Page 116 of Strangers in Time

The tinkle of the bell interrupted their pleasant breakfast a few minutes later.

Oliver looked at his watch. “I wonder who it could be at this hour on a Saturday?”

They passed through the curtain and stopped abruptly.

Through the window they could see a man in military uniform standing outside the door.

“H-has someone… died?” said Molly with dread in her voice.

“It’s my friend from the War Office, Major Scott Bryant. The one I wrote the letter to about your father.”

He let Bryant in.

The major was tall, broad shouldered, and inflexibly constructed with a trim mustache and a proper gloved grip, which he extended to both Oliver and Molly. He carried an attaché case and held his official cap under the same arm.

Oliver said, “What can I do for you, Major?”

“I’d like a word with Miss Wakefield here.”

Oliver looked startled. “How did you know that she was here? I didn’t put that in my letter, merely that I was inquiring on her behalf.”

“Please, Ignatius, it’s my business to know such things.”

“Have you found my father?” Molly exclaimed. “I know in the letter you said he had committed some crimes, but that can’t possibly be right.”

“Shall we go into the study?” said Oliver quietly.

“Fact is, Ignatius, I would prefer to speak with the girlalone.”

Oliver glanced at Molly. “Are you all right with that?”

She nodded.

Oliver unlocked the study and ushered them in, then closed the door.

Bryant glanced around and took the seat behind the desk. “Sit down,” he said curtly.

She did so and waited expectantly as Bryant opened his attaché case and took out a file.

“When was the last time you saw your father?” he asked in a brisk tone.

“When he put me on the train to go to the country in 1939,” she answered promptly.

“And did you go alone?”

“Yes. My mother was… not up to it and my father was working.”

“Did he write to you?”

“Very occasionally.”

“Do you have those letters?” Bryant asked.

“I brought them back with me, but then our house was bombed. They were all burned.”

“Pity that.”

“The house, or the letters?” Molly replied icily. She had taken a dislike to the man and his blunt manner.

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