by Jack Murray
Comprehension dawned slowly on Grantham’s features while Miss Carlisle looked on stonily.
‘Will you accompany me, please?’
The tone of voice used by Kit was calm and reassuring. It appeared to work on Miss Carlisle as her features softened a little and she nodded, leading the way for Kit to follow. She had been caught off guard by the extraordinary events, but composure restored, she once more became the woman of, if not action then at the very least, narrow self-possession. This would not last long, however.
Kit’s motives for wanting to check the servants’ quarters were not a little bit self-serving. He wanted to see if Mary was safe. When they arrived in the kitchen, he saw Mary, bewigged blonde, sitting with the cook no doubt having been ordered to remain there by Miss Carlisle. When she saw Kit, she leapt from her seat and exclaimed, ‘Kit!’
She immediately ran over to her fiancé and embraced him.
‘Miss Tanner,’ called out Miss Carlisle in a tone that bordered on apoplexy. Mary, hearing the housekeeper’s cry decided to up the ante in the embrace.
‘Mary,’ laughed Rose as she looked first from Mary and Kit to Miss Carlisle who had turned white in shock.
Mary finally released Kit and looked at Miss Carlisle, trying to avoid any hint of triumphalism. Trying but failing. Rose, meanwhile, was beaming.
‘Where’s Miss Hadleigh?’ asked Kit urgently.
‘She went upstairs to see to the handyman fixing the bells.’
‘Miss Hadleigh?’ asked Miss Carlisle, now thoroughly confused again. Events were rapidly spinning out of control both upstairs and downstairs.
Mary turned to Miss Carlisle and said, ‘Long story and there’s no time now. Her name is Caroline Hadleigh not Charlotte Hannah. My name is Mary Cavendish, not Mary Tanner. And this is Lord Kit Aston.’
With this, and as a final flourish, Mary removed her blonde wig. Miss Carlisle promptly sat down in the seat recently vacated by Mary and took a long drink of Mary’s tea. Rose, by now was moved to clap.
‘Come on, Kit. Where have they gone?’
Kit took Mary’s hand and they headed back up the servant’s staircase. Kit explaining on the way the events of the evening. By the time they reached main hallway at the top of the stairs they ran into Jellicoe. The Chief Inspector took one look at Kit hand in hand with Mary and smiled, raised his hat and said, ‘Lady Mary. It seems we’re always destined to meet in unusual circumstances.’
‘Indeed, Chief Inspector,’ said Mary.
‘Any sign of Caroline Hadleigh?’ asked Kit.
The shouts from the top of the stairs answered that question.
-
The younger man, Ryan, was the first up the stairs followed by Wellbeloved and Bulstrode. He continued bellowing ‘police, open up’ although, he was certain that Caroline, unless she was either deaf, or stupid, would have taken the required steps to absent herself from the building. The shouting by Ryan had begun to fray Bulstrode’s nerves.
‘Shut up, sergeant, you’ve made your point. I think every burglar from here to Elephant & Castle will be aware we’re here,’ snarled Bulstrode.
They all moved toward the front bedroom where the torch had been spotted. It was empty. Ryan breathed a sigh of relief. They split up and searched the other upstairs rooms.
Ryan burst into the next bedroom along, he opened the lights and looked around. Taking a chance, he whispered, ‘Caroline?’ There was no response. ‘Caroline it’s me, Ben.’
Silence.
The door opened behind him and in walked Bulstrode. The two men looked at one another for a moment. Had Bulstrode heard him? Ryan’s heart began to beat even faster, and he felt the oxygen evacuate his body.
‘No sign,’ said Ryan, finally.
Bulstrode nodded and then they heard a shout from the other bedroom. It was Wellbeloved. The two men immediately ran out of the bedroom into the corridor. Wellbeloved was in the bedroom at the far end. They saw the other detective standing by an open window.
‘She escaped this way. I saw her climbing onto the roof.’
Bulstrode and Ryan both looked out the window, up at the deserted roof, then to the guttering that Caroline had obviously used to climb up. Ryan looked down at the drop and nearly fainted. This was some girl, he thought. If we come through this, I’m either going to jail her or marry her.
Bulstrode was already on the move out of the room. In the corridor he met Kit, Jellicoe, and Mary.
‘No sign of her downstairs,’ said Jellicoe.
‘She went out the window. She’s on the roof.’
Mary gasped involuntarily. She wasn’t sure if she’d done so out of fear for someone, she felt was almost a friend or out of pride for the bravery of the young woman.
‘My man Harry Miller is patrolling the at the back.’
‘Let’s go,’ said Jellicoe but Ryan was already halfway down the stairs, followed by Bulstrode.
-
Such was the blissful interlude enjoyed by Alfred as he released copiously against the brick wall the tension that had built up over the previous hour, he failed to notice Harry Miller run past him. Eventually, he became aware of Miller climbing the wall to his side. Even the presence of Miller was not enough to deny the exquisite feeling of relief being enjoyed by Alfred. However, he felt it best to inquire why Miller was breaking into a neighbour’s garden.
‘What’s happening?’
‘Lord Aston wants me to check around the back. This is the only way in.’
Alfred took one look at the wall and realised two things immediately. He was probably lacking the circus-supple agility to scale such a barrier; furthermore, the wall was quite high. A fall from such a height could be quite nasty.
‘Can you open the gate when you’re on the other side?’ pleaded Alfred.
Much to Alfred’s surprise the gate opened with Miller saying, ‘Come on.’
Thankfully the next barrier was a lot smaller and Alfred, in his newly lightened state, found it within his compass to manage, albeit inelegantly. One more fence was encountered and dealt with leaving Alfred feeling decidedly chipper about both this adventure and his own cat-like dexterity.
The moon shone down on the back of the Rosling house, giving the two men a good view of a small figure dressed in black emerging from one of the windows. Miller immediately sprinted forward.
Alfred whispered loudly and rather superfluously, ‘Wait for me.’ He watched in amazement as Miller, with the grace and sprightliness of a ballet dancer, hopped onto a bin on the back of the house, followed in one swift movement by his grabbing the top of a wall and levering himself up onto the roof of the basement kitchen.
Clearly Miller was on his own at this point, so Alfred found a garden seat and decided to watch the show from this vantage point. And what a show it was turning out to be. Miller’s acrobatic skills were extraordinary, for within moments, he was shinning up the guttering that led vertically all the way to the roof, in pursuit of the dark figure that had so recently emerged from the window.
At the picture house, Alfred liked nothing better than accompanying his film viewing with a generous snack. Sadly, this was the only thing missing as the spectacle in front of him unfolded.
Just as Miller had made it onto the roof, a man appeared at the window and shouted at Miller to halt, obviously mistaking him for the thief. Alfred stood up and went to correct the misapprehension but decided against doing so as he saw the highly unattractive features of the man at the window. Instead, he returned to his seat and watched two dark silhouettes clamber over the rooftop. The direction of travel looked to be back towards the road from which he and Miller had come.
Reluctantly, Alfred rose from the seat and retraced his footsteps over the fences, through the neighbour’s garden towards the alley. Up ahead he could see the first figure had an athleticism no less than Miller’s and was sliding down the roof towards another vertical pipe that led all the way to the ground.
This presented Alfred with a dilemma. If h
e broke into a trot, something he hadn’t done since 1917, he could conceivably reach the alley way before the villain. This would mean he could catch the thief. However, Alfred wasn’t a brave man. Nor was he so gifted athletically that the encounter may not end up the worse for him. Discretion formed the better part of valour. Alfred made stately progress to the alley while the two figures descended the pipe.
He opened the gate just as the first figure landed on the ground, lightly and with perfect balance. The figure was disguised under a black balaclava. Two eyes glanced at Alfred before disappearing into the night.
Moments later Miller hit the ground. A loud groan followed. It was clear in his haste to make up ground, Miller had elected to jump from a greater height than, in other less urgent circumstances, he normally would. The result was a heavy fall. Miller rolled around the ground in agony, clutching his right ankle.
Alfred hurried over to the stricken man.
‘Catch her,’ ordered Miller through gritted teeth.
But she had vanished, and Alfred was under no illusion as to who would have been the winner in any race between them.
‘It’s too late,’ said Alfred.
Moments later the policemen arrived along with Kit and Lady Mary. Alfred looked up and said, ‘I think she’s escaped. Mr Miller has hurt his ankle.’
This much was obvious and Kit, along with Mary, immediately made their way forward to Miller. Mary immediately cradled Miller’s head in her lap. Alfred looked at Miller, whose face was a picture of agony because of an ankle that was, in all probability broken, and thought: you lucky sod.
Chapter 24
Kit and Ryan helped Miller back to the Rolls. Alfred agreed to drive Miller to a nearby hospital. The policemen, Kit and Mary returned to the Rosling household. Standing at the door was the younger Rosling. He looked in a foul mood. Beside him was Miss Carlisle with Grantham lurking inside.
‘What on earth is the meaning of this?’ demanded Rosling.
Jellicoe noticed with some amusement that Bulstrode slowed his stride imperceptibly, leaving Jellicoe to face the first fusillade from the young man. He found this oddly reassuring. It proved to his satisfaction that Bulstrode was either a coward or lacked the seniority and gravitas to deal with the upper classes on a rant.
By this stage Rosling was in full flow demanding to know who was in charge. Jellicoe presented himself.
‘Mr Rosling, my name is Chief Inspector Jellicoe. These are my colleagues, Detective Inspector Bulstrode, and sergeants Ryan and Wellbeloved.’ Then with added emphasis he said, ‘I’m in charge.’
‘Well, you better explain to me what in the hell is going on,’ responded Rosling, some of the fire dying in the presence of Jellicoe’s seriousness.
‘Yes, sir. May we step inside?’
As this made eminent sense, even to the indignant young man, the group went inside to the entrance hall. As they did so, Rosling’s highly attuned eye for an attractive ankle and more found itself slowly moving upwards to be met by the blue and highly amused eyes of Mary Tanner looking back at him. Only it wasn’t Mary Tanner. Gone was the blonde hair, but the maid’s uniform remained. Then he noticed Kit.
‘Have we met before?’ asked Rosling, eyeing Kit closely, desperately searching his memory for where and when.
‘Sheldon’s, I believe. I think I’ve seen you in the dining room there. My name is Aston.’
The scepticism in the stare that Rosling gave Kit was positively surgical. However, as his memory had been somewhat dulled by the several bottles of champagne he’d consumed over the course of a convivial evening in town, he was in no position to debate the point. He returned his focus to Jellicoe and tried to ignore the mocking smile of Mary, who he noted with dismay, was holding the hand of Kit.
Jellicoe addressed Rosling. ‘Mr Rosling, we came by some information that your aunt might be the target of a robbery. Specifically, a diamond necklace.’ He then held his hand up to silence Rosling who was about to interject.
‘The first thing we must do is establish if the thief has stolen the necklace.
-
Rosling led the four policemen upstairs to his aunt’s room. He marched straight over to a dresser and opened the top drawer. Inside was a metal box. The key was in the box. Rosling looked up at the policemen. Before he could open the box, Jellicoe touched his arm and shook his head. Removing a pen from an inside pocket he hooked it under the lid and raised it up. It was empty.
Rosling stared at the box. With a voice trembling in anger, he turned to the policemen and said, ‘The diamonds are gone. And you let the thief escape. You’ll regret this.’
Jellicoe had no doubt he would. This was serious. He turned to Kit and Mary. The look on his face was neutral but Kit guessed he was angry. This was a police matter and Kit should have drawn the attention of the Chief Inspector earlier. Kit knew this and immediately felt a profound regret. He’d let Jellicoe down. Now the Chief Inspector would be thrown to the wolves.
Mary glanced up at Kit and saw the troubled look on his face. She too, understood the import of what had happened. A wave of anger and something approaching grief gripped her. The excitement she’d felt at getting involved in this affair had gradually begun to pale as she had grown to like Caroline Hadleigh better. The folly of this was all too apparent. She had let her own feelings and emotions cloud her judgement. She knew Kit would try to make her feel better. He wouldn’t blame her. But Mary knew she had only herself to blame.
Rosling glared frantically at the policemen.
‘Are you just going to stand there? Why aren’t you out catching this criminal.?
Given the circumstances, Jellicoe remained calm and looked Rosling directly in the eye. This seemed to throw the young American who stopped for a moment and looked at the Chief Inspector.
‘Mr Rosling, I think we should retire to the drawing room. Detective Inspector Bulstrode and I will question the staff, Lady Mary and Lord Aston.’
Rosling glanced at Mary with something approaching disbelief. Mary looked back at him coolly. However bad she felt about the theft and her role in it, she felt little for Rosling. The loss was not his, but Mrs Rosling’s.
‘Sergeant Ryan and Wellbeloved will go back to Scotland Yard and set up a search for Caroline Hadleigh or Charlotte Hannah as you know her. Sergeant Ryan questioned her in connection with previous robberies and we will circulate a description to the newspapers tonight.’ Turning to Ryan he added, ‘I want you with a police artist immediately, sergeant. I want her picture in every newspaper by tomorrow afternoon. Wellbeloved, I want you to bring a team down here immediately to look for fingerprints.’
Kit listened to Jellicoe give commands and found himself impressed with what he saw. The clear-headedness and the calm authority would have made him a leader in any circumstances. The aura around Jellicoe seemed to spike the anger of Rosling for the moment and both Bulstrode and Wellbeloved were clearly happy for Jellicoe to take a lead here, knowing that when the blame began to be apportioned, they would be safe.
One thing perturbed Kit, however. Risking a glance at the two other policemen he could see Bulstrode whispering in Wellbeloved’s ear and then both looking towards Ryan. Unfortunately, Kit wasn’t near enough to hear what was being said. When Jellicoe finished, Kit immediately went over to him.
‘Chief Inspector, I recognise I’m probably the last person you want advice from now, but may I have a word with you?’ Kit indicated with his eyes that they go outside the room.
Jellicoe nodded and they both went outside. Kit put his hands up and said, ‘First of all an apology. I should have involved you the second I heard what Mary was doing.’ The look on Jellicoe’s face confirmed this but the Chief Inspector remained silent, so Kit continued, ‘I think that those two men are planning something. I would tell Sergeant Ryan to be on his guard.’
Jellicoe nodded but there was an even more sombre aspect to his face when he said, ‘I think, sir, it will be academic. After this fiasco I will be taken off
the case and Bulstrode will be given free rein.’
This news made Kit feel even more downhearted. He knew he had let the Chief Inspector down and now, to make matter even worse, this would unleash two unscrupulous detectives on the case.
‘Chief Inspector, I feel responsible for what has happened. Please let me speak to Commissioner Macready. I’m sure he’ll listen to me.’
Jellicoe gave a slight shake of the head. This mission was his to bear and his alone. Kit knew there was no value in arguing with Jellicoe on this point and respected him even more for his integrity. At this moment, Rosling began to complain again forcing Jellicoe to leave Kit and mollify the young American. Bulstrode stayed out of the line of fire and went in search of the remaining staff to question them.
It was clear Rosling was complaining about the presence of Mary. He appeared to be blaming the police for not keeping the family informed of the work Mary was doing undercover. Mary, hearing this, moved to go over to Rosling but felt her arm being held by Kit. He shook his head and Mary stopped, her brow furrowing, in place of a question.
‘Let the Chief Inspector handle this his way. We’ve enough explaining to do anyway.’ Mary nodded and looked as crestfallen as Kit. She understood that the failure to capture Caroline would play badly for Jellicoe. As yet she was unaware of the consequences for him. Kit decided to refrain from saying anything. It was clear she felt bad enough anyway.
‘I’m sorry, Kit. I’ve really made a hash of things, haven’t I?’
‘Stop, Mary. It’s not over yet. Remember, you’ve identified the robber. She won’t escape far. The police now know who to look for. This wouldn’t have been possible without you.’
Mary smiled up at Kit, but her heart wasn’t in it. She felt desperately sad on so many levels. Seeing the eyes of Rosling and Jellicoe on her, she took Kit’s hand and walked forward to face the wrath of the American. As much as she detested the man, she couldn’t really blame him for what he was about to say.
As Kit and Mary walked forward, the door of the drawing room opened and in walked Mr and Mrs Rosling. Everyone in the room turned to them. The elder American’s face was puce with anger.