The Problem of the Missing Miss (28 page)

“And beating Kitty, and making girls do nasty things with fat old men,” Alicia added.

“Eh?” Wright stared at Alicia.

“Yes, I saw a horrid old man on top of a girl, and he made nasty noises—”

“Oh dear, dear,” murmured Mr. Dodgson. “This is most unfortunate. I don't know what her father will say. I had so hoped that the sordid realities would be kept from her.”

Mrs. Jeffries stood up. “If Julia's been so foolish as to kidnap a child off the street, then I wash my hands of her. And if you think for one minute that I'd permit such a one in a house of mine, then you're far off. Every one of my girls is there because she wants to be. Isn't that right, girls?” She turned to the girls, who nodded, some more vigorously than others. “You see?” She nodded triumphantly at Inspector Wright.

“This abduction was not, as you seem to think, a casual affair,” Mr. Dodgson said earnestly. “I was deliberately brought into it. An actor was found to impersonate me!”

“And where is he?” Mrs. Jeffries demanded.

“Alas, the poor fellow is dead.”

Mrs. Jeffries snorted. “Hah! Then someone went to a great deal of trouble, and all for nothing. If Miss Marbury was taken to influence her pa into holding off on his famous Bill …”

“For someone who claims to know nothing about it, you know a great deal,” Inspector MacRae said.

“Like I said,
if
that was so, it didn't work,” Mrs. Jeffries declared. “Look at this!” She spread out a copy of the
Pall Mall Gazette
to display the bold leader: “Marbury to Speak at Brighton Rally.”

Miss Harmon's pale face flushed and her green eyes flashed, but she held her head high. “It was you who told us to find some way of stopping him,” she snapped out. “You and the Guv'nor.”

Mrs. Jeffries glared at her subordinate. “So you cooked up this scheme between you?” She turned on Miss Harmon. “And you said he'd give in! Bah! You've let your heart rule your head, my girl, and you can take the consequences. Revenge is all very well, but it mustn't get in the way of business. Well, Inspector, take her away!”

“Miss Julia Harmon,” it was now Inspector MacRae's turn, “I charge you with conspiracy in the murder of Mary Ann Parry and William Keeble.”

Mr. Dodgson shook his head. “Oh no, Inspector,” he said gently. “You must not do that. Miss Julia Harmon may have abducted Miss Marbury and intended to send her to a procurer from France, as charged, but she did not kill either of those two people. Someone else did that.”

“And I suppose you know who did?” Inspector MacRae's voice dripped sarcasm.

“Not quite. It is one of two persons, but I cannot prove which—at least, not yet. I have a witness, who saw Mr. Keeble on the pier with someone he describes as ‘a gent.' I dare say I shall know by tomorrow. In the meanwhile, Miss Marbury, I think we shall take you to my dear friends, the Barclays, who will be very glad to see you.”

“And what about the rest of these poor children?” Dr. Doyle asked, in real concern.

“Oh, you needn't trouble yourself, sir. I'll see to them,” Mrs. Jeffries assured him.

Inspector Wright's eyes narrowed. “Are you intending to remain in Brighton?” he asked.

“And why not? It's my house. I hold the lease. Julia Harmon was only acting for me. I think I'll take the air, see the sights, walk on the Esplanade, and keep the company of these charming girls Julia's been educating. And I hear there's going to be some doings tomorrow night.”

“The protestation meeting?” Mr. Dodgson frowned. “Surely, ma'am, you're not attending?”

Mrs. Jeffries smiled broadly. “I wouldn't miss it for the world!”

CHAPTER 26

It was a triumphant procession that marched from King Street to Church Street, across Church Street, up the hill and around the churchyard to the Rectory of St. Peter's on that Sunday afternoon. Mr. Dodgson and Dr. Doyle led the way, with Alicia Marbury between them. Kitty was between Inspectors Wright and MacRae, clad in her “other dress,” an even more hideous and baggy garment than the one that covered Alicia. Behind them, Sergeant Hartley and Constable Corrigan lent a military air to the proceedings.

They crossed the Grand Parade just as the Reverend Mr. Barclay emerged from the Evensong service. Only the most assiduous of churchgoers would forsake the afternoon sun for worship, not when the holiday weekend was drawing to its close, so Alicia Marbury's disastrous attire and her choice of companion were observed by just a handful of local parishioners.

Mr. Barclay noticed the assemblage first, as he was crossing the churchyard, on his way to a well-earned tea. “Good Heavens!” he exclaimed, and went to alert his wife and her guest. Mrs. Doyle had insisted on being present when Miss Marbury should arrive, an event she decided would occur within an hour of her husband's visit to King Street.

“They've found her!” Mr. Barclay announced, before the butler had time to do the formalities.

Mrs. Doyle sprang up and ran for the door. “I knew Arthur would do it!”

“And Mr. Dodgson,” Reverend Barclay reminded her. “But—oh dear, who is that other child?”

The group was welcomed in, even before they could knock at the door. Under the eyes of the butler, the two inspectors, Mr. Dodgson and Dr. Doyle, and the two children were ushered into the parlor, leaving Sergeant Hartley and Constable Corrigan to guard the front door.

Alicia spotted the tea table first. She felt faint. It had been a very long time since she had eaten anything, and then it had been bread and cheese. Only her ingrained good manners prevented her from falling upon the sandwiches in a way that would have shocked even her Waltham cousins (who were known for voracious appetites). Instead, she curtsied politely to the most senior and imposing lady in the room, who happened to be Mrs. Barclay.

Mrs. Barclay examined the child, and exclaimed, “My dear child, what are you wearing!”

“This is Kitty's dress,” Alicia explained. “And this is Kitty.” She drew the shrinking slavey forward. “She's my friend.” That was all the information Alicia needed; Mrs. Barclay looked at Mr. Dodgson for further elucidation.

“This is the young person who served as menial in that, um, establishment, and assisted us in locating and apprehending the abductors,” Mr. Dodgson told her. “Miss Marbury has taken a fancy to her, and wishes that she be suitably rewarded.”

“I see,” Mrs. Barclay said, eyeing the not-very-attractive Kitty with distaste.

“Hello, Touie!” Dr. Doyle greeted his wife. “Have you been here long?”

“You told me you were bringing the child here, so I decided to come and see her when she arrived. Is this the little girl?” Touie knelt down to greet Alicia.

“I'm not a little girl,” Alicia maintained stoutly.

“Indeed not,” Dr. Doyle agreed. “You are a heroine!”

“I'm hungry,” Alicia added. “All I've had is bread and cheese, and porridge, but I didn't eat that. I threw it at that fat woman, and she made me wash pots.”

“Then you must have something to eat, at once,” Touie told her. “Mrs. Barclay, could something be done for these children? Perhaps your cook could prepare a small tea?”

“And Kitty must have some, too,” Alicia insisted. “Because she helped me, and they hit her with a riding whip.”

Mrs. Barclay's face turned rigid. “My dear child,” she said, “you must not discuss that place, ever. It must have been a dreadful experience, but it is all behind you now, thanks to Inspector Wright and Inspector MacRae.”

“And Mr. Dodgson,” Dr. Doyle added.

The Rector had by this time removed his ceremonial gown and donned his black jacket. “Gentlemen,” he announced, “I believe tea is being served.”

“And Peters, take this child to the kitchen, and feed her,” Mrs. Barclay ordered. “Miss Alicia will have her tea here.”

“Oh, but Kitty must stay with me,” Alicia said, clinging to Kitty's hand. “Because she is my friend.”

“I'll go to the kitchen, miss,” Kitty said timidly, looking at the overpowering grandeur of the Rectory parlor, filled with large dark furniture and the scowling portraits of previous rectors of St. Peter's.

“No, you must sit here with me,” Alicia said firmly. “Then we will tell the policemen all about that horrid place, and they will arrest all of them and take them to jail!” Alicia nodded fiercely.

Mrs. Barclay had ordered a selection of sandwiches and cakes to sustain her husband and whichever of the worshippers cared to partake after Evensong. Now she proceeded to take her place at the tea table. She nodded to Touie, who handed cups to Mr. Dodgson and Dr. Doyle, then hesitated when it came to the two inspectors. Did one offer tea to the police? Touie did not know, and Mrs. Barclay did not indicate whether she should include them in the company or not.

Finally, she asked Inspector Wright, “Will you have a cup of tea, Inspector?”

Inspector MacRae adjusted his spectacles, Wright stroked his mustache in embarrassment. “We're still on duty,” Inspector MacRae reminded his audience. “We're not finished yet.”

“But you have the wretched Harmon woman in custody,” Mr. Dodgson said, accepting a teacup from Touie.

“That we do,” Wright said. “But the only charge against her now is that of running a, hem, disorderly house. Which, as the law now stands, is not a crime but a misdemeanor. We cannot hold Miss Harmon if no further charges are brought against her.”

“And the housekeeper, or whatever she is?” Dr. Doyle asked.

“According to her story, she was acting under orders of Miss Harmon. She'll be let go,” Inspector Wright told them apologetically.

“Do you mean, you can't put her in jail for what she did?” Alicia asked, through a mouthful of egg-and-watercress sandwich.

“Not according to the law,” Inspector Wright explained to her.

Alicia's face took on a decidedly mulish look. “But she kept me in the attic, and beat Kitty, and took away my dress and …”

“Yes, she did, I am sure,” Inspector MacRae said. “And there were other things.” His voice faded under Mrs. Barclay's basilisk stare. “Not very nice things,” he went on.

“There was a great, fat man, and he was on top of …”

“You must be quite tired after all that running about,” Touie said, before any more indiscretions popped out of Alicia's mouth. “And that dress.” She turned to Mr. Dodgson. “Whatever became of Miss Marbury's clothes?”

“Oh dear me,” Mr. Dodgson said in confusion. “As I recall, I told the porter at the station to send them on to my lodgings in Eastbourne.”

“Well, she can't go about dressed like that,” Touie decided. “Mrs. Barclay, last night you were discussing your work for charity. Do you collect clothes for the indigent, as we do in Portsmouth?”

Mrs. Barclay considered. “I believe there is some such collection.”

“In that case,” Touie went on, “could you find some sort of dress for Miss Marbury, and one for her, um, attendant?”

Mrs. Barclay looked dubious. “Such clothes would hardly be suitable.”

“Suitability is neither here nor there under the circumstances,” Touie reminded her. “Miss Alicia cannot continue to wear that dreadful smock. Whatever you can give her may serve until Miss Marbury's parents arrive, or until we can fetch her trunks back from Eastbourne.”

Mrs. Barclay nodded. “You are quite right, Mrs. Doyle. We do have some garments laid aside, some of which may be suitable for Miss Marbury.”

“And Kitty, too,” Alicia insisted.

“And her companion,” Mrs. Barclay went on. “And perhaps we could prevail upon my dresser to prepare a bath.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Touie said. “Miss Alicia, are you quite finished with your tea? Because if you are, you may go upstairs, and we will find you something to wear.”

Mrs. Barclay rang the bell. A pair of housemaids entered. “Take these two girls upstairs and wash them,” Mrs. Barclay ordered. “And Jane, you may go into the church and find something in the clothes-basket for them to wear.”

Kitty, who had been speechless up to now, let out a shriek. “Wash? All over?”

“It's not all that bad,” Alicia soothed her. “Rather fun. You'll see. Nanny Marsh says that cleanliness is next to godliness. When you get to London, you will take a bath every week. We have water laid on.”

Kitty, properly awed, allowed herself to be removed by the maids, while Alicia followed her up the stairs, still chattering. Inspector Wright breathed audibly in relief.

“That's a very outspoken young lady,” he observed.

“Quite like her papa,” Mr. Dodgson agreed. “Has anyone sent word to him yet that Miss Marbury has been found?”

“We've got the telephone at the station,” Inspector Wright said proudly. “I sent a constable to inform the station, who will inform Scotland Yard, who will send a messenger to Lord Richard Marbury.”

“Well, that job's done,” Inspector MacRae said.

“But there is still the matter of the deaths of the maid, Mary Ann, and the actor, Keeble.” Mr. Dodgson took a sandwich from the plate and munched meditatively.

“It would be useful to have evidence,” Inspector Wright said.

“If you need more evidence of Miss Harmon's complicity in the abduction plot, you will find the paper similar to the one used to write the ransom note in her desk. It reeks of the scent she uses.”

“Thank you, Mr. Dodgson.” Inspector Wright made a note in his book, then turned to his colleague from London.

“Not so fast,” MacRae said. “If Miss Harmon didn't do in that nurserymaid and the old fellow, who did? And why?”

“Oh, the why is obvious. Almost elementary,” Mr. Dodgson said. “Mary Ann recognized the murderer, who was supposed to be elsewhere. Old Keeble also recognized him, tried to extort money from him, and was removed from the scene for his pains.”