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‘You mean as in his favourite liquor or tobacco?’
‘Precisely.’
‘Well, Mr Britten-Jones does not smoke. He suffers from asthma. Winter can be cruel. Er, let’s see. He has a fondness for extremely fine Armagnac, pisco from Peru as opposed to Chile, and he enjoys the Spanish pomace on occasion known as orujo.’
‘Particular, then,’ Harry remarked.
‘Very,’ James replied and Harry felt instantly unsettled, as though a small spider that he couldn’t see but knew was there was creeping across his flesh.
What was he missing here?
‘Thank you,’ was all he could say as James gave him a seemingly reluctant bow and gestured to the tiny cubicle behind glass. Harry checked the door was closed and lifted the receiver.
‘Connecting you now, Captain Blake,’ came a tinny voice into the stillness.
‘Thank you.’ He waited and felt the pull of Alex, anticipating her slightly smoky tone winging down from The Mount through the clever technology of the telephone. How had the world survived without it, he wondered absently? He heard the connection go through.
‘Alex Britten-Jones?’
He was thrilled Alex had answered the call instead of the disapproving Norma, although he knew he couldn’t be sure the housekeeper wasn’t eavesdropping.
‘Mrs Britten-Jones, thank you, I have Captain Blake for you?’ the operator said.
‘Oh, thank you,’ she replied.
They both waited for the operator to click off. He listened for any third-party breathing or odd sounds from the hallway or kitchen that might give away an eavesdropper. When he was satisfied they were alone, he smiled.
‘Good evening, Mrs Britten-Jones.’
‘Hello. I’m sorry if you had to wait, Captain Blake, but my housekeeper is running an errand. It’s just me, I’m afraid, and I had to make a dash from the parlour.’
He knew she was telling him not to fear being overheard. His tone changed instantly. ‘Can I see you?’ Harry heard her catch her breath. ‘I need to see you. Even if it’s just once more, I have to . . . well, I need to hold you once more even if it’s for a goodbye.’
‘Don’t say that.’
‘Your husband is returning tonight.’
‘How could you possibly know that?’
‘One of the waiters here at the club has just informed your father and me.’
‘A waiter?’ she repeated with disgust.
‘I’ve just been speaking with him.’
‘Typical. I’m the last to hear. So he’s going to the club, not home?’
‘According to this waiter, yes.’
‘How infuriating.’ He listened to her sigh.
‘It was good to see you today, despite how alarmed I must have looked and sounded.’ He was glad it won a chuckle from her.
‘I thought you looked very fine. Too fine.’
‘Let me see you . . . please.’
‘It’s dangerous, Harry . . . for both of us.’
