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unlocked the filing cabinet and removed a thick buff-coloredenvelope.

ā€œDo you have any idea whatā€™s in this book?ā€ asked Hillman.

ā€œI only know that thereā€™s something in there for meā€”something Gabriella might have left there for me to find because she knewothers might want to intercept the information.ā€

ā€œIā€™ve not managed to get very far with it, as I had another job to finish first. In fact, I hadnā€™t expected her manuscriptfor at least another month. Gabriella has a history of being a tyrant when it comes to getting her work in on time. Just terrible.ā€

ā€œMay I?ā€ said Maisie, holding out her hand.

ā€œSorryā€”here you go.ā€ Hillman passed the envelope to Maisie. ā€œWould you like a drink? And I mean a drink, not a soppy cup of tea. Hate the stuff.ā€

ā€œJust a small one. Cream sherry, if you have it.ā€

Hillman nodded, stood up and went to the drinks cabinet. Maisie opened the envelope and began to turn each page of GabriellaHunterā€™s manuscript.

ā€œItā€™s an interesting book,ā€ said Hillman, handing Maisie a glass of sherry. She brushed aside the cat, threw the blanket onthe floor and settled into the chair opposite Maisie. ā€œQuite different from anything sheā€™s ever written before.ā€ She sippedher drinkā€”Maisie detected the aroma of anise. ā€œUsually her work is firmly directed toward the student of European literature,whether that student has just come up to university or is a few years on and working on a doctorate,ā€ continued Hillman. ā€œButthis is different. Yes, it is a sort of review of literature in the immediate period following the last war, right up untilthe present, but thereā€™s more than thatā€”itā€™s woven in with her memories.ā€ She gave a half-laugh. ā€œMind you, I doubt sheā€™llgo right into that realm of her past, after all, itā€™s all rather murkyā€”isnā€™t it, Miss Dobbs?ā€ She looked at Maisie, givingher a knowing wry smile.

ā€œIā€™m anxious to go through the manuscript. I believe that what I am looking for might not be part of the document itself,but something specifically for me.ā€

ā€œLookā€”would you like to read it here?ā€

ā€œBut the blackoutā€”I should be on my way.ā€

ā€œI think youā€™re a bit late for that, Miss Dobbsā€”it was almost as dark as pitch outside by the time you arrived. I have guest quarters at the top of the house with everything you might need, right down to a new toothbrush. And you can look at the manuscript, find what youā€™re searching for and leave it with me to continue my work tomorrow morning. I think this plan could suit both of us very wellā€”and Iā€™m clearly making the offer for selfish reasons, as I want to get on with my first read and the task of editing Gabriellaā€™s book so I can send it back to her immediately sheā€™s discharged from hospital. It might be the first of her books that we manage to get out according to the actual publishing schedule.ā€

Maisie consulted her watch and realized that Joan Hillman was rightā€”it was the best plan in the circumstances. ā€œIā€™m sorryā€”Ihadnā€™t realized it was so late.ā€ She sighed. ā€œSometimes there are never enough hours at my disposal. Thank you very much forthe offer, Miss Hillmanā€”Iā€™ll take you up on it, and I assure you I will be away from here and out of your hair on the earlytrain. I think the peace and quiet of your top-floor room might be just what I need.ā€

ā€œGood, thatā€™s settled. Iā€™ll throw together something for us to eatā€”how about a salad, cheese, some bread and a glass of wine?We can tuck in and call it supper.ā€

Maisie laughed. ā€œThat sounds like my staple diet when Iā€™m in London.ā€

ā€œCheese is getting harder to come by, but fortunately my cleaning lady makes her own bread. I donā€™t ask how she comes by theingredients. Oh, and if weā€™re to open a bottle of wine to share, you must call me Joanā€”so enough of all this ā€˜Miss Hillmanā€™lark. Thatā€™s for the staff and even my father when weā€™re both in the office. All very proper. Weā€™re ā€˜Mr. Hillmanā€™ and ā€˜MissHillman,ā€™ though I sometimes think my father would like to be ā€˜Saint John Hillman, patron saint of the publishing world.ā€™ ā€

ā€œThank you, Joanā€”and please drop the ā€˜Miss Dobbs.ā€™ Itā€™s ā€˜Maisie.ā€™ ā€

ā€œGood,ā€ said Hillman as she reached for a packet of cigarettes, shook one out and tapped it on the packet before picking up a lighter. As she ignited the flame she nodded toward the doors leading back into the house. ā€œIf you wander down the hall to the libraryā€”second door on the leftā€”thereā€™s a telephone in there. Nice and private for any calls you need to make. Then Iā€™ll show you to your quarters. In the meantime, Iā€™ll make sure all the blackout blinds are in place, otherwise weā€™ll be sharing our wine with Mr. Shilling, our local Air Raid Precautions man.ā€

As Maisie made her way along to the library, she reflected on Hillmanā€™s earlier confession of selfishness; the esteemed editorhad yet to ask how Gabriella Hunter had fared following the attack, or whether she might visit her at some point. But fornow, Hunterā€™s relationship with her editor was not of great import. Maisie wanted to telephone her father and Brenda at theDower House and to speak to Anna, who she ached to see. She also wanted to contact Billy at the officeā€”there was an extensionline to the downstairs flat now, so if he had locked up the office, she hoped to locate him there.

ā€œ ā€™Allo, missā€”I wondered what had happened to you.ā€

ā€œIā€™ve been chasing the not-yet-published book written by Gabriella Hunter.ā€ She went on to explain the circumstances, lookingaround to ensure her privacy. Though she trusted Hillman not to be the slightest bit interested in her work and personal life,it was a habit to confirm there was no one listening while she discussed a case.

ā€œSo have you read it yet?ā€

ā€œIā€™ll do it later this evening. I should be a good guest and not vanish to my room too quickly, though I doubt Joan Hillmanwill care muchā€”she looks as if sheā€™d rather have her nose in a book anyway.

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