by Joan Smith
"Yes, you would not have been happy here, after Algernon returned,” I said, feeling sorry for the old man.
"It was a very irregular way Lord Sheldon and Sacheverel set about the business,” he repeated, shaking his head. “But they feared I was in league with Stella, you see, and that is why they mistrusted me a little. I was happy, that is, I agreed to lend them every assistance after I learned the whole truth. I even agreed to let Lord Sheldon borrow the rose diamond. I hope I did the right thing. He required it for something or other."
"You must have been relieved to learn it was the genuine Jaipur all the time."
"It is a great weight off my mind, I can tell you. What a fright to give an old man, and for no reason. I will be very happy to turn the running of the boys’ affairs over to Sacheverel and his son. It has been nothing but a worry to me from the first. Soon Algernon will be back, and he will assume guardianship of his brother then. Lord Sheldon questioned why I decided to sell the collection, as Algernon will soon be here to handle matters, but I felt it for the best. Stella told me a dozen times I should do it, to let the interest pile up for Lucien, you know, and I feared young Algernon would not have the wits to do it. He is young yet. I was only doing what I thought I ought."
"I really should go and clean up,” I mentioned, with a glance at my filthy clothes.
"Of course. Go ahead, but I would appreciate talking to you again when you are ready. I shall be here, waiting,” he said, with a weary, troubled sigh.
"I'll hurry,” I told him.
Even with the utmost hurry, and utmost help from Tess and Cook in carrying kettles of hot water to my room, the removal of all the grime took an hour. My hair had to be washed and toweled dry. Most of all, I wanted food and drink. Cook sent up a roasted chicken and bread and tea, which I made a meal of while Tess dried my hair. Between bites, she heard the story.
"It don't surprise me one whit, and that's a fact,” she said. “Only fancy that devil of a Lucien wriggling his way out a hole in the wall. Game as a fighting cock, the rascal. He'll get home safe and sound, miss, don't you worry your head."
"I expect he has got lost, wandering around, trying to find his way home."
"It don't seem like him, to be so slow about it. Why wouldn't he just ask someone? Anyone would be happy to bring a little lost boy home."
I disliked this line of thought, and tried to explain it away, but the fact was, he had been gone since sunrise, and it was now late at night. At least Stella and Wiggins did not have him.
When I returned to Beaudel's office, he sat with his head in his hands, looking as though he would groan with grief. I let him talk, to give relief to his remorse. For perhaps twenty minutes, I listened to him ramble on, explaining and excusing and exculpating his actions.
"If anything happens to him...” he began, and stopped, unable to go on for the emotion that overwhelmed him.
We both jumped up when there was a banging at the front door. “What can it be?” he exclaimed, becoming even paler, his eyes wilder.
"I'll see who it is,” I said, as he sank back on to his chair, trembling.
One of the footmen had temporarily replaced Wiggins, and was at the door before me. The apparition that greeted my eyes was not one customarily seen at the front door of a respectable house, but at the servants’ entrance. It was a bedraggled workman in a fustian coat, accompanied by what looked like a chimney sweep.
"You didn't have to knock, Mr. Fitz. I live here,” the sweep said, in the unmistakable accents of Lucien Beaudel. A closer examination showed that beneath the sooty face and suit, perfectly covered with dirt, stood Lucien.
"Where have you been?” I shouted, grabbing him into my arms, to undo the work of an hour in cleaning myself.
"I've been taking care of the lad for you, at my place at Withamo,” the man said, with an ingratiating tug at his forelock.
"I have been working with Mr. Fitz,” Lucien replied matter-of-factly. “I told him I am not a ‘prentice sweep, but he didn't believe me. In fact, he lied to the parish officer."
"Not exactly what you'd call a lie!” the man interjected swiftly.
"You said I was your ‘prentice who had run away, and you know I'm not. But if I was, I would,” he added, with an accusing look at his latest kidnapper.
"Didn't I save you from prison?” the man countered, with a baleful glare. “Arrested for stealing a loaf at the back door of the bakery, he was,” he went on, nodding his head emphatically.
"Uncle Charles would have paid. It was for you, Miss Stacey,” he added self-righteously.
"Ho, for the lady, was it, and yourself wolfing it down thirteen to the dozen. They took the wee tyke for a sweep, seeing as he was black from head to toe. So they called me, took me away from a big job at the manse, they did. To save the poor tyke from prison, miss, I allowed as he was one of my lads as had slipped the leash, as they will do from time to time, the beggars."
"I didn't say he was lying, so I would get out of prison faster,” Lucien added. “But as soon as I got out, I told Mr. Fitz I had to go, and he wouldn't let me."
"Who'd believe such wild tales of kidnapping and locking up, and the little fellow looking no better off than a parish boy?” Mr. Fitz pointed out.
"He said if I tried to run off, he'd set his dogs on me. His dogs eat boys,” he said, his eyes big as saucers. “I expect they are very hungry."
"Heh, heh, just keeping the laddie safe,” the man said, with an ingratiating smile, made ludicrous by the lack of three-quarters of his teeth. “I daresay the man of the house will want to repay me for taking such good care of the lad,” he added, lifting his head to glance beyond, into the house.
"I expect he will want to see you at least,” I replied haughtily.
"As soon as ever the lad was ready for bed, and wanted to be taking off his clothes, and speaking of a bath and all, I knew he was real quality,” the man said simply. Such extravagances were obviously not practiced in his circle.
"I cleaned four chimneys, Miss Stacey,” Lucien boasted, not totally displeased. “And I am very hungry."
"He's had a large meal, miss."
"I told you I don't like pig's cheek,” Lucien retaliated.
"You ate a good half of it!"
"It was a very small cheek."
"Chimney sweeps got to stay small, or they ain't fit for their work. They get stuck up the chimney. How would you like that, eh?"
"Please come this way,” I said, with a sad thought for chimney sweeps in general.
Beaudel was already coming into the hallway. His delight in seeing Lucien safe was so great he did not question or harangue the man who had returned him, but gave him a generous pourboire, that displayed the man's few pegs of teeth in a broad smile.
"That's right handsome of you, sir. I took good care of your lad. Any time you want your chimneys swept out..."
"Leave your name and address with the servant,” Beaudel said, and turned again to Lucien, to be assured he was unharmed. “Well, well, so you have turned chimney sweep, Lucien,” he said, with the first smile of the evening.
"Yes, and I am very hungry, uncle."
"I'll put him in a tub first,” I offered.
"That will be best,” Beaudel agreed, handing him over to me.
"How did you get rescued, Miss Stacey?” Lucien asked, as we went upstairs, dropping a trail of cinders behind us.
"Major Morrison rescued me,” I told him proudly.
"I knew he would. He is a great gun, ain't he?"
"He certainly is."
The boy was so fatigued from his unusual day that his lids were falling even while he manfully tried to eat his meal. “I'll finish this tomorrow,” he said, yawning. “Just leave it here. I am still hungry,” were his last words, as his head sank to the pillow. I removed the fork from his fingers gently, so as not to rouse him.
There was no way to let Morrison and the others know Lucien had returned. Until they checked back at the Park, we could do nothing but wait. Du
ring further conversations with Beaudel, I learned that Morrison had told him my true identity, and why I had come.
"I am convinced now your father never took the diamonds. It was a cruel stunt to play on him. Naturally the charge will be dropped. You don't suppose he will institute a counter-charge against me?” he asked fearfully.
"I'm sure he won't,” I told him. No one could be cruel enough to further harass this unfortunate soul.
"I shall reimburse him handsomely for the time spent so uncomfortably in a cell."
"A man's reputation can't be paid for with money. What is important to him is that his name is cleared of any suspicion. A dealer in gems is only as good as his name,” I pointed out.
"I didn't think of all that. What a deal of harm I have caused, by my blindness."
He had indeed caused inestimable mischief, not least to himself.
"They may not be back for hours. Why don't you go to bed, Mr. Beaudel? You look very tired."
"I am. I certainly am, but I doubt I'll sleep,” he answered. As he went up the stairs, his stooped shoulders and lagging gait gave every appearance of advanced age. The rest of us involved would soon forget our unpleasant experience. I thought Beaudel would carry his memories to the grave.
Neither the servants nor I had any intention of going to bed before the others returned. They were eager to hear all the details, and I was eager to see Lord Sheldon. It was well after midnight before they returned, disheartened by a lack of success.
"You mean he's been here all the time!” Morrison howled. I could not think of him as anyone but Major Morrison. Not yet. It would be perfectly feasible for a major to marry a gem merchant's daughter. I was coming to think a younger son of a lord, providing he had his own fortune, might also find it feasible, and wished I had time to call in a coiffeur and buy powder for my nose.
"Only for a few hours,” I said, and brought them up to date.
"We've got the woman and Wiggins and their two helpers in custody,” Constable Harper said. “Tomorrow will be time enough to lay formal charges. We'll need your help, my lord, and yours, Miss van Deusen."
"Could my father not be let out of prison now?” I asked.
"He'll be sound asleep, Anna,” Morrison pointed out. “We'll do it first thing in the morning. Best not to disturb him, don't you think?"
"You're right of course. It is very late."
It was not too late for Cook to regale them all with coffee and cold meat, and to listen while the story was fully explained. Not all parts of it were told to the outsiders. Not until I was alone with Bertie did certain points come to light.
"Beaudel told me why you came, but why did you decide to come as Major Morrison?” I asked.
"It was Algernon's idea really. I grew the beard on the ship coming home from India. Every man wants to grow a beard once in his life, and that seemed the perfect time. I stopped at Cambridge to see my nephew, and hear firsthand what was afoot here that had worried him enough to write to my father. He was trying to have Stella and Wiggins investigated by a man he hired, but the fellow dragged his heels, and didn't really learn much. If I had come as myself, I might have been shown the door. Beaudel is the legal guardian, not accountable to me, or even to my father.
"My Indian skin needed some excuse, so I hit on the obvious one—the Peninsula, which also allowed me to keep my whiskers, just in case Beaudel saw some resemblance to my sister in me. Beaudel knew her quite well, you know. We feared Lucien might not keep the secret if we told him, so Algernon gave me his ring. He had spoken to Lucien at Christmas, having some intention then of putting a spy into the house, which he didn't do after all. He hired Miss Little though, and was in close touch with her. She'll be returning, after this little vacation I arranged."
"But you didn't come as Major Morrison originally. You were Mr. Kirby first."
"I stopped at London after seeing Algernon. My intention was to have an expert examine the collection, to see if it was intact. Algernon knew Stella was after Charles to sell it, and thought he might be open to a bid. That much I learned from my father's first letter. As soon as she married Charles, she started this idea of selling. It was that as much as anything that set Sacheverel against the woman. He is all in favor of keeping it in the family. I don't know that it will be possible. Lucien will require some monies, as he matures, but he certainly does not need a hundred thousand pounds at his age."
"What trouble did you expect? You mentioned it in the letter to Papa."
"Pieces missing, forgeries, substitutions. I don't know. I gave Dutch a list of the important pieces, and a description. I certainly didn't expect they'd try to pin the crime on him! Once that happened, Mr. Kirby rapidly became Major Morrison, dashing to the rescue."
"And making Mr. Kirby unavailable when we needed him."
"I meant to tell you sooner."
"Why didn't you?"
"You won't like my reason,” he cautioned, with a wary look. “Pray remember I had never met your father. I had just got back from a long stint in India, and chose him on the word of an acquaintance, who did not know him personally. He did not say he was honest. There was a chance he had stolen the diamonds, and likewise a possibility he had sent you down here to help him in some manner."
"You thought we were thieves!"
"Subsequent inquiries assured me it was not the case. All right, you won't like the other reason any better, but here it is. I thought if you knew I could get your father out of jail quickly, you would pester me to do it. You have such a winning way, Anna. It suited me better to let Stella and Wiggins think their schemes were not suspected. Dutch agreed to sit tight while I laid my snares to entrap them."
"It was foolish of us not to think they would kidnap Lucien."
"Stella was to be the victim, originally. It was only when Beaudel began to think she had snaffled the Jaipur, and looked at her with a less loving eye, that she feared he wouldn't pay up for her. I believe the Cantors were notified the night you went to Kirby's cottage. Wiggins was also out, remember?"
"Yes, Tess thought I was with him."
"You may imagine how I felt when I learned my mistake. The deuce of it was we never learned where the cottage was, that they had hired to hold Lucien. We always assumed we'd grab them before they had occasion to use it. We didn't even know you and Lucien were gone for a couple of hours. Mullins and I were on the qui vive at the house, watching Stella and Wiggins, who went about their normal activities like a couple of professional actors. When we finally realized it was time you and Lucien were coming back and went after you, we wasted another hour searching orchards and stables and I don't know what all. God, what a nightmare, as it slowly sank in what had happened. And after I sent you out there too."
"As a matter of fact, Stella made a point of checking to see I was taking him out that afternoon."
"Was it very bad?” he asked sympathetically.
"You saw the accommodations. You didn't have to taste the food.” The worst of it, I did not mention—that I thought he was a thieving impostor.
"I was so happy to see you alive, I didn't take much notice of the accommodations. It was impossible not to notice you had changed color, of course."
"What I have been wondering is how you ever talked Stella into leading you to me."
"It wasn't easy. I can't remember when I have told so many lies as I have the past week. It went more or less like this. To convince Beaudel his wife was behind the kidnapping, I had to take him completely into my confidence—my real identity, Algernon's suspicions, the report from Tunbridge Wells, the lot. He already knew she didn't care a tinker's curse for him—he knew it, but tried to pretend he didn't, to himself even, I mean. The ransom demand came in the mail the morning after you two were taken away. Charles let on he was going to pay up, but once we got a look at the details, we saw there was no way of trapping them during the exchange of money for boy. He was to take a case full of cash to London, along a predetermined route, on the mail coach. Alone, of course. There
were dozens of chances of a foul-up, but most of all was the time involved. None of us could endure a week's delay. The thirty or so hours you were gone seemed an eternity. Worrying, remorse—God, I feel as old as Beaudel looks."
"We never would have lasted a week without going insane."
"Neither would we. So I went to Stella and made her another offer. I told her I was a con man, like herself, come to steal the Jaipur. She already thought a fake was in the safe, so she wasn't hard to convince I had the original. Beaudel loaned it to me. I showed it to her, and told her it was hers if she'd take me to you."
"She must have thought you were very fond of me!"
"I am, but she wouldn't understand love. She really doesn't even love Wiggins, but only finds him a useful tool. I told her you were my accomplice, and I had to get you back. We—ah—discussed disposing of you terminally, but I convinced her that besides my having some designs on your body, you were negotiating to become governess for the Duchess of Devontree. The Dowager Duchess, you know, has a very fine collection of jewelry. My story was probably shot full of holes, if she had sat down and thought about it, but I kept flashing the diamond at her, and tempting her greed, and rushing her like the devil. I told her I had to leave that night, with or without you, but preferably with. In the end, she agreed to slip out of the house with me after dark, and take me to you. The name of Lucien was not even mentioned in my priorities. I am by no means sure either of us would have been allowed to leave alive. Your little surprise in having lost Lucien upset the girl. That was very clever, letting on he had never been there. How'd you come to think of it?"
"I learned the trick of setting thieves at each other's throats from you, Bertie."
"Thank you. Here Mullins has been telling me he takes the credit, as he gave you some lessons in logic."
"It was inspiration, not logic."
"Whatever it was, it worked. Stella cropped out into a nice, incriminating confession before two witnesses—you and me. She would have had more in a minute. The police were to storm in five minutes behind me, or sooner, if they heard shots or other ominous sounds."