The Problem of the Missing Miss

by Roberta Rogow

  They found Lady Pat and her brother in the parlor with Dr. Doyle and Mr. Dodgson, while Mrs. Barclay and Mrs. Doyle oversaw the preparations for a cold supper in the dining room. Bread and butter, slices of cold ham and mutton, biscuits and cakes, tea and sherry awaited the ravenous fighters for the cause of Virtue.

  Alicia had protested vigorously, but had been put to bed by the staunch Nanny Marsh, with Kitty by her side. The ex-slavey actually looked quite presentable in her neat new gown, with her straggling hair safely confined under a prim cap.

  “And you will come tomorrow, and tell me everything,” Alicia instructed Mr. Dodgson, as she was led up the stairs.

  “I promise,” said Mr. Dodgson.

  Now Mr. Barclay and his wife led the parade into the dining room, where Lord Richard wasted no time, but attacked the collation with a single-minded ferocity that said volumes for his attitude. Upshaw was forgotten in the press of events.

  “We have collected over five hundred more names!” Lord Richard announced, as he took the seat offered him by Mr. Barclay. “Tomorrow, General Booth will present his petition in person, to Parliament! During the last week he has spoken in four different cities, and collected over six thousand names, including the ones added tonight. We must prevail now!”

  “Richard!” Lady Pat exclaimed. “Aren’t you at all interested in what is going to happen to poor Mr. Upshaw?”

  “Poor Upshaw indeed!” Lord Richard huffed. “The man was a traitor, a snake in the grass, working against me all the time. He said he was trying to locate the members of Parliament at their various holiday homes, but now I find that his attempts consisted of railway journeys that led nowhere! What was he thinking of? To deceive me, to deceive us all—an employee of mine!”

  “But he was not,” Mr. Dodgson said.

  “Eh?” Lord Richard eyed his old tutor.

  Mr. Dodgson turned to Inspector MacRae. “I believe you will find that Mr. Upshaw is one of those persons mentioned in the Pall Mall Gazette, suborned by Mrs. Jeffries, and paid to obtain information concerning the members of Parliament. Did you never wonder why this Bill has failed in passing so often?”

  “No!” Lord Richard gasped. “I cannot believe that those who sit with me … should be …” He choked over his tea.

  All eyes turned to Mr. Dodgson, who had seated himself in a corner, as if to hide from the light of public gaze. Now, however, he rose, in full professorial mode, to instruct the ignorant.

  “Indeed, Lord Richard, it is an unhappy fact that every person has some small peccadillo, a skeleton in the closet, so to speak. It was Mr. Upshaw’s task to discover any such skeletons and pass on the information to Mrs. Jeffries.”

  “But—why did he involve you?” Lady Pat asked.

  “Ah, yes. That was the beginning and the ending, was it not? For Mr. Upshaw did not know me at all. It must have given him a nasty start when he realized who it was sharing his railway carriage.”

  “But if Mr. Upshaw did not know you, who did?” Dr. Doyle asked, still confused.

  “Ah, that was Miss Harmon’s contribution to the plot,” Mr. Dodgson said. “As you pointed out, there seemed to be two persons involved in this business. One knew of the Marbury household; the other knew of me, and my connection with Lord Richard. One was a cautious, careful planner; the other was impetuous, and easily panicked. It was the impetuous one who suggested that Miss Alicia might be used as a lever to pry Lord Richard’s support away from the Criminal Amendment Bill; it was the cautious one who decided how this could be accomplished.

  “When the Criminal Amendment Bill was given its previous readings, no particular notice had been taken of it by the general public. This time, however, the articles in the Pall Mall Gazette were inflaming public opinion. Between Mr. Stead’s articles and Lord Richard’s zeal, there was every likelihood that the Bill might actually be passed. Mrs. Jeffries was in jail, serving her sentence, and could not restrain her subordinates, Mr. Upshaw and Miss Harmon. Between them, they took advantage of Miss Alicia’s change of holiday plans to attempt to influence you, Lord Richard.

  “The articles appeared beginning on the fourth of July, the very time that Lord Richard attended the boat races at Oxford and met me there. I imagine that gave Mr. Upshaw the idea of suggesting that Miss Alicia be sent to me—that, and my resemblance to the actor, Keeble, or rather, his to me.

  “It might have been Miss Harmon who continued the plot, with the aim of having personal revenge upon you, Lord Richard, for, ah, past slights.

  “Now, who knew Lord Richard’s personal history? Not Geoffrey Upshaw.”

  “Of course not!” Lord Richard snorted at the very idea.

  “But Miss Julia Harmon did,” Mr. Dodgson continued. “She has a passionate nature, Lord Richard, and the emotion she once felt for you turned to hatred. I apologize, Lady Patricia, if I bring up such matters.”

  “I told Pat all about it before we were married,” Lord Richard said. “All water under the bridge now.”

  “Quite,” Mr. Dodgson shot him a glance, as if to silence a student who kept interrupting the class. “I suspect Mr. Upshaw met Miss Harmon through their mutual connection with Mrs. Jeffries. Inspector MacRae will undoubtedly find evidence of such a meeting once he gets back to London.”

  “You take a good deal for granted, Mr. Dodgson,” MacRae gritted out.

  “Logic demands that the evidence is there. There will be witnesses,” Mr. Dodgson said serenely.

  “So, Miss Harmon planned the kidnapping, and Upshaw organized it,” Dr. Doyle summed up. “It was he, then, who used the typewriting machine to send you to Brighton Station at the wrong time.”

  “Exactly. And while it was Miss Harmon who discovered Keeble, it was Upshaw who paid him, with money given him by Mrs. Jeffries. And there, I believe, the stage was set for disaster.

  “You see, Miss Julia Harmon had not seen either me or Lord Richard in several years. She should have known that he would never permit personal emotions to interfere with his public duty. Mr. Upshaw did not know me at all, except as a rather foolish old man who wrote a tale for children. He thought that, having missed finding Miss Marbury, I would then remove myself back to Eastbourne and forget the matter completely.

  “He was wrong, on both counts!” Mr. Dodgson looked almost fierce.

  “But how did you know it was Mr. Upshaw?” Lady Pat asked.

  “I didn’t, not at first. It could have been either of two men who fulfilled Dr. Doyle’s particulars.” Mr. Dodgson said, looking at his prize pupil, who smiled modestly at the company assembled in the parlor. “I must thank you, Dr. Doyle, for your invaluable assistance in this affair. Your astute observations gave me the first clues.”

  Dr. Doyle turned brick-red with embarrassment and pride. “I was only applying what Dr. Bell taught,” he began.

  “No, no,” Mr. Dodgson said. “It was you, sir, who located the machine on which the note had been typewritten. It was you who pointed out the dents on Keeble’s collar, which led to the conclusion that his death was no accident, and it was you who noticed that the button in Keeble’s hand was brown, just the color of the ones on Upshaw’s waistcoat. Most of all, it was you who suggested to me that there might be two hands at work in this business. Although your sermon, Henry, gave me the final clue.”

  “Eh?” Mr. Barclay sputtered over a bite of his sandwich. “I had nothing to do with it!”

  “Oh, but you did,” Mr. Dodgson assured him. “When you spoke of the left hand not knowing what the right hand was doing, I realized that all through this weekend, messages kept going astray. First the one to me, to meet Miss Marbury; then the ransom note, then the summons to the police.”

  “Coincidence,” scoffed Inspector Wright.

  “Hardly,” Mr. Dodgson said. “All these messages passed through one particular person’s hands.”

  “So, you applied logic to the matter, eh?” Dr. Doyle said.

  “Precisely. Once I realized there were two persons involved, I coul
d reassess the evidence. Unfortunately, the evidence pointed to both Mr. Upshaw and Mr. Kinsale.”

  “What!” Kinsale was on his feet, outraged.

  “I had to take all the evidence into account,” Mr. Dodgson continued tranquilly. “After all, sir, you would not give your whereabouts on the Friday night in question; you are familiar with the Marbury household; you had a button off your waistcoat; and I did see you in Brighton on Saturday night.

  “Given the very public nature of Keeble’s death, I felt there must have been a witness to the crime. Therefore, Dr. Doyle and I questioned the children on the beach, and found a performer who had seen Mr. Keeble and Miss Harmon together. That gave me one point of reference. Then I had to find someone who was a member of the Marbury household, with access to the typewriting machine, missing a button off his waistcoat, who was in Brighton on Friday night. Either Mr. Upshaw or Mr. Kinsale could have been the killer, but I had to eliminate Mr. Kinsale because he could not have sent all the messages back and forth.”

  “Couldn’t he?” MacRae gritted out.

  “The time, sir, the time!” Mr. Dodgson cried out. “Someone had to alert Mrs. Jeffries that we were on the trail of Miss Marbury’s abductors, before we boarded the train back to Brighton, for Dr. Doyle and I were followed from the station. Mr. Kinsale had not the time to do that, but Mr. Upshaw was gone from the house for at least half an hour. On the other hand, Inspector MacRae was not accosted until he attempted to gain admittance to Miss Harmon’s establishment. Clearly, she was warned after he arrived in Brighton, but not before!”

  “Then, who sent the false telegram to me, announcing Lord Richard’s appearance at the protestation meeting?” Mr. Barclay asked in confusion.

  “That, I believe, was the work of Miss Julia Harmon. The left hand, as it were, not telling the right hand what it was doing. Mr. Upshaw only wished to continue in his vain pursuit of the sums disbursed to him by Mrs. Jeffries. Miss Julia Harmon, on the other hand, had a much more sinister plan in mind.”

  “But—Upshaw wasn’t in Brighton on Friday,” Lord Richard began.

  “Oh, but he was, “Mr. Dodgson said. “He came dashing to the train on Saturday morning, when Dr. Doyle and I were leaving, at eight-thirty-five in the morning. I suspect this is what occurred:

  “Mr. Upshaw, who was supposedly in Margate or Torquay, came to Brighton quite early on Friday afternoon, to oversee Keeble’s abduction of Miss Alicia, and to satisfy himself that all was well. Unfortunately, Mary Ann Parry noticed him at the station, and accosted him. In his haste to get away from her, he pushed her into the wheel of the oncoming engine, with dreadful results.

  “Upshaw must have begun to reconsider his part in the proceedings, but by that time it was too late to withdraw. He was supposed to meet Keeble on the Chain Pier. Keeble was the go-between, who would hand him the ransom note, which would be written by Miss Harmon. Presumably, Mr. Upshaw would have produced the note the following day, with some specious explanation.

  “However, two events occurred to throw him off this schedule. Keeble demanded more money, leading to a quarrel, which led, in turn, to Keeble being thrown from the pier.

  “The second distracting event was my involvement, together with Dr. Doyle. The story was undoubtedly supposed to be that Upshaw found the ransom note on the doorstep. Of course, with both Dr. Doyle and myself watching, he could not possibly say that, so he said that it had been placed into his pocket by one of the persons in the crowd.”

  “But no one came near us,” Dr. Doyle put in.

  “Precisely,” Mr. Dodgson said. “But what made me look very closely at Mr. Upshaw was his eagerness to remove his employer from public life. Mr. Upshaw was at great pains to tell us that he had not been in London for a week. How then could he be prepared to write the draft of Lord Richard’s resignation speech?”

  Inspector MacRae glared at Ned Kinsale. “And what about our Irishman?”

  “Oh, Mr. Kinsale’s indiscretion is political, not personal,” Mr. Dodgson said tranquilly. “I suspect his meeting on Friday night was with the followers of certain Irish societies, some of whom are not friendly to England.”

  Lady Pat tut-tutted at her brother, who grinned and shrugged.

  “At least I stand acquitted of kidnapping and murder,” he said.

  “And what about Upshaw?” Dr. Doyle insisted.

  “Ah, yes, Mr. Upshaw. I noticed how very eager he was to accompany us to Brighton, yet, once the unfortunate Mary Ann was identified, he vanished from sight. He must have notified Miss Harmon about the arrival of Inspector MacRae.”

  “And left me looking a pretty fool,” MacRae said bitterly.

  “It was Miss Harmon, however, who decided to send Miss Alicia to France,” Mr. Dodgson continued. “It was she who precipitated her own downfall, in her determination to destroy your character, Lord Richard.”

  “And so you found Billy, and got the confession out of Upshaw,” MacRae said. “We may need more than that to finish the job.”

  “I leave it to the police to find the evidence of his involvement with Mrs. Jeffries. There will have to be witnesses, possibly bank drafts or memoranda of payments, which will come to light. It is quite elementary, really.”

  “Bravo!” crowed Dr. Doyle. “So, all’s well that ends well, eh? Miss Alicia is back in the bosom of her family, and your Bill will certainly go through, Lord Richard. That precious pair will stand their trial, and good riddance to them! Well, Touie, we must be going. I thank you, Mr. Dodgson, for letting us hear the end of the story.”

  “Of course,” Mr. Dodgson said graciously. “I could not let you go without satisfying your curiosity.”

  “And what of you, Mr. Dodgson?” Dr. Doyle asked, as he and his wife prepared to leave.

  “I shall attend the Coroner’s inquest tomorrow, and give my evidence, if I am so requested. Then I think I shall return to Eastbourne. I must finish my new book. If you will excuse me, Henry, Mrs. Barclay, I think I shall retire now.”

  “And I shall return to the Old Ship,” Lord Richard said, rising and holding out a hand to his wife.

  “You’ll be needed at the Coroner’s inquest tomorrow, too,” Inspector MacRae reminded him.

  “And then?”

  “And then it will all be over,” Mr. Dodgson said.

  Lady Pat looked anxiously up at her husband and then at Mr. Dodgson. “Will it ever be over?” she asked.

  CHAPTER 31

  Tuesday seemed like an anticlimax after the startling revelations of the Great Protestation Meeting. The visitors who had extended their stays now had to depart, to make way for another influx of holidaymakers. The good people of Brighton had to return to their fishing boats, shops, taverns, and lodging houses. No one was particularly interested in attending the Coroner’s inquest on an obscure nurserymaid and a broken-down actor, even though it was rumored that the nurserymaid had belonged to the household of Lord Richard Marbury and the actor might have been involved in the kidnapping of his daughter.

  Dr. and Mrs. Doyle accompanied Mr. Dodgson to the inquest that morning, where the verdict was handed down that Mr. William Keeble had met his death at the hands of Mr. Geoffrey Upshaw as a result of a quarrel. No mention was made of the sensational abduction and subsequent return of Miss Alicia Marbury, much to the disgust of the assorted representatives of the Press, who had been hoping for a juicy scandal. Instead, Mr. Geoffrey Upshaw had admitted to his crime, and was remanded into the custody of the Brighton Constabulary, until the assizes.

  As for the unfortunate Mary Ann, the Coroner deemed hers a “death by misadventure,” and let it go at that. Upshaw went to his cell insisting, “It was an accident … an accident!”

  Miss Julia Harmon was not called as a witness in Geoffrey Upshaw’s case. Her meeting with the magistrate was to take place later in the day, and she retained her icy calm in the face of both the constables and their female warders, brought in for the purpose of watching over the weekend’s crops of pickpockets and prostitutes.


  Lord Richard Marbury and his lovely wife had been called to give evidence as to the movements of Mary Ann Parry. That done, they were free to leave Brighton, or, at least, as free as the ever vigilant Press would let them be.

  Lord Richard Marbury addressed the Press, in the person of Mr. W. T. Stead himself, the august editor of the Pall Mall Gazette. The two men met briefly in the anteroom of the Criminal Court, as Upshaw was led away, still protesting.

  “I beg of you,” Lord Richard said earnestly, “consider my daughter’s future. It can do no good to display her across the pages of the public newspapers. You have quite enough copy as it is. Let her go, sir. Rest assured, the Bill will pass this time.”

  “Then there is no truth to the rumor that you are going to resign?” Stead asked.

  “Certainly not.” Lord Richard pushed the errant lock of hair off his forehead. “You may inform your readers—and your colleagues—that I will remain at my post to the end!”

  The Press were not to know of the meeting between Lord Richard Marbury and Miss Julia Harmon before her appearance in the Magistrate’s Court.

  “I have to see her,” Lord Richard told his wife, as they watched Upshaw being led away.

  “Richard,” Lady Pat began. Then she gave a sigh. “You should not see her.”

  “There are certain matters …” He could not look at his wife.

  “The child,” she finished for him. “Do you really suppose she would use that against you? It must never come out.”

  “It is bound to come out,” Lord Richard said stiffly. “Pat, do you recall what I said about the American president last year?”

  Lady Pat frowned. “I’m sure I don’t know anything about American politics,” she said. “American presidents all seem to be backwoods lawyers or motheaten generals.”