CHAPTER 6
The Spoke in the Wheel
Miss Charlotte Cambric’s private office was a surprising anachronism to find at the Turrets. Apart from the casement windows looking onto the courtyard it was uncompromisingly businesslike and contained a large modern desk, a secretary’s typing table, a telephone and several filing cabinets. Even the owner, discarding her contact lenses for blue tinted glasses, had moved forward in time by seventy years. She was wearing tailored tweeds topped by a green felt trilby of the type perennially favoured by country gentlefolk of her generation.
Mr. Campion surveyed her from behind his owlish glasses with a mixture of approval and misgiving.
“Lottie,” he said, “I’m afraid the time has come when you’ll have to tell me about your Mr. Kopeck. He is by way of being
