Page 118 of Fire Must Burn

‘It seems adequate,’ said Mrs Chesworth with a sniff.

‘Mrs Cowell, I was wondering if I might put it to the test,’ asked Miss McTague. ‘I’m in rather desperate need at the moment.’

‘Certainly,’ said Mrs Cowell.

‘Perhaps you and I could return downstairs and discuss potential terms,’ suggested Mrs Chesworth. ‘We do have two other places to look at today, but I am already leaning towards this one.’

‘Of course, of course,’ said Mrs Cowell. ‘Let’s go and talk business while your secretary does her business. Take your time, dearie.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Cowell,’ said Miss McTague gratefully. ‘I’ll be down in a few minutes.’

She slipped inside the bathroom and shut the door, then pressed her ear against it until she heard the footsteps and voices fade down the staircase. Then she stepped out into the hall, reaching for her lock picks.

Room 2C, thought Sparks. Hopefully Gwen will keep Lowle’s landlady talking for a while.

The lock was a simple one. She had it open in seconds. She opened the chest of drawers first, feeling under the neatly folded clothes, then checking for anything taped underneath the drawers. She found nothing.

She moved to the desk, noting with reluctant approval the stack of books on one corner. She probably reads more than I do, she thought with chagrin. The desk itself revealed nothing. She quickly flipped through the pages of each book, looking for notes concealed within.

There was a copy ofThe History of the Peloponnesian Warin the stack. She really did do her homework, thought Sparks, impressed. I wonder if she bought it with her own money, or if the Brigadier—

She picked it up and turned to the title page. Thucydides. The Jowett translation.

She copied down the publisher and the edition number, then replaced the book in its place in the stack.

She didn’t have much time. There was a jewellery box on the bedside table. Sparks flipped it open to find the usual assortment of earrings, hairpins and a necklace. There were no secret compartments that she could discern. She was about to close the box when one pair of earrings caught her attention.

They weren’t made from any precious metal, nor did they hold any gemstones. They had small, thin metal hooks at their ends and were bedecked with soft filaments – no, fragments of feathers that had been dyed yellow and pink, which flowed in the air as she picked them up like—

Like wings.

Rather pretty, she thought as she replaced them.

She closed the door behind her, hoping Lowle would blame its unlocked status on Mrs Cowell, then returned to the bathroom and flushed the toilet. She ran the water in the sink for a moment to complete the performance, then went down the stairs to rejoin the others.

‘Sorry I took so long, Mrs Chesworth,’ she said apologetic­ally. ‘Something I ate last night disagreed with my innardssomething fierce. Mrs Cowell, you were a lifesaver. Thanks awfully.’

‘Not at all, dearie,’ said Mrs Cowell sympathetically.

‘I’ll be sure to call you soon with my decision,’ said Mrs Chesworth, rising to her feet. ‘You have been a most gracious hostess, Mrs Cowell. My thanks for your hospitality.’

‘It was nice to meet you, ladies,’ said Mrs Cowell. ‘I hope your cousin comes to join our little group soon.’

The two women exited into the street and walked away.

‘Any luck?’ asked Gwen.

‘I think so,’ said Iris. ‘I need to get to a telephone right away.’

Mrs Cowell’s place was on a side street off Theobalds Road. They found a telephone box on the corner. Iris looked up a number in her book, dropped a coin in the slot, then dialled. A moment later, a man answered.

‘It’s Sparks,’ she said.

‘Sparks?’ barked the Brigadier. ‘You’re not supposed to have this number.’

‘No time for that, sir. I need you to do something.’

‘Do you? May I remind you how the chain of command works here?’