The Serpent and the Scorpion by Clare Langley-Hawthorne Page B

shook her head, but her heart was sinking. Ever since the events of two years ago, she dreaded telegrams. With trembling hands, she opened the envelope and stared at the words, which seemed to jump and blur before her eyes.
    “Bad news?” Hugh asked.
    Ursula handed the telegram from Lord Wrotham to him mechanically. The telegram confirmed her worst fears. It was indeed bad news.
     
Fire at Oldham factory STOP Young woman inside
dead STOP Return immediately STOP
     
Ursula swayed. First the news of the shipping clerk’s death, and now this. To leave, with Katya’s death still hanging over her, seemed unthinkable, and yet Ursula knew she had to return to England as soon as possible. Given all her recent business trouble, a death at one of her factories could ruin her.
    “I have to leave for England immediately,” she said numbly.
    “Well, let’s get you back to your hotel first.”
    Hugh took her arm as they walked back through the assembled guests.
    Ursula tried to ignore Ambrose Whittaker as they passed, but the image of that afternoon at the customs house forced her to look. He lit a cigar and threw the end that he had clipped off aside. His disdain angered her, but she showed no emotion as she passed him. She could have sworn, however, that as she turned and bid her hosts good-bye, she saw him smile.
     
Ursula returned to her hotel to find Julia waiting anxiously in her bedroom suite, looking unusually pale and agitated
    “As soon as they told me there was a telegram for you, I knew it was something terrible!” Julia wailed. “I told ’em they had to find you quick smart!”
    “You did the right thing,” Ursula responded distractedly. “I just need to collect my thoughts and work out what’s the best way to get back to England as soon as possible.”
    “I’ll go and speak with my agent at the docks,” Hugh called out from the doorway. “I think the Marienbad sails for Brindisi in the morning.”
    He had already left by the time Ursula responded with a mute nod of her head.
    “Oh, Miss,” Julia said helplessly. “Can I get you something? You look right poorly, you do!”
    “No.” Ursula was slowly recovering her senses. “Let’s just concentrate on getting things organized. I must write to Mrs. Mahfouz and the chief inspector. . . .” Ursula’s voice drifted off as she mulled over what was to be done.
    “That reminds me—Mrs. Mahfouz sent this around for you. It arrived just after you left for the party.”
    Julia pulled out an envelope from the apron pocket and handed it to Ursula.
    Ursula opened it quickly.
     
The police came soon after you left this afternoon, and I was told in no uncertain terms to desist from making any further inquiries about Katya or Peter Vilensky. As you know, my husband cannot risk any further police scrutiny, and so, ma chérie, it may be some time before I can find out anything more. In the meantime, please be careful. My husband sends you a warning: Do not focus so much on the serpent lest you miss the scorpion.

Part Three
    England

Eight
    Yorkshire, England
APRIL 1912 
    The monoplane landed in a field of grass on the Earl of Hattersley’s estate in Yorkshire. A friend of Hugh Car michael and fellow airplane enthusiast, the earl was quite prepared to set aside a section of his vast estate to provide an airstrip for local pilots and aviation aficionados. It was supposedly spring, but Ursula could see little sign of winter ending. There were no new buds on the hedgerows or blossoms in the trees. Even the daffodils, usually the first signal of spring approaching, were absent. Ursula climbed out of the plane, clad in a pair of overalls and a long, hooded cloak. She threw back the hood and took off the goggles, grateful finally to be able to remove the wretched things.
    In her quest to return to England as soon as possible, she had been forced to leave Julia in Alexandria. The day after Lord Wrotham’s telegram arrived, the morning they were due to sail, Julia