NONE OF US SLEPT well that night. I kept hearing a heavy body hurling itself against the dungeon door, and Aggie had a nightmare in which we had hung the Inspector on a church steeple and were firing at him with machine guns. And to make things worse Tish, awakening early, discovered that she had lost the key to the dungeon.
All in all it was a bad morning. And at eleven o’clock that idiot Bettina came and tried to tell us that it was all a joke!
I have never seen Tish so indignant.
“A joke!” she said. “Then all I have to say is that I hope Inspector Jewkes thinks it is funny.”
She looked blank.
“Jewkes? Who is he?” she asked.
“He is not a member of the gang?”
“I never heard of him.”
“Then I have to tell you,” Tish observed quietly, “that through some mistake an inspector from Scotland Yard is locked in with your friends. And as far as I am concerned he will have to stay here.”
I shall never forget the look of sheer anguish she gave us.
“Oh, my God!” she said. “That’s torn it!”
Nevertheless, the knowledge that the Inspector did not belong to the gang had altered the situation greatly, and after some thought Tish decided to notify the police. But repeated attempts to get the Yard by telephone merely resulted in a weary voice which said:
“Sorry. All applications must be made by mail.”
In desperation we finally went to the Yard ourselves that afternoon, and after a long wait we saw the same Commissioner we had seen before. Evidently he remembered us, for he simply looked up and said:
“What! Another plot!”
“The same one,” said Tish coldly. “Only I am happy to report that the gang is now safely locked away.”
“That’s fine,” he said. “Splendid, one less gang, eh? I’d better get the gang file. Jewkes! Where’s Jewkes?”
I saw Tish draw a long breath.
“Inspector Jewkes,” she said, “is locked away also.”
He seemed quite unimpressed. He said absently: “Well, well. Good for old Jewkes. Probably very interesting for him, eh?” Then he picked up the telephone, said “chump chops and chips” into it, and rose.
“Sorry, ladies,” he said. “Big day. Coronation tomorrow. Have to trot along now.”
He was almost out of the room when Tish confronted him.
“In a dungeon,” she stated, “and not having chump chops and chips, either. If that means anything to you.”
But he only looked at her vaguely.
“Too bad,” he said. “He was fond of them too, poor fellow.”
On that he simply went out the door and left us there. And it was on the way home that we unexpectedly saw Mr. Smith.
He was on the top of a taxicab, with an American flag in one hand and a tin horn in another; and every now and then he would yell: “Their majesties, bless their young hearts.” Quite a crowd had collected, and he had just started to yell again when his eyes fell on us, and he remained with his mouth open, staring. Then he shouted:
“Here, let me out, I want those women. Police! Police!”
He started to climb down, and Tish at once moved rapidly down the street. But he kept on after us, calling for the police, and at last Tish stepped into a doorway and dragged us in after her.
It was all most unpleasant, especially as he had now almost overtaken us. Fortunately, we discovered in time where we were, and were able to pay our way and enter before he reached us. It was Madame Tussaud’s waxworks, and never have I so appreciated Tish’s clear thinking as at that moment.
“Mix with the figures,” she said. “And stand perfectly still.”
It was near closing time and the rooms were almost empty, only a woman with a small boy being near, and thus we were able to dispose of ourselves quickly in the Chamber of Horrors. The lights being dim, my only fear was that Aggie would sneeze. And then that awful child came and stood in front of me, and stared for a long time.
“This lady winked, mother,” he said in a loud voice.
“Don’t tell me lies, young man,” said his mother.
“But she did wink,” he persisted, “I saw her.”
They were still arguing over this when Mr. Smith came in. He was breathing hard, but after a look he was about to depart when that wretched boy, having moved to Aggie, stuck a toy feather duster in her face. As Aggie is allergic to feathers she sneezed immediately, and Mr. Smith started.
“What was that?” he said in a savage voice.
“Just my little boy,” said the woman. “Come here, Reginald, and let mother wipe your nose. He won’t wear his jacket, sir, and that’s a fact.”
“I didn’t sneeze,” said the little monster. “It was that—”
Here the woman slapped him for telling another falsehood, and at last they all departed, leaving us alone. Somewhere we could hear Mr. Smith insisting that we had come in and that he was staying until we came out again. But as it was already closing time he was obliged to leave, and we could then face our situation.
It was bad indeed. The lights went out almost at once, and soon after the entrance was closed and locked. How can I describe our sensations, left alone in that weird spot, with the lifelike effigies of dreadful criminals all around us? Nor were matters improved when, after making a reconnaissance, Tish reported that Mr. Smith was still outside the entrance and that he was talking to a constable. Also that some cleaners had appeared, and we could not long hope to remain undiscovered.
Rarely have I put in such a night. The constable never moved, and to add to our misery was the fact that soon the Coronation would commence and that, after all we had endured, we would not see it.
But I had counted without Tish, and at three in the morning she came to me with her idea. This was merely to exchange our outer garments for those of various figures near by, preferably male, and thus be able to escape the constable’s eye. And this in the end was what we did: Aggie chose those of an Indian potentate in a turban and so on; I donned with some repugnance a street sweeper’s outfit, with brush and pan; Tish took the uniform from a policeman who had murdered his wife.
This, I think, fully explains our costumes on the morning of the Coronation; and the necessity which drove us to them. It also explains the terrified shrieks from one of the charwomen, and her statement to the press later.
“Of course I screamed,” she said. “What would you ’ave done? I looked up from my pail and there was those three bloody murderers as I ’ave dusted for fifteen years, coming at me in a row.”
It was gray dawn when we reached the street. As no taxis or cars were allowed, it was already jammed with people, and with great relief we lost ourselves among them; Tish observing that having done our duty we could now look forward to a bath and breakfast, and later to the Coronation itself with peaceful minds.
But it was not to be. When we approached our building we saw Charlie Sands outside talking to the hall porter. He seemed in a frenzy of rage, and we heard him clear across the street.
“But damn it, man,” he shouted, “when did they go? And where?”
“That would be the night before last, sir,” said the porter. “As to where, that I couldn’t say. They had an inspector from Scotland Yard along, that’s all I know.”
Well, he looked stupefied, and just then a most astonishing thing happened. Dirty and unshaven, the Carlisle man came running up the street, followed by the rest of the gang, and Charlie Sands gave him a furious look and said:
“Where the hell have you been?”
“Someday,” said the Carlisle man, grinning, “when I’ve got a long, long time to spare, I’ll tell you.”
Tish said nothing. I could see her marching on, in that dreadful uniform, and I merely followed her.
I do not know just where we lost Aggie, although as events turned out, it was probably near Buckingham Palace. I do not know where some unidentified man thrust a street cleaner’s cart before me and told me to get a move on, or words to that effect. I do recall most vividly that when we went into a public washroom to perform our morning ablutions we were put out angrily by a red-faced woman, who asked us if we had no decency.
But I do know when and where we saw Aggie again. It must have been eleven o’clock by that time, and what with Tish’s ominous silence and pushing the cart ahead of me, I was dropping on my feet. Then the crowd around us began to cheer, and we saw that we were on the route of march. The gold coach went by, with the young King and Queen inside, for all the world like fairy-tale royalty, and following them came the King’s Indian guard.
On a horse among them, and looking completely agonized, was our unfortunate friend!
How can I record our feelings! Every now and then the horse turned its head and took a nip at Aggie’s leg. And then, even as we watched, the tragedy occurred. A mounted band struck up close by, and that horse simply lifted his head, whirled, and bolted down a side street with Aggie clinging helplessly to his back.
To our bewilderment was now added anxiety, and we spent the remainder of the morning searching for our beloved companion. It was, I think, in Kensington Gardens that Tish’s keen eyes at last saw a horse quietly grazing on the bank of the Round Pond, and a moment later we saw Aggie.
To our amazement she was standing in the water up to her waist, and behaving in a most peculiar manner. She would stand for a moment, take a firm grip on her nose and then disappear entirely. This she repeated several times; nor did she desist when we approached the bank.
It was indeed some time before she even noticed us. Then she sneezed several times and said in a tragic voice:
“I’be losth theb agaid.”
“Lost what?” said Tish.
“By teeth,” she replied, and dived once more.
She discovered them at last and, as she was both lame and completely exhausted, we placed her in my cart and started for home.
On the way she told her painful story. Stripped of the coryza which afflicts her at such times, it was quite simple. She had merely, on losing us, wandered about until she found herself outside the gate of Buckingham Palace. Here, to her surprise, an excited-looking man in black satin knee breeches had seen her and led her inside.
There she found a number of Indian rajahs and so on, dressed much as she was; and before she knew it someone was holding a horse in front of her and telling her to get on.
The rest, alas, we knew.