Chapter EightRuth's eyes widened. “A spy?”
Mr. Wingate crossed his arms, a furtive look on his face. “That one wasn’t to be trusted.”
“Is that why you think he was a secret agent?”
“It runs in the family; his great-grandfather worked undercover. It’s a fact.”
Ruth shook her head. “You’ve lost me, Mr. Wingate. Nigel’s great-grandfather was an operative for the British government?”
He gave a sagacious nod.
“And you think Nigel was one, too?”
Another nod.
“How does Ian fit into all this?”
“Ian?”
“Yes, Ian Belvedere. The boy who lived in the house where the skeleton was found.”
Mr. Wingate blinked vacantly at her. “There was a skeleton?”
She leaned forward and touched his arm. “Mr. Wingate, are you all right?”
“Yes, why do you ask?”
Ruth sighed. Her grandfather suffered like this
