surviving while the favourite son had not. It had caused a fracturing of relationships in the family from which everyone had suffered. Edward, very much the youngest of the three
brothers, had, in effect, grown up fatherless because the old Duke had gone into a depression from which nothing could stir him except death itself.
One thing was certain: it would have been worse than useless to ask the Tilneys to plead for Griffiths-Jones’ life. If he had suggested it, he would have been thrown out of the house. It
was better to keep their goodwill so he could go back to them at some future time if he needed their help. Mr Tilney had obviously been puzzled at the absence of any apparent motive for his
son’s murder and it puzzled Edward too. What reason had Griffiths-Jones, or anyone else for that matter, to murder Godfrey Tilney? Griffiths-Jones was one of the most determined and committed
political animals he had ever met and to be behind bars now, just when the new government was taking control of the country, must be, to put it mildly, frustrating. He suspected Griffiths-Jones of
being utterly ruthless in pursuit of his ambitions and he was quite ready to believe that he would kill without remorse if he needed to, but to muck up a murder so as to end up in front of a firing
squad seemed out of character. He was too efficient to leave evidence all over the place, as he was alleged to have done. No, no, no! Edward was quite ready to believe David Griffiths-Jones capable
of murder – capable of murdering him even – but not of making a hash of it.
It was an odd way of proving someone innocent but the more Edward considered the matter, the more he felt Verity was right, if for all the wrong reasons. For Verity, her lover was a saint
– if the Communist Party had saints – battling tyranny and incapable of anything shoddy or underhand. Edward believed he knew that was nonsense. He had just a few days to try and prove
to an indifferent world that the man condemned to death for murdering Godfrey Tilney was guilty of much but not this. He doubted he could do it but, for Verity’s sake, he was determined to
try. As for blackmailing Griffiths-Jones into becoming a police spy for Basil Thoroughgood, it was just as likely he could turn water into wine but he had to pretend it was a possibility if he was
to have Foreign Office help in getting a stay of execution. There would be no point in finding out who really had killed Godfrey Tilney if Griffiths-Jones had already been tied to a stake,
blindfolded and shot.
3
Bragg was a piratical figure with only one eye, the other being covered by a black patch. He also boasted a wooden foot. It was a miracle he could fly at all. In the last days
of the war he had almost been killed in a dog fight over the outskirts of Albert. A splinter of wood had entered his eye blinding him immediately and causing him almost unbearable pain. Somehow,
with extraordinary fortitude, he had managed to land the aircraft before losing consciousness, but his foot had been trapped in the fuselage and had had to be amputated. He ought to have died of
blood poisoning or the sheer pain of his wounds but he survived and even learnt to fly again, though, as Edward knew, it could be a frightening experience for his passengers.
Edward had picked up Verity from Holland Park shortly after five o’clock. By the time they got to Croydon – the Lagonda had made good time on the empty roads – it was getting
light. It was perishing cold and Verity looked very small buried under a tartan rug and a huge ulster Edward had brought for her. She wore a black beret, a long woollen scarf round her neck and
heavy leather gauntlets. Edward was aware they had a lot to talk about. There was so little he knew about the circumstances of her life in Spain. How well did she know Tilney? What was his
relationship with Griffiths-Jones? Was one of them senior to the other in the Party? Because, whatever his parents
brothers, had, in effect, grown up fatherless because the old Duke had gone into a depression from which nothing could stir him except death itself.
One thing was certain: it would have been worse than useless to ask the Tilneys to plead for Griffiths-Jones’ life. If he had suggested it, he would have been thrown out of the house. It
was better to keep their goodwill so he could go back to them at some future time if he needed their help. Mr Tilney had obviously been puzzled at the absence of any apparent motive for his
son’s murder and it puzzled Edward too. What reason had Griffiths-Jones, or anyone else for that matter, to murder Godfrey Tilney? Griffiths-Jones was one of the most determined and committed
political animals he had ever met and to be behind bars now, just when the new government was taking control of the country, must be, to put it mildly, frustrating. He suspected Griffiths-Jones of
being utterly ruthless in pursuit of his ambitions and he was quite ready to believe that he would kill without remorse if he needed to, but to muck up a murder so as to end up in front of a firing
squad seemed out of character. He was too efficient to leave evidence all over the place, as he was alleged to have done. No, no, no! Edward was quite ready to believe David Griffiths-Jones capable
of murder – capable of murdering him even – but not of making a hash of it.
It was an odd way of proving someone innocent but the more Edward considered the matter, the more he felt Verity was right, if for all the wrong reasons. For Verity, her lover was a saint
– if the Communist Party had saints – battling tyranny and incapable of anything shoddy or underhand. Edward believed he knew that was nonsense. He had just a few days to try and prove
to an indifferent world that the man condemned to death for murdering Godfrey Tilney was guilty of much but not this. He doubted he could do it but, for Verity’s sake, he was determined to
try. As for blackmailing Griffiths-Jones into becoming a police spy for Basil Thoroughgood, it was just as likely he could turn water into wine but he had to pretend it was a possibility if he was
to have Foreign Office help in getting a stay of execution. There would be no point in finding out who really had killed Godfrey Tilney if Griffiths-Jones had already been tied to a stake,
blindfolded and shot.
3
Bragg was a piratical figure with only one eye, the other being covered by a black patch. He also boasted a wooden foot. It was a miracle he could fly at all. In the last days
of the war he had almost been killed in a dog fight over the outskirts of Albert. A splinter of wood had entered his eye blinding him immediately and causing him almost unbearable pain. Somehow,
with extraordinary fortitude, he had managed to land the aircraft before losing consciousness, but his foot had been trapped in the fuselage and had had to be amputated. He ought to have died of
blood poisoning or the sheer pain of his wounds but he survived and even learnt to fly again, though, as Edward knew, it could be a frightening experience for his passengers.
Edward had picked up Verity from Holland Park shortly after five o’clock. By the time they got to Croydon – the Lagonda had made good time on the empty roads – it was getting
light. It was perishing cold and Verity looked very small buried under a tartan rug and a huge ulster Edward had brought for her. She wore a black beret, a long woollen scarf round her neck and
heavy leather gauntlets. Edward was aware they had a lot to talk about. There was so little he knew about the circumstances of her life in Spain. How well did she know Tilney? What was his
relationship with Griffiths-Jones? Was one of them senior to the other in the Party? Because, whatever his parents
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