Free The Serpent and the Scorpion by Clare Langley-Hawthorne

said to his companion. “It’s naval power that’s the key.”
    They drew on their cigars and nodded. Winston Churchill was the First Lord of the Admiralty. Ursula took a dim view of Churchill’s jingoism as well as his antisuffrage views and had to restrain herself from making any comment as she walked by. The younger man looked at her keenly, and she felt rather like one of the horses in the day’s gymkhana, sized up for both breeding and potential. The older man leaned over and whispered something in the other man’s ear. The younger man sniffed. “Pity,” he said with disdain. Ursula flushed.
    She and Eugenie walked onto the terrace that overlooked the expansive gardens, polo fields, tennis courts, and croquet lawns. The scent of oleander and roses filled the air. The gymkhana was over, and apart from the occasional servant rushing to and fro to replenish provisions, there was no one to disturb them.
    “Katya’s death was not a political matter. You have my assurance on that,” Eugenie began, “but the British have detained a number of innocent people for questioning, which has angered a number of my husband’s friends. Luckily, so far no one is advocating any reprisals.”
    Ursula took hold of Eugenie’s hand. “I know this must be very hard for you.”
    “It is a difficult time,” Eugenie acknowledged. “Especially for those of us who advocate a peaceful means of obtaining independence from Britain.”
    “Do any of your friends have any idea who may have been responsible for Katya’s death?”
    Eugenie’s face was grave. “No. Peter Vilensky is, of course, a very powerful man. As with many bankers, he is heavily involved in securing loans to the British and other imperialist governments. He is also very close to that man Whittaker, whom I have long suspected is involved in more than just the Ministry of Interior.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “No one has ever had any real evidence, but many of us believe Whittaker is more than what he seems.”
    “Like what?” Ursula prompted.
    “No one’s entirely sure but he seems to have surprising influence. We’re never sure whether he is acting on behalf of the British government. There are even rumors of arms trading. These days it’s hard to keep up with all the political and military intrigue.”
    “Who knows what Whittaker is up to?” Ursula commented. “But I cannot imagine Peter Vilensky involved in anything like that.”
    Eugenie shrugged. “Even if he was, why would Katya be killed?”
    “Katya may have heard the rumors,” Ursula reminded her.
    Eugenie shrugged, unconvinced. “I doubt that Whittaker would concern himself with Katya.”
    “Unless she threatened to disclose publicly what she had found out?”
    “Perhaps . . . but—”
    “Mrs. Mahfouz!” Ursula interrupted loudly. She had suddenly noticed Ambrose Whittaker and Chief Inspector Harrison approaching them from the other side of the pavilion. “You can’t believe how grateful I am for your kind invitation. I haven’t explored the Museum of Greco-Roman Antiquities—shall we set up a time when I am in Alexandria? Oh, and have you seen the latest edition of La Gazette du Bon Ton? I can’t believe sprigged muslin may be returning—I swear we shall all look like milkmaids by summer!”
    Whittaker raised an eyebrow as he passed by.
    “Come and see me in Alexandria,” Eugenie whispered, planting a kiss on each of Ursula’s cheeks. “We can talk more there.”
    “Miss Marlow.” Chief Inspector Harrison held out his hand. Ursula, amused, reached out and shook it. Whittaker stood next to Harrison and smoothed back his thinning hair.
    Eugenie took her leave, shooting both men an arched stare.
    Ursula looked at Harrison and said, “A bit anticlimactic, don’t you think?” Harrison fingered his mustache, unsure of how to respond.
    “I mean, our meeting like this,” Ursula explained. “I half expected to be woken in the middle of the night and dragged off to the British