Petronella Saves Nearly Everyone

by Dene Low

  The tinny voice grew louder.

  James wrote furiously on a piece of paper thrust under his pencil by the home secretary. "Yes, I have a pencil. And which ones have specifically come from Colombia? Two? The Star and the Constanza? At the Royal Albert Dock? Thank you very much. Please do go back to bed, and may you enjoy what is left of the night." He gently placed the earpiece back into its cradle on the telephone.

  I was excited. "The Star or the Constanza. They must be on one of those two ships. Now we only have to find a way to get them off." My excitement died as I considered possibilities. "Oh, dear. I don't suppose we can simply barge in with hundreds of government personnel and take them back. They could be killed."

  James turned to the home secretary. "Sir Alastair, how many men could you muster in the next hour? I have the beginnings of a plan, and by the time the men are here, I shall have it completed."

  Uncle Augustus wandered over to our little group. "Chumpy, old friend. I'm sure that James's plan is quite brilliant, but while you are rounding up your contingent, I think I'll wander down to the docks for a bit of a reconnaissance mission. By the time you and your men come, I may be able to offer some additional information."

  At that moment, Sir Alastair's butler entered, followed by two footmen, all of whom were bearing trays with tea and several plates of sandwiches. My stomach rumbled audibly at the sight of so much food. However, I could not help but stare at Uncle suspiciously. What kind of reconnaissance did he intend to conduct down on the docks? I should never let him go there by himself. I glanced longingly at the tea and sandwiches and then back at Uncle, who had a look that seemed to say he was hiding his true intentions. Knowing Uncle as I did, I would be a fool to let him go. But I was so hungry. Food or Uncle? Food or Jane? Food or Mother England?

  I sighed deeply. "Uncle, I am going with you." My stomach rumbled, but I ignored it. I am an Arbuthnot, after all—and the Percivals are no slouches, either.

  "Dear girl," protested Sir Alastair. "That would be most unseemly. Young ladies simply don't ... don't ... gallivant."

  I began to see why he was called Chumpy and wondered if he was acquainted with my aunts. However, I smiled sweetly. "And what could be more decorous than a young lady's guardian, er ... guarding her on her way home after an evening's gaiety? Uncle Augustus would look much less suspicious walking along the docks with me on his arm. We could pretend he is giving me a tour or a lecture on the benefits of foreign travel for one's education."

  James guffawed. "At four o'clock in the morning? Young ladies don't stroll about the Royal Albert Dock at four o'clock in the morning, even with their guardians." Although James's laughter irritated me, he looked absolutely endearing, with a dark shadow of beard just beginning to appear. I longed to stroke his cheek to feel its roughness even as I longed to punch him in the jaw for being so obstructive and medieval. This was no longer the 1500s, when King Henry could lock up his female acquaintances at will and chop off their heads whenever he pleased. This was a new century— the 1900s—when females could be the equal of any male—a sentiment I heartily agreed with.

  Uncle surprised me by saying, "It would most likely be for the best if Petronella did accompany me. Two pairs of eyes are better than one. It is just getting light, and soon the sailors and dockworkers will be up and about, and I should welcome Petronella's help. Come, dear."

  "Coming, Uncle." I grabbed a handful of sandwiches in a most unladylike manner, determined to eat them in the carriage on the way to the docks. Then I followed my uncle out the door of the parlor only to be halted in midstride by the sight of my own esteemed butler, Moriarty.

  I blinked and blinked again, afraid that my hunger and lack of sleep were giving me hallucinations. What was my butler doing in London? Moreover, what was my elegant butler doing in London looking as though he had been dragged through a hedgerow backward and breathing heavily as if he had just completed a marathon?

  Moriarty bowed exquisitely and presented a small white envelope. "For you, Miss Arbuthnot."

  Then he fainted.

  I immediately knelt by Moriarty's side, reached into the pocket of his coat, and withdrew the Vile Vial. Swiftly unstopping the small cobalt blue bottle, I waved it under Moriarty's nose. His entire body went rigid. His eyes flew open. He leaped to his feet gasping and clasping his throat with both hands while he staggered about the room.

  I smiled with secret satisfaction. Just deserts. I popped the cork back in the bottle with a slap of the palm and handed him back his smelling salts. "There you go, Moriarty. Your salts did the trick ... as always." My butler was still choking and unable to reply, but I could tell he got my meaning quite well.

  James held up the envelope that Moriarty had delivered. On the outside of the envelope was affixed a small butterfly.

  Uncle Augustus peered over my shoulder as we all stared. Then Uncle and James and I said together, "But that is not a Tou-eh-mah-mah butterfly."

  Chapter Twenty

  In Which the Butler Is Accused

  TO HAVE ONE'S BUTLER APPEAR suddenly at the home secretary's residence at four o'clock in the morning was unsettling, but not so unsettling that one could not eat. I took a bite of sandwich while Uncle opened the note. "Why, it's addressed to Petronella, and it says that if she does not wrap five thousand pounds in brown paper and deliver it to the base of Big Ben by noon, the generalissimo and the dame will be blown to smithereens."

  "Smithereens? Hardly sounds like a word a Colombian would use," said James.

  I took another bite and chewed while I ruminated on the contents of the note. Five thousand pounds is quite a bit of money, even for me. Still, the amount seemed odd. There had been twenty thousand pounds in the satchel, as was demanded in the first ransom note. Why did they now ask for only five thousand? I took another bite of sandwich and noticed for the first time that it was roast beef with a bit of pickle. Happily, I like roast beef. Unhappily, I detest pickles. I ate it anyway.

  James took the note from Uncle and carried it over to the table where the note from the effigy rested. "Look. The handwriting is completely different, and so is the paper."

  Uncle, thumbing through his Insectile Creatures, halted on a page and pointed with his index finger at an illustration that did indeed look like the butterfly on the envelope. "See here. That butterfly on the note has no connection whatsoever with Colombia or Panama. It is a common Wood White, or Leptidea sinapis, most often found in English and Welsh woodlands."

  "Upon my word, these kidnappers are becoming bilingual as far as butterflies go," said Sir Alastair.

  "Not bilingual, by George," said James. "This note was not written by the kidnappers."

  I considered James's statement. "Moriarty. How did you come by this note, and however did you find us?" I asked before starting in on a chicken sandwich.

  Moriarty, still recovering from the effects of the Vile Vial, looked up from where he had been sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands. "It was tacked to the front door. Someone pulled on the bell, and when I answered I found it."

  The attention of everyone in the room riveted on my butler.

  "And at what time did you find the note?" I asked.

  "It was at eleven-thirty, Miss Arbuthnot, when the bell rang. I had just wound the clock in the front hall as is my custom every evening at eleven-thirty." Moriarty tugged his clothing into place as he rose from the sofa, evidently feeling more like his butlering self by the minute.

  "There you are!" said James. "Then it absolutely could not have been the kidnapper who placed the note on the door at your home in the country. There would scarcely have been time for the kidnapper to get back to meet you at Lord Nelson's Column at midnight. The only train at that time of night arrives from London at 10:30 and returns at 11:43."

  As James spoke, I could not help but notice that he looked absolutely stunning with disheveled hair. My longing to punch him had long since passed. Now I desired only to smooth his locks into place.

  "There ar
e several Wood Whites in the woods on your grounds, Petronella," said Uncle Augustus, absently patting his insect book. I wondered how many of my Wood Whites were squashed between slips of waxed paper in those pages.

  Uncle continued, "Whoever wrote the note most likely acquired the butterfly in the vicinity of your home."

  "But the only people left at my home are my servants," I said.

  All eyes, which had been on Moriarty, then James, then Uncle, now swiveled back toward Moriarty.

  "Seize the butler!" shouted Sir Alastair. "I should have known. It is always the butler who does it, whatever it is. Seize him, I say."

  "No!" I cried.

  Dashing in from the front hall, two government men, indistinguishable from all the other government men we had seen, grabbed Moriarty's arms from behind. "We have him, sir."

  Sir Alastair shook his fist in my butler's face. "Where are they? Where have you hidden the dame, the generalissimo, and Miss Sinclair, you fiend?"

  Moriarty looked absolutely stunned. "I have no idea what you are talking about ... sir."

  "Of course he doesn't!" I protested.

  The home secretary ignored me. "Trying to play innocent, is he? He is obviously in league with the kidnappers. He and only he knew of the plans for the party and was there when the first notes arrived, as well as this latest note. Take him away and lock him up."

  "But I have no idea where those people are. And what of Miss Sinclair? Where is she?" Moriarty began struggling. "I've known her since she was a child. If anyone has harmed her..." He nearly broke free, but the government men grasped him even more tightly.

  "But what of the different handwriting on the notes? Moriarty obviously did not write all of the notes. And what of the different butterflies?" protested James.

  "Quite right," I agreed, but no one paid the least attention to me. I was beginning to feel invisible.

  "He's in league with the kidnappers. They took turns writing the notes, and I suppose they ran out of Colombian butterflies," said Sir Alastair obdurately. "Take him away to prison."

  "Miss Arbuthnot!" wailed Moriarty as the government men hustled him toward the door.

  "Wait! He has not said how he came to find us here," I said. "No one knew we were coming here. You cannot take him away until we find out." That got their attention.

  The government men ceased their hustling. They seemed to be as curious to know as the rest of us.

  "Well, man?" asked Sir Alastair.

  Moriarty assumed an air of injured dignity. "I came on the train as fast as I could after I found the note and went straight to the Sinclairs' London residence, where I assumed Miss Arbuthnot would be staying with Miss Sinclair. It seems that Lord Sinclair here had telephoned his man to tell him that he would not be in tonight because of business at the home secretary's residence. I had to run most of the way because there were no cabs to be had at this time of the morning."

  Now we all looked at James.

  He shrugged. "True. I did phone after I talked to the dock master."

  "That information still does not clear the butler of wrongdoing," persisted Sir Alastair.

  "Chumpy, old egg. You cannot be serious about imprisoning Miss Arbuthnot's butler. There is not enough evidence," said Uncle.

  "And I protest," I said. "I vouch for Moriarty's character. I have never known him to be dishonest about anything. Please release him into my custody, or at least into Uncle Augustus's."

  Moriarty wanly smiled at me, but he looked as if he knew he was a condemned man in spite of my protests.

  Sir Alastair patted my shoulder condescendingly. I was reminded of the odious Mr. Berwick. "My dear girl. We who are much older and wiser understand that you have a most commendable affection for a family servant, which blinds you to the possibility of his guilt. Please allow those of us who have more experience to guide you in matters of importance beyond your ability to grasp."

  The only thing I wanted to grasp at that moment was his nose. And then I wanted to give it a violent twist. I recognized in Sir Alastair that most lamentable, yet common, attribute possessed by men of large responsibility and little ability—the desire to protect one's authority at all costs, no matter how injurious it may be to others, as well as the inability to let go of a bad idea.

  "My dear Sir Alastair," I said through gritted teeth. "Please allow this young and inexperienced girl to aid you in recognizing the danger you will face when you suffer public humiliation for accusing the wrong person."

  Sir Alastair's face turned puce. "Take him away."

  Moriarty struggled anew as the government men dragged him off. Then, with a surprising turn of strength, he threw off his captors and bolted through the front door.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  In Which a Butler Reappears

  IT IS A HEAVY BURDEN when one is responsible for the safe return of one's dearest friend, the national security of Mother England, and proving the innocence of one's butler. It is also a circumstance that one hopes will occur only once in one's lifetime. In this case, such an eventuality seemed very likely, since the collection of strange events we were experiencing could never be duplicated. Of that, at least, I was sure.

  As our hansom cab bumped over cobbled streets on the way to the docks, Uncle Augustus ventured to speak to me. "Petronella, my dearest niece—"

  "Your only niece, you mean," I interrupted. I was still in high dudgeon over Sir Alastair's condescending manner and his arrest of Moriarty.

  Uncle sighed. "Yes, you are my only niece and therefore all that much more precious to me. However, I am not about to be the victim of your temper or your penchant for interrupting. We are on the same side, if you remember."

  Anger sparked within my bosom for a moment more. Then a sense of the fairness of what Uncle Augustus said seeped in, and I could not remain angry, at least not with him. Sir Alastair was another matter. "I'm sorry, Uncle. I should not have spoken to you so. But I must say that Chumpy, as you call him, will rue the day he crossed Petronella Eunice Arbuthnot."

  "Very well. The best way to get your revenge, dear niece, is to prove Chumpy wrong."

  "And how do we propose to do that? This last note turns everything on its ear. How can we be sure of what anything is anymore?"

  "Elimination. We narrowed down the possible source of the Colombian insects, and now we narrow down the ship they came from," said Uncle Augustus.

  "Good plan," I said.

  In the pearly dawn light subdued by thinning fog, I saw his fingers play with a bit of waxed paper protruding from his book. I looked away, unwilling to witness Uncle breakfasting. At least I'd provided for myself, having learned a valuable lesson about provisions and adventuring. In my pocket resided a tasty ham sandwich ready for any emergency requiring sustenance.

  "Do you think the dame and generalissimo and Jane will be on the ship that brought the insects?" I asked, yawning. I had been awake for nearly twenty-four hours and the rocking of the hansom cab acted as a soporific. I could scarcely keep my eyes open.

  Uncle, however, seemed wide awake and energetic. He said, "Very good observation, that. It is my belief that the ship in question is precisely where they are. They could scarcely be kept at the Savoy."

  I yawned again and leaned my head back against the squabs, preparing to nap until we reached the docks. "My thoughts as well," I murmured. Then my eyes flew open. "Goodness gracious! Is that a head?"

  "Eh, what?" said Uncle.

  The top of a roundish object bobbed just outside my window. In the previously mentioned pearly dawn light, the object was only just discernible as a head. However, as I watched in fascination, I realized that the head could not accurately be described as bobbing. Bobbing involved more of a sharp ascension accompanied by a sharp descent. The action of this head consisted of smoother movements, which could not actually be described as a bob. It was almost as if the body attached to the head were gliding.

  "Moriarty!" I exclaimed. I threw open the cab door, and my esteemed butler leape
d inside.

  "My word, man. What are you doing here?" asked Uncle Augustus.

  Moriarty seated himself next to Uncle Augustus and straightened his shirt front and tie. "I thought it my duty to assist Miss Arbuthnot and yourself, Mr. Percival, and I could not do so from a prison cell. Besides, I wish to prove my innocence."

  "Capital idea," I said. For some reason Moriarty's presence gave me much more confidence. Additionally, I was not loath to put one over on Sir Alastair.

  Uncle Augustus frowned. "I'm afraid you have placed us in somewhat of an ethical dilemma," he said. "We are law-abiding citizens and you were lawfully arrested. We shall have to detour and return you to the authorities."

  "Uncle Augustus!"

  Moriarty nodded thoughtfully. "I understand your concern, sir. And I should do the same in your shoes. However, I am in possession of some vital information that precludes my returning to the authorities until I have acted upon it, and I presume that you will feel the same."

  Chapter Twenty-two

  In Which a Star Is Found

  I HAD ALWAYS THOUGHT OF the Thames as a quiet river. When one punts on the upper Thames, one hears only a bit of sloshing, with the occasional splash when some unfortunate punter falls in. Then there might also be a bit of shouting. Such an occurrence leaves one feeling smug that one is safe and dry; however, for the most part, the upper Thames is a prime example of the maxim that still waters run silent and deep.

  The docks in London are another matter altogether.

  When James had said that the Star and the Constanza were at the Royal Albert Dock, I imagined a collection of picturesque wooden piles and planks such as those where punts are tied up, only larger and perhaps encased quaintly in moss. I was unprepared for the complexity of the dock system, with the warehouses and locks and boats in all sizes and shapes and an extraordinary amount of loading and unloading being done.