“What about?”
“I don’t know, but I rang William, and he’ll be here shortly.” Hugh thumbed through the notebook. “Jouveau used this as a diary to record appointments. He must have had a separate book for his notes, as I do. Since Jouveau—since his body was found without papers, the murderer must have taken that notebook or destroyed it.”
Aleida worried her lower lip. “You don’t suspect William, do you?”
“Not at all. He got on famously with his father, and he was at sea when Uncle Elliott was killed.”
The doorbell rang. “That must be the man himself.”
It was. His cousin entered, tall and smart in his naval officer’s uniform, and he hung up his coat and hat.
There stood Hugh, rejected by the Forces, and in dusty work clothes at that. But he smiled, joked about his attire, led William to the sitting room, and made proper introductions.
William settled into an armchair.
Hugh returned to his place beside Aleida. “As I mentioned on the telephone, François Jouveau and I accidentally switched notebooks before he disappeared, and today I found his notebook at last.”
William lifted his pugnacious Hastings chin and a grim smile. “The Luftwaffe is doing a rather spectacular job of unearthing bits of London’s history. Shall we thank them?”
“I think we should return the favor and unearth bits of Berlin’s history.”
“Quite right.”
Hugh brushed dust off his jumper sleeve. “I see Jouveau met with you on 12 October and 31 October. May I inquire as to the purpose?”
“He was investigating Father’s murder.” William’s mouth turned down. “In our first meeting, he inquired about my father’s refugee bill.”
Aleida nudged Hugh. “We discussed the bill on the way to the Strand Palace Hotel. Jouveau said that conversation led him to the murderer.”
“He did,” Hugh breathed out. “What did you tell Jouveau?”
William shrugged broad shoulders. “We discussed the opposition to the bill, but it’s all public record, Father’s usual political opponents. The police have investigated them thoroughly.”
Hugh’s left leg jiggled. “Yet somehow, something in your conversation led him to the man he was convinced killed your father, a man who quite probably killed Jouveau as well.”
A frown creased William’s face. “Well, there was that other matter...”
Hugh’s leg stilled. “What other matter?”
“I mentioned it as an aside during my first meeting with Jouveau,” William said. “He showed no interest. But in our second meeting he all but interrogated me about it.”
“What was this matter?” Aleida asked.
William gripped his hands together. “My father discovered an illicit affair. He told me how useful the information might be. I’m afraid he was not above using underhanded tactics.”
Hugh sighed. “What more did he say? Or do I want to know?”
“Father didn’t divulge much.” William raised a wry smile. “For a man known for his own illicit affairs and a man not above underhanded tactics, he could also be discreet. He only mentioned that the man involved had opposed him at every turn—and was married. And the woman—Father seemed quite giddy. He wouldn’t tell me why, but I imagine the man would do anything to conceal the identity of his mistress. Do you think ...?”
Hugh glanced at Aleida, at her wide-eyed alarm. “It’s quite possible.”
Aleida nodded. “If the man came to your estate to confront Mr. Hastings, to beg him not to reveal the affair...”
They tussled. The gun went off.
Jouveau had stumbled upon the truth. For that, he had to be silenced.
Hugh gave himself a little shake. “No names? No other details?”
