“Constraints?” prompted Veronica, pushing for further explanation.
“Well, we all know what she’s like!” said Bainbridge, a hint of the former anger edging once more into his voice. “We know she has a very particular way of doing things, and a rather skewed opinion of her own worth.”
Newbury sat forward, shocked to hear such utterances from the mouth of his old friend. “Charles! You astound me.”
“Oh, don’t pretend you’re shocked, Newbury. You saw her today.” Newbury noticed that Bainbridge was clenching his fists in frustration. “Overall, I believe the Queen still acts in the interest of the Empire, but she has never allowed it to prevent her from acting for her own good. You know that as well as I do. The most important thing to the Queen is the Queen herself.” He sat back, folding his arms across his chest defensively.
“So you’re saying that the men and women working for the Secret Service are free from such petty concerns?” asked Veronica, doubtfully.
“Not at all. Simply that all decisions are made by a committee, so we are able to insulate ourselves against the singular will of one overriding egoist. Better decisions are made that way, Miss Hobbes, and the good of the nation is always paramount.”
“I’d never have marked you down as a democrat, Charles,” said Newbury, smirking, “but I applaud you wholeheartedly for it.”
Bainbridge shrugged dismissively. “So there you have it. I maintain wholeheartedly that the Secret Service is not in any way responsible for the murder of Her Majesty’s agents.”
“Even,” said Veronica, refusing to let the matter drop, “if the actions of those agents were, in the opinion of your committee, considered to be counter to the good of the British people?”
“Well … I … you’re asking me an impossible, hypothetical question!” replied Bainbridge.
“Am I?” ventured Veronica, quietly.
“Charles is not alone in his assertions, Miss Hobbes. I have not yet elaborated on the reason for the Prince of Wales’s visit to Chelsea yesterday afternoon. At this juncture he very much echoes the sentiments of the chief inspector here, in that he believes the Queen is becoming too self-involved and inward looking, and in so doing is allowing the enemies of the Empire to grow bolder.” Newbury glanced over at Bainbridge, who appeared to be listening to him intently. “He fears that operatives allied to hostile foreign agencies are currently in London, including those of his cousin, the Kaiser, who he suggests is spoiling for a war. If he can be believed-and I have no reason to think that he cannot-then perhaps those same foreign agents might be responsible for the recent deaths? They may be seeking to undermine the Queen’s power base so her position is weaker if it comes to war or a political coup.”
Veronica was frowning. “It’s certainly possible,” she said. “But forgive me, Sir Maurice, for asking why the Prince of Wales should come to you with such grave concerns?”
Newbury laughed. “Precisely my thought, Miss Hobbes. I asked him the very same question. He said that ever since the little affair we took care of for him in Cambridge, he’s felt he could come to me with his concerns. He asked only that I remain vigilant and report to him any activity that may come to light on the matter.”
“And will you report your theory that those foreign agents might be behind this rash of diabolical murders?” asked Veronica.
“Not yet,” replied Newbury. “I have nothing substantial to support the claim.”
“Angelchrist will have a better idea,” said Bainbridge, eyeing them both as he waited for their reaction. When they kept looking at him blankly, he continued. “I can’t think of another man who knows more about the political situation abroad. If there are foreign agents involved, he’ll be able to point us in the right direction.”
“You’re forgetting something, Charles,” said Newbury. “Her Majesty has forbidden you from speaking with Angelchrist, or any of the others who might be connected with him. Don’t think for a minute that she won’t be having you watched. If you put even a foot out of line … well, you saw how adamant she was.”
“Poppycock to that!” said Bainbridge, brusquely. “She’s wrong, Newbury. Plain wrong, and I refuse to sever ties to a good man for obscure reasons, not when the security of the nation is at stake. She also told us to ensure there were no further deaths. We cannot be expected to work miracles!”
“No, but we will be expected to obey her wishes. It’s too much of a risk even for me or Miss Hobbes to pay him a visit.”
“Then we’ll arrange to meet with him clandestinely. He deserves to know the truth, Newbury. You must agree with that, at least? He’s proved a good friend to us over the last six months, and aside from any insight he may be able to offer into the Prince’s concerns, we need to warn him that the Queen is out for his blood.” Bainbridge tugged at the corners of his moustache anxiously, as if he was urging Newbury to grant him permission.
“Are you sure that’s wise?” said Veronica. “If-and I grant you, you make a good case that it does not-the Secret Service does have some hand in the murders, you’d be tipping them off that we’re on to them. Do you truly know we can trust Professor Angelchrist?”
“I would trust him with my life,” said Bainbridge.
“And I,” said Newbury.
“Good. Because that’s exactly what you’ll both be doing,” said Veronica. She didn’t need to add “and mine along with it.” The implication was clear.
For a moment the three of them sat in silence, allowing the tension to stretch. Finally, Bainbridge spoke. “I’ll have Clarkson make the necessary arrangements. He can get word to Angelchrist without arousing suspicion. We’ll meet somewhere out in the open, where there are lots of people.”
Newbury nodded. “Yes. Somewhere we can talk without being seen, and with a crowd sufficient to help us cover our tracks.”
“Very well. I’ll see to it forthwith.” Bainbridge was already heaving himself up out of his chair.
“Excellent,” said Newbury. “Then I think it’s time we were bidding you good day. There is much to consider.”
“Indeed. You’ll see yourselves out, won’t you?” said Bainbridge, reaching for his cane and crossing to the drawing room door.
“Of course,” said Veronica.
Newbury waited until Bainbridge’s footsteps had receded down the hallway before turning to Veronica. “Of course, there’s one other thing to consider, Miss Hobbes.”
“About Professor Angelchrist?”
“No, about the murders.” He lowered his voice so as not to be overheard. “The possibility that the Queen herself is responsible. That she’s clearing out the ranks of her own operation for some reason, perhaps to minimise her risk of exposure to some piece of information that she doesn’t want to get out.”
“Surely not? I mean, I know what she’s capable of, but, really … would she kill her own agents just to protect a secret?” asked Veronica.
“Nothing would surprise me any more, not when it comes to Her Majesty the Queen,” replied Newbury solemnly. “And not after what we saw at the Grayling Institute.”
Veronica nodded. “You’re right, of course. But why not mention this in front of Sir Charles?”
“Because he’d never believe it,” said Newbury, “even with his newfound distaste for her methods. He hasn’t seen the things we have, and we’re not at liberty to explain why we did what we did.”
“No, but he seems to be coming to a similar conclusion all on his own,” said Veronica.
“And for that we should be grateful,” replied Newbury, laughing. “Provided, of course, that he doesn’t go and get us all executed for treason.”
Veronica grimaced. “That’s no laughing matter and you know it. If we’re caught fraternising with the professor she won’t be lenient on us.”
“In that case, my dear Miss Hobbes, we’ll simply have to ensure that we don’t go and get ourselves caught,” he said, still chuckling.