Read To Love a Traitor for Free Online Page B

He wanted to get back to Buckinghamshire and talk things over with Mabel. Surely there would be something they could still do?
    “He did mention something of the sort, yes. Let me get my hat and gloves. We can walk from here; no need to take a cab.”
    Twenty minutes later, Roger was seated opposite her at a secluded corner table in the Salisbury. It was a small, unpretentious restaurant that appeared to have changed little during the war years. One reached the dining room via a flight of stairs that led down from the street, and the consequent need for artificial lighting even in the middle of the day lent the place a curiously timeless atmosphere. It had, upon first glance, appeared packed, but apparently a table could be found for Miss Pendleton and her guest.
    Roger was handed a menu; Miss Pendleton was merely shown one and allowed to dismiss it with an inclination of her head. Roger felt like a fish out of water and began to wonder if he was about to be expertly filleted and served up to Miss Pendleton on a bed of spinach. On the one hand, it was a relief to find the menu wasn’t couched in impenetrable culinary terms that, whilst technically in French and therefore within the scope of his Modern Languages degree, would nonetheless leave him in total ignorance as to what he’d ordered. On the other hand, he should most definitely have preferred it to have included the prices.
    “I take it you’re quite a frequent visitor here, Miss Pendleton?” he asked politely, having ordered the rack of lamb and accepted the waiter’s suggestion of wine to accompany it.
    “Oh, please, call me Sheila. Lord knows I get enough Miss -ing at work. I may call you Roger, mayn’t I?” She smiled.
    “Of course,” Roger agreed hurriedly. Was this some put-up job of Sir Arthur’s to help Miss Pendleton—Sheila—to dispense with the hated honorific by exchanging it for a Mrs. ? If so, he was going to have a damned awkward time explaining she was barking up the wrong tree.
    “Excellent. Now I’m sure you’ve gathered why we’re here.”
    Roger gave her a sharp look. Her expression was outwardly cool, but her eyes were dancing with mischief. “Because you enjoy making men feel out of their depth?”
    Sheila laughed aloud, drawing one or two curious and/or disapproving glances from their fellow diners. “Oh, I do like you. No, we’re to talk about what you’re going to do next. In the Connaught matter, that is.”
    “I thought… Sir Arthur said there was nothing to be done.”
    “Are you sure he didn’t simply say there was nothing he could do? Now, there may not be an official investigation, but there’s nothing to stop a free British subject from engaging another in conversation. Perhaps befriending him; even exchanging such confidences about the war as aren’t covered by the Official Secrets Act.”
    “You mean… I’m to do this myself?”
    “Who better? By a lucky coincidence,” she went on in the sort of tone that implied coincidence had absolutely nothing to do with it, “you’ll find there’s a vacancy just opened up in young Mr. Connaught’s lodging house. If I were you, I should get round there tonight. I think you’ll find the room quite suitable. Of course, you’ll need to take on an assumed name, or the game will be up before it starts. Any ideas?”
    Roger blinked at her, trying to wrestle his wild thoughts into submission. He’d thought the investigation stalled; now it seemed to be hurtling along like a runaway train and carrying him with it. “Perhaps… George Johnson? George is my middle name, and, well…”
    “Your father’s name is John? Of course. Good choice. Something you’ll remember, but quite nondescript. And with the new job, there’ll be nothing remarkable about your recent arrival in town. You’ll need to make sure Connaught doesn’t meet any of your colleagues, of course. The difference in name would be hard to overlook.”
    “And… You think it will be as simple as