The Problem of the Spiteful Spiritualist

by Roberta Rogow

  Mr. Monks’s long face grew longer. “When I received the letter, I recalled the disgraceful circumstances of my sister’s marriage. Then I decided that Christian charity demanded that I investigate the situation myself, and so I came to Portsmouth,”

  “That explains your presence in Southsea,” Mr. Dodgson said.

  “But what has all this got to do with Mrs. Cavanaugh?” Inspector O’Ferrall asked impatiently. “And what about this treasure?”

  Mr. Dodgson took up his position in the center of the room again. “I feel rather like the person who comes into the theater at the last act of the play,” he stated. “Or the one who reads the last volume of a three-volume novel. What we have witnessed is the last act, the last chapter, of a most compelling melodrama that began some thirty years ago, in the small Indian principality of Rajitpur.”

  Prince Jahal looked at his cousin, and then back to the two brass and enamel vases, which had been placed in the middle of the carpet.

  “At that time,” Mr. Dodgson said, “there was a man named Albert Moncrieffe, who had amassed a small fortune working for the East India Company. I do not claim to understand business, but I can only think that some of his dealings were not strictly in the interest of either the East India Company or the principality of Rajitpur.”

  Mr. Monks nodded. “My father was a godless man,” he declared. “His only thought was for material gain, and he had few scruples in attaining his ends.”

  “And to add to that gain, he arranged a marriage for his daughter, your sister Eleanora,” Mr. Dodgson went on. He took the ivory medallion out of his breast pocket and passed it to Amelia. “I have her portrait here. It is crudely done, Miss Arkwright, in the Indian style, but do you recognize this person as your mother?”

  Miss Amelia glanced at the picture and nodded. Mr. Monks also agreed. “It is not a good likeness, but it is enough. This is my sister, Mr. Dodgson.”

  “Notice particularly, the eyes. One cannot mistake that peculiar shade of gray. You, Mr. Moncrieffe have eyes of that color, and so do you, Miss Arkwright.”

  “Is this important?” O’Ferrall asked impatiently.

  “It was to Miss Bedelia,” Mr. Dodgson said. “Now, to take up the thread of the melodrama: Miss Moncrieffe met and was captivated by one Jethro Arkwright, then in the employ of the East India Company. They eloped, much to the surprise of the European colony.”

  “Eleanora was always romantically inclined,” Mr. Monks said. “I had been sent to England, and she had no one to guide her. Our father had announced that she would marry one of our maternal connections, a wealthy merchant of the Portugese colony in Goa. She responded by running off with Arkwright.”

  “At the same time,” Mr. Dodgson continued, “the Rajah of Rajitpur decided to send a caravan with his son to Bombay. A palace conspiracy led to a fortune in coin and jewels being placed in that caravan instead of going north, to buy mercenaries.”

  “And it was stolen,” Prince Jahal said. “By Captain Arkwright …”

  “With the assistance of the Vizier Ram and Mr. Moncrieffe,” Mr. Dodgson said. “And, Captain Cavanaugh, I believe you had a hand in that business as well.”

  All eyes turned to Cavanaugh, who reddened under so much scrutiny. “Aye, I was there,” he finally admitted. “Jethro said it would be easy pickings, and we would share and share alike. He’d taken me in, eddicated me, taught me letters and navigation. I’d have gone to Hell for him.”

  “And did you?” Dr. Doyle’s curiosity got the better of him.

  “As near to as makes no difference,” Cavanaugh said with a grimace.

  “If by that you mean a Chilean prison, you may be quite accurate in your description,” Mr. Dodgson said suddenly. “That is where you have been, is it not?”

  Cavanaugh stared at the scholar. “How did you guess?”

  “Your complexion gives you away,” Mr. Dodgson said. “The seafaring life leaves the face weather-worn. Admiral Groves, if I may make a personal observation, has been much in the sun and wind, as evinced by his skin. You, however, have a fresh sunburn. Where, I ask myself, has a sailing-man been, that he lacks the characteristic tanned face of the outdoors life? The only reason such a man would be indoors would be because he could not get out. In other words, he was imprisoned. How did you escape?”

  “I didn’t. They had another revolution and emptied the jails out,” Cavanaugh said in tones of deep disgust. “I’d been picked up for smuggling off the coast of Chile, and wasn’t allowed to write to nobody, not the British Consul or a lawyer, nobody. Six years in that stinking South American jail, and when I got out, I had to work my passage like any foremast hand, and me a Captain! I come here to have it out with Jethro for leaving me there, and now I find out that he’s dead, Emma’s dead, and I’ve got house and land and money—”

  “And the Rajitpur jewels,” Mr. Dodgson reminded him. “You would certainly have wanted your share of those.”

  “Aye. Moncrieffe took the coin and shared it out with Ram. Jethro kept the jewels, as a pledge-like. Then he used his share to buy into a ship and got us all out of Indian waters before the Mutiny.”

  “Leaving the Vizier to face the wrath of his Rajah, and the disgrace of having the jewels stolen,” Mr. Dodgson said. “It is the only way to explain why a man who had spent twenty years working his way up the ranks in the India trade suddenly decided to go to the other side of the globe with his wife and young daughter … you, Miss Arkwright.”

  “And a sweet baby you was,” Cavanaugh added. “Mrs. Ellie, now, she was a game one! As tough as the Captain, and clever enough for both of them.”

  Amelia smiled weakly. Mr. Dodgson coughed gently and continued his saga.

  “The second act of this drama takes place in Bermuda, where Captain Arkwright established his small family while he attempted to make his fortune by bringing Southern cotton to English ports through the Federal blockade.”

  “And rough it was,” Cavanaugh said.

  “But profitable,” Mr. Dodgson reminded him. “And after the Americans had made up their internal quarrel, Captain Arkwright continued his dangerous traffic, bringing arms to South American insurrectionists, and exploring for hidden ruins. Finally, he took the most dangerous assignment of all. He sailed to Brazil, where he managed to abstract some seeds and possibly some shoots of the rubber plant.”

  “The greenhouse …?” General Drayson glanced in the direction of the ruined indoor garden.

  “Precisely. As I noted to Dr. Doyle, Captain Arkwright was attempting to duplicate the conditions necessary to raise rubber trees. I believe the Royal Botanical Gardens at Kew have offered a substantial reward for anyone who can grow rubber. The authorities in Brazil would be most annoyed if they discovered someone had removed their most valuable resource, with a view to growing it elsewhere.”

  “That must have been when he got the bullet!” Dr. Doyle exclaimed. “In his, um, lower back.”

  Amelia nodded. “Papa came back from his last voyage wounded. He was quite ill …”

  “Where does Emma Cavanaugh come into this melodrama?” O’Ferrall wanted to know.

  “Emma? She was my … that is …” Cavanaugh reddened.

  “Let us say you found her to your taste. I expect she was an American, perhaps a Southern sympathizer.” Mr. Dodgson evaded embarrassing revelations. “And since a nurse was needed, she was brought into the Arkwright household.”

  “How do you know she was an American?” Touie was drawn into the discussion.

  “I have met some Americans, visitors to Oxford,” Mr. Dodgson explained. “There are certain terms which fall oddly on the ear. Only an American would refer to a biscuit as a ‘cookie,’ or use the expression ‘mad at’ to mean ‘angry with.’ Mrs. Cavanaugh said both on the occasion of our first meeting. She must have been quite upset, waiting for Mr. Ram to show up, for she had no way to forestall him.” He turned back to Amelia. “I cannot imagine what life was like in those days, Miss Arkwright.”

 
Amelia sagged in her seat. Tears started to leak out of her eyes. “It was terrible,” she said, vainly trying to stop crying. “Mama and Papa both ill, only Uncle Jack and Emma in the house ….”

  “The result being that a second child made her appearance, at which point Captain Arkwright decided to remove himself back to England,” Mr. Dodgson said.

  “Then … Bedelia isn’t the child of Eleanora Moncrieffe at all?” Touie gasped.

  “Not with blue eyes the color of Captain Cavanaugh’s,” Mr. Dodgson said firmly. “And this brings us up to the third act of what has become a domestic tragedy.”

  Amelia nodded speechlessly. “Papa knew he was very ill,” she said. “He could barely get up the stairs. I suppose he wanted to see that we were properly cared for, and with Uncle Jack considered dead …”

  “He wrote a new will, giving his estate to Mrs. Cavanaugh, but guardianship of Miss Bedelia to Admiral and Mrs. Groves. I cannot put myself in his place, but I expect it was his way of assuring that Miss Amelia would have material comfort, while Miss Bedelia would not go to London. It might also have been his way of punishing his neighbor for the social slights of the previous summer, when he and his family had been ignored. I cannot venture to place myself in the position of this man, facing his Creator and trying to provide for his children. Alas, this second will was his death warrant.

  “Miss Bedelia has the unpleasant habit of listening at doors. She was undoubtedly in the house when Mr. Simms called to revise her father’s will. I do not know how much she learned, but she leapt to the conclusion that if her father … or the man she always thought of as her father … were to die quite soon, she would be able to put forward her absurd plan of taking London Society by storm.”

  “It wasn’t only her plan,” Amelia put in. “Emma is as much to blame as anyone. She was quite obsessed with getting Bedelia a rich husband.”

  “It was Emma Cavanaugh’s greed, combined with Bedelia’s ambition, that destroyed both of them,” Mr. Dodgson said severely. “For when Mrs. Cavanaugh discovered the secret of the Indian vases, she sought out the shop of the Indian pawnbroker, Karim Lal. She had called there previously in her quest for interesting tidbits of gossip, and evidently decided that this was the perfect place to find a go-between, to inform the young Rajah Jahal that his missing jewels had been found. She had no way of knowing that Karim Lal had any connection with the robbery in India, nor did she suspect that he had been waiting for exactly such an occurrence.

  “Mrs. Cavanaugh’s plan was to ransom the jewels and use the money, along with the secrets with which she had been extorting money from ladies in Portsmouth, to take Bedelia to London, with the aim of introducing her into Society and eventually marrying her to some wealthy aristocrat.”

  “Outrageous woman!” Mrs. Drayson exclaimed, while Mrs. Groves nodded fiercely in assent.

  “Captain Arkwright was handed an ultimatum: Release the jewels, or Mrs. Cavanaugh would do it for him. When Mrs. Cavanaugh learned of the demise of old Mr. Albert Moncrieffe through the popular press, fuel was added to the fire of her ambition. If she did not achieve her ends by selling the jewels, she would have bludgeoned her way into Society financed with the presumed income from the Moncrieffe heir. She must have laid this scheme before the Captain, who had a different future mapped out for his daughters. There are such men who are so supremely selfish that they will not permit their daughters to marry, keeping them as unpaid servants. During the resultant fit of temper, I suspect that a number of pertinent facts were aired that shocked Miss Bedelia into the knowledge that if she wanted the Moncrieffe fortune, she would have to dispose of anyone who knew the secret of her birth.”

  “But that’s absurd!” Touie said. “Why, anyone from Bermuda might come along! The child must have been mad!”

  “Child?” Mr. Dodgson shook his head. “Rather, a woman, with no sense of responsibility. She had already caused the death of Captain Arkwright, by using one of his poisoned arrows. She then deliberately soaked one of her father’s handkerchiefs in the nicotine mixture used in the conservatory as an insecticide, which she had been told was very dangerous, although, I do not know if she realized how quickly the poison would work.

  “The séance being held at General Drayson’s house, in which the rooms were overheated, was an opportunity too good to miss. Bedelia removed Mrs. Cavanaugh’s handkerchief from her reticule, so that she could give her the poisoned one, which she knew from past experience Mrs. Cavanaugh would use. And I believe she would have allowed you to take the full blame for both deaths, Miss Amelia, and then gone to London a sorrowful orphan.”

  “Thoroughly outrageous!” Mrs. Groves spat out.

  “I once traveled to Germany, in my youth, where I attended a Hebrew service. In conversation I heard the word chutzpah.” Mr. Dodgson pronounced it carefully. “I was told that it could be characterized as the attitude of the person who, having killed both parents, asked for mercy on the grounds of being an orphan. Miss Bedelia Arkwright qualifies.”

  Inspector O’Ferrall frowned. “Well and good, Mr. Dodgson, but I can’t go to the coroner tomorrow with this wild tale of Indian treasure and old scandals. I need proof!”

  “Then I suggest you consider Captain Arkwright’s handkerchiefs. You will discover that one of them is missing. They do not have mourning bands, and one was used to murder Mrs. Cavanaugh.”

  “Who attacked the girl yesterday, then?” Inspector O’Ferrall was still not satisfied.

  “No one,” Mr. Dodgson said.

  “But she was bruised,” Dr. Doyle pointed out.

  “On her temple,” Mr. Dodgson reminded him. “And then she said she could not identify her assailant, which is impossible, considering that the blow must have come from in front. It is far more likely that the bruise came from the flowerpots, which she flung on the conservatory floor in her rage.”

  “Then the footsteps on the carpet …” Dr. Doyle frowned in thought.

  “Were not there at all. Recall, sir, there was a good deal of soil spilled in the conservatory, but there were no footprints at all on the drugget in the hall, indicating that someone had either brushed them off or there had never been any. The scuff-marks on the papers in the study were quite small, indicating a small foot … Miss Bedelia’s foot, to be exact. You will be able to match them to her shoes, no doubt.”

  “But …” Amelia had finally stopped crying. “Why should Bedelia ransack Papa’s study? And why should she destroy my work … the manuscript that Papa and I …” She could say no more.

  “To find this,” Mr. Dodgson said, producing the much-folded sheet of paper. He passed it over to Inspector O’Ferrall, who frowned at it.

  “What’s this?”

  “A certificate of baptism of one Bedelia Cavanaugh in Bermuda, naming both the father and the mother. Miss Bedelia would never inherit the Moncrieffe fortune if this were known. She was willing to kill for it.”

  “My poor, poor Baby Bee,” Amelia said. “What will happen to her now?”

  “That’s up to the coroner,” Inspector O’Ferrall said. “The jury may decide to release her, but anyone, no matter how young or pretty, who soaks a handkerchief in poison and leaves it about for anyone to handle is a coldhearted murderess, and will be treated as such.”

  “I trust you will find a good barrister,” Mr. Dodgson told Mr. Simms.

  Mr. Monks stepped forward. “I have made many friends,” he said solemnly, taking Amelia’s hand in his and holding it briefly. “You, at least, are truly my sister’s child, and I will do what I can to help you.”

  “Thank you,” Amelia said. “Please … I should like to be alone for a while.”

  Mr. Simms cleared his throat. “Ah … I shall look into the business of acquiring counsel for the child.”

  “Do so,” Mr. Monks said.

  “And you, Mr. Dodgson,” Inspector O’Ferrall said, “what will you do?”

  “I shall take the evening train to London, and from there to Oxford,” Mr. Dodgson s
aid. “I do not think my evidence will be needed after all.”

  “And I shall take the jewels back to Rajitpur,” Jahal said. “I shall, of course, reward you for finding them, Mr. Dodgson.”

  “No, no,” Mr. Dodgson protested. “It is Miss Arkwright who must receive any reward. She has suffered much over the years.”

  “If Miss Arkwright wishes, when her sister’s trial is over, she may accompany me to India,” Mr. Monks offered. “A sea-voyage and a change of scene would be helpful after such distress.”

  Captain Cavanaugh looked over Treasure House, and seemed to expand with the aura of ownership. “Well, she don’t have to leave her home. She can stay here and take care of me. I’ll be needing a housekeeper, now that I’ve got a house to keep.” He looked at Amelia expectantly.

  Inspector O’Ferrall glared at Cavanaugh. Then he squared his shoulders and declared, “Miss Amelia Arkwright, when your year of mourning is over, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

  Amelia looked wildly from one man to the next. Then she started to laugh and cry at the same time. The ladies took over, shooing the men out of the sitting-room, into the hall.

  “Whatever happens, dear, you know you have friends here in Southsea,” Hetty told her. “Now, I’ll have Jenny bring you a nice hot cup of tea, and then you go and lie down. Touie, you help me get Miss Arkwright upstairs, and then you see to Bedelia. What a wicked girl!”

  “I never liked her,” Mrs. Groves stated. “Not when she made a dead set at my boy. And Captain Arkwright must have been mad, leaving her to John’s care!”

  “I expect it was all Emma Cavanaugh’s ambition,” Touie said. “Well, Amelia, it’s all over now. Imagine, three offers in one day! What will you do next?”

  Amelia smiled weakly. “I shall have a cup of tea,” she said, and allowed herself to be taken upstairs.