enough not to lose her. Occasionally another motor car would slip between them, but the driver of the black saloon would allow no more than one other car to narrow his view of her crimson MG 14/40. She had noticed the vehicle even before she left the village of Chelstone, but to be fair, almost without conscious thought, she was looking out for it. She had been followed—either on foot, on the underground railway, or by motor vehicle—for over a week now and was waiting for some move to be made by the occupants. This morning, though, as she drove back to London, her mood was not as settled as she might have liked, and the cause of her frustration—indeed, irritation—was not the men who followed her, but her father.

    Maisie was now a woman with a good measure of financial independence, having inherited wealth in the form of a considerable property portfolio as well as investments and cash from her late mentor, Dr. Maurice Blanche. To the outside observer, the windfall had not changed her character, or her attachment to her work; but those who knew her best could see that it had bestowed upon her a newfound confidence, along with a responsibility she felt to Blanche’s memory. Dust was settling on the events of his death, and as she moved through the grief of his passing to acceptance of her loss in the process of going through Blanche’s personal papers, Maisie wanted—possibly more than anything—to see her father retired, resting, and living at The Dower House. She had not been prepared for her plans to be at odds with his own, and this morning’s conversation, over tea at the kitchen table in the Groom’s Cottage, capped several months of similar exchanges.

    Dad, you’ve worked hard all your life, you deserve something better. Come and live at The Dower House. Look, I’m away throughout the week in London, so it’s not as if we’ll get under each other’s feet. I don’t see how we could do that anyway—it’s a big enough house.

    "Maisie, we’ve always rubbed along well together, you and me. We could be in this cottage and live happily enough. You’re my own flesh and blood. But this is my home—Her Ladyship has always said as much, that this house is mine until the day I die. And I’m not ready to hang up my boots to sit in an armchair and wait for that day to come."

    Frankie Dobbs was now in his early seventies, and though he had suffered a debilitating fall several years earlier, he was in good health once again, if perhaps not quite as light on his feet. His role as head groom—a job that came with the tied cottage—now chiefly comprised advising Lady Rowan Compton on purchases to expand her string of racehorses, along with overseeing the stable of hunters at Chelstone, the Comptons’ country seat.

    Well, what about not giving up work and just moving into The Dower House? Mrs. Bromley will take care of you—she’s such a good cook, every bit as good as—

    Frankie set down his mug with a thump that made Maisie start. I can do for myself, Maisie. He sighed. Look, I’m happy for you, love, really I am. The old boy did well by you, and you deserve all that came to you. But I want to stay in my home, and I want to do my work, and I want to go on like I’ve been going on without any Mrs. Bromley putting food on the table for me. Now then . . . 

    Maisie stood up and walked to the kitchen sink. She rinsed her mug while looking out of the window and across the garden. Dad, I hate to say this, but you’re being stubborn.

    Well then, all I can say is that you know where you get it from, don’t you?

    They had parted on good enough terms, with Frankie giving his usual warnings for her to mind how she drove that motor car, and Maisie reminding him to take care. But as she replayed the conversation in her mind—along with those other conversations that had come to naught—she felt her heels dig in when she looked at the vehicle on her tail. She was damned if she would put up with some amateur following her for much longer.

    She wound down the window and gave a hand signal to indicate that she was pulling over to the side of the road, thus allowing an Austin Seven behind to pass, followed by the motor car that had been shadowing her for at least half an hour. As soon as they passed, she turned back onto the road again and began to drive as close to the vehicle in front as safety would allow.

    Now you know I know. Let’s see what you do with it.

    She noted that there was no number plate on the black motor car, and no other distinguishing mark. Both driver and passenger were wearing hats, and as their silhouettes moved, she could see the passenger looking back every so often. When they turned left, she turned left, and when they turned right, she followed. Soon they were back on the main road again, traveling up River Hill towards Sevenoaks. At the top, the Royal Automobile Club had stationed two men with water cans, ready to help motorists having trouble with overheated vehicles. It was a long hill, and on a hot day in August, many a steaming motor car lurched and rumbled its way to the brow, with the driver as glad to see men from the RAC as a thirsty traveler might be to reach an oasis in the desert. Allowing the black motor car to continue—she thought it was an Armstrong Siddeley—Maisie pulled in alongside the RAC motorbike and sidecar.

    Having a bit of trouble, love?

    Not yet, but I thought I might get the water checked. It’s a hot day.

    The man glanced down at the radiator grille and nodded when he saw the distinctive silver RAC badge with the Union Jack below the King’s Crown.

    Right you are, Miss. Don’t want to risk burning up a nice little runner like this, do you?

    Maisie smiled while keeping an eye on the road. Soon the Armstrong Siddeley approached the hill again, this time from the opposite direction, and as it passed, both driver and passenger made a point of looking straight ahead. Police, thought Maisie, sure of her assessment. I’m being followed by the police.

    She didn’t need much, but just as well you stopped, said the RAC man. Can’t be too careful, not with this weather.

    Thank you, sir. She reached into her shoulder bag for her purse and took out a few coins. I wonder, could you do me a favor? A black Armstrong Siddeley will presently be coming back up the hill; he’s probably turning around at this moment. Could you pull it over for me?

    The man frowned, then smiled as he took the coins and looked in the direction Maisie indicated. Is this the one, coming along now?

    Yes, that’s it.

    Maisie thought the man looked quite the authority as he stepped forward into the middle of the road in his blue uniform and peaked cap. He held up his hand as if he were a guard at a border crossing. The Armstrong Siddeley came to a halt, and Maisie stepped forward and tapped on the window. After a second or two, the driver wound down the window and Maisie leaned forward just enough to appear friendly, smiling as she affected a cut-glass aristocratic tone.

    Gentlemen, how lovely of you to stop when you must be so terribly busy. Her smile broadened. Would it be too boring of me to ask why you’ve been following me? I think it might save on petrol and your time to explain your actions. After all, it’s been over a week now, hasn’t it?

    The men exchanged glances, and the driver cleared his throat as he moved his hand towards his jacket pocket. Maisie reached forward and put her forefinger on his wrist. Oh, please, don’t ruin a perfectly cordial conversation. Allow me.

    She reached into the man’s jacket, took out his wallet, and smiled again. Can’t be too careful, can we? The man blushed as she opened the wallet and removed a warrant card. Charles Wickham. Ah, I see. So you must be working for Robert MacFarlane. Oh dear, I think you’re going to get into horrible trouble when he finds out I’ve seen you. She tapped the wallet against the fingers of her left hand before offering it to its owner. Tell you what. Inform Detective Chief Superintendent MacFarlane that I’ll be at the Yard this afternoon at—let me see—about three o’clock. He can tell me then what this is all about. All right?

    The driver nodded as he reclaimed his wallet. To her surprise, neither man had spoken, though there was little they could say. There would be plenty for them to talk about when they were summoned to explain themselves to Robert MacFarlane.

    Maisie and the RAC man watched as the black motor car went on its way towards Sevenoaks and London.

    Funny pair, them.

    They’ll be even funnier when their boss hears about this.

    Maisie waved to the man as she pulled out onto the road again. She was deep in thought for much of the time, to the extent that, when she reached the outskirts of the capital, she could barely remember passing landmarks along the way. Though she had kept the exchange light, she had cause for concern, given that the men were reporting to Detective Chief Superintendent Robert MacFarlane of Special Branch. She had worked alongside him at the turn of the year on a case involving a man who had threatened death on a scale of some magnitude. At the close of the case, she hoped never to have to encounter such terror again. But now she suspected that MacFarlane had deliberately sent a pair of neophytes to follow her, and therefore subsequently expected her call. She shook her head. She was not in the mood for Robert MacFarlane’s games. After all, Maisie Dobbs was her father’s daughter, and any sort of manipulation did not sit well with her.

    Chapter One

    Morning, Miss. Bet that fresh country air did you good for a few days." Billy Beale, Maisie’s assistant, stood up when she entered their one-room office on the first floor of what had once been a grand mansion in Fitzroy Square. The room was neat, tidy, and businesslike, with two desks and a large table by the window at which Maisie and Billy would sit to discuss work in progress while poring over the case map.

    You’re right, Billy. There’s nothing like a Saturday-to-Monday spent in the heart of the Weald of Kent—and I bet you’re looking forward to going down to Kent yourself, for the hop-picking. You’re leaving on Saturday morning, aren’t you?

    Bright and early on the Hopper’s Special. Truth is, we need to get away, and Doreen’s feeling the heat, what with carrying so big—you’d think she’s expecting twins, but the doctor reckons it’s only the one.

    Maisie laughed as she stepped towards her desk and began leafing through the post. As long as the baby doesn’t get ahead of itself while you’re down there, I’m sure it will do you all a power of good.

    Nah, she’s not due until October, so we’ll be all right. Anyway, I’ll put the kettle on.

    Maisie shook her head. Wait a moment—pull up a chair, Billy.

    Everything all right, Miss? Billy positioned a chair in front of Maisie’s desk and sat down.

    Relaxing into her own chair, Maisie shook her head. No, I don’t think it is. She sighed. You remember last week, when we noticed a man on the other side of the square, the one who seemed to be watching the building?

    Shifty sort, if you ask me. Haven’t seen him since, though.

    Oh, he’s been there—along with a few others who’ve been following me.

    Following you, Miss? Why didn’t you say? I mean, you could have been—

    I didn’t say anything because I was waiting to see what happened, and I didn’t want them to know they’d been rumbled.

    But you could have been set upon. I don’t know what— Billy stopped himself.

    You don’t know what James Compton would say? Well, he’s away in Canada for at least another month, so let’s not worry about what he would say. Maisie paused and seemed to look into the distance as she spoke. The truth is, I didn’t feel threatened. I suspected they were gathering information, and I wanted to wait until they showed their hand, then base my next move on whatever that hand held.

    Lucky it wasn’t a knife.

    Billy.

    I’m sorry, Miss. I just worry, that’s all.

    Thank you. I appreciate your concern; however, I took matters into my own hands today and have discovered that—as far as I know—Special Branch is behind the subterfuge. I’m seeing MacFarlane at three. Maisie looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. In fact, I should leave at about two o’clock. That’ll give us just enough time to go through our cases and discuss the week ahead. There’s a lot to be done before you go on holiday.

    Billy waited for a second or two before leaning forward. Any luck with Mr. Dobbs?

    Maisie shook her head. He’s as stubborn as a mule and will not be moved, so I suppose I will have to wait.

    He likes his independence, that’s what it is. And it’s hard to take from your daughter, Miss, even though The Dower House is yours now. After all, it’s a father’s job to provide for his children.

    But I’m hardly a child, Billy. I’m thir—

    Doesn’t matter. You’re still his daughter. I’m sorry if I’ve spoken out of turn there, but I’m a father and I know. You’ll have a job to get him to move up to The Dower House, no two ways about it.

    I know, replied Maisie, with a sigh. Anyway, let’s get on.

    Billy opened the notebook he had brought with him to Maisie’s desk. You had a visitor this morning. On the doorstep when I got here, she was.

    Who?

    That Sandra. The tall girl who used to work at Ebury Place—the one who stayed with you for a while, just before she got married.

    Sandra? Sandra came here?

    Yes, and very unhappy she looked, I can tell you. I would say she was mourning, what with the black costume she was wearing, and her cheeks all sunken. Billy looked away. Put me in mind of Doreen, after we lost our Lizzie.

    Did she say what she wanted?

    No, just to let you know she called, and that she’d come back again—sounded like she meant today.

    Maisie capped and uncapped her fountain pen several times as she wondered what might be the reason for Sandra’s visit. She looked up. Billy, have a look in the card file. Her address is in there under her married name—Tapley. She and Eric live in a bed-sitting-room over the garage where he works. I won’t have time to go over today, but I’d like to have it on my desk, just in case.

    Right you are, Miss. He made a note and looked down at the clutch of papers in his hand. Now, there’s the Rackman case. The old lady was on the dog and bone again, just before you walked in the door . . . 

    They continued to talk about various cases in progress, passing files back and forth, and going through client notes one by one until two o’clock, when it was time for Maisie to leave for Scotland Yard. She collected her linen jacket and shoulder bag, but stopped before she reached the door.

    Billy, if Sandra returns while I’m out, tell her she should come to the flat. I have a feeling I’ll be at the Yard for a while, so I probably won’t be home until about six-ish. Tell her to come then. She looked from Billy’s desk to her own. I sometimes think we need a Sandra to sort us out—she’s taken commercial courses, so she’s up on secretarial work. I don’t know about you, but I think we could do with a bit of help.

    As Maisie approached the main entrance to Scotland Yard’s ornate redbrick headquarters on Victoria Embankment, a young man wearing overpressed black trousers and a gray jacket with worn elbows came forward to greet her.

    Miss Dobbs? He held out his hand. DC Summers. Delighted to meet you. Come this way, please. Detective Chief Superintendent MacFarlane is waiting for you.

    Thank you, Detective Constable Summers.

    As Summers led Maisie along a labyrinth of corridors and up stairs, she considered informing her guide that she knew the route to MacFarlane’s fiefdom as if it were the back of her hand, so, given the heat of the day, there was no need to meander the hallways in an effort to confuse her sense of direction. Fortunately, they were soon standing outside a door bearing MacFarlane’s name. Summers knocked and was met with bellowing. The bloody door’s open! He blushed when he looked at Maisie, who shook her head and observed, Ah, he’s in a good mood. Lovely. She reached past the detective constable, pushed against the door, and walked into MacFarlane’s office.

    Miss Dobbs. A pleasure. He held out his hand to indicate that she should be seated on one of three armchairs clustered around a low table alongside the window.

    Oh, the pleasure is all mine, Detective Chief Superintendent. She looked around the room. I see you’ve made some changes here.

    A little more comfort for visiting dignitaries.

    And I’m a dignitary? Maisie hung her shoulder bag across the back of the chair as she sat down. She had found that it helped to appear relaxed in all communications with MacFarlane, who was given to flying off the handle at times, and whose wit could be cutting. He was a tall man, and upon first meeting him, Maisie thought he had the frame of a docker. In his mid-fifties now, the detective chief superintendent kept his thinning hair short and made no attempt to cover the scar where a stray bullet had caught him in the war. Apparently he had raised a fist to the enemy and sworn at them over the parapet for daring to put a hole in his tam-o’-shanter.

    You’re dignified enough, Miss Dobbs.

    I shall take that as a compliment. She took a number of plain index cards and a red pencil from her document case as he opened the door and yelled into the corridor. A pot of tea wouldn’t go amiss in here, or has the tea boat gone down in high tide on the bloody Thames?

    Maisie pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. Despite herself, she liked MacFarlane, and she knew he had regard for her—and she rather hoped he might have plans to ask her to work with the Branch again. Such a role was not for the fainthearted, but there was an edge to it that challenged her. And she liked the idea of a new challenge. When she thought about it, her life had softened in the past couple of months, and she realized, while listening to MacFarlane bellow along the corridor, that she needed a sharp edge or two to keep her on her toes. Soft didn’t suit her.

    There, that’s put a firework under a few rumps. Can’t abide that afternoon lull—shake them up a bit, that’s what I say. MacFarlane came back into the room and shut the door behind him before taking a seat opposite Maisie. He said nothing for a moment, and simply looked at her, as if taking her measure. She looked him in the eye without flinching, and without breaking the silence.

    You miss the old boy?

    Maisie nodded. Yes, I miss Maurice very much indeed.

    Hard shoes to fill in anyone’s book. He paused. I remember when the man who brought me into the force passed on. Like losing a father it was. He sighed. I started off on the beat in Glasgow, you know. I don’t mind admitting I’d been a bit of a tearaway before joining the force; it was a man by the name of Calum Guthrie who sorted me out and set me on the right path. I wept like a wee bairn when he died. A knock at the door interrupted MacFarlane’s reminiscence, and a young policeman entered with a tray. As he set the tray on the table, Maisie noted the fact that it was set for three.

    Ah, so someone’s joining us. How delightful.

    MacFarlane nodded and glanced at the wooden schoolhouse clock above the door. Any minute now. And as delightful as they come.

    So we’ve only a moment or two to chat before he or she gets here.

    He. And he’ll be here on the dot of three—you were early.

    I’ll pour. Maisie reached forward to pour tea for herself and MacFarlane. As she passed the cup to him, the clock struck the hour, and there was sharp knock at the door.

    MacFarlane stood as the door opened, and Maisie looked up to see a tall man, distinguished in a very English aristocratic way, enter the room. His dark-blue suit had the merest pinstripe, his white shirt still bore a faint scent of starch, and his shoes shone like a just-polished gun barrel. He wore a signet ring on the little finger of his right hand, and his tie bore the insignia of the Household Cavalry. Their eyes met and Maisie stood up and held out her hand—she wanted to stand tall to greet this particular guest.

    Mr. Huntley. This is indeed a surprise.

    Miss Dobbs. He handed his mackintosh and hat to the constable, and shook her hand. We had little time to speak at the funeral. Though expected, Maurice’s death came as a shock all the same.

    She nodded as a lump seemed to swell in her throat, preventing an appropriate reply.

    Maisie had first met Brian Huntley in France two years earlier. She had traveled to a region in the country to look into the case of a missing wartime aviator, an investigation that had dovetailed with a personal assignment on behalf of her friend Priscilla Partridge, née Evernden, who had asked her to help solve the lingering question of her brother’s death in the war. Maisie discovered that Peter Evernden had been assigned to the intelligence corps, and soon after, she realized she was being followed. In Paris she was apprehended by none other than Brian Huntley—a Secret Service agent who was reporting directly to Maurice Blanche. It was a case that revealed to Maisie the extent of her mentor’s involvement in matters connected with the defense of the realm; the fact that he had not trusted her with this information drove a wedge in their relationship. It was a fissure that was healed by the time Maurice passed away, and for that Maisie was ever grateful. Now it seemed that Brian Huntley was in an even more senior position, and he wanted to see her.

    Maisie looked at the two men and took the initiative. Gentlemen, shall we begin? Perhaps you can start by telling me why I have been followed for some ten days now.

    Robbie, perhaps you’d like to start, said Huntley.

    It seemed to Maisie that Huntley had assumed a certain superiority in the conversation, with his chummy manner towards the detective chief superintendent. She felt ill at ease in Huntley’s company, but she remembered how he was well respected by Maurice, and such esteem would have been well earned.

    MacFarlane turned towards Maisie. "Miss Dobbs, would you be so kind as to tell us when you first noted that you were being followed, and recount the instances since that initial realization that you were under surveillance?’

    Maisie looked from MacFarlane to Huntley. She nodded. Ah, so that was the game. She had been tested.

    It was a week ago last Friday. I was in my office and when I looked out of the window, I noticed a man on the other side of the square. I am sure he thought that he was well hidden by foliage, but I noticed him immediately.

    What made you suspicious?

    His manner, his way of moving as he walked around the square. He appeared to be looking at the houses, much as one might appraise an area if one were looking to rent a flat. But his carriage revealed him to be a man of secrets—a slight roll of the shoulders inward definitely the mark of one who is protective of something; in this case it was his assignment.

    And then?

    I decided to test my theory, so I left the office to walk in the direction of Tottenham Court Road—it’s invariably busy and wider than most streets, and it has many shop windows in which to see a reflection. She looked at her inquisitors in turn. In my estimation, Mr. Huntley, Detective Chief Superintendent MacFarlane—

    Robbie, please. The title and the name form a veritable mouthful together, and we’ve only got so much time.

    "Thank you—Robbie. She cleared her throat and went on. In my estimation there were two men working together, and one woman, and they were using a method of surveillance that I have always thought of as something like a cat’s cradle, in the way that agents move to and fro, zigzagging across the road. Initially I was followed by the man I had already seen in Fitzroy Square; then a man walking in front of me stopped to look in a shopwindow. At that point a woman crossed from the opposite side of the road as the man behind walked past me, and she took his place. The man who had stopped then took up a position on the opposite side of the road again, and so it went on—one person stopped, and they all changed places. I entered Goodge Street station, bought a ticket, and went through the turnstile, but a group of students—I assume they were students—managed to get into the queue before the people following me. And yet all three were on the platform just seconds behind me, and before the students. I suspect their warrant cards had gained them immediate access to the platform. Maisie looked from Huntley to MacFarlane. Am I right?"

    Huntley gave no indication as to the accuracy of Maisie’s account. And then?

    On that occasion I simply traveled on the underground for a while, visited a friend’s office, just to make it seem as if I had been on a genuine errand, and then returned to Fitzroy Square.

    Not exactly to Fitzroy Square, though, said MacFarlane.

    No, I made a detour to Burlington Arcade. My document case was destroyed some months ago and I thought it was about time I bought another, so I went along to the arcade and purchased a new one. And of course, it was interesting, observing the way in which your agents arranged themselves in the arcade.

    And then?

    I made my way back to Tottenham Court Road, and before returning to the office I stopped in Heals and bought a— She held out a hand to Huntley. Your turn.

    Sofa. You bought a sofa. Very nice, too.

    My flat is somewhat spartan; I felt it needed something a little more welcoming in the drawing room.

    Did you see the men again?

    Do you wish me to give you a complete list? She faced MacFarlane. "Robbie?"

    A brief synopsis will do, interjected Huntley.

    Maisie sighed. The GPO van outside the block of flats where I live in Pimlico provided a cover for two men working on the connection to the flats. I do hope I don’t have to have my new telephone ripped out for fear that you are listening to every call.

    Go on. Huntley did not look up as he spoke but continued looking through a dossier that lay open on his knee.

    I was followed to and from work, and down to my house on the Chelstone Manor estate last Friday. I’d finally had enough during the journey back to London this morning, which was when I intercepted two men and gave a message to pass on to Det—to Robbie.

    Huntley looked up, smiling. And as I said to Robbie here, I thought taking the driver’s wallet from the poor man’s inside pocket was a little forward.

    Maisie did not return his smile. I’m sure you did, Mr. Huntley. I catch on fairly quickly. You should have remembered that you did not go undetected in France.

    Quite right. Very impressive.

    What’s this all about? asked MacFarlane.

    Huntley ignored the question as he folded the dossier, placed it on the table, and leaned back in his chair. To get right to the point, Miss Dobbs, we have a job for you. This meeting is in absolute confidence, as I am sure you understand. I know I have no need to say that, but I am required to, and I am also required to ask you to sign documents to that effect at the end of this meeting.

    Maisie nodded.

    Special Branch is involved, given that this assignment pertains not only to matters of interest to my department, but to the problem of aliens entering Britain for purposes that might not be as described to authorities at the ports of entry—which as you know comes under the purview of Special Branch. Huntley opened the dossier and handed Maisie a clutch of papers, each stamped with Official: Top Secret. You will see that this report details the activities of one Greville Liddicote.

    I’ve heard of him, said Maisie. Wasn’t he a Senior Fellow at Cambridge who made a good deal of money writing children’s books in his spare time? I seem to remember he upset the applecart when he wrote a book which clearly expressed his position against the war, in 1916 or ’17.

    Same man, interjected MacFarlane.

    Huntley continued. He resigned his position at Cambridge in late 1917—it’s generally thought he was asked to do so—and he went on to found a college, also in Cambridge, in 1920.

    Maisie nodded.

    The book that got him into so much trouble was an embarrassment for His Majesty’s government, said Huntley. It was a controversial story about a group of fatherless children who go to live in the woods, and who decide to journey to France to end the war.

    That doesn’t sound too inflammatory to me, though I haven’t read the book, said Maisie.

    "We managed to have most copies confiscated; however, there was an efficient underground acquisition of books by various pacifist organizations—the last decade, as you probably know, has seen a significant rise in the number of such groups. While it appears at first blush to be fairly harmless, the book was written in such a way as to undermine morale both on the home front and indeed on the battlefield, should it have reached the hands of serving men. The plight of orphaned children will always tug at the heartstrings, so we circumvented the distribution to the extent that we could. We did not want the books reaching men in the ranks. Even those with limited literacy would

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