by P. N. Elrod
The owner of the hotel was also in something of a state, doubtless fearing the crime would either drive away custom or attract the wrong sort of guest. He many times stated that such a thing had never before happened in his house, and when it came to the truth of the matter, the violence occurred outside the hotel, and therefore had nothing to do with his establishment.
The banker from Tellson’s, Mr. Lorry, quietly reminded him that Captain Keech was a guest, and therefore. . .but he was not allowed to finish. Miss Pross cut in and confidently asserted we would be murdered in our beds if the miscreant was not immediately caught and gaoled. Lorry looked fearful, but of Miss Pross, not the prospect of being bludgeoned in the night by some deranged assailant.
At this point Captain Talmadge revealed that a duel had almost taken place between Keech and Deveau, and that the latter had used a walking stick as a weapon. Such a stick was found only yards from the body. Instant silence followed this disclosure, and all eyes turned to Deveau, who was still fully dressed, unlike the majority of the company.
“What of it?” he asked. “We did not actually fight, and afterward I shared an ale with the man to mend things. The innkeeper will bear witness for me that we were amiable the whole time, and when the captain left I came here to enjoy the fire and a pipe.”
“Alone?” asked Mr. Lorry.
“Yes.” Deveau was obviously aware this admission was not in his favor.
“Then you mayn’t be telling us ever’think.’ said Talmadge. “We don’t knows if that be the truth. Easy enough to get Keech drunk as a tinker, for all Dover knows ’ow fond he were of ’is own wares. Then you takes ’im outside an’ whack! ’E’s done in like a bullock at the butchers.”
Deveau went red in the face at this, not from guilt, but rather suppressed fury. “Captain” —he spoke quietly despite his ire— “I will draw your attention to the fact that I not only had no reason to inflict harm upon Captain Keech, who was otherwise a stranger to me, but also that I am quite dry from top to toe, a state I would not be in had I been out in this Noah’s deluge. You, however, are quite soaked.”
“As are a dozen other men who went outside,” said Mr. Lorry. “Based on that, I am cautiously inclined to believe M. Deveau, but we require the authorities here to sort this in a proper and legal process.”
“There’s no need fer sortin’!” put in Shellhorse. “It were the dirty Frenchie what dun fer ’im! ’E changed ’is clothes, is all!”
As a man raised with a wide ocean between himself and ancestral grudges, I was unprepared for the vehemence of ill feeling between the English and the French in this otherwise civilized setting. It was as though their ancient quarrels down through the centuries had take place only that afternoon, so strong was the wave of animosity that rushed through the room to break squarely upon M. Deveau. I called for reason, but was unable to make myself heard above the others. Catching Oliver’s attention, he hurried to my side, and we took up posts next to Deveau, prepared to defend him from what promised to turn into a mob.
Then, unexpectedly, Sir Algernon took charge. He had been somber and silent through the arguments and accusations, but now he stood—an imposing figure he was with his great height. In his black mourning he reminded me of a hangman.
He possessed a most piercing gaze, and it touched on everyone present. “Good folk, I agree with Mr. Lorry that this matter must be looked into by the proper authorities. Someone will guide the way for me, and I will fetch them myself. Until then, I require that everyone retire to their several rooms and compose themselves to cooperation, not vituperation. I would also most strongly suggest that prayers be said for the departed soul of the poor man. As to the guilty who committed this violence, his sins may find him out, you may be sure of it.”
Sir Algernon did not look at any one man for long, perhaps wary that it might inspire riot, but I did notice who he paid special attention to: the remaining captains, M. Deveau, Oliver, and myself. I felt a flush creep into my cheeks at this scrutiny, along with the fear that I might also be unfairly and unreasonably accused. Sir Algernon then took the arm of the hotel owner and moved him purposefully toward the door.
Master Percy, who stood on a chair to view the madness of the adults, dropped down and rushed to his father, drawing him to one side for a whispered conference. The boy looked agitated and earnest, but Sir Algernon clearly had other matters on his mind. He patted his son’s shoulder in an absent way and departed on his errand. Percy stared after him, then went next to M. Deveau.
“Sir! I must show you something important!” he cried.
“What might that be?” Deveau bent slightly to see.
Then Percy launched into very rapid French, which was possibly the worst thing he could have done in that restive crowd.
“Frenchie spy!” shouted Talmadge. “ ’E’s leadin’ even the lad astray!”
A few others took up this chorus, rounding on Deveau. Had he been the devil himself they could not have been more outraged.
“He’s no spy!” I roared. This time I was loud enough to make an impression, halting them. They were still on the edge, though; I had but a moment to turn them back to common sense again. “and I know he is not the murderer!”
This was met with derision from the two captains, their opinions backed up by a few other men demanding proof of my declaration. For the first time I noticed that a number of rough-looking fellows had gathered close to them. Shipmates, I thought. A chill of unease ran up my spine that had naught to do with my wet clothes. The men were likewise soaked from the rain for having been outside not a quarter hour ago. Might one of them have been out longer than the rest of us to do his evil work, then join our party as we rushed to aid his victim? I tried not to shiver.
“Who did it, then?” demanded Miss Pross, her voice cutting across the length of the room.
I felt a tug on my shirt and glanced down. Master Percy’s bright gaze fairly burned through me. He held one hand to his chest, closed into a fist. He moved his hand, opening it so only I could see. I stared at what lay there, not comprehending its import.
Deveau murmured, “Not now, sir. They’ll tear us to ribbons. Trust me on this, I know them well.”
“Who is the Cain here?” shouted the Pross, looking around. “Who has so wickedly slain his brother?”
I was at a loss for an answer, but happily fate intruded. The delicate Miss Manette, who stood next to her, suddenly fainted. This set the Pross off again. She vented a loud scream of distress for her charge and swooped to aid her, calling for water, and a cold cloth and a dozen other remedies that are necessary when a lady collapses. Oliver started forward, but I grabbed his arm and signed for him to wait.
“Why?”
“A moment, you’ll see.”
Pross took charge like Caesar, sending servants hither and yon, and commanding that several of the maids lift her companion and bear her up to their room instantly. She bellowed fit to captain a whole fleet of ships herself, ordering the roughest of the sailors aside.
“Make-way-make-way for my poor ladybird!” she shouted, pushing men twice her size from her path. Bless me if they did not move quick as spit.
“Now!” I said, and urged Oliver forward.
He caught my intent. “I am a doctor! Let me through!”
Next I nudged Deveau, who allowed himself to be swept along in the general exodus. I trusted that Percy could look after himself, as bright lads have an instinct to place themselves where that want to be no matter what obstacles may stand between.
As I hoped, the confusion of the moment served to protect us, and in a short time we were up the stairs and in Miss Manette’s room, along with a dozen others caught up in our parade. The Pross spied Oliver and dragged him over to see to the young lady, then shooed the excess gapers out the door. That would have included myself, Deveau, and Percy, but her charge abruptly wakened from her swoon and gently requested a cessation of further row.
The Pross was decidedly full of opposing feelin
gs about this turn, but was finally persuaded to back down. She regarded us with suspicion, but when asked by the girl, who swore it would fully restore her, left the room to fetch a pot of tea. Oliver was told—ordered, rather—to act as chaperon, the Pross trusting that as a prospective doctor, he was a sober, responsible sort. How little did she know.
Once the door was shut, Miss Manette favored us with a small smile. “Please forgive her. Her heart is in the right place.
“Of course, mademoiselle,” said Deveau, with a bow. “Are you unharmed by your misadventure?”
“I am very well, monsieur. But you should know that it was a sham.”
“Indeed?”
We regarded her with increased interest.
She continued: “It is true that I did faint earlier this evening, but not again in the coffee-room just now. My earlier event gave me the idea for it, though. Mr. Barrett seemed in need of help, and it was the only thing I could think of to do. I knew my dear friend would make a great fuss, and that it might change the situation, but it grieves me to have troubled her so.”
“Mademoiselle’s conclusion was correct,” I said. “I am most deeply in your debt for the timely rescue.” Now was I able to execute a proper bow, including a little flourish with my smallsword, which was still in hand. “And please do not trouble yourself about Miss Pross’s feelings. It’s quite obvious that she enjoys making a fuss. You have provided her with considerable happiness.”
“Before she returns, please, sir, will you tell us what you know? If there is a murderer under this roof, then it is our duty to catch him.”
“I would be glad to tell all, but I know little. The darkness and weather hid his face from me as perfectly as any mask.”
“But I thought—”
“I know, but I was trying to distract that crowd from doing harm to M. Deveau. His innocence was certainly plain to me, since he was the only dry-shod man in the room, but they weren’t of a mind to hear sense.”
“I believe,” said Deveau, “That one of them was of a mind to falsely blame me for the crime and thus escape. I also believe that Master Percy holds the proof of it in his palm, do you not, young sir?”
Percy, who had slipped in unnoticed, now stepped forth. Again he opened his hand. I stared at the small red flower there, as did the rest.
“That’s proof?” asked Oliver. “Bless me, but I don’t see it.”
“The hats,” I said, with sudden inspiration. “This flower fell from one of the captains’ hats in their scuffle tonight. I remember Percy saved it.”
We then had to explain to Miss Manette the business about red flowers being used as a sign by certain ship captains wishing to conduct private business. We did not specify what that business might be.
“Still don’t see it,” Oliver repeated.
“The hats,” I repeated in turn. “Talmadge and Shellhorse were still open for trade. They had red flowers in their hats.”
“So?”
Percy said, “ Captain Talmadge lost his flower in the fight. I have it here. But he found another. Made from red paper. I saw it when we were in the coffee-room.”
The significance was unknown to Oliver, for he had not noticed what sort of flower was worn by each captain. He’d not dealt with them, after all. “So Talmadge murdered Keech over a paper flower?”
“I haven’t a clue as to why he murdered,” I said, “only that he took Keech’s paper bloom.”
“Or his hat,” suggested Deveau. “Much more likely.”
“Ah.” That did make more sense. “They each lost their hats in the fight outside, and then he grabbed the wrong one. I remember the man who fled seemed to stumble. He might have been picking it up instead, and I mistook his movement.”
“Indeed, but a man cannot be charged on anything so feeble as that. There must be stronger proof.”
“Well-a-day, then we shall just have to find some.”
Miss Pross returned, armed with tea, bread, and jam, and decided that our presence was no longer required. Even Oliver was summarily turned out, though he raised no objection. The only disappointed face belonged to Miss Manette, who would not hear what I had in mind to resolve matters.
Since Oliver had lodged here before, I asked what he knew of the servant’s stairs in the building.
“I suppose there must be some, there always are, but bless me if I know where to find ’em.”
“Come, sir,” said Deveau, “I learned to navigate most of the harbors on both sides of the channel by the age of twelve; I’m sure together we can find the back stairs here. What then, Mr. Barrett?”
“We find the servant’s entry to the parlor where poor Keech is and slip in there.”
“For what purpose?”
“To find his hat.”
I explained—after the four of us, with young Percy eagerly in the lead, found the stairs—that it wasn’t enough to point out the detail of the flowers to the authorities, but we had to be certain that Talmadge didn’t find a paper bloom elsewhere. In a few moments we quietly entered the dim parlor where the dead captain lay stretched upon a long table. We lighted more candles to better see. His muddied shoes were visible beyond the hem of the tablecloth shroud, but the rest of his large form was carefully covered. Most important, someone had placed his hat on his chest. Sad relic it was, battered, damp, and also muddy.
Picking it up, I examined it for a maker’s mark, but found none.
“Now what?” asked Oliver.
“Nothing pleasant. We see if it fits his head.”
He wanted none of that, but saw the sense. With somber respect he drew back the table cloth enough to expose as little as necessary. Master Percy stood a little closer to M. Deveau, but maintained a man’s stout bearing through the course. While Oliver lifted Keech’s head, I attempted to fit the hat to it. The article kept falling off.
“That settles it,” said Oliver, wiping his bloodied fingers on one end of the cloth. “Not his bonnet, to be sure.”
“But it may be argued that the damage to his skull altered the shape of it,” Deveau pointed out.
“Not unless it had been thoroughly crushed—like a boiled egg that’s been stepped on. I’ll take an oath that that’s not what happened here. ’Tis true he has a fearful and fatal wounding, but the greater portion of the bony structure is intact, and so his own hat would still fit. Unless he preferred a loosely fitted one.”
“A ship’s captain with a loose hat?” questioned Deveau. “Never. He would have it snug to his head or lose it in the wind. Look at his forehead. The line is still there that marks where I was accustomed to wearing it. I saw Mr. Barrett bring the other hat well over that line, therefore it does not belong to Keech. But we still have a problem of proof. Talmadge could claim that in the confusion of carrying the body inside that he got his hat mixed with Keech’s. Forgive me, but in light of the strong feelings running between my shared countries, it is more likely his word will be believed over mine. I am but half-English, and he is an Englishman bred and born.”
“As am I,” said Oliver. “And I’m ashamed to call him countryman, but you are not without allies. Cousin Jonathan and I will vouch for you, and certainly Sir Algernon will have a great influence in the matter.”
“That will certainly serve to keep me from the hangman, but how to bring the guilty to justice?”
“We find out why Talmadge would want to do for the fellow.”
Deveau made a throwing-away gesture. “Many of these captains are honorable men, but there are some who resent the success of others and are always ready to remove the competition. I would hazard to say that Talmadge took exception to Keech’s winning this night and acted upon it. I would think with Keech out of the way, he would approach you later on with an offer to sell you spirits.”
“Grim way to conduct a trade,” I put in. “He said that he remembered you from when you were a lad.”
“I do not recall. I think he was not a captain, for I knew all their names. One had to, but back then he c
ould have been a first mate, perhaps.”
“Sir!” cried Percy, who had been examining the hat close by the light of the candles. “See what I have found!”
We gathered near. There was a much weathered ribbon on the outside running between the brim and the crown, and Percy had peeled it back. Within was a store of small reddish flowers.
“I sometimes hide things in my hat this way,” said the lad. “I wondered if it might be the same for him, and so it is.”
Oliver thumped a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “So it is. That’s brilliant of you, young sir. As soon as your father returns—”
“ ’E’ll ’ave other things on ’is mind, I’m thinkin’.”
As one, we turned to behold the depressing visage of Captain Talmadge, who, with a muddy hat in hand, stood blocking the doorway that opened to the main hall. Crowded behind him were several of his men. They were grinning—a singularly alarming sight. Deveau quietly put Percy behind him, and I sensed him marshaling for immediate action against this threat. However, Talmadge drew a pistol from his coat and aimed it at him.
“There’ll be no mischief from you, Frenchie. “Ever-un keep shut and quiet as little mice an’ we’ll finish up ’ere an’ be gone an’ no ’arm done, eh?”
“What do you want?” asked Deveau.
“I’ll thank ye to return me ’at, then we’ll be off. You fine gennelmen’ll keep shut or it’ll go ’ard on the lad.”
Percy had slipped a little off to better see, and his young eyes went wide as Talmadge swung the pistol in his direction.
Deveau kept his voice steady. “You harm that boy and there will be no safe port for you anywhere.”
“The world’s a wide place. Come now an’ show sense. Ol’ Keech ’n me ’ad a quarrel, an’ I won the day. None of it’s yer concern, so we’ll just be off after I gets me rightful property. An’ to make sure you behaves while we leaves, the lad’s coming along ’til we’re clear. ‘Less ’e’d perfers ter see the world. We’re short a ship’s boy and this ’un looks a likely sort. . .” His gaze shifted suddenly to me. “You be droppin’ that blade, Mr. Barrett, or you’ll ’ave innercent blood on your soul.”