Letters For A Spy

by Alice Chetwynd Ley

  ‘I thought I had made that point quite clear, my dear,’ said Miss Ellis, in a slightly injured tone. ‘You know me well enough to understand that my word can be relied upon. I am neither a careless nor a forgetful person, I believe.’

  ‘No, no, of course not,’ replied Elizabeth, placatingly. ‘But it is so incredible! It can’t just have been spirited into the book. Someone must have put it there — but who?’

  She relapsed into thought.

  ‘A lunatic, obviously!’ exclaimed Miss Ellis. ‘Who else would do such a thing? Why, there could be no certainty that it would ever be found, for one thing!’

  ‘I must confess that puzzles me,’ admitted Elizabeth, frowning. ‘Even supposing that someone wished me to deliver this packet to Mr. Martin — whoever he may be — at Crowle Manor, surely it would be simpler to hand it to me personally? Simpler and more certain of success — oh!’

  She broke off abruptly. Miss Ellis raised an eyebrow inquiringly.

  The pedlar, Margaret!’ continued Elizabeth, in a burst of illumination. ‘You recollect his words — he asked if I had a letter or anything of that nature to be delivered anywhere, and he mentioned Crowle in the same breath! Depend upon it, he knows something about this!’

  Miss Ellis considered for a moment. ‘But what?’ she asked at last. ‘He cannot have placed it in the guide book himself, or he would not have been asking you if you had anything for him to deliver. The boot is on the other foot — whoever placed the letter in the book must have wanted you to deliver it.’

  ‘Perhaps that was his way of drawing my attention to the letter—’

  ‘Scarcely a satisfactory one,’ replied Miss Ellis, dryly, ‘for he never mentioned the guide book, did he?’

  ‘No. You are right. Well, then, that will not do. But all the same, I feel certain that he knows something about this packet. He spoke in too significant a tone — it would be stretching coincidence too far—’

  ‘Perhaps so. I must take your word for what he said, as I could not quite catch it, though I did notice the rather peculiar expression on his face. Crafty, it was.’

  Elizabeth agreed, and fell silent again. After a moment, she said, slowly, ‘I think perhaps the person who did it must have been the one who visited my room earlier this morning. I found the guide book on the floor, remember, and supposed at the time that the intruder had brushed it off the table in passing. Supposing instead that he or she had actually been inserting the letter into the back of the book, and perhaps misjudged the distance in replacing it on the dressing-table, so that it fell on the floor and woke me up?’

  ‘Now, really, my dear ‘ began Margaret.

  ‘I know,’ Elizabeth broke in with a laugh. ‘You are going to say that there’d be no sense in such an action! And then we are back at the point where we started. But we can’t escape the fact that someone did put this packet in the guide book, Margaret. Here it is, to prove the fact.’

  ‘Well, it is beyond me entirely,’ sighed Miss Ellis. ‘However, I suppose there is one way in which we can settle this discussion. We can open the letter and see who the sender is.’

  Elizabeth considered this suggestion for a moment in silence.

  ‘Ye — es,’ she said at last, doubtfully. ‘But do you think we should? It is not quite the kind of thing one likes to do, even in such odd circumstances.’

  ‘No. I agree with you, more particularly as the name and direction are written plainly enough. On reflection, Elizabeth, I think the only honourable think we can do is to take the letter with us and try to deliver it. If there should be any difficulty in doing so, then perhaps we could open it and communicate with the sender.’

  They debated the point for a while longer, but eventually agreed on this course of action.

  ‘Well, if we are to take this with us to Crowle Manor,’ said Elizabeth, ‘I think it will be safer to place it in my writing portfolio, rather than keep it in the guide book. It could easily get lost, you know; and although we don’t know how we came by it, still I should feel responsible would not you?’

  Miss Ellis agreed, and the packet was transferred to the safety of the portfolio, which was in Elizabeth’s portmanteau.

  ‘And now for heaven’s sake let us forget the wretched thing!’ exclaimed Elizabeth. ‘I am quite ready for my luncheon, so shall we go downstairs?’

  This they did; but they took the precaution of locking their doors securely behind them.

  *

  When Elizabeth and Miss Ellis walked away from the pedlar that morning, the group in the forecourt soon dispersed. Mr. Farnham lingered for a few moments watching with what appeared to be idle interest while the bagman displayed one or two of his wares to the remaining customer; then he turned away to stroll in the same direction as the two ladies.

  Jem Potts was evidently uneasy, for he kept looking towards the door of the inn, where the landlord still stood in a threatening attitude.

  ‘I’ll take this ribbon,’ said Mrs. Wood, when Farnham was out of earshot. ‘You mentioned just now that you would deliver a letter — I believe I may have something in that way for you.’

  The pedlar shot her a keen glance. ‘Ye do, ma’am?’

  She nodded. ‘But this is not an ideal place for us to do business, with our good host looking on, and perhaps others, too. I suggest— ’

  She produced some coins and leant over to place them in the pedlar’s hand. As she did so, she spoke a few rapid sentences in his ear. Then, stowing away the cherry-coloured ribbon in her reticule, she turned towards the inn.

  Potts lost no time in packing up after she had gone. Going through the archway into the rear quarters of the inn, he mounted a ladder to his bedroom in one of the stable lofts, flung down his pack, and afterwards made his way to the kitchen.

  There was no one there but Sally, who was scrubbing down the tables with an energy that suggested that Mrs. Jilkes could not be far away.

  ‘Workin’ hard, Sally, my love?’ Potts greeted her facetiously.

  ‘Ye’ve got eyes, ’aven’t ye? What d’ye think I be doin’? Fanning meself?’ replied Sally in kind.

  ‘And where might milady Nancy, be?’

  Sally jerked a wet thumb at the ceiling. ‘Upstairs, helpin’ with the bedchambers. Short o’ staff we be, at present — works like slaves, we do, and never no thanks for it. Nothin’ but black looks and mebbe a boxed ear from Missus now an’ then, just for a treat, like.’ She sniffed.

  Potts nodded gravely. ‘It’s a hard life, is business o’ any kind,’ he agreed. ‘And no one knows that better nor me. Tell me, love, what happens if one o’ they guests goes out and leaves their bedchamber door locked? Can the maids get in to do the cleaning?’

  ‘Course they can,’ replied Sally, scornfully. ‘There’s another set o’ keys, stupid, b’aint there?’

  ‘I don’t know — I b’aint an innkeeper,’ retaliated Potts. ‘Who keeps them, then?’

  ‘Mrs. Jilkes, mostly. She hands them over to the chambermaids at cleaning times, though. Nancy’s got them now.’

  ‘Got a finger in every pie, our Nancy,’ said Potts reflectively. ‘Smart girl. Ye say she’s up there now — when will she be finished?’

  ‘How should I know?’ returned Sally, petulantly. ‘I don’t take the same interest in her doings as ye seem to — and ye a married man, I’ll lay odds! Ought to be ashamed o’ yourself, ye did indeed!’

  Potts moved swiftly to her side and passed an arm about her waist.

  ‘Jealous, my pretty?’

  She raised the wet scrubbing brush threateningly, and he fled in alarm.

  Chapter 8

  LOST AND FOUND

  It was late in the afternoon when the two ladies returned from their exploration of Lewes castle. Miss Ellis admitted that for once she was tired.

  ‘I dare say we shall be glad of an early night, my love,’ she said, sinking into a chair in Elizabeth’s bedchamber. ‘After all, we have almost three hours travelling before us tomorrow, and we had no p
roper rest last night.’

  Elizabeth agreed, but it was evident that her mind was elsewhere. After a moment, Miss Ellis asked her what was the matter.

  Elizabeth shrugged. ‘Oh, nothing! Or at least — yes, there is something, Margaret! What do you suppose he can mean by it?’

  Her friend did not pretend to misunderstand. ‘I really have no notion at all, my dear. Perhaps — as you remarked this morning — it could simply be coincidence. How else can one pass the time but by strolling about the town?’

  ‘Yes, but to stroll in exactly the same direction as ourselves on two separate occasions! That is surely more than coincidence.’

  ‘Well,’ replied Miss Ellis, with a twinkle in her eye, ‘it is either accident or design, as you choose. Which would you prefer it to be?’

  ‘Pray, don’t be nonsensical, Margaret! Why should he follow me about when he will not even give any sign that he has recognised me? It does not make sense at all!’

  ‘Unless he is trying to recall who you are, as I suggested this morning. He may realise that he has previously met you somewhere, without being able to fix on the time and place or your name. In such a case, he might very well try to keep you in sight until recollection returns.’

  ‘That is not a very flattering notion,’ said Elizabeth, with a sigh.

  Miss Ellis glanced sharply at her, started to speak, then changed her mind. She watched in silence while Elizabeth moved restlessly about the room for a few moments, dangling her bonnet from one finger by its ribbon.

  ‘My dear,’ she ventured to say at last, ‘I fear that this unexpected encounter with Mr. Farnham may have brought back to you some of the painful feelings which—’

  Elizabeth halted before the dressing-table, staring down at it absent mindedly. ‘No. No, you are quite wrong, Margaret,’ she answered, quietly.

  ‘If you say so, my love.’

  ‘I do say so,’ Elizabeth said, in a stronger voice. ‘Don’t imagine that I have been nourishing a hopeless passion for — for Mr. Farnham during all these past six years. There was a time, it is true — However, I need not tell you that the emotions of a girl of nineteen are not likely to survive unchanged for such a long period without any encouragement. A year or two, perhaps, at the most — I have long since put the whole affair out of my mind. Let us talk of something else.’ Her eyes came into focus on the contents of the dressing-table. ‘Where is the guide book? Have you moved it? I thought I might read those pages on Lewes castle which we hadn’t time to look at this morning.’

  Miss Ellis recognised that A Tour of Sussex was to be used to steer the conversation away from the previous subject, and did her best to concur in this scheme by rising from her chair to assist in looking for the book. The search began halfheartedly, neither quite believing in it; but before long both were looking in earnest, every other thought for the moment put aside.

  ‘Well, it isn’t here,’ declared Elizabeth, after they had searched in vain throughout both the rooms, neglecting no possible hiding place. ‘That’s very odd! Now where could it have gone?’

  ‘Perhaps one of the maids removed it by mistake when they were doing our rooms,’ suggested Miss Ellis.

  ‘Or perhaps someone else managed to sneak in and take it away while the rooms were unlocked and the maids were busy elsewhere,’ said Elizabeth, slowly.

  ‘Oh, but that’s absurd! Why should anyone do so? It is not a valuable book, you know. Anyone may buy a copy in almost any bookshop for a few shillings.’

  ‘But not this copy, Margaret. This copy, you may recall, had a letter in the back — a letter addressed to a Mr. J. Martin, of Crowle Manor.’

  Margaret frowned. ‘You think that has something to do with the disappearance of the book? No, that won’t answer, Elizabeth. If anyone knew the letter was there in the first place, a moment’s search in the book would have shown that it was there no longer.’

  ‘Yes, I know. But—’ Elizabeth paused, thinking rapidly.

  ‘Perhaps whoever took the book didn’t have time to examine it on the spot. I dare say it had to be done very quickly — this person may have slipped in while the maids were cleaning the rooms, and dared not linger for fear of being noticed, but smuggled the book out to examine it elsewhere at leisure. And then, of course, whoever it was would discover later that the letter was no longer there.’

  ‘But then, my dear,’ said Miss Ellis, in a tone of one talking to a somewhat backward child, ‘the only person who could know that the letter was in the book would be the person who put it there originally; and it is inconceivable that the same person would want to remove it now. Unless, of course, we really are dealing with a maniac — which I sometimes think we must be. Either that, or we are run mad ourselves!’

  ‘I don’t know,’ replied Elizabeth, doubtfully. ‘I just don’t know. But one thing seems clear, at all events — there is something very odd about that packet for J. Martin, Esquire.’

  ‘I suppose you still have it safe?’ asked Margaret sharply.

  They went at once to look, and both heaved a sigh of relief when they found the packet still in Elizabeth’s letter case, where she had put it.

  ‘To my mind, this whole affair is nothing but a storm in a tea cup!’ exclaimed Miss Ellis. ‘I dare say the maids removed the book along with some dirty towels, or something! We should certainly question them, and I am sure it will be recovered instantly.’

  She was wrong. When they succeeded in tracking down the maid who had cleaned their rooms earlier, the girl certainly recalled the book, as she had lifted it in order to dust the dressing-table; but she was positive that it had been replaced there when she had finished, and that no one could have moved it since, as she had locked the doors of both rooms on completing them. She was evidently anxious lest the ladies should think she had purloined it, and made haste to inform them that she could not even read. Her face paled when Miss Ellis spoke of reporting the matter to the landlady.

  ‘Please, ma’am,5 she pleaded, ‘if only ye’ll give me a little time, I’ll comb the whole place till I find it, ’deed I will! For it must be somewheres, ma’am — and who would want a thing like that, beggin’ y’r pardon, I’m sure, ma’am — it must have got took by mistake, though I’m ready to swear as it was ’ere when I locked the room, an’ how it could vanish, unless someone come in by the key’ole, is more’n I can think! But if only ye won’t tell Missus, not yet awhile — for I swears I never took it, but Missus’ll like as not turn me off without a character if even she gets to’ear of it — an’ what’ll become of me then I don’t know… ‘Deed, ma’am — ladies both,’ she finished, bursting into tears, ‘I never took y’r book — honest, I never —’

  ‘There, there, don’t cry,’ said Elizabeth, patting the girl’s arm consolingly. ‘We don’t believe for one moment that you stole the book, so we shall not report its loss to Mrs. Jilkes, if you will be blamed. But do your best to find it for us, there’s a good girl. It is of sentimental value.’

  The girl promised eagerly that she would, and went away comforted.

  ‘I’m sure it happened as I suspected,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Someone managed to get in here for a moment while the maids had turned their backs, snatched the book up and took it away to a safe place before examining it.’

  ‘Which brings us back to the point where we started,’ said Miss Ellis dryly.

  ‘Why should anyone do so? Well, yes, that is the puzzle.’ Elizabeth took a turn or two about the room, then swung round suddenly, her blue eyes alert. ‘Let’s start at the beginning, Margaret. Someone has given us a letter to deliver to Crowle Manor. Now, who knows we are going there?’

  Miss Ellis nodded approval of this logical approach to the problem. ‘Well, the landlord for one, of course. You asked him for a chaise to Crowle. Also,’ she added, as an afterthought, ‘Mr. Farnham, who was standing close enough at hand to overhear your request — and, yes, that insufferable female who travelled down with us — what is her name? Mrs. Wood, that’s it.’
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  ‘Mrs. Wood!’ exclaimed Elizabeth, excitedly. ‘Yes, of course, Mrs. Wood! Now there we might have hit upon something, Margaret! I never mentioned the house to the landlord, you know — I simply asked for a conveyance to Crowle. But Mrs. Wood heard me mention Crowle Manor in the Mail coach — I told you how she pricked up her ears at it. Now, I wonder...’

  She relapsed into thought for a few moments, while Miss Ellis watched her in silence.

  ‘I think I have it,’ she said, at last, triumphantly. ‘Margaret, do you suppose that the packet could possibly contain any kind of contraband?’

  ‘Contraband? My dear Elizabeth—’

  ‘It is not so ridiculous as it sounds,’ continued Elizabeth, anticipating her friend’s criticism. ‘Only cast your mind back to our journey, Margaret, for a moment. Do you recall the coach stopping for those men to make a search of the mail box?’

  Margaret nodded. ‘Perfectly.’

  ‘Well, perhaps you also recall that Mrs. Wood was very upset about the delay, so that she became almost rude to us?’

  ‘Completely rude, I should have said, myself.’

  ‘Just so. Well, at the time I could not quite see why she was so upset; but I did have a hazy kind of notion that she was afraid of something or other. Now I begin to see what it might have been. You may remember that I could not quite hear what the men were saying, but I repeated the little I did hear, and that was something about a search. Mrs. Wood immediately asked if I meant they were going to search the coach. Now I think of it, she was decidedly alarmed at the notion.’

  ‘I imagine anyone might well be,’ replied Miss Ellis, reasonably. ‘It is not a pleasant thing to have one’s baggage searched, I am sure, although thank goodness it has never happened to me.’

  ‘But there was more in her manner than a natural shrinking from such an intrusion on her privacy,’ insisted Elizabeth. ‘Margaret, I am convinced that she was afraid of what a search might reveal — and I am not thinking of the more intimate items of a female’s personal attire, either! It’s my belief that she was carrying some kind of contraband — and if I am right, and it is contained in that packet — ’