Page 79 of The Oxford Guide to Scandal and Lies

Leland lifted his chin, spluttering. “Ginevra? Braithwaite? Untie me, you fools.”

Ginevra wound the entire ball of twine around his ankles and patted her intricate knots. “I used to complain about Mother’s knot-tying lessons, but she was quite prescient. Much more useful than embroidery.”

“Your mum was an odd duck.”

Gin snorted, offering Sidney a hand up, and he stiffly clambered off Leland’s haunches. Quickly, he rifled through the professor’s pockets, checking for a weapon, but they were empty apart from a crumpled piece of paper. It was almost comical to see Leland trussed with the polka-dot apron and twine, but the angry set of his jaw against the peeling linoleum made Sidney wary.

“Let me go, damn you,” Leland raged. He wriggled sideways, bound feet flailing like a lobster tail. “It’s Craddock’s word against mine. I’ll have you both expelled when this blows over.”

“Vosburg is the least of your problems, Professor,” Gin said. “The Security Service is aware of your new side business.”

Leland spluttered. “What side business?”

There was a loud thump from the corner behind the kitchen table. Marion scooted into view, bound and gagged.

Gin gasped and darted toward the girl. “Sidney, the scissors!”

“Don’t let her go, you idiot!” Furiously, Leland wriggled around to glare at Gin, and Sidney was forced to step across him to hand her the scissors. “She broke in here and attacked me.”

The rage brewing in the girl’s eyes made Sidney hesitate. He didn’t really want something sharp anywhere near her in such a state, but he knew it was unfair. She had every right to be furious with the professor.

Gin pulled down the gag, and Marion let out an angry snarl. “I wasn’t taking any chances. Not after he shot Braithwaite.”

Leland glared at her. “That was an accident. I was merely warning you—”

“You were trying to shoot me.” Marion jerked free of the bindings as Gin cut them, and she threw them in Leland’s face.

Sidney stepped between the pair before another fight erupted. “The police will be here shortly, Professor. You might as well give up.”

Leland blanched and fell limp against the floor.

“Pathetic,” Marion spat at him. “I hope you never see the light of day again.”

She turned toward the rain-streaked window, and Sidney sank back. The crumpled paper from Leland’s pocket was still clutched in his hand, and he smoothed it.

IMMEDIATE REMOVAL REQUIRED.

It was likely a message Leland was sending to his KGB contacts. Exfiltration was common enough for valuable spies, but it required a lot of planning and infrastructure and risk. It was hard to believe Leland was a high-priority asset—but to his own ego, doubtless he thought the Russians would save him in two ticks.

It was odd that he hadn’t encoded it, though; or maybe he hadn’t gotten that far. But as Sidney studied the message, something niggled at the back of his mind. He brought it closer to the light, studying the handwriting more closely, and a cold feeling ebbed through him.

Leland could not have written that message.

“Gin,” he said in an undertone. “Come look at this.” She crossed the kitchen, and he shoved the message into her hand. “That was in Leland’s pocket, the same suit he wore to the party. But see how the letters are formed—”

There was a sharp knock at the back door, and Sidney whirled. A face pressed to the kitchen door’s window, peering through the rain-smudged glass. But it was neither Hughes nor the Rook nor the police.

It was Dr. Neville.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Sidney opened the back door, and the bedraggled don stumbled into the kitchen clutching a large briefcase to his chest. Behind Neville, Dr. Watkins hurried inside, holding down her mackintosh hood.

“The weather is turning foul, Neville. We ought to hurry.” Watkins pushed back the dripping hood and startled. “Mr. Braithwaite—Miss Bishop—Miss Kirk! What are you three doing here?” Her attention snagged on Leland, and her mouth fell ajar. “Good God, why is he trussed like a Christmas goose?”

“You all are the ones who have broken into my house!” Leland spat. “Damn it, untie me, Jacqueline.”

The don regarded him with caution. “I’d rather hear how you ended up in such a position first.”