by Marvin Kaye
“I see.” Miss Podsnap looked the girl over. Miss Venn was shorter than she, and considerably plumper, with a distinctive arch to her nose in an otherwise round face. She was fashionably dressed in the most current style, with a narrow skirt under a severely-cut overdress, and only a flat bow at the base of the spine instead of the elaborate bustles that were now deemed dowdy. The dress itself may have been new, Miss Podsnap observed to herself, but the fabric showed signs of having been used before in a previous incarnation as a much fuller skirt.
“Will Madamoiselle Podsnap be taking her meals in the restaurant?” M. Renard inquired, leading the party to the front desk where they could be properly registered, and given their keys.
“Is it the custom for a lady to dine in public in France?” Miss Podsnap asked Miss Venn. “I know my Papa would have been most distressed if he thought I was acting improperly, but this is France, after all, and not London.”
“It is quite respectable for a lady to dine in a restaurant in Deauville,” Miss Venn replied. “Of course, in Paris, things are somewhat different. I can explain matters to you in more detail while your maid unpacks your bags.”
“I only brought the one portmanteau with me,” Miss Podsnap said diffidently. “Mr. Lightwood thought I should purchase clothes in Paris. I have not been out of mourning for so very long, first for my Grandmama, then poor Mama, and then Papa. Perhaps I should find something more, um . . .”
“Festive?” Miss Venn suggested. The maid coughed meaningfully. “Oh, yes, Jane. There is really no reason to be distressed.”
Miss Venn eyed the small leather case the maid clutched fiercely to her gaunt person. “Is that a jewel-case?”
“Mama always said that chits and jewels don’t go together, so I never wore anything but the little locket that Papa gave me, and Grandmama Hawkins’ small enamel brooch. However, I brought Mama’s diamonds, and the pearl set. I can wear those with half-mourning, at least, until I get something more decorative.”
“They should be placed in the hotel vault for safe-keeping,” M. Renard stated.
“But then I would not have them to make my selection,” Miss Podsnap demurred. “No. I shall keep them in my room, where I shall hide them.”
Miss Venn glanced around the crowded lobby of the hotel. Miss Podsnap did not use the ringing tones of most English tourists abroad, who went on the assumption that anyone could understand English if one spoke it loudly enough, but her voice did carry, and there was a noisy family of Americans crowding in behind her. Perhaps this was what Mr. Lightwood meant when he wired her to “keep an eye on Miss Podsnap.”
M. Renard beckoned the uniformed porter, who led Miss Podsnap’s party up the grand staircase to a second floor room that overlooked the Channel. He stood expectantly, hand outstretched, until Miss Venn coughed meaningfully. Then Miss Podsnap produced a coin from her reticule, and the porter grimaced and vanished.
Miss Venn peeked out the window. “I see they gave you one of the rooms they use for English and American guests, the ones that look out on the sea. The French won’t have a breath of air in their rooms, so stuffy, but the English insist on fresh air. You’ve got a lovely view, even though you’re right over the veranda.”
Miss Podsnap turned to the younger woman. “You mentioned that Mr. Lightwood communicated with you about my coming to France. How do you know Mr. Lightwood?”
“He is my Trustee, under the terms of my godfather Twemlow’s Will,” Miss Venn replied, with another Gallic shrug.
“Mr. Twemlow?” Miss Podsnap echoed. “How odd.”
Miss Venn went on, “I never even knew I had a godfather until Mama wrote to him, after the Prussians left France. Papa had gone to Paris, and most of Mama’s jewels had gone with him, and we were left in a very bad way. If it hadn’t been for Mr. Twemlow’s little legacy, and his paying for my schooling, I do believe we would have starved. I only wish I could have met him, but as I understood it, he was quite elderly, and in poor health.”
Miss Podsnap recalled the little man in outmoded evening clothes who lived on a tiny annuity and dined at Society tables on the strength of his aristocratic connections, and said nothing. Mr. Twemlow had been instrumental in removing her from the influence of a pair of rogues, one of whom was the only friend she had ever had.
“Now then,” Miss Venn said briskly, “what exactly do you wish to do, Miss Podsnap? Mr. Lightwood explained in his letter to me that you were just out of mourning, and wanted to see a bit of the world. Deauville is rather thin of company in May, what with the London and Paris Seasons in full swing, as the Americans have it, but there are the theatres, and the shops, and possibly the Casino, if you choose to take a flutter.”
Miss Podsnap considered the itinerary. “I will dine in the restaurant this evening, Miss Venn. Tomorrow I will walk on the shore, and I do want to look in the shops. Are you staying here at this hotel, Miss Venn?”
“My Mama and I are in a pension in another part of the town,” Miss Venn explained. “There is another English lady who stays there, and assists me with my mother, who is sometimes. . . difficult. If it would be more convenient, I suppose you could arrange for me to share the room with your maid, in the servants’ quarters.”
“You aren’t a servant,” Miss Podsnap decided. “You are my companion. I shall pay your expenses, of course, and we shall see how we get on.”
Miss Venn nodded. “Of course, Miss Podsnap. And since Mr. Lightwood recommended that I should advise you, I must tell you that you should not leave your jewel-case lying about. There are thieves, even in the best hotels.”
“I don’t think any thieves would look at my jewels,” Miss Podsnap said. “The diamonds are very small, but the pearls are quite nice, I’ve been told. Jane?”
The maid stepped forward, still clutching the leather-covered box. Miss Podsnap produced a small key from her reticule, and opened it to reveal the contents: a double strand of pearls, earrings and a brooch to match.
“I shall wear them tonight,” Miss Podsnap announced. “Miss Venn, will you please make whatever arrangements you think suitable, for two ladies to dine this evening. Jane, I shall wear the mauve evening dress.”
Miss Venn recognized a dismissal when she heard one, and left mistress and maid to deal with the problems of dressing for dinner. She herself would have to cross the town, and explain to Mama that she would not be able to dine with them. She only hoped that Sophronia would be able to cope with Mama alone.
Miss Venn joined Miss Podsnap at the restaurant, wearing the aforementioned mauve gown, decorated with the same silver lace that rested on her sandy hair. The pearls gleamed on her neck and ears, and the brooch held the lace in place to cover the décolletage of the gown. Miss Venn herself wore an evening dress of deep gold that contrasted well with her auburn hair. The two ladies were seated in an alcove, well away from the more fashionable center of the dining room, where Miss Podsnap hoped to be inconspicuous.
This was not to be. The stout woman at the table next to them was the very American who had crowded upon them at the hotel desk, and she peered at Miss Podsnap’s pearls with the eye of an expert.
“I must say, I’ve never seen the like of them pearls!” she crowed. “And I’ve seen a pearl or two in my time, what with my Pa being in the oyster business.
“I’m Mrs. Magill,” she added, by way of introduction. “And I heard your name at the desk, when we was checking into this place, Podsnap, ain’t it?”
“Mother!” The young lady at the table turned pink with mortification. “You can’t just talk with anybody!”
“Well, that’s why we’re here, ain’t it? To meet people? And as for your Grandpa’s profession, well, if it wasn’t for his boats, Magill would never have looked twice at me, and you and your brother wouldn’t be here. This is my daughter Judith, and that’s my son, George.”
Nods were exchanged. Miss Podsnap turned her attention back to her dinner. Mrs. Magill was still chattering.
“I tell you, ma’am, you should put them pearls in a real safe place. I’ve heard about them thieves in French hotels.”
“Oh, I don’t think I have to worry. My maid has a very good place to hide the box, right where I can find it.”
The Magill clan went on eating, and Miss Podsnap and Miss Venn left the restaurant for a stroll on the terrace. From beyond the veranda came the sounds of the Casino: the whirr of a roulette wheel, the cries of the gamblers. Through the long French windows Miss Podsnap noticed young Mr. George Magill among the seekers of fortune. From the look on his face, he wasn’t finding any.
“Would you care to try your luck, Miss Podsnap?” Miss Venn asked.
“Oh no, I don’t think so. Mama used to play whist for shilling points, and Papa did not like it at all. He preferred to venture on the Exchange, and did rather well by it.” Miss Podsnap frowned into the darkness. “Who is that woman?”
Miss Venn looked into the shadows at the side of the Casino. “Oh dear, I am very sorry, Miss Podsnap, but I must leave you now. That is my mother. She comes here sometimes, to look at the English visitors. She must have slipped away from our friend, who looks after here. She can sometimes be. . . difficult. I will take her back to our pension and I can join you here tomorrow.”
“Sophia! Baby!” The woman in the shadows called out. “Those are my pearls! That woman is wearing my pearls!”
“No, Mama, they are her pearls,” Miss Venn said, steering her mother away from the lights, and leaving Miss Podsnap to find her own way back to her room, where Jane was waiting for her.
“Have you spoken with any of the other servants?” Miss Podsnap asked, as her maid undid the hooks of her dress.
“Yes, Miss Georgiana, but most of ’em are Frenchies, so I didn’t get much out of ’em. The Americans, Mrs. Magill and her daughter, they’ve got a darky woman with them, who speaks some kind of French. Young Mr. George, he don’t have a man, and he does for himself mostly.”
Miss Podsnap stared into the dressing-table mirror as Jane undid the pins that held her hair in place, and began to brush. “Jane, do you recall when you came to me?”
“Right after you was out, Miss Georgiana. Your Mama said you needed a steady ladies’ maid.”
“Do you recall some people named Veneering?”
Jane stopped brushing briefly. “Oh. Them. Only thing I can recall is that they ran off and didn’t pay their servants. A right scandal that was!”
“My Mama and Papa dined with them,” Miss Podsnap said. “They sometimes included me, when they needed to make up the numbers. They gave very grand parties.” Miss Podsnap remembered her own introduction to Society, a dinner party at which she was largely forgotten until one woman had spoken to her and made her a part of the Veneering’s social circle.
“You may go, Jane,” Miss Podsnap said. “I shall not need you until tomorrow morning. Miss Venn will take me out tomorrow, and perhaps I will go to the theatre. Good night.”
Miss Venn appeared early the next morning, apologizing profusely for her mother’s untimely appearance. The two ladies spent a cheerful morning walking on the beach, followed by a brief luncheon at one of the many small cafes that lined the streets of the part of Deauville that catered to the tourists. Mrs. Magill and her daughter were very much in evidence, bustling from shop to shop, loudly praising or condemning the merchandise. The four ladies fell into step as they returned to the Grand National Hotel.
“Did you find anything nice, Miss Podsnap?” Mrs. Magill inquired.
“I don’t think I am quite ready to order a French gown,” Miss Podsnap said. “Miss Venn, I noticed that tea is served in the lounge. I shall change my dress, and then we shall have tea.”
“As you say, Miss Podsnap.”
Miss Podsnap ascended the grand staircase, only to return within minutes. “I wish to speak to the manager at once,” she announced. “My pearls are missing.”
“Missing? Are you sure?” Miss Venn asked.
“I mean exactly what I said. I went to the wardrobe, where Jane had placed the box with the pearl set, and the box was gone.”
M. Renard emerged from his office, all excited bluster and French effusion. Such a thing had never happened in his establishment! It must have been the maids, although he would have sworn to all the saints in Heaven that they were good country girls, who would never steal from guests at the Grand National Hotel.
“Are you going to call the police?” Miss Podsnap asked.
M. Renard recoiled in horror. “The police? In my hotel? What an idea!” If Miss Podsnap would rest tranquilly and have a cup of good English tea, all would be settled. He would question the maids immediately.
Miss Podsnap would not be bought off with tea. “I will speak with the persons who make up the rooms myself,” she stated. “May we use your office, sir? It would be less public.”
With Miss Venn trailing behind her, Miss Podsnap was led to the manager’s office. Shortly thereafter, two stout young women in the striped skirts and white linen blouses favoured by the servants of the Grand National Hotel appeared, one truculent, one nervous. In heavily-accented Norman French they denied seeing any leather-bound box anywhere in the room assigned to Miss Podsnap.
“I arrange the pillows, I arrange the sheets, I arrange the coverlet,” declared the truculent girl, Marie-Claire.
Annette, the nervous girl, added, “I dust the armoire, I dust the dressing-table, I remove the water from the pitcher and replace it with fresh.”
“Did you open the armoire?” Miss Podsnap asked.
“For why should I do so? I am not to look inside the armoire, but to dust and polish the outside, and so I do.”
“Of course,” Miss Podsnap said with a nod. “And when you had finished your tasks, what did you do then?”
“We went on to clean the rooms of the Americans, Madame Magill and her son and daughter,” replied Marie-Claire, who was the more forthcoming of the two.
“Did you see anyone in the corridor who should not have been there? No strangers?” M. Renard put in, anxious to play a part in the investigation.
“No one who should not have been there, no,” Marie-Claire said. “The servant of Madame Magill, she told us that she would arrange the rooms of Madame to her particular liking, and that we need not bother ourselves about them. She is a woman of colour, you understand, and very fierce, so we did not dare to go against her wishes.”
Miss Podsnap thought for a moment, then asked, “Do you recall whether you left the window open or closed when you left my room?”
The two maids looked blankly at her. Then Annette said, “I believe I closed the window, Madamoiselle. The sea air, it is not good for the health in large amounts, and must be taken carefully.”
“That is most interesting,” said Miss Podsnap, “because I left the window closed this morning when I went out, but you now tell me that the window was open when you arrived. You then closed it, but the window was open when I came into the room this afternoon. A window does not open and close itself. Someone must have come in and out of that room, either before or after the maids finished their work.”
“I am not a thief!” Marie-Claire protested.
“I did not say you were,” Miss Podsnap told her. “You had plenty of time to remove my pearls from their box and take them away before anyone noticed that they were missing. You would not have had to take the box itself. I am very sorry to have troubled you. Miss Venn, can you give these young persons a small gratuity, for their time in assisting us with this matter?” Miss Venn distributed coins, and the maids left.
Miss Podsnap thought aloud: “Whoever took the pearls must have been in a hurry, otherwise why take the box, and not simply remove the pearls
from it? M. Renard, are these rooms made up every day?”
“Indeed, Mademoiselle!” the manager cried out. “In other establishments, perhaps, the beds are not made up, but at the Grand National Hotel, the sheets are changed every other day, there is clean water available at all times, the pots-de-chambre are emptied daily. It is all very clean, very English.” He leaned forward, conspiratorially. “I may inform you, Mademoiselle, that we will shortly be installing a lavatory on each floor, for use by all guests.”
“How very, um, sanitary of you,” Miss Podsnap said. “And I assume that all this is done on a strict schedule?”
M. Renard frowned. “That is the business of our housekeeper, of course, but we expect each of the rooms to be cleaned every day.”
“Then whoever took the box must have been surprised by the servants who came in. This person must have opened the window and crept out onto the roof of the veranda, stayed there until the maids were finished, and then opened the window, got back into my room, and left through the corridor, just as any guest would do.”
“One of our guests, a thief!” M. Renard was aghast. “Never!”
“Alas, quite probably,” Miss Podsnap said. “Of course, no one knew exactly where the box was hidden, except you, Miss Venn. Or should I say, Miss Veneering?”
Miss Venn reddened in dismay. “What do you mean?”
“It’s your nose, Miss Veneering. You have your father’s colouring and form, but your mother had a most distinctive nose. I saw it many times, at those interminably dull dinner parties, and I wondered that she did not put a jewel in it, since she had hung them everywhere else upon her person. You could not have stolen the pearls yourself, since you were with me all morning, but you could have had an accomplice.”