Page 66 of The Oxford Guide to Scandal and Lies

Marion’s chin jutted in defiance. “But it is the truth nonetheless.”

The two women stared at each other, Watkins tapping the letter thoughtfully against her hand. Behind them, Ginevra peeped around the curve of a pillar. She pointed toward their circle and made a slashing motion against her neck before sliding back out of sight. Sidney tried not to gape.

“I didn’t know your uncle, and I know nothing about Vosburg beyond the official story.” Watkins returned the letter to Marion. “But I see no reason that you shouldn’t be allowed to speak with Dr. Neville for a few minutes, if you are respectful. Only let me prepare him first.”

“I don’t want him prepared,” Marion grumbled. “I want the bald truth.”

“Dr. Watkins,” Leland interjected, “surely this isn’t the place. It’s a party, for heaven’s sake.”

Watkins shrugged. “It will be easier here than explaining Miss Kirk’s presence at school.”

“Surely you don’t think there’s something to this nonsense.” Leland forced a laugh. “She’s claiming we accused an innocent man in Vosburg.”

“And if you were wrong,” Watkins said evenly, “wouldn’t you want to make amends?”

Leland’s face reddened at this, and his protestations withered. Before he could start again, Watkins ushered Marion into the study, leaving Sidney and Leland to follow.

Sidney looked back for Ginevra but instead found Craddock storming down the stairs. The young lord’s eyes locked onto Sidney’s and narrowed, and he quickly strode across the drawing room. “What the devil is going on? Where’s Kirk?”

“Dr. Watkins and Professor Leland have her in hand,” Sidney said, but Craddock brushed him aside with a scoff and entered the study. Sidney followed, glowering at his back.

The women stood beside Neville, who still hunched over the chessboard. Dr. Watkins laid a hand on his shoulder. “Sam, the young woman would like a word with you.”

Neville’s owlish eyes widened at the sight of Marion. “You again,” he whispered, fidgeting with his glasses. “I told you, I—I can’t—”

“You can,” Marion said firmly. “I’m not simply a bored student reporter, Dr. Neville. I’m Robert Crowne’s niece, and I have a right to know the truth.”

“She’s who?” Craddock cried, aghast, drawing a shush from Watkins.

Neville shot Leland a plaintive look, but Leland backed away, his hands raised in abstention. “Tell her what you told me, Sam. Let the girl decide for herself.”

Neville drew a shuddering breath and removed his glasses, pressing his haggard face into one hand. “I heard … whispers. Among the Germans. Of a new source supplying all sorts of information, especially from the British inner circle. They were often careless around me, and my German was better than they realized.” He swallowed. “The word they kept repeating was die Krone.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Craddock muttered under his breath.

Beside Sidney, the door eased open a fraction. Ginevra peered through the crack, a finger pressed to her lips.

“I know all of this,” Marion said. “It’s in his memoir.” She jerked her head at Leland, who had moved to the window where he gazed upon the lawn.

Neville’s eyes darted toward the professor’s backside. “When we searched Robert’s things,” he continued, “there were—messages. Ciphers containing sensitive information he could have only picked up from eavesdropping on officers.”

Marion leaned on the chessboard, toppling pieces, and stared Neville in the eye. “Did he confess though?”

Neville recoiled. “Well, no—no,” he stammered. “Of course not—”

“They never do.” Leland turned, hands in his pockets, and rocked back on his heels. “Dash it all, girl, but I’m sorry. Robert was a liability, and we had the safety of our men to consider. The Germans said their stool pigeon was die Krone—the crown—and the evidence was there too.”

Marion’s jaw clenched. “Evidence which could have been planted.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Professor,” Craddock said, “it was die Zahnkrone, not die Krone, which you would remember if you had paid attention to those notes I’ve tried to give you this year. The Germans called your uncle the Tough Crown,” he sneered at Marion, “because he was a hardheaded little snot with social aspirations he couldn’t achieve.”

Sidney frowned at Craddock. “That’s not what die Zahnkrone means.”

“How would you know?” Craddock scoffed.

The thought had popped out unintentionally, but an opportunity to take Donald Craddock down a peg would always be Sidney’s Achilles’ heel. “Because die Krone does mean ‘crown,’ but Zahn doesn’t mean tough; that would be zäh. Die Zahnkrone would be more like…” Sidney hesitated, the weight of realization slowing him down. He looked toward the door where Ginevra still stood, both hands balled before her face. “Tooth crown.”

Slowly, everyone revolved toward Leland. Like a beacon, the gold crown on his molar glinted at them all as he gaped at Sidney and Craddock.