The Problem of the Missing Miss (33 page)

“Couldn't he?” MacRae gritted out.

“The time, sir, the time!” Mr. Dodgson cried out. “Someone had to alert Mrs. Jeffries that we were on the trail of Miss Marbury's abductors, before we boarded the train back to Brighton, for Dr. Doyle and I were followed from the station. Mr. Kinsale had not the time to do that, but Mr. Upshaw was gone from the house for at least half an hour. On the other hand, Inspector MacRae was not accosted until he attempted to gain admittance to Miss Harmon's establishment. Clearly, she was warned after he arrived in Brighton, but not before!”

“Then, who sent the false telegram to me, announcing Lord Richard's appearance at the protestation meeting?” Mr. Barclay asked in confusion.

“That, I believe, was the work of Miss Julia Harmon. The left hand, as it were, not telling the right hand what it was doing. Mr. Upshaw only wished to continue in his vain pursuit of the sums disbursed to him by Mrs. Jeffries. Miss Julia Harmon, on the other hand, had a much more sinister plan in mind.”

“But—Upshaw wasn't in Brighton on Friday,” Lord Richard began.

“Oh, but he was, “Mr. Dodgson said. “He came dashing to the train on Saturday morning, when Dr. Doyle and I were leaving, at eight-thirty-five in the morning. I suspect this is what occurred:

“Mr. Upshaw, who was supposedly in Margate or Torquay, came to Brighton quite early on Friday afternoon, to oversee Keeble's abduction of Miss Alicia, and to satisfy himself that all was well. Unfortunately, Mary Ann Parry noticed him at the station, and accosted him. In his haste to get away from her, he pushed her into the wheel of the oncoming engine, with dreadful results.

“Upshaw must have begun to reconsider his part in the proceedings, but by that time it was too late to withdraw. He was supposed to meet Keeble on the Chain Pier. Keeble was the go-between, who would hand him the ransom note, which would be written by Miss Harmon. Presumably, Mr. Upshaw would have produced the note the following day, with some specious explanation.

“However, two events occurred to throw him off this schedule. Keeble demanded more money, leading to a quarrel, which led, in turn, to Keeble being thrown from the pier.

“The second distracting event was my involvement, together with Dr. Doyle. The story was undoubtedly supposed to be that Upshaw found the ransom note on the doorstep. Of course, with both Dr. Doyle and myself watching, he could not possibly say that, so he said that it had been placed into his pocket by one of the persons in the crowd.”

“But no one came near us,” Dr. Doyle put in.

“Precisely,” Mr. Dodgson said. “But what made me look very closely at Mr. Upshaw was his eagerness to remove his employer from public life. Mr. Upshaw was at great pains to tell us that he had not been in London for a week. How then could he be prepared to write the draft of Lord Richard's resignation speech?”

Inspector MacRae glared at Ned Kinsale. “And what about our Irishman?”

“Oh, Mr. Kinsale's indiscretion is political, not personal,” Mr. Dodgson said tranquilly. “I suspect his meeting on Friday night was with the followers of certain Irish societies, some of whom are not friendly to England.”

Lady Pat tut-tutted at her brother, who grinned and shrugged.

“At least I stand acquitted of kidnapping and murder,” he said.

“And what about Upshaw?” Dr. Doyle insisted.

“Ah, yes, Mr. Upshaw. I noticed how very eager he was to accompany us to Brighton, yet, once the unfortunate Mary Ann was identified, he vanished from sight. He must have notified Miss Harmon about the arrival of Inspector MacRae.”

“And left me looking a pretty fool,” MacRae said bitterly.

“It was Miss Harmon, however, who decided to send Miss Alicia to France,” Mr. Dodgson continued. “It was she who precipitated her own downfall, in her determination to destroy your character, Lord Richard.”

“And so you found Billy, and got the confession out of Upshaw,” MacRae said. “We may need more than that to finish the job.”

“I leave it to the police to find the evidence of his involvement with Mrs. Jeffries. There will have to be witnesses, possibly bank drafts or memoranda of payments, which will come to light. It is quite elementary, really.”

“Bravo!” crowed Dr. Doyle. “So, all's well that ends well, eh? Miss Alicia is back in the bosom of her family, and your Bill will certainly go through, Lord Richard. That precious pair will stand their trial, and good riddance to them! Well, Touie, we must be going. I thank you, Mr. Dodgson, for letting us hear the end of the story.”

“Of course,” Mr. Dodgson said graciously. “I could not let you go without satisfying your curiosity.”

“And what of you, Mr. Dodgson?” Dr. Doyle asked, as he and his wife prepared to leave.

“I shall attend the Coroner's inquest tomorrow, and give my evidence, if I am so requested. Then I think I shall return to Eastbourne. I must finish my new book. If you will excuse me, Henry, Mrs. Barclay, I think I shall retire now.”

“And I shall return to the Old Ship,” Lord Richard said, rising and holding out a hand to his wife.

“You'll be needed at the Coroner's inquest tomorrow, too,” Inspector MacRae reminded him.

“And then?”

“And then it will all be over,” Mr. Dodgson said.

Lady Pat looked anxiously up at her husband and then at Mr. Dodgson. “Will it ever be over?” she asked.

CHAPTER 31

Tuesday seemed like an anticlimax after the startling revelations of the Great Protestation Meeting. The visitors who had extended their stays now had to depart, to make way for another influx of holidaymakers. The good people of Brighton had to return to their fishing boats, shops, taverns, and lodging houses. No one was particularly interested in attending the Coroner's inquest on an obscure nurserymaid and a broken-down actor, even though it was rumored that the nurserymaid had belonged to the household of Lord Richard Marbury and the actor might have been involved in the kidnapping of his daughter.

Dr. and Mrs. Doyle accompanied Mr. Dodgson to the inquest that morning, where the verdict was handed down that Mr. William Keeble had met his death at the hands of Mr. Geoffrey Upshaw as a result of a quarrel. No mention was made of the sensational abduction and subsequent return of Miss Alicia Marbury, much to the disgust of the assorted representatives of the Press, who had been hoping for a juicy scandal. Instead, Mr. Geoffrey Upshaw had admitted to his crime, and was remanded into the custody of the Brighton Constabulary, until the assizes.

As for the unfortunate Mary Ann, the Coroner deemed hers a “death by misadventure,” and let it go at that. Upshaw went to his cell insisting, “It was an accident … an accident!”

Miss Julia Harmon was not called as a witness in Geoffrey Upshaw's case. Her meeting with the magistrate was to take place later in the day, and she retained her icy calm in the face of both the constables and their female warders, brought in for the purpose of watching over the weekend's crops of pickpockets and prostitutes.

Lord Richard Marbury and his lovely wife had been called to give evidence as to the movements of Mary Ann Parry. That done, they were free to leave Brighton, or, at least, as free as the ever vigilant Press would let them be.

Lord Richard Marbury addressed the Press, in the person of Mr. W. T. Stead himself, the august editor of the
Pall Mall Gazette.
The two men met briefly in the anteroom of the Criminal Court, as Upshaw was led away, still protesting.

“I beg of you,” Lord Richard said earnestly, “consider my daughter's future. It can do no good to display her across the pages of the public newspapers. You have quite enough copy as it is. Let her go, sir. Rest assured, the Bill will pass this time.”

“Then there is no truth to the rumor that you are going to resign?” Stead asked.

“Certainly not.” Lord Richard pushed the errant lock of hair off his forehead. “You may inform your readers—and your colleagues—that I will remain at my post to the end!”

The Press were not to know of the meeting between Lord Richard Marbury and Miss Julia Harmon before her appearance in the Magistrate's Court.

“I have to see her,” Lord Richard told his wife, as they watched Upshaw being led away.

“Richard,” Lady Pat began. Then she gave a sigh. “You should not see her.”

“There are certain matters …” He could not look at his wife.

“The child,” she finished for him. “Do you really suppose she would use that against you? It must never come out.”

“It is bound to come out,” Lord Richard said stiffly. “Pat, do you recall what I said about the American president last year?”

Lady Pat frowned. “I'm sure I don't know anything about American politics,” she said. “American presidents all seem to be backwoods lawyers or motheaten generals.”

“Mr. Cleveland is an honorable man,” Lord Richard said stiffly. “I especially recall his campaign. Someone had uncovered an old scandal—something about fathering a child on a woman not his wife. I was struck by his response: ‘Sir, I have cared for my bastard. Can you say the same?'”

“Richard!” Lady Pat cried out.

“I have not done my duty by Julia Harmon,” Lord Richard stated. “I must find out about that child.”

He was shown into the grim room used for interviewing prisoners, where a stout matron stood guard. Julia sat on a wooden stool, waiting for him. Her elegant gray gown had been replaced by a coarse prison smock, but her red hair was neatly arranged in its usual chignon, and her face betrayed nothing as Lord Richard approached her.

There was an awkward silence as the old lovers eyed each other. Then Lord Richard asked the question. “Where is the child, Julia?”

“You should have asked that fifteen years ago,” Miss Harmon spat out.

“I could not,” Lord Richard said softly. “But I ask it now. Where is the child?”

“You don't even know or care if it was a boy or a girl,” Julia said bitterly. “Your son is in Canada, with my cousins.”

“Does he know?”

“Who his father is? No. They took him with them when they emigrated. I believe he is a strapping young farmer. That is all you need to know.” She shut her mouth and refused to look at him.

“And you will not let me help you?”

“I have friends who will take care of my legal expenses, if that is what you mean,” she said. “You made it clear enough that you wanted nothing more to do with me the day you left Oxford.”

“But—”

“But what? How did I find my way to Mrs. Jeffries's door? That, Richard, is a long and not particularly pretty story. Not something for one of Mr. Dodgson's little fairy books. Let us say, I saw an opportunity when it came, and let it go at that.”

“And when did you decide to take Alicia?”

Julia laughed. “Oh, that was Geoffrey's idea, not mine. However, I do wish Mr. Dodgson were not quite so persistent. Alicia would have done quite well in France—for a while.”

Lord Richard shook his head. “And I nearly married you. I can only wish you a speedy trial. Good-bye, Julia.”

He turned his back on her and left. He was badly shaken in his own esteem. How could he have worked with a man for two years and not even known him? Should he resign his seat? No! Lord Richard's head went up, and his back stiffened. He would not resign. If Waltham wished to be rid of him, they must vote him out.

Lord Richard Marbury returned to his wife. “Let us go,” he said. “There is still time for me to get to London and attend the evening session of the House.”

They left the law courts and followed the crowds to Brighton Railway Station.

Dr. Doyle and his wife were in the waiting room, with Mr. Dodgson and Mr. Barclay, when the Marbury party arrived.

“So all's well that ends well, eh, Mr. Dodgson?” Dr. Doyle said. “I must say, it's been instructive, working with you, sir.”

“Indeed.” Mr. Dodgson let his hand be enthusiastically shaken by his impetuous young friend.

“And you must come visit us in Portsmouth, should you ever find yourself there,” Touie added.

“Were I to find myself in Portsmouth, I should have to visit you, for I would be quite lost otherwise,” Mr. Dodgson quipped.

Dr. Doyle scratched at his mustache in embarrassment. “There is one other thing.”

Mr. Dodgson looked at him in mild perplexity.

“As you know, I've been doing some writing of my own.”

“So you have said.”

“And I have begun work on a novel.”

“But I am not a literary man,” Mr. Dodgson protested.

“I would value your opinion, all the same.”

The conversation was interrupted by a veritable procession charging down the platform: Lord Richard and Lady Pat Marbury, Miss Alicia Marbury and their suite, which consisted of Lord Richard's valet and Lady Pat's maid, Nanny Marsh, and the newly washed and much-improved Kitty, her homely face radiant with the promise before her of a better life in the metropolis.

“Ah, Mr. Dodgson!” Lord Richard hailed them. “Dr. Doyle! I am glad I caught you before you left. I wanted to thank you for all you've done for me and for my family.”

Mr. Dodgson waved a gray-gloved hand modestly. “Once I was brought into the business, I could not rest until I had set the matter right,” he said. “It was Dr. Doyle here who kept me at it, so to speak.”

Alicia tugged at Mr. Dodgson's coat, to pull him down to her level. “What will happen to Mr. Upshaw?” she asked.

“That is up to the jury and the judge,” Mr. Dodgson explained. “He will be tried in the Autumn Assizes. If they find him guilty of murder—”

“Off with his head!” Alicia quoted, with great satisfaction.

“We hang murderers now, dear,” her mother murmured. “But you should not think of such things.”

“And what about Miss Harmon? What will happen to her?” Alicia persisted.