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‘There’s nothing funny about this,’ Daniel answered him. ‘Did you even look at Graves’ notes for his next book?’
‘Not closely. I glanced at it, and what I saw was rather unpleasant. It concerned a chap called Narraway, who’s dead now. And it was pretty scurrilous, but famous men, especially powerful ones, do get grubby things said about them. Was someone else involved?’
‘His wife. And probably loads of other people. Do you know who he was?’
‘Not exactly.’ Kitteridge frowned. ‘Why?’
‘Head of Special Branch.’
‘Oh God!’ He stared at Daniel, aghast, as suddenly the reality of this came to him. ‘So, we could be looking at treason? Stupid sod. Are you saying he was to be judicially silenced? Only they got poor Ebony instead?’
‘I don’t know. He could have been framed for killing Ebony. In which case, it worked – so far.’
Kitteridge looked profoundly troubled. ‘Why didn’t he tell us? It would have been a credible defence. What’s the matter with the man?’
‘I don’t know,’ Daniel said unhappily. ‘I’ve read bits of it, but mostly his notes. If he’s selling it by the word, he’ll make a fortune! Who’s his publisher?’
Kitteridge shrugged. ‘I don’t know. He’s keeping that very close to his chest. I had no reason to think it mattered before, so I didn’t chase it down. Not his usual publisher, is all I know. I can look further. It’s got to be more use than what I’m doing at the moment.’ His eyes narrowed and he looked at Daniel more closely. ‘There’s something else, isn’t there?’
Daniel was torn. He did not want to tell anyone at all, but he could not handle this alone. What if he betrayed his father by telling people who would in turn tell others? His father had trusted him with secrets, never thinking he would repeat them. Certain, in fact, that he never would. And believing Daniel would trust him, as he had all his life.
But on the other hand, what if Pitt were destroyed by this because Daniel was too proud, and too afraid, to trust anyone who perhaps could really help?
‘Pitt!’ Kitteridge said sharply. ‘We can’t fight in the dark. What’s the matter with you, man?’
What should he say? Daniel couldn’t decide. He could not see clearly enough. ‘I’m not sure what Graves wants . . .’ he began.
‘Well, he doesn’t want to hang, I’m bloody sure of that!’ Kitteridge said tartly. ‘Start there, and move on.’
‘Which means he really thinks Special Branch could be behind Ebony’s murder,’ Daniel reasoned.
‘Why should they care enough to go to those lengths to protect the reputation of their leader in the past?’ Kitteridge continued. Then his voice dropped a little and was suddenly gentler. ‘Or is it worse than that? Is he saying your father engineered it? Is it covering up something he was involved in, too? Is that what’s got you pulling your hair out?’
Daniel did not need to admit it. The understanding was in Kitteridge’s face, and surprisingly without judgement.
‘Personal, or Special Branch business?’ Kitteridge asked.
‘Special Branch business. To do with a Portuguese political dissident of some sort, apparently very well connected.’ There was no point in telling less than the truth now. ‘Killed his wife in a fit of rage, and then panicked. Asked my father to get him out of the country. He did, I think because the man knew too much about Special Branch . . . and knew too much to stand trial over here.’
Kitteridge nodded, and then seemed to stop himself before asking anything further, as if understanding that Daniel didn’t know any more. ‘I understand about the political unrest all over Europe. I suppose your father’s got to care about that, when the dissidents land up in London. Damn Graves!’
‘Do you think he’s got anything to do with politics?’ Daniel asked doubtfully.
‘Not a thing,’ Kitteridge replied. ‘He’s all about money.’
‘I think he’s genuinely frightened now,’ Daniel said. ‘I . . . I wish I didn’t, but I honestly think he might not be guilty.’
‘You think it was Special Branch? Really?’
‘No!’
‘Then we’d better
prove who it was,’ Kitteridge said earnestly.
‘Can I tell Graves you cannot find any cause for appeal?’
‘Certainly. Looking is a total waste of time. I’d rather try and help you. Save the Empire, what?’
