The police brougham with the two Miss Arkwrights and Inspector O’Ferrall clopped briskly through the gaslit streets of Southsea. At that hour the genteel houses were closed up against stray burglars, the windows curtained, and the doors locked. A brisk wind had picked up, blowing off the Solent, whirling the leaves as they fell from the trees in the carefully tended gardens behind the brick walls that lined Elm Grove. The little caravan proceeded from General Drayson’s house across Victoria Road and back to the house at the end of Elm Grove.
In the police brougham, Bedelia sat next to her sister and watched Inspector O’Ferrall in the seat opposite, her eyes bright with anticipation, her mind churning with possibilities. Perhaps it would be better if Amelia could find happiness with Inspector O’Ferrall after all. Bedelia’s position with Uncle Benjamin Moncrieffe might be improved if she arrived alone, a friendless, pathetic, and beautiful orphan, instead of carrying with her the baggage of a plain and impecunious elder sister who might alienate the fastidious relations with her vulgarity. The Illustrated London News had said that the heir to the vast Moncrieffe holdings in India was an eccentric recluse. Well, thought Bedelia, even the most eccentric of recluses could be won over by a pretty and pathetic niece, according to the romantic novels that were the mainstay of her library.
Amelia gripped Bedelia’s hand tightly and tried to avoid meeting Patrick O’Ferrall’s eyes. How could she face him now? Bad enough that Dr. Doyle had to insist that Papa’s death was not natural; now Emma was dead, and Dr. Doyle once again insisted that it was murder.
She considered her position. Captain Arkwright had made it all too clear that his daughters would never marry, not as long as he was alive. That last wrathful explosion had explained all. “I didn’t raise girls for other men’s pleasure!” he had roared out on that awful night, loud enough for Jenny to hear in the kitchen and come running to find out what was wrong. He would never have allowed Bedelia to leave Treasure House.
She looked at Bedelia and realized that the child was right about one thing. No matter how lovely, no matter how rich, the sister of the wife of a policeman would never be accepted into Society. For Bedelia’s sake, whatever she felt for O’Ferrall would have to be buried. His advances would have to be spurned. Bedelia’s future must be protected at all costs!
Amelia closed her eyes in pain. It had been Emma’s notion to write to the business offices of Moncrieffe Shipping, Ltd. Emma had posted the letter on one of her mysterious errands into Portsmouth. Was that why Papa had been so angry with Emma? Had he found out …? Amelia gave herself a mental shake and opened her eyes again. Papa was no longer there to bully her, shout at her, make her obey him. Emma was no longer there to coax her, wheedle her, force her to do anything. Uncle Moncrieffe was a fantasy concocted out of Emma’s dreams of glory and Bedelia’s adolescent yearnings. There was no one for Amelia but Bedelia.
O’Ferrall sat, wishing that he could hold Amelia’s hand, just once. Just to have seen that grateful smile was enough to set him up for the rest of the week. Now that the Captain was gone, perhaps he could go further …. Not now, of course; it was far too soon for that. But later … when the ladies were out of mourning … perhaps he could call on Miss Amelia. He was certain that she reciprocated his feelings. It was the old man, that miserable despot who had thrown him out of the house and declared that he would never allow his daughters to marry beneath them. O’Ferrall’s jaw tightened as he recalled the day he had attempted to approach Miss Arkwright at a meeting of the Portsmouth Literary and Scientific Society and had been rebuffed, in the presence of the rest of the members.
Well, things were different now! Miss Arkwright would need a strong arm to lean on, and his was available. She wouldn’t be rich, but Treasure House would undoubtedly be hers. Not a bad dowry, all things considered, and there would always be a place in his household for Bedelia.
Bedelia brought the other two out of their respective reveries as the carriage slowed down in front of Treasure House. “Amelia, what is happening at our house?”
In the cab behind them, Dr. Doyle was asking the same thing. The two carriages drew up in front of Treasure House, much to the amazement of Admiral and Mrs. Groves peeping out from behind the curtains of Hemlock Lodge, just beyond the Arkwright garden.
Lights shone through the drawing room windows of the house at the end of Elm Grove, and a police carriage had been drawn up to the side path.
“What on earth …?” Miss Amelia emerged from the police brougham, handed down by O’Ferrall, followed by Bedelia. They scurried up the flagstone path and stood staring at the wide-open door and the scene of chaos it revealed.
Amelia led the way into the house, followed by her sister and the Doyle party.
“Jenny!” Miss Amelia’s eyes fell on the raw-boned maid, who was having hysterics in the drawing room, while two uniformed policemen tried to make sense of the scene, under the direction of a dapper-looking superior in a well-tailored sack suit and bowler hat.
“Fletcher! What the … What are you doing here?” O’Ferrall exclaimed at the sight of this, his hated rival in the Portsmouth Constabulary.
“I was summoned, seeing that you were otherwise occupied,” Inspector Fletcher said, smoothing his neat mustache with a practiced gesture. “It was one of the constables on the beat heard cries for help coming from the, er, necessary in the back of the house. When he let the maid out, he sent for assistance and investigated the scene.”
The Doyles and Mr. Dodgson followed Miss Amelia and Miss Bedelia into the drawing room and gazed with shocked eyes on a scene of total destruction. The heavy sofa and chair had been overturned, the upholstery had been slashed, and wads of padding and horsehair had been strewn about. The doors of the huge sideboard had been wrenched open, and the drawers in which the linens were stored had been pulled out. Crockery had been removed from the shelves, and a few shards of broken pottery were ground into the carpet.
“What happened?” Miss Amelia inquired, her eyes darting from one piece of vandalism to another.
“As far as we can tell, the burglars entered through the garden, and from there through the kitchen door,” Inspector Fletcher said, indicating the mud on the sitting room carpet. Dr. Doyle crouched to examine the debris, then drew a small magnifying glass out of his pocket to further scrutinize the marks left by the intruders.
“There were two burglars,” he pronounced. “One is a tall man, quite muscular. The other is smaller, possibly very thin. Neither of them are professional thieves, but more likely waterfront toughs. I suggest you look for them at the Camber Docks, Inspector.”
“I was going to do just that,” Fletcher said sarcastically.
Bedelia was more impressed. “How can you tell?”
“There are two distinct sets of footprints,” Dr. Doyle explained. “A large man has a large foot, a small man has a smaller foot. Their weight will imprint itself onto the carpet.”
“And the waterfront part?” Bedelia was clearly intrigued.
Dr. Doyle pointed to the outline of a shoe imprinted on the carpet. “That is the imprint of a rubber boot of the sort worn by fishermen,” he said. “There is a distinct odor, which would indicate that the wearer must have stepped into some sort of fish-residue quite recently. The fishing fleet is in at the Camber Docks.”
“But … what did they want?” Bedelia quavered, her blue eyes widening as she took in the damage.
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Inspector Fletcher produced the inevitable notebook and a stub of a pencil. “You ladies were out this evening. Isn’t that unusual, seeing as how you just lost a dear relation?”
“We were at a small gathering of friends,” Miss Amelia said icily. “We were hardly junketing about, as you seem to imply.”
“In point of fact, Fletcher, the ladies have had a shock,” O’Ferrall stepped in. “One of the residents of this house died in their presence this evening, under circumstances that Dr. Doyle here considers criminal.”
Fletcher favored Dr. Doyle with a supercilious smirk. “Dr. Doyle’s got a knack for finding crime. You might even have a grudge against this house, seeing as how you just accused someone of murdering Captain Arkwright.”
“That’s already been settled,” O’Ferrall told Fletcher. “Captain Arkwright’s death has been dismissed. But this!” He gestured at the drawing room.
“I’m here to solve a burglary,” Fletcher said. “Murder’s not part of my job.”
Mr. Dodgson coughed gently. “If the burglary and the murder—or death, if you will—of Mrs. Cavanaugh were connected, one might assume that the burglars knew that Miss Arkwright and Miss Bedelia would both be out this evening. One might then ask, who knew that both ladies would be away?”
“Your neighbors have had this house under observation,” Fletcher said portentiously. “Was that usual?”
Miss Amelia shrugged. “Rear Admiral Groves and Mrs. Groves were not on good terms with Papa,” she admitted. “There was some difficulty about their garden and ours, and the exact boundary lines. Papa could be quite rude about the navy, since he was a Merchant Captain.”
Bedelia added, “Admiral Groves said that Papa was little better than a pirate!”
“Dear me,” Mr. Dodgson said. “It must have been quite difficult for you, if you were not on calling terms with your nearest neighbors.”
“Mrs. Groves was always polite when we met on the street,” Miss Amelia said. “But when her son came home on leave from his ship, she and the Admiral had a large party, to which we were not invited. Emma and I left cards, but Mrs. Groves did not return the call.”
Bedelia giggled. “I thought Lieutenant Groves was very charming when we met on the Common last summer. We were at the concert, and Amelia and I were with Papa. But Papa was even ruder to him than he was to Inspector O’Ferrall.”
Miss Amelia tried to silence her irrepressible sister with a look. “To get back to your question, Inspector Fletcher: We left the house at eight o’clock, with Mrs. Cavanaugh ….” She stopped, gulping back tears. “I cannot believe that she is dead! Oh, Baby Bee!” Her iron composure finally gave way. Bedelia looked about for a chair and could not find one that had not been gutted or overturned.
Touie took over. “Jenny!” she called out.
The maid stopped howling and stared at the woman.
“Jenny, are there any chairs in the kitchen?”
“Ay, mum, but—”
“Bring them in here. Miss Arkwright must sit down. She has had a bad shock. She needs tea. Hot, with lots of sugar. Is there any brandy in the house?”
“The Captain had rum in his study, and there’s brandy for the Christmas puddings.”
“Papa’s study is locked,” Amelia reminded her. “And I do not wish spirits.”
“Probably right,” O’Ferrall said gruffly. “Something hot is more like.”
Jenny shrugged and left, returning almost immediately with a wooden chair, obviously meant for menials. Amelia collapsed gratefully into it, with Bedelia at her side.
“Now, Jenny,” Touie said briskly, “brew us some hot tea. And then we must decide what is to be done about this mess.”
“The scene of the crime will have to be examined tomorrow, in the daylight,” Inspector Fletcher decided. “Whoever did this was none too clever. We’ll find him, Miss Arkwright. As Dr. Doyle says, a couple of the waterfront lads, looking for what they could get.”
“But they didn’t get it, did they?” Mr. Dodgson said softly.
“Eh?”
The two policemen stared at the elderly scholar.
“What I mean to say is,” Mr. Dodgson went on, “these burglars must have been looking for something in particular. I observe several pieces of pottery on the mantelpiece, together with a clock; also, a rather pretty sandalwood box on the small table, and some china figurines, any of which might bring in a small sum at a pawnbroker’s shop. Yet these things were not taken. Miss Amelia, have you any other valuables in the house? Plate, silver or gold pieces, or anything of that nature?”
Miss Amelia had regained her composure, and was clutching Touie’s hand as if it were a lifeline. “No, nothing like that. Papa kept certain curiosities in his study … Oh, dear! Papa’s study!” She jumped up and led the way to the door opposite the one to the drawing room.
“Observe.” Dr. Doyle pointed to deep gouges on the door. “Someone certainly tried to get in.” He pointed to the floor. “And here are the traces of our fish-loving friends.”
“They must have been scared away by the police,” Bedelia said.
“Could you open the door, Miss Amelia?” Inspector Fletcher requested.
Amelia took a deep breath and let it out again. “I have the key, of course. I have not been able to bring myself to open that door since … since …” She gave way to tears again. Touie accompanied Amelia back to the drawing room, where Jenny had brought a hot pot, several cups, and the universal restorative and set them down on the sideboard.
“I see.” Fletcher and O’Ferrall looked at each other meaningfully. For once they were in accord. Miss Amelia Arkwright would not be of any use to anyone tonight.
Amelia sipped her tea and looked up at Touie. “Mrs. Doyle, you are very kind … one hesitates to ask …”
“Jenny’s frightened of ghosts,” Bedelia added. “And I don’t like not having Emma here … or Papa …”
“And if those men come back …” Amelia went on.
Touie smiled calmly at the two sisters. “I understand perfectly, ladies.”
Dr. Doyle glanced at his wife, and drew Mr. Dodgson aside. “I don’t know what to do, Mr. Dodgson,” he said quietly. “We can’t let Miss Amelia and Miss Bedelia remain here alone, but they don’t have anywhere else to go.”
Mr. Dodgson frowned. “No family? No friends?”
“Captain Arkwright had no family that he ever acknowledged, and as for Mrs. Arkwright, her marriage to Arkwright was a cause for scandal, and any relations she might have had in India refused to have anything more to do with her. Miss Amelia can’t even ask Mrs. Groves for assistance, and Mrs. Groves is just next door! Miss Amelia and Miss Bedelia are effectively alone in the world, and now that Mrs. Cavanaugh is gone, there is really no one else to stay with them.”
“But … surely, they have some acquaintance in Southsea? Someone with whom they may spend the night, until the matter is settled?”
Dr. Doyle glanced at the sisters, and his voice lowered to a whisper. “One hesitates to speak ill of the dead, but Captain Arkwright’s temper was such that he managed to nip any friendship they might have made in the bud. You’ve heard how he dealt with his nearest neighbors! Miss Arkwright was on calling terms with any number of ladies, but I can’t think of anyone who would take them in, even under these circumstances. Once the word gets out about Mrs. Cavanaugh’s demise, it will be even worse for them. I wish I could help them ….”
Touie joined the two men. “Arthur, I realize this is very sudden, but I believe I must remain here, at least until Miss Amelia is more settled. Bedelia is quite overset by all this excitement. First their father dead, then their companion, and now this robbery—”
“Attempted robbery,” Mr. Dodgson corrected her. “As far as we know, nothing was taken. Most curious, wouldn’t you say?”
“But if nothing was taken …” Touie whispered.
“Then they might come back to find whatever it was they were looking for,” Inspector Fletcher finished for her. “And that is why I am going to station a man to remain outside here tonight. Just in case they do come back.”
“In that case, I insist upon remaining,” Touie said firmly. “Miss Amelia has offered to let me use one of her nightgowns, and Mother can bring my own clothes ’round tomorrow morning. Arthur, I hope you won’t mind, but Miss Amelia did ask me, and I hate to refuse her.”
“I had no idea you were that intimate with the Arkwrights,” Dr. Doyle said, as he and Mr. Dodgson were escorted to the door by the constables.
“I’m not,” Touie replied. “The one time I tried to return Miss Arkwright’s call, Captain Arkwright was in the house, and he was quite unpleasant. Almost rude, in fact. He very nearly ordered me out, but Bedelia managed to cozen him out of his ill-temper, dear child that she is. I had the impression that she rather liked me, and that she wished to know more people, but between Miss Amelia and Mrs. Cavanaugh, and that father of hers …” Touie sighed. “So you see, Arthur,” she said, “I feel it is my duty to remain here, at least until Miss Amelia is more herself.”
“You are an angel of mercy,” Dr. Doyle said fervently, bestowing a kiss on his bride’s cheek.
“I shall feel rather odd,” Touie confessed. “The only spare room is the one used by Mrs. Cavanaugh.”
“While you’re in it, you might look through her things,” Dr. Doyle suggested.
“Arthur!”
“It might give us a clue as to who killed her,” Dr. Doyle said shamelessly.
“Surely the police will wish to do that,” Mr. Dodgson demurred.
“The police have a way of latching on to the wrong end of the stick,” Dr. Doyle stated. “Fletcher and O’Ferrall are already at each other’s throats over this business.”
“Do you think that Captain Arkwright’s death and Mrs. Cavanaugh’s death are connected to this burglary?” Mr. Dodgson asked.
“It does seem logical,” Dr. Doyle replied.
“Oh, dear,” Mr. Dodgson sighed. “And I had hoped for a quiet interlude before having to deal with the House.”
Dr. Doyle cleared his throat. “I hesitate to ask, sir, but … well … after that business in Brighton …”
“Are you attempting to ask for my help in solving this mystery?”
Dr. Doyle nodded, red-faced behind his mustache.
Mr. Dodgson considered his plight. Apparently he would be detained in Portsmouth until the police were satisfied that he had had nothing to do with the deaths of either Captain Arkwright and Mrs. Cavanaugh. He had to do something, and do it he would! “Dr. Doyle, I will assist you to the best of my abilities. I wonder if that cab is still outside. It is quite late, and we have a great deal to do tomorrow.”
Inspectors O’Ferrall and Fletcher escorted Dr. Doyle and Mr. Dodgson to the waiting cab.
“You’ll make yourself available to the police tomorrow, gentlemen,” O’Ferrall warned them.
“Yes, indeed,” Dr. Doyle agreed, as they regained the cab they had left outside the Arkwright residence. “I’ll step ’round first thing tomorrow morning and have a look at that body, before Hopper mangles it.”
“And I shall be at the Bush Hotel, should you wish to question me further,” Mr. Dodgson added.
As they rode back to King’s Road, Dr. Doyle said diffidently, “Perhaps, before you leave, you can glance through some of my new manuscripts. I have several stories that I am working on, and I would value your opinion.”
Mr. Dodgson sighed inwardly. Dr. Doyle might be the nephew of an old friend, but he was also a most persistent young man. The sooner this matter of Mrs. Cavanaugh was solved, the sooner Mr. Dodgson could get back to his quiet life in Oxford.
Oxford! His own suite awaited him: four well-lit rooms, decorated with the sort of things to delight little girls, full of colorful dolls, dressing-up clothes, Indian silks, and paste jewels …
Mr. Dodgson jerked himself awake. “Moncrieffe!” he said aloud.
“Eh?”
“I knew a man named Moncrieffe,” Mr. Dodgson repeated, as the cab stopped and they emerged at the Bush Hotel.
“Let us go inside and get out of the wind,” Dr. Doyle said, paying off the cab. “And you, must tell me about it.”
Around the corner of the Bush Hotel, the two men in pea jackets and sailors’ caps argued with the resplendent man in the carriage.
“Not my fault if that damned gal screeched and got the coppers in before we could finish the job,” the taller of the two seamen argued.
“If you cannot find what I want, I will find someone else.”
“Give us another chance, sir, and we’ll find it.”
The carriage rolled off toward Portsmouth, while the two seamen slunk into the Bush Hotel.