saw him enter King Street, slip quietly to the house door, and deposit a letter through the box.
In the morning, Lieutenant-Commander Andrew Railton RN rose early, out of habit. While shaving he peered hard into the mirror. The General had seemed indestructible. Now he was gone – like a man dying in battle. Many Railton men had looked hard at themselves over the past days, as though searching for the seed of destruction which lies in all men.
Examining his reflection, Andrew found it hard to credit the fact that he had passed his mid-thirties, let alone the rank of Lieutenant-Commander. He also marvelled at his happiness and good fortune. Though, like all sailors, he preferred to be in a ship, he was content with his profession. One of his sons, Caspar, was nearing the moment of decision regarding his future; while the twins, Rupert and Ramillies, now approached the first hurdle which would shape their futures. Andrew was inordinately proud of his sons.
There was also the intense happiness of his private domestic life. In all respects, even after the seventeen years of their marriage, Charlotte was an unbelievably ideal wife and mother. She had a good, interesting mind, always anxious to learn, so that the couple could talk about most subjects under the sun. She also ran his home with an almost naval precision, even if she occasionally took a little more drink than was good for her.
After all this time, she appeared to enjoy their lovemaking, with the kind of abandon Andrew associated with a completely different sort of woman. Certainly the two years they had spent together when he was on the China Station – and the one in the Mediterranean – could never make up for the years spent apart. Yet, undoubtedly, Charlotte had learned many ways to please her husband when living in those hot climates.
Dressed, he went through to Charlotte ’s room. In spite of the early hour, she was awake. He said he would be home at the usual time that evening, and merely wished to see her before breakfasting and leaving for the Admiralty.
She gave a sleepy smile. ‘Oh, my dear, what do you find to do with yourself all day at the Admiralty?’ Then, suddenly becoming wide awake, ‘Andrew, you never talk about it nowadays. What do you find to occupy yourself? You used to say so much…’
Andrew had been reluctant to tell his wife about the nature of his work with the Director Intelligence Division (Admiralty). ‘It’s just that the Admiralty isn’t quite as exciting as the old days: not quite the same as being Jacky Fisher’s Gunnery Officer in Renown .’ He hoped the question had been turned.
Her face fell. ‘Poor Lord Fisher. Oh well, I suppose you’re working with this new Naval War Staff, now they’ve chucked Jacky out on his ear.’
‘ Something like that.’ He bent over to kiss her. ‘I shall see you tonight, my darling.’
‘ And I shall look forward to it: she grinned, sinking back onto the pillows.
Tonight, he thought. One of these tonights he would have to speak to her about the very sensitive nature of his work. Wives needed to know these things in order to avoid gaffes in public, particularly at naval functions.
He went down to the dining room for breakfast, which stood ready in its various dishes on the sideboard. An envelope lay by his plate, and he immediately recognized his father’s hand. Inside, a single sheet of paper was neatly covered with a series of numbers. Urgent it might be, but he would eat first. Helping himself to bacon, eggs, and an excellent sausage, Andrew applied himself to The Times . When he had finished, he took a second cup of coffee and went into his study, on the far side of the hall.
Having locked the door, he spread his father ’s message out on his desk, and took a book from the case which stood against the right hand wall.
Andrew was barely fourteen when he became interested in secret writings and codes. As a quiet, secret pastime, his father devised the simplest form of
In the morning, Lieutenant-Commander Andrew Railton RN rose early, out of habit. While shaving he peered hard into the mirror. The General had seemed indestructible. Now he was gone – like a man dying in battle. Many Railton men had looked hard at themselves over the past days, as though searching for the seed of destruction which lies in all men.
Examining his reflection, Andrew found it hard to credit the fact that he had passed his mid-thirties, let alone the rank of Lieutenant-Commander. He also marvelled at his happiness and good fortune. Though, like all sailors, he preferred to be in a ship, he was content with his profession. One of his sons, Caspar, was nearing the moment of decision regarding his future; while the twins, Rupert and Ramillies, now approached the first hurdle which would shape their futures. Andrew was inordinately proud of his sons.
There was also the intense happiness of his private domestic life. In all respects, even after the seventeen years of their marriage, Charlotte was an unbelievably ideal wife and mother. She had a good, interesting mind, always anxious to learn, so that the couple could talk about most subjects under the sun. She also ran his home with an almost naval precision, even if she occasionally took a little more drink than was good for her.
After all this time, she appeared to enjoy their lovemaking, with the kind of abandon Andrew associated with a completely different sort of woman. Certainly the two years they had spent together when he was on the China Station – and the one in the Mediterranean – could never make up for the years spent apart. Yet, undoubtedly, Charlotte had learned many ways to please her husband when living in those hot climates.
Dressed, he went through to Charlotte ’s room. In spite of the early hour, she was awake. He said he would be home at the usual time that evening, and merely wished to see her before breakfasting and leaving for the Admiralty.
She gave a sleepy smile. ‘Oh, my dear, what do you find to do with yourself all day at the Admiralty?’ Then, suddenly becoming wide awake, ‘Andrew, you never talk about it nowadays. What do you find to occupy yourself? You used to say so much…’
Andrew had been reluctant to tell his wife about the nature of his work with the Director Intelligence Division (Admiralty). ‘It’s just that the Admiralty isn’t quite as exciting as the old days: not quite the same as being Jacky Fisher’s Gunnery Officer in Renown .’ He hoped the question had been turned.
Her face fell. ‘Poor Lord Fisher. Oh well, I suppose you’re working with this new Naval War Staff, now they’ve chucked Jacky out on his ear.’
‘ Something like that.’ He bent over to kiss her. ‘I shall see you tonight, my darling.’
‘ And I shall look forward to it: she grinned, sinking back onto the pillows.
Tonight, he thought. One of these tonights he would have to speak to her about the very sensitive nature of his work. Wives needed to know these things in order to avoid gaffes in public, particularly at naval functions.
He went down to the dining room for breakfast, which stood ready in its various dishes on the sideboard. An envelope lay by his plate, and he immediately recognized his father’s hand. Inside, a single sheet of paper was neatly covered with a series of numbers. Urgent it might be, but he would eat first. Helping himself to bacon, eggs, and an excellent sausage, Andrew applied himself to The Times . When he had finished, he took a second cup of coffee and went into his study, on the far side of the hall.
Having locked the door, he spread his father ’s message out on his desk, and took a book from the case which stood against the right hand wall.
Andrew was barely fourteen when he became interested in secret writings and codes. As a quiet, secret pastime, his father devised the simplest form of
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