Death at Glamis Castle (9 page)

The colonel cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure. “This . . . Lord Osborne. He's the man we're looking for, Captain?”

“That's right.” Kirk-Smythe's face tightened. “Lord Osborne's likeness may be recognized, unfortunately, so we can't put the picture out without giving away the game. In the event, he is rather changed, according to Angus Duff. His hair has grown quite gray, and he has gained a stone or more. I suggest that we rely upon a description which I have prepared and had copied for your use, Colonel Paddington. Anyone fitting Lord Osborne's general description should be brought in for identification.”

Recollecting his duty, the colonel put away his disbelief. “Thank you, Captain,” he said in a formal tone. “Is there anything else?”

Kirk-Smythe paused, selecting his words carefully. “Only this, Colonel. Should your men encounter anyone speaking in a foreign accent or seeming to be a stranger to the district, he should be conveyed immediately to Brigadier Lord Sheridan for questioning. Until we get this sorted out, no one from the outside should be allowed in and no one from the inside should go out. The local men already at the observation posts can help your men identify residents of the area.” He cleared his throat. “Now, if you don't object, I should like to have a further word with Brigadier Lord Sheridan.”

“There will no doubt be additional orders shortly, Colonel Paddington,” Charles said tactfully, “as the situation becomes somewhat clearer. Perhaps you could deploy your troops now.”

Deployment, at least, was something the colonel understood. He stepped back, snapped a salute to Charles, nodded to Kirk-Smythe, and strode down the platform. “Sergeant-Major!” he bawled. “Get the men out. Empty the train!”

The Ripper & the Royals
Melvyn Fairclough

A History of the British Secret Service
Richard Deacon

 

 

 

 

Charles turned back to Kirk-Smythe. “So Prince Eddy has been sequestered here at Glamis for the past ten years?”

“It's true, m'lord, incredible as it may seem.”

Charles put his hand on the younger man's arm. “Sheridan, please, Andrew. There's no need for formality between us.”

Kirk-Smythe tried not to look flattered. “Right, then. Well, as you probably know, Lord Strathmore is a close friend of the King's, and his lordship's son Patrick was a classmate of Eddy's at Cambridge. I suppose it was natural for them to offer Glamis as a place of safe-keeping.”

“I know Lord Strathmore quite well,” Charles said, “and Patrick and I were once friends, although we haven't seen one another recently. I've visited Glamis Castle on several occasions—the last time around ninety-four, I think.” He paused, recalling that Prince George, Eddy's younger brother, had been one of the party, as well. “That would have been two years after the so-called death. Was Eddy here then?”

Kirk-Smythe nodded. “Immediately after his death was staged, the Prince was brought here, under the name of Lord Osborne. Since you've been in the castle, you know that there's ample room for someone to live in complete privacy.” His grin was wry. “An entire cricket squad, come to that. Biggest damn castle in Scotland. Hundreds of places to hide a fellow—like that ‘monster' who's said to have been locked up in some secret place.”

“But Eddy's not hiding there now,” Charles said gravely.

Kirk-Smythe gave him a wry look. “He was discovered missing on Monday morning.” He paused uncomfortably. “But that's not the whole of it, I'm afraid. That same morning, the body of one of the women who attended to Eddy, a long-time employee of the Strathmore family, was discovered in the park. Her throat was slit ear-to-ear, in the manner of the Ripper.”

“Uh-oh,” Charles said in a low voice, seeing the difficulty at once. “Bad business.”

“Very bad business indeed,” Kirk-Smythe said. “Angus Duff telegraphed word of the escape and the murder to Whitehall, and the Prime Minister relayed it to King Edward, who devised the plan that I've communicated to you. He has instructed me to tell you that the woman's murder must be resolved expeditiously, for obvious reasons. I'm speaking of the similarity to the Ripper's method, of course.”

Charles could only imagine the Royal reaction to this horrifying tangle of events. “But Prince Eddy wasn't responsible for the Whitechapel killings,” he said. At least not directly, he added to himself, although it had been the Prince's illicit marriage to Annie Crook that set the stage for the Ripper murders.
³

“That may be true,” Kirk-Smythe replied. “But the King is concerned that this murder be solved as quickly and quietly as possible. If word gets to the Edinburgh newspapers, a great deal of unwelcome attention will be focussed on Glamis, and another safe haven will have to be arranged for the Prince—when he is found.”

Charles shook his head. “My God,” he said softly. “This
is
an unholy mess.”

Kirk-Smythe made a rueful face. “I'm afraid it's likely to get even messier. For some time, we've been aware of a German agent—his code name is Firefly—who is operating in and around Edinburgh. One of Gustav Steinhauer's men, perhaps. He has recently been seen in this district. I'm attempting to obtain a photograph from our archives, so that we can keep a lookout for him.” He paused and added reluctantly, “I fear that we must face the possibility that the

Germans are somehow responsible for Prince Eddy's disappearance.”

Charles let out his breath slowly. “You're suggesting that the Prince did not simply escape? That he was
kidnapped
?” The thought left him cold, for he knew very well that the Kaiser wouldn't hesitate to use Prince Eddy to embarrass the British Crown, even to the extent of endangering the monarchy.

“It's a likelihood that we must consider,” Kirk-Smythe replied gravely, “although I should hope we won't have to reveal the possibility to Colonel Paddington. The fewer people who know about this, the better.” He looked out toward the Grampians, rising to the west, and added reflectively, “If they've already got him away, he could be anywhere. There, in the mountains, which are nothing but rugged crag and cranny, blanketed with forest.” He grimaced. “That's where Bonnie Prince Charlie eluded Cumberland's capture for nearly half a year, you know, during the Forty-five Rebellion. Eddy could be hidden in those mountains, or he could be halfway to Germany. We have a few agents watching the major ports, but it's a thin net, with far too many holes.”

Charles shook his head bleakly, feeling that he was faced with an impossible task. “You mentioned an agent named Firefly. What was he up to in Edinburgh?”

“The same thing we're up to ourselves, here and there, I should imagine. Keeping track of arms production, estimating naval capabilities, identifying disaffected indigenous groups who might be useful in certain circumstances.” Kirk-Smythe gave a little shrug. “That sort of thing.”

That sort of thing.
Charles knew that the Military Intelligence branch had come to new life during the war in South Africa, but British intelligence still lagged far behind that of France and Russia—and particularly Germany. Downing Street rarely saw intelligence reports, and the War Office regarded MI as rather like a reference library, able to provide useful background information but not good for much else. The thought that foreign espionage agents might be responsible for Prince Eddy's disappearance from Glamis made him desperately uneasy, for the Lord knew that this business was already complicated enough, and the prospects for success were not encouraging. He silently entertained the wish that he could return to Housesteads and the long-dead Romans, where the puzzles were more easily resolved. But he was under the King's instructions. There was nothing for it but to carry on.

Aloud, he said, “How did you manage to get yourself involved in this, Andrew?”

Kirk-Smythe spoke with dry humor. “How did I manage to get mixed up in this wretched mess, do you mean? The group to which I am attached works with codes and ciphers, and I was seconded as cryptographer for the King's trip to Germany. I was with him and the German Court in Hamburg—that's another interesting story, believe me—when we received the coded dispatch from Whitehall, relaying Duff's message that Prince Eddy was gone, and there was a murder to hand. It was at first hoped that Eddy had simply got lost and might wander back to the castle before the lot of you arrived. In that case, the mission would have been aborted, the train would have returned to London, and no one would have been the wiser.” He sighed. “Nothing has been seen or heard of the Prince since Monday, however. I've done my best to get things under control since I arrived here, but the resources have been entirely inadequate. And as far as the murder is concerned—well, I must tell you frankly that this is out of my league. The King insists that the killer's identity be established beyond question. A tall order, it seems to me.”

Charles chewed on his lower lip. He had nothing of what would be required for even a minimal criminal investigation, and he was doubtful about finding a chemist's shop in a village as tiny as Glamis. “I'm afraid we are in the same boat, Andrew. My holiday was not a photographic expedition. Kate has her camera and developing equipment with her, but I do not, much less—”

Kirk-Smythe broke into a broad grin. “Not to worry, Sheridan. I made a quick visit to one of your friends at the Yard. He's sent what you need to take fingerprints, and more besides.”

Charles wished fleetingly that Kirk-Smythe had not been so thorough in his preparations. It left him no excuses. But he refrained from saying so, merely nodding and asking instead, “What else has been done besides putting out the observation posts?”

“Some searching, but not terribly systematic, I'm afraid. Duff went round to several possible hiding places—I've marked them on the map—but we haven't had the time nor the men for a comprehensive manhunt. I've also had Duff prepare a roster of the household staff—twenty or so.” He took out a paper and handed it to Charles, who unfolded it and glanced at the handwritten list of names.

“The four marked with asterisks?” he asked.

“They had regular contact with the Prince, bringing his meals, taking care of his personal needs, and so on. Hilda MacDonald, who's first on the list, was the murder victim. Flora MacDonald is her daughter; it was she who found her mother's body on the path to the village. Both of them had daily responsibilities for Prince Eddy's care, Hilda for the entire time of his stay, Flora for the past four or five years. You've already met Angus Duff, the factor. He was in overall charge. Simpson is the house steward.”

Charles pocketed the list. “You've spoken to them?”

“To all but Hilda,” Kirk-Smythe replied dryly. “Whatever she knew goes to the grave with her. None of the other three admit to any knowledge of the Prince's disappearance. They didn't seem entirely comfortable with my questions, but in the circumstance . . .” He shrugged. “I told them that you would be conducting more extensive interviews.”

“What is known in the village about this affair?”

“The village is an extension of the estate, to all intents and purposes. Most of the villagers are either on the Strathmore staff or related to an employee. On the one hand, this has the disadvantage of encouraging the spread of rumor—especially with regard to the murder of Hilda MacDonald. On the other, it has the advantage of encouraging the villagers' cooperation.” He paused. “Declaring martial law would have been damned awkward, if we'd had to do it. It would have attracted attention.”

“To say the least.” Charles turned to watch a squad of men unloading the military bicycles. “The idea of using a bicycle reconnaissance maneuver to explain the presence of the Guards—it was masterful. Yours?”

Kirk-Smythe nodded briefly. “Thanks. It was the best I could think of.”

Charles thought back to what he knew of Prince Eddy, whom he had last seen only a few months before his so-called death, ten years before. Then, his behavior had been noticeably irrational. “What does Duff say about the Prince's behavior and mental state in the past few weeks?”