When Nigel eventually left Sandhurst he didn't follow Guy into the regiment, as it had become abundantly clear during his two-year period at the academy that he was not cut out to be a soldier. However, Gerald was able to secure him a position with a firm of stock-brokers in the City where one of his cousins was the senior partner. I have to admit that the reports that filtered back to me from time to time were not encouraging, but once I had mentioned to Gerald's cousin that I would eventually be needing someone to manage his grandfather's portfolio, Nigel started to progress slowly up the firm's ladder.
It must have been about six months later that Lieutenant-Colonel Sir Danvers Hamilton dropped Gerald that note through the letter box at 19 Chester Square. The moment Gerald told me that Hamilton wanted a private word with him, I sensed trouble. Over the years I had come in contact with many of Gerald's brother officers so I knew exactly how to handle them. Gerald, on the other hand, is quite naive when it comes to matters of a personal nature, invariably giving the other fellow the benefit of the doubt. I immediately checked my husband's whip commitments in the Commons for the following week and arranged for Sir Danvers to visit us on the Monday evening at six, knowing only too well that, because of his commitments in the House, Gerald would almost certainly have to cancel the meeting at the last moment.
Gerald phoned soon after five on the day in question to say that he couldn't possibly get away and suggested the colonel might come on over to the House of Commons. I said I would see what I could do. An hour later Sir Danvers arrived at Chester Square. After I had apologized and explained my husband's absence I was able to convince him that he should convey his message to me. When the colonel informed me that Miss Salmon was going to have a child I naturally asked of what interest that could possibly be to Gerald or myself. He hesitated only for a moment before suggesting that Guy was the father. I realized immediately that if such a slander was allowed to spread abroad it might even reach the ears of his brother officers in Poona and that could only do immense harm to my son's chances of further promotion. Any such suggestion I therefore dismissed as ridiculous, along with the colonel in the same breath.
It was during a rubber of bridge at Celia Littlechild's house a few weeks later that she let slip that she had employed a private detective called Harris to spy on her first husband, once she was convinced he was being unfaithful. After learning this piece of information I found myself quite unable to concentrate on the game, much to my partner's annoyance.
On returning home I looked up the name in the London directory. There he was: "Max Harris, Private Detective―ex-Scotland Yard, all problems considered." After some minutes staring at the phone, I finally picked up the headpiece and asked the operator to get me Paddington 3720. I waited for several moments before anyone spoke.
"Harris," said a gruff voice without further explanation.
"Is that the detective agency?" I asked, nearly replacing the phone back on the hook before I had given the man a chance to reply.
"Yes, madam, it is," said the voice, sounding a little more enthusiastic.
"I may be in need of your help―for a friend, you understand," I said, feeling rather embarrassed.
"A friend," said the voice. "Yes, of course. Then perhaps we should meet."
"But not at your office," I insisted.
"I quite understand, madam. Would the St. Agnes Hotel, Bury Street, South Kensington, four o'clock tomorrow afternoon suit?"
"Yes," I said and put the phone down, suddenly aware that he didn't know my name and I didn't know what he looked like.
When the following day I arrived at the St. Agnes, a dreadful little place just off the Brompton Road, I walked round the block several times before I finally felt able to enter the lobby. A man of about thirty, perhaps thirty-five was leaning on the reception desk. He straightened up the moment he saw me.
"Are you looking for a Mr. Harris, by any chance?" he inquired.
I nodded and he quickly led us through to the tea room and ushered me into a seat in the farthest corner. Once he had sat down in the chair opposite me I began to study him more carefully. He must have been about five foot ten, stocky, with dark brown hair and an even browner moustache. He wore a brown check Harris tweed jacket, cream shirt and thin yellow tie. As I began to explain why I might be in need of his services I became distracted as he started to click the knuckles of his fingers, one by one, first the left hand and then the right. I wanted to get up and leave, and would have done so had I believed for a moment that finding anyone less obnoxious to carry out the task would have proved easy.
It also took me some considerable time to convince Harris that I was not looking for a divorce. At that first meeting I explained to him as much of my dilemma as I felt able. I was shocked when he demanded the extortionate fee of five shillings an hour just to open his investigation. However, I did not feel I had been left with a great deal of choice in the matter. I agreed that he should start the following day and that we would meet again a week later.
Mr. Harris's first report informed me that, in the view of those who spent most of their working hours at a pub in Chelsea called the Musketeer, Charlie Trumper was the father of Rebecca Salmon's child, and indeed when the suggestion was put to him directly he made no attempt to deny it. As if to prove the point, within days of the child's birth he and Miss Salmon were married quietly in a register office.
Mr. Harris had no trouble in obtaining a copy of the child's birth certificate. It confirmed that the child, Daniel George Trumper, was the son of Rebecca Salmon and Charlie George Trumper of 147 Chelsea Terrace. I also noted that the child had been named after both his grandparents. In my next letter to Guy I enclosed a copy of the birth certificate along with one or two other little snippets that Harris had supplied, such as details of the wedding and Colonel Hamilton's appointment as chairman of the Trumper board. I must confess that I assumed that was an end of the matter.
However, two weeks later I received a letter from Guy: I presume it must have crossed with mine in the post. He explained that Sir Danvers had been in communication with his commanding officer, Colonel Forbes, and because of Forbes' insistence that there might be a breach-of-promise suit pending Guy had been made to appear in front of a group of his fellow officers to explain the relationship between himself and Miss Salmon.
I immediately sat down and wrote a long letter to Colonel Forbes―Guy was obviously not in a position to present the full evidence I had managed to secure. I included a further copy of the birth certificate so that he would be left in no doubt that my son could not have possibly been involved with the Salmon girl in any way. I added without prejudice that Colonel Hamilton was now employed as chairman of the board of Trumper's, a position from which he certainly derived some remuneration. The long information sheets now sent to me on a weekly basis by Mr. Harris were, I had to admit, proving of considerable value.
For some little time matters returned to normal. Gerald busied himself with his parliamentary duties while I concentrated on nothing more demanding than the appointment of the new vicar's warden and my bridge circle.
The problem, however, went deeper than I had imagined, for quite by chance I discovered that we were no longer to be included on the guest list for Daphne Harcourt-Browne's marriage to the Marquess of Wiltshire. Of course, Percy would never have become the twelfth marquess had it not been for his father and brother sacrificing their lives on the Western Front. However, I learned from others who were present at the ceremony that Colonel Hamilton as well as the Trumpers were to be seen at St. Margaret's, and at the reception afterwards.
During this period, Mr. Harris continued to supply me with memoranda about the comings and goings of the Trumpers and their growing business empire. I must confess that I had no interest whatsoever in any of their commercial transactions: it was a world that remained totally alien to me but I didn't stop him going beyond his brief as it gave me a useful insight into Guy's adversaries.