‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Ashfield,’ said Daisy, after a little silence.
‘Sorry, Daisy? What about?’
‘Hitting you … and tipping off Mr Meyer … and … spoiling your investigation. He’s probably got away, now, hasn’t he?’
‘I’ll be surprised if he hasn’t,’ said the woman.
‘But why would … Mr Meyer is a respected diamond merchant in Amsterdam …’
‘I think we’ll find he’s not who he says he is,’ smiled Mrs Ashfield. ‘A telegram will be sent to Amsterdam to find out if there is indeed a diamond merchant named Cornelius Meyer. And if there is, whether he has been out of Amsterdam at all.’
Daisy stared at her. ‘Do you mean … do you mean the Mr Meyer I met … do you mean he’s an impostor?’
‘I’m afraid so.’ Mrs Ashfield nodded.
‘Oh. He seemed so nice!’
‘Such men often are,’ said Mrs Ashfield, gently. She paused. ‘Don’t worry, my dear. I am sure he will be found, eventually. As to hitting me, well, I did ask for it, didn’t I, coming unannounced like this. And there’s no lasting harm done, though my head does ache a little. Don’t think twice about it, my dear.’
Daisy looked around her gloomily, remembering all the dreams she’d had, the golden future Mrs Peabody had made shimmer before her. Well, it was likely back to Charlton Wells and Miss Grantley for her now. If the old dragon would have her! ‘Do you think Mrs Peabody’s gone?’
‘I suppose she probably is, dear.’
‘I don’t suppose she’ll be back, if she is really the gang mastermind, will she?’
Mrs Ashfield shook her head. ‘I doubt it. Shall you be sorry?’
Daisy thought about it. ‘Yes,’ she said, at last, slowly. ‘And it’s not just because of the job. I … she was an interfering, bossy, loud show-off. And when I started to suspect her, I began to feel a little frightened of her. And I suppose she lied to me and has let me down. But still … there was something I liked about her, too. She had so much character. So much life. Nothing was ever dull, with her around.’ She paused. ‘Besides, without her, I would never have met Victor,’ she added, very softly. ‘So yes, I am sorry.’
Just then, there was a knock on the door. Irene Taylor’s voice said, ‘Miss Miller? Are you there?’
‘That’s Miss Taylor, Mrs Peabody’s maid,’ said Daisy, jumping up to open the door.
Irene Taylor, still in hat and coat, stood there. She looked a little flustered. Before Daisy could speak, the maid said, ‘Miss Miller, I wondered if you knew where Mrs Peabody was, she doesn’t appear to be in her room, and …’ The words died in her mouth. She stared at Mrs Ashfield.
‘Miss Taylor, don’t be afraid. My name is Clara Ashfield. I’m an inquiry agent. An attempt was made on the Blue Moon Diamond this evening, and we believe Mrs Peabody may have been involved.’
‘Mrs Peabody? Involved? What do you mean?’ Irene said, in a strangled sort of croak.
‘Miss Taylor, how long have you been in Mrs Peabody’s employ?’
‘Only a short time. Six weeks, to be precise. She … she came to the agency whose books I’m on, and said she needed a maid, because her last one had left her in the lurch. She was willing to pay very well.’ She looked wildly at them both, and suddenly began to laugh, rather hysterically. ‘I always thought there was something rather odd about her! Something not quite real, if you know what I mean! And the pay — the conditions — it was all a bit too good to be true.’
‘Yes,’ said Daisy, rather sadly, looking at her. ‘I know just how you feel.’
Irene Taylor looked at her. ‘I suppose you must be angry with me too, Miss Miller. That job she hired you for … I knew there was something fishy about that.’ She flushed. ‘She told me she wanted a typist to rewrite a book written by her late husband. But she didn’t want that typist to know the book had already been published. She said she wanted to trick another publisher into issuing a new book without realising it … It all sounded strange to me, but she was a rich lady, and it’s been my experience the rich don’t think quite like you and me, and they have the oddest whims. And as I say my pay was very generous. I didn’t want to lose my job … So I had to hide the book, and make a fair copy of it in my own handwriting, for you to type up …’ She gave Daisy a rather hangdog look. ‘I’m so sorry to have been a party to deceiving you.’
‘Please. It wasn’t your fault. I was only too happy to be deceived,’ said Daisy, gently. ‘I suppose that’s why she employed me — because I’m young and don’t know much about the world.’
‘Come, come, Daisy!’ said Mrs Ashfield, robustly. ‘You were already on her track!’
‘Seeing her at the museum was just sheer luck,’ said Daisy, honestly. ‘That’s when I began to suspect her, you know, when I saw her all swathed up in her coat and hat, looking quite different from usual, and following Miss Marlow and her … Oh!’ she exclaimed. ‘That reminds me. How odd …’
‘What’s odd, my dear?’ said Mrs Ashfield, gently.
‘Just now … Mr Golightly — the band leader, you know — he’s gone with her to the hospital, too … well, he had put on his coat and left with them. And it reminded me of something.’ They were looking at her, blankly. ’You see, I only saw the man Miss Marlow was with in the British Museum from the back … I saw his black coat and his very fair hair. And from the back, the band leader looked rather like him.’
There was a silence. Daisy caught a look flashing between the two women. Embarassed, she said, ‘Oh, dear, that’s all rather silly, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I don’t really fancy myself as a sleuth, Mrs Ashfield, that’s George’s territory, really, it’s just that I thought of it, and …’
‘Don’t apologise, child,’ said Mrs Ashfield. She was about to say more, when the door burst open and the three men came rushing in. They checked themselves when they saw Irene.
‘This is Miss Taylor, Mrs Peabody’s maid,’ said Mrs Ashfield, calmly, getting up. ‘She came to tell us her mistress was missing. I believe she wishes to make a statement to you, Mr Woodley-Foxe. He is the chief detective in this case,’ she went on, turning to the maid. ‘You must tell him all you know.’
‘Why … yes … yes, of course,’ said Irene Taylor. ‘I would like to do so as soon as possible, if you don’t mind.’
‘Very well.’ The detective turned to Mrs Ashfield. ‘I’m afraid our bird had flown. He had left most of his things, but his attache case and everything in it had gone with him. Thank heavens you made a copy of that paper! Anyway, the receptionist said she hadn’t seen him leave, so he must have gone out the back way. Never fear, we’ll catch up with him.’
‘I’m sure you will. I suppose you’ll send a telegram to Amsterdam first thing tomorrow morning?’ said Mrs Ashfield. Woodley-Foxe nodded. ‘If that man was a real diamond merchant, I’ll eat my hat.’
‘Mrs Peabody said he was very soft-centred for a Dutch diamond merchant,’ said Daisy, remembering. ‘He talked a lot of what she thought was romantic guff, about the Blue Moon, and Miss Marlow …’ She smiled faintly. ‘I suppose that was part of Mrs Peabody’s act. She must have liked to make risky jokes. He didn’t look too happy about it, I have to say.’
‘She sounds a most cheeky sort of crook,’ said Woodley-Foxe, gravely. ‘The very kind we need to get safely under lock and key, before they make laughingstocks of us all. Now, George, get out that notebook of yours. And Miss Taylor, when you’re ready …’
‘Mr Woodley-Foxe, I think I’m going to have to leave you to your interview here, tell the Countess what’s happened, and get myself home,’ said Mrs Ashfield, getting up. ‘Perhaps Victor and Daisy, you might like to accompany me?’
They nodded, eagerly.
‘Now, Mr Woodley-Foxe, we’ll get out of your hair right away. You know my office address. Do call on me at your convenience to let me know if I can help you in any way. I would of course be most interested to be kept in touch with the progress of your investigation.’
‘Of course, my dear Mrs Ashfield,’ said Woodley-Foxe, beaming. ‘Let me assure you that I will keep you well abreast of developments. Now, if you’re sure you’ll be all right?’
‘Quite all right,’ said Mrs Ashfield, firmly. She turned to Irene Taylor. ‘And don’t worry, my dear. Just tell the truth. You have nothing to fear. Goodnight.’
She left, Daisy and Victor in tow. When the door closed on them, Woodley-Foxe gave a great sigh. ‘Well! Mrs Ashfield is a fine woman, and an intelligent one, but she doesn’t see a great deal of the world, in that dusty little office of hers. And she doesn’t have the resources I have. She looked positively wistful when she asked if I’d keep her in touch with the progress of my investigation, did you notice that, George?’
‘I did, sir,’ said George, discreetly.
Woodley-Foxe smiled. ‘What did I tell you, George, about Young Reporter? Why, they even publish criminals’ messages, these days!’
‘I’m sure they didn’t know, sir,’ said George, stoutly. The detective looked grave. ‘Never jump to conclusions, George! Appearances can be deceptive. Now, then, that notebook!’ He turned back to the maid. ‘Miss Taylor, let us start at the beginning. When did you first meet Mrs Peabody?’
Victor’s grandmother was perched in front of her dressing table. Her maid was brushing her hair but the Countess sent her out of the room, and listened patiently as Mrs Ashfield, interrupted at various times by Daisy and Victor, told her what had happened. When they’d finished, there was a small silence before the Countess said, sharply, ‘So, Clara Ashfield, it seems that a march has been stolen on you by this gentleman detective. He learnt who The Shadow was, before you did.’
‘That would appear to be the case,’ said Mrs Ashfield, meekly.
‘You do not wish to investigate further?’
‘I believe the culprits have been identified adequately. Further investigations are in Mr Woodley-Foxe’s hands, and those of the police now, Madame.’
‘By culprits, you mean this Meyer chap, and Mrs Peabody?’
‘Yes,’ broke in Victor, breathlessly. ‘Those two, and maybe others. Mr Woodley-Foxe thinks it was an international gang.’
Daisy saw a puzzled expression cross Mrs Ashfield’s face again.
‘Ah well,’ said the Countess. ‘You will send me your final report soon, Mrs Ashfield,’ she said. It was a dismissal, and rather coldly delivered. It was obvious she was disappointed in the investigator.
‘Certainly, Countess. Goodnight.’ She went out.
The Countess turned to Daisy with a rather frosty smile on her face. ‘My grandson and I are leaving first thing tomorrow,’ she said. ‘But perhaps we will see you again some time. Perhaps when you take a holiday in France?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Daisy, wondering how on earth she could possibly afford to do such a thing now. Smiling at her, Victor said, ‘Why don’t we meet in Biarritz? In the summer?’
‘Oh yes!’ said Daisy, again. By hook or by crook, whatever it took, she’d get there, she thought.
‘Good. Now, then, said the Countess, briskly. ‘Victor, see Miss Miller out and come straight back. We’ve got to pack.’
Mrs Ashfield was standing at the lift, looking rather more presentable with a smart grey coat over her trouser suit. She smiled at Daisy. ‘I’m glad the lift took so long in coming,’ she said. ‘I wanted to ask you, Miss Miller, if you’d be interested in coming with me tomorrow, to the hospital? I want to ask Miss Marlow a few questions, just to clear up a few things for my final report. Of course, it’ll be unofficial — Mr Woodley-Foxe and the police will be conducting much more thorough investigations.’
Daisy met her eye. Again, there was something deep in those violet eyes, something that rang a bell at the back of Daisy’s mind. Slowly, she said, ‘Yes. Thank you. I think I would like that.’
‘That’s settled, then,’ said Mrs Ashfield, arranging her hat on her head. ‘I will call for you here tomorrow at three o’clock.’