Death on the Sapphire

by R. J. Koreto

He looked at her with some amusement, taking in her plain dress and working-class accent—no doubt someone’s maid to report a lost toasting fork or something like that.

  “Perhaps you could just tell me, darling, and I’ll see what I can do.” He gave her a grin.

  Something popped. Lady Frances wouldn’t stand for treatment like that. Neither would Miss Garritty or the Tigress.

  “What you will do, Constable, is stop being impertinent and point me in the direction of Inspector Eastley.”

  She hadn’t realized how loud she was. Several other bobbies turned, and the smile quickly vanished from her constable’s face.

  An older man, with sergeant’s stripes on his sleeve, stood up from a desk toward the back and joined them.

  “Now what seems to be the trouble?” he asked. The sergeant was not from London but had a soft, gentle accent from the West Country. Mallow wanted to cry, but she knew all hope of being taken seriously would be gone if she did.

  “I am here at the request of my mistress, Lady Frances Ffolkes. Her brother is the Marquess of Seaforth. It is extremely important I speak with Inspector Eastley. And only Inspector Eastley.”

  “But miss—”

  “Sergeant, am I going to have to speak with your superior?”

  As her ladyship liked to say, in for a penny, in for a pound.

  The sergeant hesitated a moment. “What is your name?”

  “Miss June Mallow.”

  Everyone stared as the sergeant picked up the telephone and spoke for about a minute. Mallow held her breath, wondering if she was going to be sent to the inspector—or be arrested.

  He hung up and turned to the constable. “Please escort her to Inspector Eastley’s office.”

  My goodness, thought Mallow. My goodness. She looked at the sergeant as she followed the constable. What was on his face? Surprise? Anger? With a rush, she fancied it was respect.

  But then nervousness returned. She still had to meet with the inspector, and as she gathered from her ladyship, he was an important man.

  The constable smiled again as they walked.

  “So, June, you work for some real toffs. That must be exciting. Why do you want to speak to an inspector anyway?”

  “We don’t call them ‘toffs.’ We call them ‘my lord’ and ‘my lady.’ What it’s about is none of your business. And when you address me, you will call me ‘Miss Mallow.’”

  For the second time, Mallow had wiped the smile off the constable’s face. He shook his head. When walking a beat, stealing kisses from pretty housemaids had been a perk of the job. But he wasn’t going try on this one, even if she did have a sweet face.

  Down another hallway, they found themselves in an open room where several constables were working, some in uniform and some not. Mallow’s escort led her to a private office and introduced her to Inspector Eastley. He left quickly, shutting the door behind him. These Special Branch boys were a serious lot—a private lot—and there was nothing to be gained by mixing with them.

  The inspector invited Mallow to sit, and she did, on the edge of her chair.

  “So your mistress is so busy she now sends her maid to harangue me?” He seemed to think that funny. Mallow didn’t know what “harangue” meant, but it didn’t matter.

  “Not at all, Inspector.” Mallow had rehearsed what she needed to say in the hansom. “Lady Frances has found the manuscript in the home of a man named Colonel Mountjoy. He surprised us, and her ladyship is holding him at gunpoint. She sent me to fetch a bobby. And I decided to call on you, sir. I don’t know how long she can hold him off, so you will have to come quickly.”

  Well, thought Mallow, everyone keeps smiling at me and I keep upsetting them. Just like Lady Frances.

  “This isn’t some sort of joke, Miss Mallow? Your mistress has an uncertain humor.”

  “Do you think, sir, I’d come all the way here to tell a joke?”

  “The desk sergeant said you created quite a scene downstairs.”

  She continued to hold her voice steady. “My apologies, sir. But her ladyship’s situation is serious.”

  They were silent for a few moments, as if Eastley was considering Mallow’s account and the implications. Then he jumped up quickly, startling Mallow. He jerked open his door. “Smith, call for a coach then grab a couple of the lads, steady ones. We’re on the road in five minutes. Miss Mallow, come with us. Let’s see if we can stop this before your lady gets hurt. Or rather, before she actually hurts someone else.” He found that funny too.

  Before she knew it, Mallow was bundled into a carriage with the constables. I did it, she thought, I really did it. My goodness. Miss Garritty and Miss Pritchard may have more experience than she had serving their ladies, but one thing was certain—they never had to fetch a Scotland Yard inspector.

  Colonel Mountjoy seemed very pleased with the way things were playing out. His eyes followed Mallow until she was out of site, and then he smiled. “Now all we have to do is wait,” he said grandly.

  “Why don’t you sit?” said Frances. “I hate looking up.”

  “Excellent idea.” He made himself comfortable and stretched out his legs. “I really want you to know I killed no one. I know there have been deaths surrounding this—Major Colcombe and an Australian private in Rotherhithe. And other . . . incidents. But not my doing. I don’t even know who did these things.”

  “I do,” said Frances.

  “Indeed?” He smiled.

  “Don’t mock me. I do know.”

  “Will you share your information?”

  “Why don’t I wait? I can explain it to the police at the same time.”

  The colonel bowed. Now he really was mocking her.

  “I don’t suppose that if I gave you my word I wouldn’t assault you, you would put that revolver down?”

  “No,” she said. She gripped it tighter. It was so heavy. She had never held a gun for more than a few minutes. Frances felt her fingers cramp, but fortunately, the Colonel didn’t seem to notice or care that she was in distress. Please hurry, Mallow. Please do the right thing. She glanced at the clock.

  They lapsed into silence. Then Frances’s ears picked up a hoofbeat. There was very little traffic in the cul de sac. Was it the police? Or just her imagination? No, that was definitely a pair of horses and a carriage of some kind. The colonel heard it now—he cocked his head, and they both heard it stop outside of the house.

  “It appears as if it’s not just a constable, but a wagon full of officers. Well, why shouldn’t the daughter of a marquess, armed with a revolver, merit the full treatment?” He was practically jovial. “With your permission, dear lady, I will stand up and view their arrival.”

  “Of course,” said Frances. Sweat was beginning to run down her brow again, and her fingers were in such pain, she doubted she could even pull the trigger now.

  Frances couldn’t see the window, but she could see the colonel watching with a triumphant smile—but it was wiped off in a second. His face grew very red, and then he turned on her. She didn’t think that she had ever seen anyone as angry as he was now. Despite the gun, she almost thought he’d attack her anyway. But it didn’t matter—Frances almost wept with relief. Mallow had come through.

  “You—you—imbecile. You fool. You stupid little girl, interfering in men’s business for your silly sentimental ends. Do you know what you’ve done? The mess you made—a silly, stupid child with not enough to keep her busy. By God, you’ll regret this.”

  And there his rant ended, because Inspector Eastley, Constable Smith, and Mallow were at the door. Frances heard the rapping. The colonel ignored it, as if he had other options. The rapping became a pounding. “Colonel Mountjoy, this is Inspector Eastley of the Metropolitan Police. Open the door or I’ll have my constables break it down.”

  With a final look of hatred at Frances, Mountjoy produced the key and opened the door. There was quite a crowd outside: the inspector, Smith, and two uniformed constables. One of the uniformed men Frances instantly re
cognized as the helpful constable when she was attacked in the mews—the one who wouldn’t give his name. She smiled. So she was right about that, too.

  And Mallow was strutting like a peacock. Well, she should. She met her mistress’s eyes, and Frances nodded. You did beautifully, dear girl.

  Also looking pleased with himself was Inspector Eastley. “Oh my, what a scene. Lady Frances, your maid here told us what was happening, but we thought it a gross exaggeration. I see she was completely right. I compliment you on a most excellent servant, a woman of great spirit. They’ll be talking in admiration about her for months back at the Yard.” He chuckled.

  “I am glad to hear it, Inspector, but would you mind taking charge? This pistol is getting very heavy.”

  He laughed again. “Of course. You may turn it over to Constable Smith.” Frances expertly uncocked the gun and handed it to the constable. It felt so good to be relieved of the weight, and she massaged her fingers. Smith then picked up the revolver and stuck it in his belt, like a pirate.

  “Nicely done, my lady,” said Eastley. “You continually surprise me.”

  Mountjoy, who was sulking throughout these proceedings, found his voice. “Inspector, you and your men saw this woman holding a gun on me. She was also stealing my property—”

  “All in good time,” said Eastley. He turned to the two uniformed constables. “You two can leave now. Tell the driver to wait at the corner and remain with him until we’re done here.” They saluted and left. “We’re a little less crowded now. So Colonel Mountjoy, you were saying about Lady Frances?”

  “I want her arrested right now.”

  “You will not!” shouted Mallow. The girl really was full of spirit today. “Her brother is the seventh Marquess of Seaforth.” For Mallow, that said it all. Frances smiled.

  “Thank you, Mallow, but that’s not necessary. I won’t be arrested today. The colonel would have to press charges. I do have that correct, don’t I, Inspector? And he isn’t going to.” The inspector looked curious.

  “Why won’t I?” asked the colonel.

  “Oh, it would be embarrassing for me to be arrested. My brother would be furious at me. Still, it would be just another day in the life of mad Lady Frances. But you, Colonel. The papers would be full of news about a distinguished officer like yourself being held off by the diminutive daughter of a marquess. I can’t imagine what that would be like. But maybe you have a bigger appetite for humiliation than I expect.”

  The inspector laughed again. “She has you there, Colonel. I take it, then, there will be no charges? I’ll assume that’s a no.”

  “She still has my property,” said the Colonel.

  “This manuscript?” Frances pulled it out of the box. “It has Daniel Colcombe’s name on it. Inspector, you may use the telephone in the hall to call the Colcombes, and they will confirm I am an agent on their behalf.”

  “Yes, I could, but I don’t think that will be necessary. I’ll take you at your word. Now, you, Colonel, do you want to make a complaint? I didn’t think so.” He clapped his hands together and rubbed them in satisfaction. “I think we’re done here.”

  “May I have my revolver back, at least?” said the Colonel.

  “Tempers are still a little high, so we’ll hold it for now. Wait a few days and call for it at my office. Lady Frances, the constable and I will be pleased to escort you and Miss Mallow home. Colonel, I wish you good day.”

  The colonel was still furious but had mastered himself and had even put a smile on his face, although Frances could tell it was fake. As the two women headed to the door, he said, “You won today, Lady Frances. But you still have no idea what you’ve done, the people you thwarted. You made a lot of enemies.”

  “I already have plenty. A few more won’t hurt.”

  “You were lucky, my lady. Next time you won’t be. Next time I won’t underestimate a Seaforth.”

  Frances spun around in the doorway to face the colonel. Mallow recognized the bright red spots on her ladyship’s cheeks. “Underestimate a Seaforth? Don’t flatter yourself, Colonel. Your mistake was underestimating a woman.” Her eyes flashed to Mallow. “Let me change that. You underestimated two women. You’ll think twice before making assumptions about ladies. Or maids. Good day, sir.” And with that, they left.

  It felt wonderful to be outside. The sky was overcast now, and it looked like rain any minute, but Frances didn’t care. Just being out of that flat and holding the manuscript was enough.

  “Smith, why don’t you and Miss Mallow walk to the corner and return with the police carriage. I want a few moments with Lady Frances.”

  The two made a comical pair as they headed off: Smith was about ten inches taller than Mallow and twice her weight. But Mallow looked on him with something close to favor. A police constable had actually become acceptable in her eyes.

  “I got your message and informed the local police,” said Eastley, “but the man has fled, and that would seem to indicate guilt. He was a lifelong soldier who had no doubt been in a lot of tight spots during his career, and he’ll be very good at hiding and evading capture. But he’s getting on in years and has a bad leg—we’ll find him. Your reasoning was tight and clever, I must say.”

  “Thank you, Inspector. I take that as a high compliment. If you open the ranks to women constables, I shall apply and request you as my commanding officer. I am not mocking you; I am serious.”

  “I know. That’s what frightens me. But ask your maid what she did at Scotland Yard. I’d be inclined to make her, not you, the first female constable.” If he thought that would upset Frances, he was wrong.

  “She’s bright and brave and would always follow orders, which is more than you could say for me.”

  He laughed. “But to the matter at hand, you and Miss Mallow took a huge risk trusting me, but in the end, you decided I was on your side. So why didn’t you come to me about Mountjoy earlier?”

  “And if I told you I knew Mountjoy had the manuscript? There would be requests for warrants and all kinds of delays—meanwhile, he’d be alerted, and we’d never get it.”

  “Fair enough,” he said, nodding. “But tell me why you trusted me at all.”

  “I knew you’d ask that. You were generally unhelpful and rude, but you never warned me off. You never fussed about my safety. You didn’t really mind what I was doing. You wanted me to investigate this so I knew we were on the same side. You weren’t encouraging about my theories, knowing I’d work all the harder to prove myself right. I was your silent partner.”

  He bestowed the smile of a teacher to a particularly good student. “Yes, you’re right. I took a tremendous risk as well, allowing you so much free rein. I shouldn’t have done it, but I needed someone who could go where I could not, ask questions I wasn’t allowed to. Still, you surprised me tremendously—you were a lot bolder than I expected.”

  “Oh, but you were protecting me all along. I figured that out eventually. It was Constable Smith and others. I recognized the young constable you brought along today. He escorted me home after the attack in the mews.” Frances explained how she figured out the whole thing—that a constable was watching over her and didn’t want Frances to trace him back to Inspector Eastley, so he refused to give his name. Inspector Eastley and Special Branch had been protecting her.

  “It was Tredwell who stalked me in the mews, looking for the manuscript. I had spoken with Audendale that morning. He no doubt spoke with Tredwell about it—the men were close. Tredwell instantly jumped on a train to track me down, feeling I had the manuscript. Your constable protected me in the mews—but Tredwell got away. And the man who insulted me in the Australian bar? Smith or one of your other minions struck him down too for using threatening language with me at the tavern. And I know it was Smith, his face hidden by a scarf, who intercepted me when I was in a carriage with Mr. Bramwell and who made sure that man will think twice about assaulting a young lady in his company.”

  “Nicely said,” replied Eastley. “Al
l Smith knew was that you were trying to escape the carriage and a rescue was in order. Your run into the night was unfortunate, if understandable. Just know this, my lady: it was an enormous gamble. We couldn’t protect you completely, and I don’t mind saying it again—you surprised me repeatedly. We protected you as best we could, but we couldn’t direct you. You were the one who found out Tredwell was the murderer and Mountjoy was thief—I hadn’t suspected either one. Mountjoy was always a slippery sort, but I wouldn’t have thought this of him. Good show! In the end, you were smart, Lady Frances, and we were lucky. I shan’t tempt the fates by doing that again.”

  Frances gave the inspector a delicious pout. “I’m disappointed. I would so like to work with you again, Inspector, but I fear we never will.”

  “My feelings are exactly opposite. I hope never to work with you again, but I’m afraid we will.”

  Frances was feeling good about finding the manuscript and the inspector’s compliments, so she merely said, “If I thought you were serious, I would be deeply insulted. But I know you’re not.” And Eastley just shook his head.

  The police carriage was approaching, which was good because it had gotten very dark and a few drops were already falling. The inspector helped her into the police coach as the sky opened to release a good English downpour. Frances took a rear-facing seat next to Mallow. The poor girl—Frances had put her through a lot. Some time off and a present were in order. The coach traveled to the end of the street where there was room enough to turn and slowly headed back to the main road.

  Frances could see the houses as they rolled along. A man exited the little park. Probably he had been enjoying the warm weather, but now he was in for a soaking. He walked slowly and carefully. Why didn’t he just run? He’d be drenched. Frances hoped his house was close by. Then she saw him ascend the steps to Mountjoy’s building.

  Oh God.

  “Stop the coach—at once.”

  “Lady Frances, are you quite all right?” asked Eastley. Mallow was alarmed too.

  “It’s him—he’s here. Stop now.” Inspector Eastley didn’t waste a moment. He stuck his head out of the window and ordered the driver to stop.