Matty?
“Always happy to take away some of the club’s brandy,” Hilda said. She turned to Maisie with a grin. “God likes doling out nicknames. But he’s a clever sort, so we tolerate him. Also, he’s a whiz at the sort of thing we’re sniffing at, so I thought we might bring in his brains.”
It was positively alien to think of Hilda needing anyone else’s brains. Ellis lit a cheroot and grinned at Maisie.
“It’s not actually my brains she’s after, but kind of her to say.”
Maisie looked back and forth between the two of them. “Is this . . . ? Are you . . . ? You are MI5, aren’t you?” She sagged against the Regency table.
“Ah, girls and their fancies,” Ellis said, winking at her.
“Yes, we’re hopelessly frivolous,” Hilda snapped. “Now, then, have a look at these, so as to offer your dubious yet valued opinion.”
Maisie wanted to point out they hadn’t answered her question, but Hilda was spreading their notes, German propaganda, and annotated articles across the table.
“I know you were putting it down to cleverness, Matty, but if the girl thinks you’re a spy, it may be because that handwriting looks like desperately tricky code.”
“What hilarity,” Hilda said. “How are you not a music hall star?”
“I have a rotten agent. So, your little interest in the political lunatic fringe rises again, I see.”
“Not so lunatic or fringe if they are attracting people with money. Miss Musgrave sneaked into an underground meeting . . .” Hilda turned to Maisie. “How were you able to get in, by the way? They weren’t letting just anyone in, I should think?”
“No, there was a code word, ‘lion,’ which . . .” She paused, as Hilda and Ellis were laughing.
“Sorry, Miss Musgrave. It’s only that these people are like little boys playing adventure games. Look at the advert again, just the first letters of every line.”
Hilda ran her finger down the ad:
Listen in a like-minded crowd!
If Siemens is your favorite wireless,
opt to gather ’round with us.
News of a real sort and refreshments, too!
“And I daresay it’s ‘Lion’ for the lion of England,” Ellis finished, wiping his eyes. “But really, Matty, how can you think people who put on such a poor show are worth worrying about? I grant you, they would do better to take up good, solid hobbies like Onanism—”
“Ellis!”
“—but I fail to see anything illegal.”
“They want to take over the BBC and stop women working there!” Maisie cried.
“Everyone wants to run the BBC. You’re a great success. But I’ll say to you what I said to Matty. I see foolishness and odiousness, but not illegality.”
“The Radio Times,” Maisie said suddenly. “Not just any magazine—they picked the Radio Times to alert people to meetings.” She whirled to Hilda. “That quote. From that fellow Goebbels. Where he said that coup the Nazis staged in 1923 might have succeeded, if they could have taken over the radio.” She turned back to Ellis. “That wasn’t legal. And now they’re trying to raise money, and from here, too. And if British Fascists are thinking along the same lines—”
“I said they were legal, not decent,” Ellis muttered.
“Honestly, if captains of industry are giving up a free evening to attend Fascist meetings, they must see a business opportunity,” Hilda said. “And that’s rarely good for those who like freedom. They want to buy some papers too, it seems, to further exert influence.”
“Ah, following closely in Mussolini’s footsteps, eh?” Ellis asked with a theatrical wink. Hilda, to Maisie’s surprise, actually blushed.
“My point,” Hilda said, biting her lips, “is that it might be worth keeping at least a casual eye on them.”
“That takes time and money,” Ellis said. “Of which I have virtually none. But if the two of you wish to dig deeper and then share findings, there is always plenty of brandy.”
“So you do think it’s worthwhile!” Hilda cried.
“No. I’m just humoring you,” Ellis said. “You always like to have all your thousand and one projects. But I say, Miss Musgrave, do be careful. These fantasists rarely amount to much politically, but they can allow their ideas to run away with them, which can be a bit dangerous. Not really something a nice young girl ought to be getting muddled up in.”
“That’s very good advice,” Maisie said gravely. “If I see any nice young girls, I’ll be sure to pass it along.”
FOURTEEN
London, September 1928