52

Tuesday, June 22, cont.

Herr Grüber had chosen a seat close to the Houses of Parliament, looking forward to the anguish soon to come, so when the royal procession rolled by to the adulation of the masses, he shook his head. “Something wrong, mate?” The man to his right asked.

Grüber’s smile was thin.

“This isn’t quite what I was expecting.” The man shrugged. “There’s fireworks, bands, a grand parade, and Her Majesty herself. How could you possibly be disappointed?’

“I suppose it’s a matter of perspective.”

Police Commissioner Bradford had been among those granted a place of honor on the steps, so when he was notified about the sniper found in the school he arrived quickly. I watched, numb, as James’s body was covered with a blanket from one of the beds. The boy and his groggy nurse were moved to other quarters. Between the commissioner’s questioning of me and his examination of the scene, he quickly put together what had happened.

Elizabeth and I sat together on chairs placed outside the room, holding hands as we wept. Sir Edward leaned down to Elizabeth and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Your father died nobly. Never forget that. I, and an entire empire, are in his debt.” Then Bradford turned to me. “The assassin’s nationality puts us in an awkward position. If this gets out, war with Germany is almost certain. Things are heated enough with the Boer situation. I’ll speak to the Home Secretary, but I think we’ll want to keep this quiet. Can I count upon your discretion, Miss Harkness?”

I released my hold of Elizabeth and stood to be eye-to-eye with the man. I noted his empty left sleeve. No coward, I thought. Now, let’s see if he’s a man of honor.

I took a deep breath. “May we speak in private?”