Not by Sight by Kate Breslin Page B

clerk in the WFC to place his daughter at Roxwood,” Marcus said. “It seems your hunch was well-founded. She’s obviously there to obtain information for her father. Whether Mabry believes you still have proof against him is debatable. Ordinarily you would already have brought it forward—”
    “Except for the fact I’m blind, you mean?” Jack said. “Does he think I perhaps misplaced his letter and now I cannot find it?”
    “I think if he knows you were on the Acionna when it went down, you might have something on him,” Marcus countered.
    Jack said nothing. Hearing Marcus corroborate his suspicions about Grace Mabry didn’t offer the anticipated reaction.Instead of crowing with vindication, he felt disappointment. He rather enjoyed his sparring match with her today. She’d made her annoyance to his questioning quite clear, her responses seeming impulsive and unrehearsed. Despite her father’s bribe to get her here, she certainly didn’t fit the profile of a spy infiltrating her target and gaining his trust.
    “Jack, my schedule’s a bear right now with the spy Mata Hari’s upcoming trial, but I can come out after the weekend—”
    “No,” Jack cut in swiftly. “I need more time with her.” He relayed to his friend their employment agreement. “Miss Mabry will tell me what I wish to know.”
    “Yes, but in light of this new information, I need to come out and meet with her.”
    “Your presence will only make my fact-finding more difficult,” Jack insisted. “She’ll become suspicious and the opportunity will be lost. We need information, Marcus, and I feel she can provide it. Right now there’s no direct evidence with which to indict Patrick Mabry. We need to prove his involvement with James Heeren and the spy ring MI5’s been after. I can get names from her, other agents her father’s worked with.”
    “I don’t know, Jack. The Admiralty is keen to investigate any suspicious activity. There have been recent developments. If Mabry or his family is involved—”
    “She’s not going anywhere, Lieutenant.” Jack’s tone hardened. “I’ve put my entire staff in charge of keeping track of Miss Mabry’s whereabouts. When she’s not with me, she’ll be working with the WFC.” He paused. “I need this, Marcus. I’m the one who’s had so much at stake. Please,” he said in a low voice, “let me be useful.”
    There was silence on the other end of the line. Finally his friend said, “You’ve got a week. Then I’m coming out.”
    “Thanks.” Jack’s shoulders eased. “Anything in particular Ishould ask her?” He hoped to discover what “recent developments” his friend spoke of.
    “No, it can wait, old boy. Just keep me informed.”
    Once Marcus rang off, Jack returned to sit behind his desk. The Admiralty had information they wanted kept hush-hush. Secrets his friend wouldn’t risk talking about over the telephone. And likely it involved Grace Mabry’s presence at Roxwood.
    Jack thought back to their outing. Despite his inept interview, he’d manage to learn a bit more about her. Red hair and green eyes . . .
    Miss Mabry’s description had brought to his mind another image—the mystery woman whose delicate lines and features had been committed to memory, his goddess in green. Pandora . . .
    She was beautiful, her thick auburn curls held captive in green satin bands, her eyes gleaming like emeralds. Her lithe body, swathed in a gauzy Grecian-styled gown, had walked gracefully toward him, the fullness of her lower lip curved upward as she’d offered him her hand for his kiss. Reaching into his vest pocket, Jack withdrew the white feather that had somehow survived the explosion and gently brushed his thumb along its silken softness. He’d never learned her name, but during his weeks in hospital and the ensuing months of darkness, the vision of her had stayed with him, keeping the night at bay, along with the panic he often felt at never being able to see again.
    If