Page 25 of A Family Of His Own
Eva followed him. “Surely they just want to know what the Germans are up to, like we do.”
“Possibly.” Heinrik reached the top of the stairs and paused to inspect the mess. “But the question is why. Why do they want to know? Is there some specific reason? We would like to learn which reports of German activities are of sufficient interest to the British for Winchelsea to dispatch one of his most senior operatives and a relative to boot to fetch them.” He moved silently from room to room, surveying the devastation with a critical eye. “Knowing what is covered in the missing dispatches will likely give us some insight into what concerns the British have in the same geographical area.”
Eva’s attention had been drawn to the ripped bedding and scattered clothes. “Given all this desperate searching, one is tempted to assume that the Prussians must have found their missing dispatches.”
“If so, one would be wrong.” Heinrik turned to her. “Think. Every room here has had everything in it overturned and thoroughly searched.” He gestured around them. “Nothing, but nothing, has been left undisturbed. If the Prussians had found what they were after, wouldn’t they have stopped at that point?” He gestured along the corridor to the room at its end. “Even the bathing chamber has been searched.”
Understanding dawned in Eva’s fine-featured face. “Ah. I see.”
“Indeed. The extent of the search leads me to conclude that they didn’t find their missing dispatches here.”
Slowly, Eva looked around, then said, “But Locke died weeks ago, yet Herschel was killed only last night.”
Heinrik nodded. “I was recalled from St. Petersburg after Locke died and Herschel had an attack of conscience and contacted our office. The Prussians arrived quite a few weeks before that, but lay low, apparently thinking to use Herschel to get the dispatches for them. He’d been indiscreet while at medical school in Hamburg. The fool got trapped between trying to manage the Prussians’ demands while also secretly working for us. And while our superiors have been watching the Prussians, Herschel’s death—the murder of an Austrian national—gave them an ironclad excuse to send in one of their own.”
“Us,” Eva said, a correction of sorts.
Heinrik merely inclined his head.
After a moment, Eva asked, “What about this Englishman—Toby Cynster? Are we likely to cross his path?”
“If he is here, then yes, very likely, but our office got word only yesterday that Cynster might—and that’s definitely only a might—be in the city. The sighting was by no means certain, and we haven’t had a chance to confirm it as yet. At this point, given that Cynster showing up at this juncture wouldn’t surprise anyone, we’ll be best served by assuming he is, in fact, here and is also hunting for these dispatches.”
She frowned. “Could Herschel being run over and killed have been an accident?”
“Theoretically, but his body was found outside the walls in an area where the type of carriage that inflicted his injuries is rarely seen. And word is that he wasn’t killed in that location. His body was moved. All of that suggests it wasn’t an accident. But regardless of whether the Prussians did for Herschel or not, whether they caused all this damage or not, there is another observation that argues strongly that they haven’t yet found their dispatches.”
Eva studied him. “What observation?”
He smiled. “Two Prussians called in at the apothecary on the corner this morning and asked after Locke’s daughter and where she might be found.”
Eva eyed him narrowly. “That was why you bought cough drops and were chatting with the assistant.”
Heinrik smiled. “Just so.”
“You’re supposed to share information with me.”
“I just did. But my point is that the Prussians wouldn’t still be nosing around this morning if they’d already found their dispatches.” Heinrik walked into the bedroom where more feminine touches were visible among the detritus. He halted just inside. “This was Fraulein Locke’s room. Look around. If you were going on a journey, what would you take?”
Eva paused beside him. “My coat.” She walked to the armoire, its doors hanging wide. She hunted through the pile of dresses tossed in a heap on the floor. “I can’t see any coat—not even one of the new jacket-coats. No traveling clothes at all, in fact.”
“Hmm. She’s lived here for years—she might not have had a lot of traveling clothes. And having taken her coat simply means that she’s gone for a walk—yes, that’s unlikely—or she could be staying with friends.”
Eva narrowed her eyes in thought, then said, “My hairbrush.” She looked at the empty dressing-table top, then searched among the debris. “I can’t see that, either.”
Heinrik shrugged. “She could still be staying with friends.”
Eva cast him an exasperated look, then her face cleared, and she looked back at the dressing table. “My good jewelry.”
After she’d hunted and discovered the secret drawer, tellingly empty, she turned to Heinrik, triumph lighting her face. “She’s gone, hasn’t she? She’s taken the papers and fled.”
Heinrik nodded in approval. “As she hasn’t stormed into the local police station or any other office to report this destruction, I believe we’re on solid ground in concluding that Fraulein Locke does, indeed, have the dispatches. The questions that lie before us now are, first, where has she gone? And second, did Cynster find her, and is she with him?”
* * *
It was midmorning when Huber,the Fellows butler, responded to a peremptory knock upon the residence’s front door. He opened the door to discover two men garbed in long black-leather coats.
Huber recognized neither man. He arched his brows. “Yes?”
