Daughter of the God-King(83)

Yes, thought Hattie, I imagine you did—and with considerable dismay. Drummond’s associate was also introduced, and for the second time in two days Hattie was surprised to behold a figure from her short-lived visit to Paris; she was certain that the quiet man who accompanied the British high commissioner was the same man who posed as a hackney driver, in league with the grey-eyed spymaster. Assessing him under her lashes, Hattie concluded that she was not mistaken—the gentleman was definitely in the same line of work as Berry. He had the same air—that of an eagle masquerading as a dove.

“Would you mind if we walked with you?”

“Certainly, sir.” She smiled in what she hoped was a manner appropriate for a concerned daughter who was unaware her parents were base traitors and the world was on the brink of exploding yet again. With Robbie beside her, the party began to walk along the outer walls of the courtyard, Bing and Smithson up ahead. Hattie no longer twirled her parasol but gripped the handle, wary.

“Terrible news about your parents,” Drummond began in the awkward, bluff manner of an Englishman who was more comfortable with action than words. “Rest assured—we are moving heaven and earth to ascertain what has happened.”

“I would that I could be of more help,” she confessed, and hoped she wouldn’t be compelled to lie outright to them—she much preferred pound dealing. But she needed to be careful—Berry didn’t trust the British, for some undisclosed reason. Neither did she, come to think of it—and they owed her a reticule.

“Of course,” Drummond acknowledged with a regretful tilt of his head. “Mr. Tremaine has mentioned that you were—unfortunately—not in your parents’ confidence.”

“No, and in fact I rarely heard from them. I understand”—she paused delicately—“that there are some concerns about missing inventory on the new site. I sincerely hope my parents were not involved in any wrongdoing.”

“It may be nothing, Hattie,” Robbie quickly assured her.

Drummond nodded in agreement. “We are carefully reviewing their last actions—or at least their last known actions—for any clues. I understand their agent—Monsieur Berry, I believe—travels with your party; has he offered any insights into their disappearance?”

So—here it was. She thought of the River Fel near the Tremaine estate, and how the spring bluebells swayed in unison when the breeze came through the lea and she concluded: I am English to the bone, come what may—even if I have not a drop of English blood in me. On the other hand, I will not betray what I know or suspect about Berry himself; not until I’ve had a chance to confer with him. “Monsieur Berry is also chagrined and wishes I had more information than I have.” I hope, she thought, that I never have to choose which allegiance is paramount.

They walked a few more paces, the men thinking over what she had told them while Hattie felt as though the disk secreted next to her skin was burning a hole in her dress.

The erstwhile hackney driver spoke for the first time, his manner deferential. “Has Mr. Hafez offered a theory concerning your parents’ disappearance? He is believed to be the last person to have seen them.” There was the slightest edge to this observation.

She met his eyes, her own widened in surprise. “I was unaware of this. Are you—are you implying—”

“The best people are conducting the investigation, Hattie, believe me.” This from Robbie, who squeezed her hand to reassure her. “But Mr. Hafez is a high official and the situation is delicate—we can’t be accusing him as though he were a criminal.”

And Berry believes Hafez is going to make a discreet exit this very day, thought Hattie, and he doesn’t seem to think it a bad idea, either. Curse everyone for making this so difficult; I don’t know what to reveal and what to keep secret. Hesitating, she offered, “I must say it appears unlikely that Mr. Hafez is a suspect; he seems to have been plagued by all sides on account of my parents’ disappearance.” Thinking to offer a scrap of information, she added, “Indeed, a contingent from the French embassy was putting him through his paces just yesterday.”

Mr. Drummond nodded his head toward Robbie. “Yes—we are aware. We are cooperating with the embassy staff here, as it would benefit all parties to secure the site.”

There was a small pause. “And discover what happened to my parents,” Hattie prompted.

The man hastened to assure her, “Of course, of course—a terrible business.”

Thinking to throw out another fact so as to assuage her conscience, she offered, “Monsieur Berry wishes to escort me to the worker’s village tomorrow in the hope that I may evoke additional information—he believes that I would be a sympathetic figure.”