“This is Kitty’s dress,” Alicia explained. “And this is Kitty.” She drew the shrinking slavey forward. “She’s my friend.” That was all the information Alicia needed; Mrs. Barclay looked at Mr. Dodgson for further elucidation.
“This is the young person who served as menial in that, um, establishment, and assisted us in locating and apprehending the abductors,” Mr. Dodgson told her. “Miss Marbury has taken a fancy to her, and wishes that she be suitably rewarded.”
“I see,” Mrs. Barclay said, eyeing the not-very-attractive Kitty with distaste.
“Hello, Touie!” Dr. Doyle greeted his wife. “Have you been here long?”
“You told me you were bringing the child here, so I decided to come and see her when she arrived. Is this the little girl?” Touie knelt down to greet Alicia.
“I’m not a little girl,” Alicia maintained stoutly.
“Indeed not,” Dr. Doyle agreed. “You are a heroine!”
“I’m hungry,” Alicia added. “All I’ve had is bread and cheese, and porridge, but I didn’t eat that. I threw it at that fat woman, and she made me wash pots.”
“Then you must have something to eat, at once,” Touie told her. “Mrs. Barclay, could something be done for these children? Perhaps your cook could prepare a small tea?”
“And Kitty must have some, too,” Alicia insisted. “Because she helped me, and they hit her with a riding whip.”
Mrs. Barclay’s face turned rigid. “My dear child,” she said, “you must not discuss that place, ever. It must have been a dreadful experience, but it is all behind you now, thanks to Inspector Wright and Inspector MacRae.”
“And Mr. Dodgson,” Dr. Doyle added.
The Rector had by this time removed his ceremonial gown and donned his black jacket. “Gentlemen,” he announced, “I believe tea is being served.”
“And Peters, take this child to the kitchen, and feed her,” Mrs. Barclay ordered. “Miss Alicia will have her tea here.”
“Oh, but Kitty must stay with me,” Alicia said, clinging to Kitty’s hand. “Because she is my friend.”
“I’ll go to the kitchen, miss,” Kitty said timidly, looking at the overpowering grandeur of the Rectory parlor, filled with large dark furniture and the scowling portraits of previous rectors of St. Peter’s.
“No, you must sit here with me,” Alicia said firmly. “Then we will tell the policemen all about that horrid place, and they will arrest all of them and take them to jail!” Alicia nodded fiercely.
Mrs. Barclay had ordered a selection of sandwiches and cakes to sustain her husband and whichever of the worshippers cared to partake after Evensong. Now she proceeded to take her place at the tea table. She nodded to Touie, who handed cups to Mr. Dodgson and Dr. Doyle, then hesitated when it came to the two inspectors. Did one offer tea to the police? Touie did not know, and Mrs. Barclay did not indicate whether she should include them in the company or not.
Finally, she asked Inspector Wright, “Will you have a cup of tea, Inspector?”
Inspector MacRae adjusted his spectacles, Wright stroked his mustache in embarrassment. “We’re still on duty,” Inspector MacRae reminded his audience. “We’re not finished yet.”
“But you have the wretched Harmon woman in custody,” Mr. Dodgson said, accepting a teacup from Touie.
“That we do,” Wright said. “But the only charge against her now is that of running a, hem, disorderly house. Which, as the law now stands, is not a crime but a misdemeanor. We cannot hold Miss Harmon if no further charges are brought against her.”
“And the housekeeper, or whatever she is?” Dr. Doyle asked.
“According to her story, she was acting under orders of Miss Harmon. She’ll be let go,” Inspector Wright told them apologetically.
“Do you mean, you can’t put her in jail for what she did?” Alicia asked, through a mouthful of egg-and-watercress sandwich.
“Not according to the law,” Inspector Wright explained to her.
Alicia’s face took on a decidedly mulish look. “But she kept me in the attic, and beat Kitty, and took away my dress and …”
“Yes, she did, I am sure,” Inspector MacRae said. “And there were other things.” His voice faded under Mrs. Barclay’s basilisk stare. “Not very nice things,” he went on.
“There was a great, fat man, and he was on top of …”
“You must be quite tired after all that running about,” Touie said, before any more indiscretions popped out of Alicia’s mouth. “And that dress.” She turned to Mr. Dodgson. “Whatever became of Miss Marbury’s clothes?”
“Oh dear me,” Mr. Dodgson said in confusion. “As I recall, I told the porter at the station to send them on to my lodgings in Eastbourne.”
“Well, she can’t go about dressed like that,” Touie decided. “Mrs. Barclay, last night you were discussing your work for charity. Do you collect clothes for the indigent, as we do in Portsmouth?”
Mrs. Barclay considered. “I believe there is some such collection.”
“In that case,” Touie went on, “could you find some sort of dress for Miss Marbury, and one for her, um, attendant?”
Mrs. Barclay looked dubious. “Such clothes would hardly be suitable.”
“Suitability is neither here nor there under the circumstances,” Touie reminded her. “Miss Alicia cannot continue to wear that dreadful smock. Whatever you can give her may serve until Miss Marbury’s parents arrive, or until we can fetch her trunks back from Eastbourne.”
Mrs. Barclay nodded. “You are quite right, Mrs. Doyle. We do have some garments laid aside, some of which may be suitable for Miss Marbury.”
“And Kitty, too,” Alicia insisted.
“And her companion,” Mrs. Barclay went on. “And perhaps we could prevail upon my dresser to prepare a bath.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Touie said. “Miss Alicia, are you quite finished with your tea? Because if you are, you may go upstairs, and we will find you something to wear.”
Mrs. Barclay rang the bell. A pair of housemaids entered. “Take these two girls upstairs and wash them,” Mrs. Barclay ordered. “And Jane, you may go into the church and find something in the clothes-basket for them to wear.”
Kitty, who had been speechless up to now, let out a shriek. “Wash? All over?”
“It’s not all that bad,” Alicia soothed her. “Rather fun. You’ll see. Nanny Marsh says that cleanliness is next to godliness. When you get to London, you will take a bath every week. We have water laid on.”
Kitty, properly awed, allowed herself to be removed by the maids, while Alicia followed her up the stairs, still chattering. Inspector Wright breathed audibly in relief.
“That’s a very outspoken young lady,” he observed.
“Quite like her papa,” Mr. Dodgson agreed. “Has anyone sent word to him yet that Miss Marbury has been found?”
“We’ve got the telephone at the station,” Inspector Wright said proudly. “I sent a constable to inform the station, who will inform Scotland Yard, who will send a messenger to Lord Richard Marbury.”
“Well, that job’s done,” Inspector MacRae said.
“But there is still the matter of the deaths of the maid, Mary Ann, and the actor, Keeble.” Mr. Dodgson took a sandwich from the plate and munched meditatively.
“It would be useful to have evidence,” Inspector Wright said.
“If you need more evidence of Miss Harmon’s complicity in the abduction plot, you will find the paper similar to the one used to write the ransom note in her desk. It reeks of the scent she uses.”
“Thank you, Mr. Dodgson.” Inspector Wright made a note in his book, then turned to his colleague from London.
“Not so fast,” MacRae said. “If Miss Harmon didn’t do in that nurserymaid and the old fellow, who did? And why?”
“Oh, the why is obvious. Almost elementary,” Mr. Dodgson said. “Mary Ann recognized the murderer, who was supposed to be elsewhere. Old Keeble also recognized him, tried to ext
ort money from him, and was removed from the scene for his pains.”
Dr. Doyle had ingested several sandwiches and a cup of tea. He now tried to follow Mr. Dodgson’s reasoning.
“So: our murderer is a man, tall enough to heave Keeble over the Chain Pier railings, in a brown suit, missing a button off his waistcoat, who was in Brighton on Friday night, but wasn’t supposed to be?”
“Could be anyone!” Inspector MacRae scoffed.
“Add to that,” Mr. Dodgson continued, “that he had to have had access to Lord Richard Marbury’s typewriting machine, he had to have known that Miss Marbury was to come to me, and he had to have some acquaintance with me and my, um, habits.”
“That narrows it down a bit,” Inspector MacRae agreed.
“Yes, it does. Unfortunately, the description matches two persons connected with this case. I cannot accuse an innocent man,” Mr. Dodgson said firmly. “Inspector MacRae, will you be able to prolong your visit to Brighton by one more day? There is someone who witnessed a meeting between Keeble and the man who probably killed him on the night in question.”
“A witness? And why hasn’t he come forward, then?” Inspector MacRae asked fiercely.
“Because he has the greatest dislike for, um, Peelers,” Mr. Dodgson said. “If I can persuade him to give his evidence, we may be able to trap this man before he kills again. He is quite desperate now, and may strike at any time.”
“A madman?” Touie gasped out.
“No, far worse. A desperate man. He will do anything—anything!—to keep Lord Richard Marbury from getting the Criminal Amendment Bill passed. It is his livelihood, you see, that is at stake.”
“Good Heavens!” Reverend Barclay gasped.
“And his self-esteem,” Mr. Dodgson went on, serenely eating a sandwich. “A man may do almost anything to preserve his own opinion of himself.”
Dr. Doyle stood up. “Gentlemen,” he announced, “I have spent a good deal of this weekend on this business, but it is, after all, my honeymoon. I said I would see Miss Marbury found, and I have. Now, if you will excuse me, I shall take my wife to Muttons for one last bowl of turtle soup before we go back to Portsmouth. My practice, such as it is, awaits me.”
Mr. Dodgson smiled suddenly. “But the adventure is not yet over, Dr. Doyle. Would you not like to see the story through to its final chapter?”
Dr. Doyle glanced at his wife. “Of course, but …”
Mr. Dodgson nodded. “Henry,” he turned to his friend, the Rector, “can you arrange to have tickets sent to Dr. Doyle and his wife, for seating at the protestation meeting tomorrow night?”
“Of course, but—”
“And Inspector MacRae,” Mr. Dodgson smiled at the Scotland Yard representative. “You can, of course, obtain further leave?”
“You’re not trying to pull one of those fancy scenes, the kind in detective stories?” MacRae asked suspiciously.
“Oh no,” Mr. Dodgson said. “But I am going to try to convince the witness to make a positive identification that will solve your problem, and mine, to both our satisfactions.”
“In that case, sir, I will remain in Brighton one more day,” MacRae said.
Inspector Wright straightened his jacket and nodded to the assemblage. “I thank you for your information,” he told Mr. Dodgson. “Abduction is a serious crime, and if, as you say, we find the same paper, with the same scent, as that ransom note, then we’ve got enough to send Miss Harmon off to Pentonville for a few years.”
“And then what?” Dr. Doyle asked sharply.
“And by then, with the Lord’s help—” Reverend Barclay began.
“And Lord Richard Marbury’s help—” Mr. Dodgson added.
“By then, as I say, the Criminal Amendment Bill will be passed, and there will be less opportunity for the likes of Miss Harmon to flourish,” the Rector finished.
“Amen to that,” Dr. Doyle said. He crooked his arm. “Touie, shall we stroll?”
Before they could take their leave, the butler announced: “Lord Richard Marbury and Lady Patricia Marbury.”
“I have come in answer to your telegram,” Lord Richard explained, advancing on the Rector as the most obvious representative of the Church of England in sight.
“My telegram?” the Rector looked confused.
“Inviting me to attend your meeting,” Lord Richard said.
“Oh, that telegram!” The Rector beamed at his honored guest speaker. “There was some slight difficulty, but I am so relieved that you are here. There is to be a meeting here at the Rectory tonight to complete the plans for the protestation meeting.”
“Then you did not get the message from Scotland Yard?” Inspector Wright interrupted the Rector’s effusions.
“Message? What message?” Now it was Lord Richard’s turn to be confused. “I received a telegram from Mr. Barclay yesterday, summoning me to speak at this protestation meeting. My wife and I left London shortly after noon. If there was any other message, I never got it.”
Mr. Dodgson cleared his throat. “Miss Alicia Marbury has been found,” he announced.
The announcement was unnecessary. “I heard Papa!” Alicia bounded into the parlor, clad in a serviceable but plain dress of nautical cut and decoration, her red hair still tangled but her spirits unquenched.
“Alicia! My baby!” Lady Pat enveloped her child in her arms.
“Mama! I have had such adventures!”
“But you are quite all right now?” Lady Pat turned to Dr. Doyle, who smiled benignly.
“As you can see, my lady, the child is none the worse physically for her escapade.”
“Thank God for that,” the girl’s mother said fervently. “Now, Alicia, dear, we have brought Nanny Marsh with us. She is putting our rooms at the hotel to rights, but as soon as we can, we shall take you to her. She will take good care of you.”
“Where is Mary Ann?” Alicia asked.
Lady Pat looked about her in confusion. Mr. Dodgson took Alicia by the hand.
“Your attendant, Mary Ann, met with … an accident,” he said gently.
“They killed her to get me!” Alicia cried out. “Oh, they are wicked, wicked people, and I hope you put them all in jail!”
“We shall do that, my dear,” Mr. Dodgson said, patting her hand. “Now, you must go back upstairs. Mrs. Barclay’s maid will give you and Kitty a good supper, and then you will go with your mama and papa to the hotel?” He looked about him for confirmation of these plans.
“Perhaps the child could remain here at the Rectory,” Lady Pat suggested. “I can send Nanny Marsh to care for her. The hotel is no place for a child.”
“And Kitty must stay with me,” Alicia insisted.
“Kitty?” Lady Pat inquired.
“The menial at the, um, establishment. She was very helpful in retrieving your daughter,” Mr. Dodgson told her.
“She was my friend,” Alicia stated. “And I promised her she could come to London with us, and be my maid. And a Waltham never goes back on his word. Isn’t that so, Papa?”
Lord Richard smiled down at his daughter. “Quite right, Alicia. Your Kitty may take Mary Ann’s place, at least until we get back to London. Nanny Marsh will show her what to do. Now, say good night, and go back to your room, Alicia. We have a great deal of work to do.”
Alicia curtsied politely to the grownups and turned to go. Suddenly she turned back. “Papa, are you going to be at the big meeting tomorrow?”
“Yes, my dear, but …”
“Everyone is talking about it,” Alicia said. “Mama, may I hear Papa speak?”
Lady Pat looked at her husband. Lord Richard shrugged. “It will be a very long meeting, Alicia. It may not be very amusing, rather like sitting through several church sermons. You are not always very calm during the sermons at church.”
“But I would like to hear you thrash those awful people, Papa,” Alicia insisted. “And I want Kitty to be there, too.”
“Very well, Alicia, if you wish to be there, I
will have Nanny Marsh bring you.” Lord Richard sighed.
Alicia smiled sweetly and left the parlor. She had an idea of her own, that would make this protestation meeting into something exciting. Hadn’t that woman in the purple dress said that she would be there? Well, if the police could not put Miss and Madam in jail, she, Alicia Marbury, would let everyone know how awful they were, and then they’d be sorry they put her into an attic and beat her friend!
CHAPTER 27
Sunday night in Brighton was a time of packing up the pieces of one’s holiday. The pretty seashells and seaweed did not look quite so pretty, and would soon be discarded. The bathing dresses would have to be scrubbed and well rinsed to remove the miniscule bits of sand and shell embedded in the heavy wool or coarse cotton. Sunburned faces would be anointed with lotion. Another weekend gone; another week of work to be faced on Monday morning.
On this particular Sunday night, however, all Brighton hummed with anticipation. Word had got out that Lord Richard Marbury had come to Brighton, with the express purpose of speaking at the protestation meeting. Immediately, what had been a target for vulgar jokes and speculation became an event.
Once it was known that Lord Richard would, indeed, speak at the protestation meeting, the telegraph office found itself inundated with vital messages flashing back and forth between London and Brighton, and between Brighton and most of the British Isles. Members of Parliament sent their names to the committee, demanding a space on the platform. The Borough Council issued permits for enterprising businessmen to set up booths for serving hot and cold foods on the grounds of the Royal Pavilion. An equally enterprising businessman cornered the market on seating, providing chairs at three shillings each for the front five rows, one shilling after that.
By eight o’clock, the Old Ship had the air of a military headquarters, with aides running back and forth between the Rectory and the hotel. The Reverend Mr. Barclay and his clerical colleagues had recruited as many of their parishioners as they could to serve as messengers between the printers’s shops, the carpenters’ shops, and Lord Richard’s suite. The hotel staff was summoned to minister to the urgent needs of their noted guest; trays of sandwiches, fruit, and cakes were prepared and sent up at intervals, to be ingested by the aforesaid aides and minions of the forces of decency.
The Problem of the Missing Miss Page 22