Chapter Four

St. James Park

“I don’t like bringing in outsiders,” huffed Commander Bernard to Ramsgate as they, and several constables, watched Mother examine the scene of the crime. She was on her knees, sweeping something on the grass into an envelope. She was dressed elegantly, but a keen eye would have noted that her outfit had subtle alterations that allowed freedom and movement, all while being fashionable.

As Bernard saw her withdraw a shiny, flat metal case from her reticule, he was further irritated. “A cigarette case! Is this creature going to smoke?”

Tasha threw him one of her practised superior smiles and snapped open the case, revealing her stylish Art Nouveau magnifying glass. Bernard coughed into his fist as Ramsgate, happy at not being on the receiving end of Tasha’s wit for once, smirked.

Mother studied the ground. Then, oddly unexcited, asked, “Would you give me your interpretation of the events, Ramsgate?”

He was flattered she’d asked. “Delighted! I think it’s obvious. Those tracks suggest some sort of wheeled device, possibly a vendor of hot chestnuts by the proximity of children’s footprints.” He pointed out the prints as Tasha nodded for him to continue. “The Admiralty courier came in here seeking a treat, the vendor, in reality a German agent, waited until the two of them were alone and then attacked the courier, though mistakenly failing to kill him.”

“Why, Ramsgate. You really are coming along. You’ve observed every important clue.”

He swelled in self-satisfaction. He should have seen what was coming.

Tasha concluded, “Incorrectly.”

The swelling subsided. She continued. “The size and weight of the tracks, the location of the footprints and the length of the vendor’s stride, indicate a singular exceedingly probable course of events.”

The two men stared contritely at her. Mother was used to that. They motioned for her to continue.

“The conveyance was a perambulator pushed by a woman. Notice the narrow footprints and the dainty stride. The children—and the footprints indicate four of them—were midgets.”

“How do you know they were midgets?” asked Ramsgate, with a hint of asperity that Mother ignored.

“There was no aimless wandering. Remarkably disciplined for children.”

“But not impossible,” insisted Ramsgate.

“Unlikely,” Tasha said pleasantly. “Furthermore, children, as a rule, don’t smoke cigars.” She opened the envelope. Inside were ashes. “These ashes are always near a ‘child’s’ footprints. He was a midget, and pretty well off, for this blend is a unique mixture from Bagen’s of Edinburgh and costs sixpence an ounce.”

“Never did like bringing in outsiders,” grumbled Bernard.

“I won’t burden you much longer, Commander. I shall call your consideration to two peculiar items and leave.”

“Leave?” asked Ramsgate.

Mother ignored the question. “One. This area is isolated and away from the courier’s normal route. The bait to lure an experienced man so astray must have been enticingly disarming. I suggest a midget disguised as a distraught child. Who could resist?”

“I, for one,” offered Bernard.

“No doubt,” agreed Tasha. “Two! The courier survived! That is very sloppy work, not at all in keeping with the calibre of planning we’ve seen thus far. His survival was deliberate.”

Ramsgate raised his eyebrows. “Delib … why?”

Tasha smiled enigmatically (she practised that, too). “Ah, there you call upon me for a guess, and I never, in the absence of data, guess.” She had read that explanation in The Strand Magazine and decided if she were going to steal, to steal from the best.

Bernard pushed himself forward. “Then just what, Lady Dorrington, are we to do with this information?”

“File it away. Here …” she pointed to her head, “… in easy reach for the moment when future facts will make it useful. Good luck, gentlemen.” She started to leave.

“Where are you going?” asked Ramsgate as he hurried after her.

“Home.”

“But the case?”

She stopped at the entrance of the hedge and shook her head. “I’ve given my advice. This is a government case. I wouldn’t involve myself in that bureaucratic labyrinth for the world.”

A few curious people had crowded near the entrance—the “nanny/nurse” among them. In fact, Mother briefly stood right next to her as she exited the hedge, followed, like puppies, by Ramsgate and Bernard. The woman overheard Tasha as she summed up.

“Just look for a woman and four midgets, although they’re probably in Berlin by now.”

“I hope not. Those missing documents are very important.” Ramsgate could not keep the concern from his voice.

“What are they?”

Before Ramsgate could respond, Bernard cut him off. “That’s restricted information.”

Tasha sighed, her prognosis of government confirmed. Ramsgate knew when to back down. “All right. Look for a woman, eh?”

Bernard couldn’t resist the chance to show off his wit, or what passed for it. “Now there’s amusing work, so many to look over.”

The woman, unnoticed, held Tasha firmly in her scrutiny. There was even a ghost of an expression of interest, especially when Mother concluded: “I can narrow the field for you. She’s five foot eight inches, one hundred and thirty-five pounds, light brown hair, and has studied ballet. Good hunting.”

The description fit the woman completely. The pity was that Mother didn’t apply her knowledge as she walked past. The woman, in a knot of onlookers, averted her features as Tasha swept by, only to return her surveillance as the astute detective gracefully receded behind the crowd. Then, as if to increase her curious fascination, she heard Bernard telling Ramsgate, “That woman’s deductions were all stuff and nonsense.” But when Ramsgate answered, “Don’t be so sure. Lady Dorrington is the cleverest woman in Europe.” The woman’s eyebrows arched and a smug smile flickered across her face. You could almost hear the unspoken, “Is she now … we’ll see.”

Ramsgate had one more salvo in my Mother’s defence as he leaned in and said quietly, “And she can be trusted with secrets, Commander. Even ones concerning Dreadnought!”