The Problem of the Missing Miss (32 page)

“Not so fast, Mr. Upshaw,” Dr. Doyle grated out.

Upshaw was not too winded to struggle in the young doctor's arms. The two men wrestled back and forth until Constable Corrigan reached them, gasping for breath, but still able to wheeze out, “Mr. Geoffrey Upshaw, you are under arrest, in the name of the Queen!”

With Upshaw subdued, they marched back to the Marbury carriage, where Ned Kinsale was held firmly by Inspector MacRae.

Inspector MacRae stepped forward. “Mr. Edward Kinsale,” he intoned, “I arrest you …”

“Oh no, Inspector,” Mr. Dodgson corrected him. “Mr. Edward Kinsale has been imprudent, but he is not a murderer.”

Kinsale wrenched himself away from MacRae and brushed himself off. “Thank you for that.”

“The one who killed Mary Ann and Old Keeble was Mr. Geoffrey Upshaw. And I believe that the rest of this business should be conducted somewhere more private. Inspectors, you may do your duty. Lord Richard, I will see you later in the Rectory of St. Peter's. As for you,” he turned to Alicia, “you are a very naughty little girl.”

Alicia grinned back at him. “But I got those nasty people, didn't I?”

“You most certainly did,” Mr. Dodgson told her. “Now, you will let us take care of this unfortunate man, and I shall tell you all about it later.”

“Is that a promise?”

Mr. Dodgson nodded solemnly.

“Then I will go back to the Rectory,” Alicia stated.

Geoffrey Upshaw had been brought over to Inspector Wright, who eyed him dispassionately. “Geoffrey Upshaw, I arrest you on the charge of murder of Mary Ann Parry and William Keeble. You are warned that anything you say—”

“Murder? No! It was an accident!” Upshaw gabbled. “I didn't mean to do it. Truly, I didn't mean to …”

“—may be taken down in evidence and used against you.” Inspector Wright finished his rubric. “Sergeant, take him away.”

Lord Richard Marbury watched his secretary, the loyal Upshaw, being taken into custody. “What is going on here?” he demanded.

“Sorry, sir,” Inspector MacRae said, “but Mr. Upshaw will be detained for a while.”

“He was responsible for the deaths of Mary Ann and the actor, Keeble,” Mr. Dodgson told Lord Richard. “And if you will meet me at St. Peter's Rectory, I can explain how. As for why.” He sighed. “That is for the police to discover.”

Upshaw looked at Lord Richard, then over at Mrs. Jeffries, who pointedly stared at General Booth, who was holding forth at great length and with unbelievable volume. Seeing no aid in either quarter, Upshaw's expression turned to a snarl.

“Why? Ask him! I was there to do his bidding. Go here, Upshaw! Do this, Upshaw! Learn the typewriter, book my railway tickets, find me a cab, Upshaw! And for the pittance he paid me? How was I supposed to maintain myself as a gentleman? I got a better offer, a much better offer, and I took it! Why not?”

Lord Richard gazed at his secretary with the look of one who has just had the breath beaten out of him. “But I thought you were with me in this?”

“You'll never win, Marbury,” Upshaw spat out.

Lord Richard's spine stiffened. “Possibly not. But I must continue to fight,” he said.

“Then you're a damned fool!”

Constable Corrigan led the cursing man out of the park and across the Grand Parade to the John Street Police Station, there to await the Magistrate's Court and the Coroner's inquest in the morning.

Dr. Doyle handed his wife into the carriage with Lady Pat and Alicia, then turned to Mr. Dodgson. “And what of Mr. Kinsale?”

That individual had regained his poise and his Irish charm. He now grinned at Mr. Dodgson. “I'll be at the Rectory, too. Pat needs someone to hold her hand—and I would like to know how you hit on Upshaw.”

Mr. Dodgson looked severely at Kinsale. “I did not hit on him, as you put it. I used reason and logic, and the answer was there before me. I shall see you at the Rectory.”

He strode off into the night. Behind him, St. Peter's Choir rendered Handel's “Hallelujah!” with evangelical fervor.

Inspector Wright and Inspector MacRae looked at each other. “I'd like to know how the old boy reasoned it out, myself,” Inspector MacRae said at last.

“No matter,” Inspector Wright said. “We've got a confession, and that's all the Coroner will need. This whole business will be cleared up by tomorrow, and everyone can go home.”

CHAPTER 30

It was nearly midnight by the time the Rector was able to leave the protestation meeting. He arrived at the front parlor of the Rectory, his face shining with the light of righteousness. Lord Richard Marbury loped in his wake, almost shamefaced in his triumph, with Inspectors MacRae and Wright bringing up the rear, having seen Mr. Geoffrey Upshaw settled in a cell at the John Street Police Station, not two doors down from the one in which Miss Julia Harmon was housed.

They found Lady Pat and her brother in the parlor with Dr. Doyle and Mr. Dodgson, while Mrs. Barclay and Mrs. Doyle oversaw the preparations for a cold supper in the dining room. Bread and butter, slices of cold ham and mutton, biscuits and cakes, tea and sherry awaited the ravenous fighters for the cause of Virtue.

Alicia had protested vigorously, but had been put to bed by the staunch Nanny Marsh, with Kitty by her side. The ex-slavey actually looked quite presentable in her neat new gown, with her straggling hair safely confined under a prim cap.

“And you will come tomorrow, and tell me everything,” Alicia instructed Mr. Dodgson, as she was led up the stairs.

“I promise,” said Mr. Dodgson.

Now Mr. Barclay and his wife led the parade into the dining room, where Lord Richard wasted no time, but attacked the collation with a single-minded ferocity that said volumes for his attitude. Upshaw was forgotten in the press of events.

“We have collected over five hundred more names!” Lord Richard announced, as he took the seat offered him by Mr. Barclay. “Tomorrow, General Booth will present his petition in person, to Parliament! During the last week he has spoken in four different cities, and collected over six thousand names, including the ones added tonight. We must prevail now!”

“Richard!” Lady Pat exclaimed. “Aren't you at all interested in what is going to happen to poor Mr. Upshaw?”

“Poor Upshaw indeed!” Lord Richard huffed. “The man was a traitor, a snake in the grass, working against me all the time. He said he was trying to locate the members of Parliament at their various holiday homes, but now I find that his attempts consisted of railway journeys that led nowhere! What was he thinking of? To deceive me, to deceive us all—an employee of mine!”

“But he was not,” Mr. Dodgson said.

“Eh?” Lord Richard eyed his old tutor.

Mr. Dodgson turned to Inspector MacRae. “I believe you will find that Mr. Upshaw is one of those persons mentioned in the
Pall Mall Gazette,
suborned by Mrs. Jeffries, and paid to obtain information concerning the members of Parliament. Did you never wonder why this Bill has failed in passing so often?”

“No!” Lord Richard gasped. “I cannot believe that those who sit with me … should be …” He choked over his tea.

All eyes turned to Mr. Dodgson, who had seated himself in a corner, as if to hide from the light of public gaze. Now, however, he rose, in full professorial mode, to instruct the ignorant.

“Indeed, Lord Richard, it is an unhappy fact that every person has some small peccadillo, a skeleton in the closet, so to speak. It was Mr. Upshaw's task to discover any such skeletons and pass on the information to Mrs. Jeffries.”

“But—why did he involve you?” Lady Pat asked.

“Ah, yes. That was the beginning and the ending, was it not? For Mr. Upshaw did not know me at all. It must have given him a nasty start when he realized who it was sharing his railway carriage.”

“But if Mr. Upshaw did not know you, who did?” Dr. Doyle asked, still confused.

“Ah, that was Miss Harmon's contribution to the plot,” Mr. Dodgson said. “As you pointed out, there seemed to be two persons involved in this business. One knew of the Marbury household; the other knew of me, and my connection with Lord Richard. One was a cautious, careful planner; the other was impetuous, and easily panicked. It was the impetuous one who suggested that Miss Alicia might be used as a lever to pry Lord Richard's support away from the Criminal Amendment Bill; it was the cautious one who decided how this could be accomplished.

“When the Criminal Amendment Bill was given its previous readings, no particular notice had been taken of it by the general public. This time, however, the articles in the
Pall Mall Gazette
were inflaming public opinion. Between Mr. Stead's articles and Lord Richard's zeal, there was every likelihood that the Bill might actually be passed. Mrs. Jeffries was in jail, serving her sentence, and could not restrain her subordinates, Mr. Upshaw and Miss Harmon. Between them, they took advantage of Miss Alicia's change of holiday plans to attempt to influence you, Lord Richard.

“The articles appeared beginning on the fourth of July, the very time that Lord Richard attended the boat races at Oxford and met me there. I imagine that gave Mr. Upshaw the idea of suggesting that Miss Alicia be sent to me—that, and my resemblance to the actor, Keeble, or rather, his to me.

“It might have been Miss Harmon who continued the plot, with the aim of having personal revenge upon you, Lord Richard, for, ah, past slights.

“Now, who knew Lord Richard's personal history? Not Geoffrey Upshaw.”

“Of course not!” Lord Richard snorted at the very idea.

“But Miss Julia Harmon did,” Mr. Dodgson continued. “She has a passionate nature, Lord Richard, and the emotion she once felt for you turned to hatred. I apologize, Lady Patricia, if I bring up such matters.”

“I told Pat all about it before we were married,” Lord Richard said. “All water under the bridge now.”

“Quite,” Mr. Dodgson shot him a glance, as if to silence a student who kept interrupting the class. “I suspect Mr. Upshaw met Miss Harmon through their mutual connection with Mrs. Jeffries. Inspector MacRae will undoubtedly find evidence of such a meeting once he gets back to London.”

“You take a good deal for granted, Mr. Dodgson,” MacRae gritted out.

“Logic demands that the evidence is there. There will be witnesses,” Mr. Dodgson said serenely.

“So, Miss Harmon planned the kidnapping, and Upshaw organized it,” Dr. Doyle summed up. “It was he, then, who used the typewriting machine to send you to Brighton Station at the wrong time.”

“Exactly. And while it was Miss Harmon who discovered Keeble, it was Upshaw who paid him, with money given him by Mrs. Jeffries. And there, I believe, the stage was set for disaster.

“You see, Miss Julia Harmon had not seen either me or Lord Richard in several years. She should have known that he would never permit personal emotions to interfere with his public duty. Mr. Upshaw did not know me at all, except as a rather foolish old man who wrote a tale for children. He thought that, having missed finding Miss Marbury, I would then remove myself back to Eastbourne and forget the matter completely.

“He was wrong, on both counts!” Mr. Dodgson looked almost fierce.

“But how did you know it was Mr. Upshaw?” Lady Pat asked.

“I didn't, not at first. It could have been either of two men who fulfilled Dr. Doyle's particulars.” Mr. Dodgson said, looking at his prize pupil, who smiled modestly at the company assembled in the parlor. “I must thank you, Dr. Doyle, for your invaluable assistance in this affair. Your astute observations gave me the first clues.”

Dr. Doyle turned brick-red with embarrassment and pride. “I was only applying what Dr. Bell taught,” he began.

“No, no,” Mr. Dodgson said. “It was you, sir, who located the machine on which the note had been typewritten. It was you who pointed out the dents on Keeble's collar, which led to the conclusion that his death was no accident, and it was you who noticed that the button in Keeble's hand was brown, just the color of the ones on Upshaw's waistcoat. Most of all, it was you who suggested to me that there might be two hands at work in this business. Although your sermon, Henry, gave me the final clue.”

“Eh?” Mr. Barclay sputtered over a bite of his sandwich. “I had nothing to do with it!”

“Oh, but you did,” Mr. Dodgson assured him. “When you spoke of the left hand not knowing what the right hand was doing, I realized that all through this weekend, messages kept going astray. First the one to me, to meet Miss Marbury; then the ransom note, then the summons to the police.”

“Coincidence,” scoffed Inspector Wright.

“Hardly,” Mr. Dodgson said. “All these messages passed through one particular person's hands.”

“So, you applied logic to the matter, eh?” Dr. Doyle said.

“Precisely. Once I realized there were two persons involved, I could reassess the evidence. Unfortunately, the evidence pointed to both Mr. Upshaw and Mr. Kinsale.”

“What!” Kinsale was on his feet, outraged.

“I had to take all the evidence into account,” Mr. Dodgson continued tranquilly. “After all, sir, you would not give your whereabouts on the Friday night in question; you are familiar with the Marbury household; you had a button off your waistcoat; and I did see you in Brighton on Saturday night.

“Given the very public nature of Keeble's death, I felt there must have been a witness to the crime. Therefore, Dr. Doyle and I questioned the children on the beach, and found a performer who had seen Mr. Keeble and Miss Harmon together. That gave me one point of reference. Then I had to find someone who was a member of the Marbury household, with access to the typewriting machine, missing a button off his waistcoat, who was in Brighton on Friday night. Either Mr. Upshaw or Mr. Kinsale could have been the killer, but I had to eliminate Mr. Kinsale because he could not have sent all the messages back and forth.”