A Lesson in Secrets: A Maisie Dobbs Novel
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Private investigator Maisie Dobbs receives her first assignment from the British Secret Service in A Lesson in Secrets, the eighth book in Jacqueline Winspear’s award-winning mystery series. Sent to pose as a junior lecturer at a private college in Cambridge, she will monitor any activities “not in the interests of His Majesty’s government.” When the college’s pacifist founder is murdered, Maisie finds herself in the midst of sinister web of murder, scandal, and conspiracy, activities that point towards members of the ascendant Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei—the Nazi Party—on Britain’s shores. An instant classic, and sure to captivate long-time Maisie Dobbs fans as well as readers of Agatha Christie, Elizabeth George, and Alexander McCall Smith, A Lesson in Secrets is “a powerful and complex novel, one that will linger in memory as a testament to her talent and her humanity” (Richmond Times-Dispatch).
Sussex, teaching mathematics and physics. There’s a cottage in the grounds that goes with the job, and a primary school nearby. My son will be able to attend the school where I teach when he turns eleven, and without fees. It works all around.” “Will you miss the Yard?” “Some of it, of course. But I have missed my boy so very much, and I want to spend more time with him.” Maisie glanced out the window, at the melee of shoppers and people of commerce rushing back and forth, the
ear. She’s in police custody; Douglas is on his way to Vine Street police station, where we understand she’s being held on suspicion of breaking and entering. We think she’ll be moved to Holloway Prison, at some point.” “Breaking and entering?” Maisie put her hand to her head. “Breaking and entering? You are sure we are talking about the same young woman—Sandra? Breaking and entering? Holloway Prison?” “I don’t think I have ever heard you panic, Maisie—you’re repeating yourself. Anyway,
believe. She spent some time in China.” “Yes, as did Robson—well, Hong Kong. That’s how it started, with them seeing each other.” “I take it you do not approve.” “She’ll be gone soon, that’s all I care about.” “Liddicote liked her, at first.” “She came with a good education behind her, but he didn’t know about her activities, did he?” “Activities?” “She belongs to a group—they meet in London—they’re supporters of the German National Socialist Party. They’re all younger
knew it was her habit to keep a keen eye out for the rocks. And what was the smudged London postmark if not a rock scraping her bow? Maisie pushed the folders she had intended to work on back into her briefcase, put on her linen jacket once more, along with her light felt hat of pale ivory with a matching band, and left the office, locking the door on her way out. She remembered Eric replacing the lock for her after her office had been broken into, remembered the way in which Sandra had
who looks as if she needs a rest—look at you, I bet you’ve been rushing about all over the place.” “I’ve been busy, Pris. And I have to leave for Ipswich very soon.” “Ipswich? Ips-bloody-wich! What are you going there for, and leaving that lovely man behind?” Maisie put her finger to her mouth. “Shhhh. You’ll wake Sandra.” They walked towards the staircase, but lingered there, still speaking in lowered voices. “I tell you, Maisie, you’ll lose him if you carry on like this. I