Honourable Intentions Read Online Free Page A

remember?”
    “Are you
blackmailing
us, Mrs Finn?”
    “Me, sir? Blackmail? What a terrible thought. No, I’m just doing what is known in my humble trade as a ‘deal’. A
quid —
or dollar –
pro quo.”
She shifted her smile to Ranklin. “Yes, I sent our people to see Mrs Langhorn, but she’d gone, bag and baggage, and no forwarding address. It was just a
pension,
and a pretty lowly one, anyway. But another thing Grover told our vice-consul: she was born English, Miss Bowman.”
    “Thank you. And would it now be too much to ask that you leave the rest to us?”
    “Delighted. I must get back to the office. Thank you
so
much for the tea, and it was a pleasure meeting you again, Commander . . .
Smith.”
    Ranklin walked with her to the hotel lobby. “Thank you again, but . . . may I offer a word of warning?”
    This was still her home ground; she nodded cheerfully.
    “You held things up for at least a day sending your Paris people to see the lad’s mother because, if I know you, you wanted the
full
story before you came to us. So here’s the warning: don’t try to be clever when it comes to our monarchy. No deals. Just hope for gratitude.”
    “I’ve heard you say things about your kings that I’d never dare.”
    Ranklin nodded. “We all do. It’s fashionable. But there can be a very sudden closing of ranks, too. I’d hate to see you caught on the outside.”
    When he got back to the Commander they sat in silence for a while. Then the Commander said: “Is she usually so . . .” He was obviously trying to think of a (relatively) polite synonym for “mercenary”.
    “She has an instinct for doing deals; she’s a banker. But banking is a secretive trade, too.”
    “Hm.” The Commander felt in his pocket and took out the violet-paper letter. “The woman’s spelling suggests she’s either daughter of a duke or a dustman. I’d guess the dustman. And obviously she’s in on it: tipping off the American Consul to start the ball rolling, and then vanishing. I presume it’s all to get us to let her son off . . . What else have we got?”
    “D’you think we should be taking this seriously, then?”
    “That’s the first thing to find out.”
    “But we don’t even know what it is that the lad’s threatening.”
    “Then
that’s
the first thing to find out.”
    “And whether we’re really the right people to tackle—”
    “Damn it, it was
your
girl-friend who dumped it in our lap. If we go to the police that’s just spreading it. And they probably wouldn’t do anything because he hasn’t committed any offence— over here, that is. And I don’t propose to give it to Kell and his people.” Relations with their sister counter-spy service had recently become a little strained.
    Ranklin nodded unenthusiastically. “Well, I’ll go along to Bow Street tomorrow; I don’t know if I’ll learn anything, but . . . Should we ask O’Gilroy to have a look at back numbers of the Paris papers?”
    “Good idea. Send him a telegram – but don’t let him know why we want to know.”
    Ranklin let that slur pass; anyway, the Commander was still thoroughly irritated by Corinna and didn’t care about Ranklin’s feelings. “I know you’ve usually worked with him and trust him, but we want to keep this as small as possible. Anyway, as an Irishman he probably thinks royal scandals are a good thing.”
    “Don’t we all – as newspaper readers? But do we want to get in touch with the lad himself?”
    “How?” the Commander growled. “We can’t go along to Brixton and demand to see him, we’d have to go through Quinton or the American consulate—”
    “–
or
we could try slipping O’Gilroy into his cell on a fake dynamiting charge, and let them swap grievances and brigandry techniques. There, O’Gilroy can be as republican as he likes.”
    As Ranklin expected, the prospect of behaving dishonestly cheered the Commander up immediately. “Ye-es . . . All right: get him here by tomorrow