Malory and Any Man's Death Chapter Eleven The more I looked at the list of initials, the more confused I became. F.T., E.T., Fred and Ellen—what secret could they possibly have? Or Jim and Mary Fletcher, pillars of rectitude; so were all the others. But as William said, we all have secrets; what would be passed over by the world as not worth considering might be of immense importance to the person involved. The fear of embarrassment should never be underrated. Clever of Annie to use these minor things to manipulate people. But what if there was something major? That might be a different matter. I thought of the unlikely book beside her bed; was that part of her scheme? Something connected with a prominent businessman would surely be major. I resolved to go to the library and order the book straight after lunch. In the library I got trapped by Anthea. “What’s all this about a book you’re writing about Mere Barton?” she demanded. “It’s just a sort of history of the village—there’ve been a lot of them lately.”
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