A Burglary In Belgravia (The Lady Eleanor Mysteries Book 2)
Page 16
“Blimey! Should I get a torch, my lady?”
Eleanor stared into the Stygian darkness and took a step inside. Something scuttled over her foot. She jumped and stepped back.
“It might be an idea at that, Tilly. Goodness knows what we’ll stumble over in here without a light of some kind.”
Her eyes searched the gloom, making out odd shapes, lumps, bumps, and hummocks. The tall rectangle in the far left corner might be the old grandfather clock that had stood for many years in the hall, until it had wheezed and chimed its last. A humped affair in the middle of the space might be a Chesterfield sofa or two armchairs stacked seat to seat.
Eleanor felt easier in her mind that the garage might be nothing more than a lumber room, until something rustled and slithered. She took another hasty step back. What on earth had been left in there? The garage was dry, there was no musty tang in her nostrils that would have come from damp, but she had not been living at Bakewell House when it was shut up and had no idea why the staff would have moved furniture out of drawing room, morning room or bedroom, simply to let it moulder in storage.
“Here we are, my lady. Sorry to have been so long.”
Tilly switched on the torch and flashed it in a wide arc around the interior. “Merciful heavens,” she cried, and nearly dropped the lamp.
Bound, blindfolded and gagged and with his arms tied behind his back, a waif-like figure lay on a broken and threadbare sofa to the right hand side of a stack of dining chairs that looked as if they might topple onto him at any minute.
“You’re the nurse, Tilly. See what you can do for him. I only hope it isn’t too late. I’ll fetch a knife for those ropes.”
“Wait, your ladyship.” Tilly darted forward and touched the child’s face with a gentle hand. “Praise God, he’s alive. I think I can carry him into the house and we can untie him there. Can you help me lift him, please? He doesn’t weigh hardly an ounce, but it’s tricky with him being tied up like this.”
Eleanor hurried to help, then scooped up the torch and raced ahead of Tilly back down the path to the house. She set about drawing water and putting it on to boil, then took a large kitchen knife from one of the drawers.
“Lay him on the table, Tilly. I’ll find some cushions.”
Between them they removed the gag, blindfold and ropes and Tilly managed to moisten his lips with water while Eleanor gently rubbed his arms, trying to help the circulation, but being extra careful not to touch his abraded wrists.
Joe suffered these ministrations with stoicism and the merest of whimpers, though he leaned into Tilly as she put an arm around his shoulder, a glass to his lips, and held him while he drank.
“Thank you,” he croaked, after coughing and spluttering a good deal. Tilly patted his back.
“I don’t think there’s too much wrong with him, my lady, but it would be better to take him home and get a doctor to call. I can carry him to the car and wrap him in a blanket there.”
“It’s all right, miss. I think I can walk, but don’t forget the sparklers.”
“Sparklers?” queried Eleanor. “What do you mean?”
Joe pointed to the kitchen dresser. “In that drawer there.”
Tilly, standing nearest, pulled it open and let out a scream. “Flaming ‘eck!” She let go of the drawer as if it had burned her fingers. “Begging your pardon, my lady.”
“Granted. Flaming heck, indeed.”
Eleanor skirted the table and plunged both hands into the drawer. She brought up a king’s ransom in emeralds, diamonds, rubies and pearls, including one necklace with a by now familiar rose-shaped clasp.
“My, my.”
She swung round at a sob from behind her. Two tears rolled down Joe’s grimy cheeks.
“It weren’t me.”
“Of course it wasn’t. Come on.” She crammed the jewellery into the pockets of her coat. “Let’s get you home.”
Despite his protests that he could walk, Tilly carried the boy to the car, while Eleanor made sure they left things at Bakewell House almost as they’d found them, and locked up.
Joe perked up at the sight of the Lagonda and pleaded to sit in the front seat.
His rescuers agreed, though Tilly still wrapped a blanket around his frail shoulders and chest before climbing into the rear.
“Please, miss, I mean my lady, will you take me home? My mum’s sick an’ she’ll be awful worried about me.”
“I will after the doctor has seen you. Your mother is getting better. I took a doctor to see her, too, and she’s got some medicine. She’s also got plenty of food and coal. Try and hold on a little longer, Joe, and I promise I’ll take you home.”
“How did you know where I live?”
Eleanor grinned at him. “I told you, I’m a detective. Remember?”
“Blimey. Guess you’re a real one, after all, then.”
Buoyed up by the news of his mother, and with the added excitement of being in the Lagonda, he made no mention of his aches and pains on the short trip to Bellevue Mansions.
They helped him inside, and while Eleanor telephoned for a doctor, Tilly washed his ravaged wrists and applied ointment where the ropes had chafed him. Having finished these tasks, she made him a hot drink and served him with a large slab of cake.
After the doctor had departed declaring that a bath and a good meal would be of greater use than any physic he might prescribe, and commending Tilly on the care she had already given the boy, Eleanor sent Joe off to the scullery to comply with the medic’s first suggestion.
She was eager to question him and find out who had treated him so unkindly, but suppressed the desire to know more until the boy’s welfare had been taken care of.
Joe, however, had every young boy’s aversion to water and wasn’t so sure the doctor had made the right call.
“Aw, do I ’ave to, Miss?” he complained, as the maid led him off.
“Yes. You heard him, doctor’s orders. Honestly, Joe, you’ll feel much better for it, and the warm water will help ease those cramped muscles of yours.”
Too exhausted to argue, let alone put up a fight, he followed her meekly.
It was a different boy who stood in front of Eleanor an hour later. He still wore the same dirty and disreputable trousers, shirt, and jacket — though Tilly had done what she could with them — but now the maid’s bacon and eggs followed by hot buttered toast had put a rosy glow on his cheeks and a smile on his lips. And he was clean.
“Sit down a minute, Joe. I know you are anxious to get home, but can you tell me what happened and who tied you up like that?”
Once again ignoring the chair and preferring to sit cross-legged on the floor, Joe gave a shake of his head, newly washed hair flying in all directions.
Tilly, who had come in with him, perched on the edge of the sofa, as keen to hear his story as her mistress.
“I dunno, my lady. It were dark. I’d gone round the back and seen this geezer goin’ in your gate, so I followed him.”
“Dear me.”
“Oh, it were all right then. I kept well back and I opened the gate a bit so’s I could peek through. He was just goin’ in the house then, I could see that ’cause of lights in the kitchen.”
As Joe launched upon his tale, it all came gushing out. How, before the door had closed and cut off the light, he had seen a party of men gathered around the kitchen table.
“I swear as they were plotting, an’ I thought as they might be a bunch of thieves discussing their next job.”
“Did you hear what they said?”
“Some of it, though I think some of it was foreign. One of them was definitely a toff. I could tell that by his voice, an’ he kept saying ‘what’ at the end of everything, like what toffs do.”
“I don’t suppose they used any names, did they?”
“Nah, sorry, my lady, but I remember one of them asking number 3 for his report. Then he said,” — Joe cleared his throat and attempted a posh voice — “seeing that number 1 is no longer
with us, I suggest we stick to the plan. Vengeance can come later.” He scratched his head. “Then he started talking about a game, I think, ’cause he said, ‘here at 9, checkers at 11’.”
Eleanor leaned forward. “Are you sure that’s what he said?”
“Oh, yes. I’ve ’ad it running through my head ever since they tied me up and left me. I didn’t want to forget it.”
“Well done, this is very useful. Go on, Joe.”
The boy squirmed. “There ain’t much more to tell. One of the gang arrived late and caught me with my ear to the door. He threw me inside. That’s when I saw the sparklers, they was lyin’ on the table until the toff gathered them up and threw ’em in that drawer. There were five of them and only one of me, so there was nothing I could do to get away, honest.”
“Of course not.”
“Well, then they tied me up and put me in that place and the toff said they were gonna leave me there till they got back in three days time. Then they’d decide what to do with me.” He looked up at Eleanor. “It’s a good job you came when you did, ’cause by my reckoning that’s tonight.”
“Blimey!” said Tilly. “No wonder you were so hungry if you’d had nothing to eat for that long.”
“Yeah, I know, and I didn’t even have any biscuits after I’d laid my trail.”
Eleanor made two phone calls and then they took Joe home as promised. He was allowed to sit in the front seat of the Lagonda again, an occurrence that he claimed not only made his day, but the whole terrifying ordeal worthwhile.
Mrs Minshull was delighted to see him and professed herself much improved of the flu.
“Thank you, my lady. I don’t know what we would have done without your help.”
“That’s quite all right. Would you like to help me in return?”
Eleanor’s proposition was to invite the Minshulls to move into Bakewell House.
“After all that’s happened there, and Joe will tell you about that, it is obvious that I need a caretaker on the property. There is more than enough room for you and the two boys, and it is warm and dry. I will pay you three pounds a week, groceries, coal, and suitable clothing provided. What do you say?”
“But what if the gang come back, my lady?” Joe’s bottom lip began to tremble.
“They won’t, Joe. I’m going to get a friend of mine, and the police, and round them up tonight. Because, as God is my witness, I swear someone will pay for using my house and for what they did to you.”
Chapter 26
They drove away from Cook Place and Eleanor dropped Tilly off outside Bellevue Mansions before going on to Scotland Yard. She was shown into Chief Inspector Blount’s office and, refusing his offer of a chair, walked straight up to his desk.
“Good morning, my lady. What can I do for you?”
In answer, she emptied her pockets and laid her booty before him. “You can return all this to its rightful owners, please.”
“Stap me!”
It was the second time in their acquaintance that she had left him speechless and she laughed at his stunned face before finally sitting in the chair opposite.
“Where the blue blazes —” he began, when he recovered the power of speech.
“In my own home.”
“Uh huh. In your own home?”
“Yes, in a drawer in the kitchen dresser, but I didn’t steal them.”
“Really? And I suppose you’re going to tell me next who killed Sir David Bristol?”
“Yes.” She flashed him a pretty smile and told him the whole story.
While she talked, the fire in the room crackled in the grate and Blount doodled on his pad, making cats and kittens out of circles and curves. From time to time he sat back and inspected his handiwork before starting another. He didn’t interrupt, though neither did he miss a word, and once murmured, “so, that was it. I did wonder,” as if Eleanor had solved a puzzle for him.
“I’ve been in touch with Major Armitage from Military Intelligence,” she said in conclusion, “because the jewels were stolen to fund the activities of a spy ring that he thinks was headed up by Sir David. I am to ask if you could have a party of men in Berkeley Square later tonight. He will contact you later to make arrangements.”
“Him again, eh? I might have known he’d be involved. Very well, I’ll speak to the major as and when.”
“And, I’d like to ask you a favour.”
She started to separate the string of pearls from the jumble of necklaces and bracelets on the desk.
“You want to keep that one, do you?”
“Certainly not! I — oh!” Eleanor looked up to see Chief Inspector Blount grinning at her and realised she was being teased by the avuncular policeman.
“These are what started it all off.” She picked up the pearls and ran them through her hands, appreciating the soft opalescent sheen of them and the glittering ice of the diamond clasp. “These are why I became involved. I was given the job of finding the necklace, you see, and now that I have, I’d like to return the pearls to Lady Lancashire.”
“They are hers, I take it?”
“Oh, yes, undoubtedly.”
Blount nodded. “Yes, all right. I don’t see why not. I’ll get the rest of these gewgaws put away in the safe and call my sergeant.”
“You may need to take a constable as well. There is something you need to ask or search for.”
She gave him the details and watched his eyes widen.
“Well, we’ll ask. I can always get a search warrant if necessary. Are you in your own car?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Good, then we’ll follow you to Eaton Place.”
Barbara Lancashire was delighted to see her pearls again, but not so pleased to see Eleanor nor her accompanying police escort.
“Really, Lady Eleanor! What is all this?” she exclaimed when Chief Inspector Blount and Sergeant Hale had been introduced.
“Is your husband at home, my lady?” asked Blount.
“Yes. What do you want with him? He’s a very busy man.”
But even a man of Sir Robert's standing couldn't be too busy to see the police, Eleanor thought. She hadn’t missed the flash of fear in Barbara’s eyes, and wondered if she knew, or even suspected the truth.
“We’ll explain all that when he joins us, if you don’t mind,” said Blount. “Will you call him, please?”
“Oh, very well.”
She rang for a footman then, with an ill grace, invited them to sit down. Eleanor sank into an easy chair, the sergeant perched on the edge of a sofa, but Blount remained standing, looking stolid and earnest in the middle of the hearth rug.
“Where did you find my necklace, Lady Eleanor?” Barbara asked as they waited for her husband. She put the pearls into a drawer in the walnut bureau.
“In a very unlikely place, as it happens.”
“I trust the thief has been apprehended.”
Eleanor gave nothing away. “The main thing is, they are back in your possession.” About to add that all’s well that ends well, she stopped herself in the nick of time. It was all about to end very badly indeed for Barbara Lancashire.
“You wanted me, my dear?”
The door opened to admit a grey-haired man in his late fifties. Short and round, with a pair of thick-lensed glasses on the end of his thin nose, Lord Lancashire was not a prepossessing figure. He shuffled in a pair of carpet slippers to his wife’s chair and put a hand on her shoulder.
“I wasn’t told we had visitors.”
She smiled tremulously up at him. “Yes, Robert. I’m sure you know the Duke of Bakewell’s daughter, Lady Eleanor, and these gentlemen are from Scotland Yard.”
“Yes, my lord. I'm Chief Inspector Blount and this is Sergeant Hale. I understand you and your wife were at the Viceroy theatre last week on the evening Sir David Bristol was murdered.”
“Yes, yes, that is so. I gave our names to the constable at the time.” He looked down at his wife. “That’s right, isn’t it, dear?”
“Did you leave your box at any time, my lord? During the second act?”
“No, I don’t think so, Chief Inspector. As my wife says, Miss Dacre was on stage and I...I didn’t want to miss anything.”
Blount scowled at his lordship. “Yet Lady Eleanor here says that you were missing from your box towards the end of the act.”
“Lady Eleanor is wrong,” Barbara snapped. She glared at Eleanor through eyes reduced to slits. “Sir Robert was with me the whole time.”
“I suppose I may have gone to the bathroom, yes, I think possibly I did.” Lancashire smiled, pleased with an excuse that, after his wife’s claim, came too late.
Barbara had seen the danger, however and took steps to avert it.
“Really, Chief Inspector, I’m sure that Lady Eleanor means well, but I shouldn’t take her word over ours. Now that she has set herself up as a detective, even if she is genteel enough to call it an enquiry agent, she clearly thinks she has something to prove. A lot of young gels are getting themselves jobs these days, but that doesn’t mean they have the expertise to do them and I fear that Lady Eleanor is a case in point. She is simply mistaken in this instance.”
She bestowed a condescending smile, first on Blount, then on Eleanor. The latter said nothing. She had nothing to prove to the Chief Inspector. He knew her track record, short though it was.
What’s more, Barbara’s prattling interference had brought attention back on herself.
“How long had Sir David been blackmailing you to pass on state secrets, my lady?” Blount demanded.
“Oh!” Barbara went white and put her head in her hands.
“I take it you were aware of this, Sir Robert? Is that why you shot him?”
“Nonsense, man!”
“But you knew —”
Sir Robert pulled himself upwards to his full height. It didn’t help. He was, Eleanor thought, too short to be imposing.
“My wife told me yesterday that the bounder was blackmailing her over gambling debts. He threatened to expose her in that scurrilous rag of his if she didn’t hand over a particularly fine pearl necklace of hers. Barbara has no access to state secrets. Preposterous to say otherwise.”