“Yes. Well, keep an eye on this young lady. Make sure she keeps her dainty little hands out of this. Of course, you know how women are.”
“Don’t worry, sir. Miss Stirling is smart. She’ll do the right thing.” Jim held the door open for her.
Mary gathered her belongings and scrutinized Jim as she left the room.
He gave her a wink, shut the door, and headed down the hallway. “Have time for lunch?”
She glanced at her watch. “Barely. What did you mean by that?”
Jim laughed and slipped on his raincoat. “I meant you’re too smartnotto keep investigating. That you’ll keep doing the right thing.”
What a good friend she had in him. She pulled on her coat too. The rain hadn’t relented all morning.
Jim reached for her umbrella. “May I? I doubt your dainty little hands could hold it.”
Mary laughed and handed it to him. “The man’s impossible.”
“And I’m selfish.” He nudged the door open and raised the umbrella. “The only time an officer is allowed to use an umbrella is when he’s shielding a lady.”
“Taking advantage of my friendship so you can stay dry?”
“Guilty as charged.” He offered his arm.
Mary clutched it, taking advantage of the umbrella to stay near to him. Guilty, although she hadn’t been charged.
Jim strode forward through the rain toward the yard restaurant. “Agent Sheffield might not want to hear your theories, but I do. What are you thinking? One of the interventionists?”
“Yes. Someone who wants us to fight.”
“Like Kaplan—that’s his name, right?”
“Right. He’s making a lot of noise, asking why Bauer hasn’t been fired, much less arrested.”
“Who else? Winston somebody?”
Mary hopped over a puddle. “Weldon Winslow, naval architect.”
“Now that’s a highbrow name. Sounds like he’d associate with Archer Vandenberg and his friends.”
“Perhaps. He’s heir to the Winslow Shipbuilding fortune.”
Jim stopped and faced her. “Why does he work here?”
A raindrop scuttled down Mary’s collar. She guided Jim back along the way. “His family rejected him when he married a working-class British girl. He renounced his inheritance.”
Jim’s lower jaw crept forward, and his eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand.”
“People are saying he lied about the feud, that he wants to undermine work at the Boston Navy Yard so his family’s company will receive more Navy contracts. Plus, he loves England and desperately wants to help the British people.”
“Because of his wife. Makes sense.”
“But Mr. Winslow says he thinks his family sent the saboteur.”
“Ah, to discredit the wayward son.”
“Yes.”
“Complicated.” His eyes sparkled.
