Neil stepped back toward the main door as Dennison and Dr. Hughes rearranged chairs in front of Nora’s desk. She looked up and sent him a silent plea not to leave her, but he must not have registered it because he quietly opened the door and slid out.
Dennison gestured to Marie’s desk chair as she tried her best to set down his cup without letting it rattle against its saucer. “Please sit, Miss Bohn.”
She sat and smoothed her skirt.
It was Dr. Hughes who started the conversation. “As you’ll have deduced, Herr Gunter is no longer with the German Department of Royal Imperial University.”
“What happened, if I might ask, sir?”
“I received a phone call very early this morning from the professor. He told me that he was leaving the country. He doesn’t believe that Britain will be safe for Germans now that there is a war on, and he has chosen to go to live with his sister in America,” the dean said.
She frowned. “It doesn’t seem like Herr Gunter to leave without word. And without all of his things—some of his papers and books. He is very particular about them,” she said.
“That, Miss Bohn, is why the Home Office is interested in him,” said Dennison. “The Home Office has reason to believe that Mr. Gunter may have connections to the Nazi Party.”
“What? But that’s impossible,” she said.
“Consider how recently he moved to the United Kingdom,” said Dennison.
“But I’ve read in the papers about how many academics are trying to leave Germany. The Nazi Party’s condemned student groups,” she said.
“That may be the case, but it’s the responsibility of the Home Office to investigate these sorts of connections. Surely you understand.” When he fixed her with a look, she hurried to nod. “Good. I’m glad you agree. It is imperative during a time of war that any acts of treason be stopped before they can damage our national security.”
“Acts of treason?” she asked. She couldn’t imagine her slightly eccentric boss doing anything treasonous.
“Did he ever say anything to you that made you suspect his loyalties?” Dennison asked.
“No. In fact, I’d say he was almost apolitical,” she said, looking to Dr. Hughes for support. Instead of meeting her eye, the dean made a display of studying the contents of his cup.
“Very often those who are intent on committing treason do not show their true colors until sometime later,” said Dennison.
“I thought he was a quiet man who wanted nothing more than to be left alone to read his books and write his articles,” said Marie.
“That may have been the case, but loyalties are loyalties. One can only imagine the depths to which one might be willing to go for one’s country,” said Dennison.
“I can’t believe it,” Marie murmured.
“I suggest you begin to believe it, Miss Bohn,” said Dennison sharply.
“Miss Bohn, it’s important that you cooperate with Mr. Dennison’s line of inquiry,” said Dr. Hughes, his eyes darting to the Home Office man.
So this was how it would play out. Dr. Hughes would do everything he could to make this problem go away. Dennison would snoop around until he was satisfied that the German Department wasn’t a secret den of Nazi sympathizers, and Marie would be left to pick up the pieces, tidy the office, and set things to rights again.
She tilted her chin up, forcing herself to meet the man’s gaze. She had nothing to be afraid of. She’d done nothing wrong. “I will help however I can.”
Dennison reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small black notebook held together by a rubber band and a silver pen. He flipped it open. “How long have you been Herr Gunter’s secretary?”
“I’m the secretary for the German Department,” she said. “He is—was the head of the department, but I also assist Herrs Lange, Fuchs, and Vogt.”
Dennison scribbled something down and, without looking up, asked, “When did you begin working in the German Department?”
“In 1935,” she said.
“And when did you meet Herr Gunter?”
“Last year. A little more than a year ago,” she said.
“In that time, did you ever see Herr Gunter act in a suspicious manner?” he asked.
She scrunched up her nose. “I’m surrounded by academics every day, Mr. Dennison. You will have to be more specific.”
Dr. Hughes cleared his throat, but Dennison didn’t look up.
“Did he ever keep meetings from you or receive correspondence he didn’t allow you to see?” Dennison asked.
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Did he ever receive visitors but not introduce you to them?” he asked.
“Not that I’m aware of, although any number of students come through this office on any given day. He would not have necessarily introduced me to all of them.”
“Did Herr Gunter have a safe in his office?” he asked.
“If he did, it was well hidden,” she said.
“And would he allow you into his office when he was not there?” Dennison asked.
“Yes. I was always going in there when he forgot papers for department meetings or if he was running late for something. I have a second set of keys,” she said.
“May I see them?” asked Dennison.
Marie reached into her desk drawer, unsnapped the top of her handbag, and drew out the keys.
“Could you please show me?” asked Dennison.
She rose and demonstrated that the key for Herr Gunter’s door went smoothly into the lock.
“And did the professor always keep his office locked?” asked Dennison.
“When he was not in it, yes. He was particular about that,” she said.
“Why do you think that was?”
She shrugged. “He kept manuscripts there, and he has a painting that he seemed to think had some value.”
“A painting?” Dennison asked. “Did you see it this morning?”
She shook her head, and he wrote something down.
“Miss Bohn, were you aware that Herr Gunter kept a personal diary for his appointments in addition to the one that is on his desk?” he asked.
“No, he didn’t.”
“He did,” said Dennison, drawing a green leather book embossed with a G out of his jacket pocket. The book was no larger than a cigarette case.
“I’ve never seen that before,” she said.
He handed it to her. “Could you please look at last week’s appointments and verify that they are the same that appear in the diary you have?”
Picking through the mess of papers, Marie went to Herr Gunter’s desk and retrieved the large leather desk diary that she left there each night. After reviewing it with him every morning, she would take it back to her desk and add to it throughout the day before starting the entire process over again.
Back at her desk, she flipped to the last week and began checking the dates against the one in the green book Dennison had shown her. Everything seemed in order until she reached last Thursday.
“This,” she said, turning both diaries around and tapping on the entry in the green book with her short fingernail. “ ‘Emily, half past seven, American Bar.’ ”
Dennison nodded. “Very good. And do you know who Emily is?”