Chapter One

We heard about the cryptic message just a month past. Then, some thugs attacked Blathers and me, and then, the same day, we heard about the murder.

Blathers and I are doing quite well as consulting detectives. We have made our headquarters at the Black Lion. No, not in the taproom. With the introduction of train travel, there are fewer overnight guests at the inn. It isn’t close enough to any of the train depots now used by travelers. The sound of the Bristol Coach pulling into the yard of the venerable old establishment is a thing of the past.

The room we lease from Clara and Barkis, himself, previously used by travelers for overnight accommodations, is a first-floor front, with a view of the entrance to the inn. The slaughter of Lizabeth Stride happened in the room across the hall, back when Phil Squod owned the place. In truth, I am the one usually using the space, as Blathers does spend much of his time in the taproom. We have set up an office of sorts. We meet with our clients in the room, and I maintain some written files.

One amazing thing has happened. Blathers has decided he wants to learn to read, and I assume he will learn to write at the same time. Apparently he is interested in reading some of Mr. Dickens’ work for himself. Everyone is talking about his novels, and Blathers, although he is personally acquainted with the celebrated writer, as am I, feels left out.

Since we have been partners for these many years, I thought it only natural I should teach him. But, at our first lesson we had a bit of a spat. There is no truth, however, to his accusation I called him a dunderhead. In any event, he has employed a young woman to give him lessons. He seems to relish his meetings with her.

****

It was just noon when I went downstairs for lunch. Blathers was there with his pint. He had already ordered his meal.

I said, “You’re back from your lesson early today. I believe we were not expecting you until half one.”

“Me teacher had an appointment this afternoon, didn’t she. She was obliged ta end the lesson early.”

“I see. And what kind of a woman is she?”

“She’s a very neat lady and a patient teacher, which is more than I can say fer some.”

“Ah, neat is she, and I wager quite young and attractive?”

“She’s about ten or twelve years younger than you or me. As I says, she’s neat, and pleasant, and well educated. She were, er, I mean was, a governess fer a very well-placed family, but she loosed, lost her position and come away wi’out any references.”

“How did that happen? Was she caught stealing?”

“All she’ll say is she lost her position but kept her honor, and that’s the whole story. Now she has students like me. She teaches readin’ and writin’ and proper ways o’ talkin’, and she has some ladies what is new rich she teaches manners and how ta dress and all. She seems ta be doin’ quite well fer herself.”

Blathers was blushing slightly during this whole conversation, although his complexion was so naturally ruddy only I, since we have been partners for so long, was familiar enough with him to notice the darkening in color. He said, “If’n you’re through wi’ your questionin’ now, ya can wipe the silly grin aff your face.”

“One last question. What’s her name, and when will I get to meet her?”

“Them’s two questions.”

“All right, two last questions then.”

“Her name is Alice Martin, and…” At that moment the door opened, and I saw a very lovely woman of about five-and-twenty looking around the room. Clara Barkis hurried to greet her. “Would you care to be seated in the parlor, miss?”

“Uh, no, I’m looking for Mr. Blathers. I understand he can usually be found here.”

On hearing his name, Blathers looked up from his pint and his cheese sandwich. When he saw the woman, he jumped to his feet, and I noticed the additional redness return to his face. “Miss Martin, I’m just havin’ finished me lunch, but I’m sure Mrs. Barkis will be happy ta seat ya in the parlor if’n you’re in need of a meal. I could join ya there, and ya can tells me, tell me, why ya has, er, why you have, called.”

“I’m not at all hungry, Mr. Blathers, and I am quite comfortable in a taproom. My father was an innkeeper.”

“Then please be seated,” Clara said.

Alice accepted the chair the cordial hostess of the Black Lion placed at the table. I remained seated and waited for Blathers to introduce the lady. I knew it to be poor taste for a man to introduce himself to an unmarried lady. Alice Martin also waited for Blathers to do the proper thing. Nothing happened. Finally, I said, “Blathers, remember you etiquette.”

“Me edicut?”

Alice laughed, and touched Blathers’ arm lightly. “I am afraid, Mr. Blathers, that I do not know this gentleman.”

“Oh, me edicut. Well, this here’s no gentleman. This be me partner, Duff.”

I stood and took the lady’s hand, bowed, and said, “At your service, Miss Martin.”

Blathers said, “Now the edicut is done, will ya has, have, a pint, Miss Martin?”

“I’ll be damned if I won’t,” this from a most proper lady, “and then I’ll tell you why I need a detective.”

****

Jane served fresh pints of bitter to Miss Martin and Blathers. Clara served tea to me. She brought a pint of stout for herself. Barkis, himself, was off carting for the afternoon, which meant that Clara could partake freely of the potables available from the Black Lion’s taps. “Isn’t it lovely to have Jane back after all this time. We offered to give her back her evening position, but now she prefers the day work.”

We were all happy to see Jane after her long absence caring for her ill aunt. She was still quite attractive, although slightly heavier than when she went away almost four years ago.

After a long drink from her pint, the very neat Miss Martin brought forth a wrinkled and worn piece of paper from her reticule. “My information is confidential, Mr. Blathers.”

“Oh, ya can speak freely in front o’ Duff. He’s me longtime partner, and though he’s a bit stuffy, you know, he’s trustworthy as a oak tree. And our dear landlady, Clara Barkis, knows all we is doin’ anyway. She says nary a word ta anyone.”

I resented being called stuffy, but I wished to reassure the young lady. “You can be sure all you tell us will be held in confidence by all here, Miss Martin. We have provided services for the gentry and for government officials. They selected us because of our reputation for protecting secrets, and Clara has always been somewhat of an assistant in our cases.”

Clara drank to that.

Miss Martin appeared to be satisfied and unfolded the paper. “I was surprised to see a Maltese cross on the sign in front of the inn, for, as you see, there is a Maltese cross embossed on the top of this paper.”

Clara said, “Ah, that sign has been there for well over a hundred years. Me and Barkis had it repainted just as it was when we took over the place. We don’t have any idea about it, except the lion is black. The rest of the stuff is just the stuff was there.” The sign of the Black Lion was a lion couchant, bearing in his dexter paw a Maltese cross.

I said, “Well, I believe all of the items in a coat of arms indicate something. Perhaps a little research into heraldic symbolism is in order.”

“Them is big words. Has ya been studyin’ big words while I was studyin’ wi’ Miss Martin here?”

Miss Martin laughed. It seemed she really was enjoying the tutoring of Blathers. He was probably an eager learner, but no doubt there was a long way to go. She said, “The cross isn’t the only mystery here. Look at the writing. It is very strange. None of it seems to make sense.”

I took the paper and studied it. “Where did this come from?”

“My brother gave it to me when I visited him today. He is in the army and will be going out of the country soon. He entrusted this to me because he did not want to take it with him in the event he…perishes in battle. He only recently came into possession of the paper and has not had an opportunity to determine what it is. All he knows is that it is valuable.”

“How does he know that?”

“A mortally wounded man in his regiment gave it to him. He swore on his deathbed it contained a secret that would provide untold riches. He gave the paper to my brother with the request that whatever wealth was discovered be used in a good cause. My brother said he was particularly interested in the plight of young men who have come from the country to London looking for work. He had done so himself, but he fell in with bad company and was arrested. That was how he ended up in the army.”

I asked, “Are you sure this isn’t Greek, or Latin, or some other foreign language?”

“I’m familiar with both Greek and Latin, and I am certain it is not either of those. It is the strangest concoction of letters I have ever seen.”

I expressed a thought. “Perhaps it’s a code of some type, the kind where one letter is substituted for another. That might account for the odd arrangement of the letters.” It was clear our first problem was to discern the meaning of the cryptic note. “May I suggest, Miss Martin, that we adjourn upstairs to our office. I would like to make a copy of your letter so I can attempt to solve the code.”

Blathers apparently felt we needed a chaperon, because he jumped up and said, “I’ll be goin’ along wi’ ya.” He had not finished his pint.

Clara suggested that Blathers and the young lady take their beverages with them, and the three of us ascended the slanted and rickety stairway to our room. Clara returned to the tap and topped off her stout.