CHAPTER 19

The Chief Inspector had outfitted himself for the country. He was wearing a deerstalker and brightly checked plus-fours. If he intended these as a disguise, they were a great success. No one could possibly have suspected him of being a police officer. Unfortunately, no one could have failed to notice him, either, wherever he went.

“I had a conference with Rear Admiral Gossard, my lady,” he said to Lady Sara after Lady Roulson had made him welcome. “Even though the ships involved were foreign, the Admiralty is most anxious to have this matter successfully resolved—especially since the culprits seem to have been English.”

“The Admiralty takes an understandably dim view of mutiny and murder on the high seas,” Lady Sara murmured.

“To be sure, but it isn’t clear to me just where I come into this. I assumed I was to act as your liaison with the local police, but I talked with an inspector in Colchester, and he knew even less than I do. What do we have to work with?”

“Very little except an impeccable chain of logic.”

“No evidence?”

“Nothing as specific as we would like. We will have to contrive something.”

The Chief Inspector scowled.

“The only things required are a little acting and a few lies,” Lady Sara said lightly. “One of the Snell brothers is due to take another load of potatoes—or turnips, or vegetable marrows, or whatever—to London any day now. He makes this trip weekly but not always on the same day. He travels as far as the Boot and Slipper, on the other side of Ingatestone, and stays there overnight. He goes on to London the next day, unloads, and returns as far as the Boot and Slipper for another overnight stay on his way home. Obviously this is how the wine gets to London. The heaping load of vegetables conceals a considerable waggon-load of wine casks. Can you arrange an announcement tonight that a vicious murderer has escaped from Her Majesty’s Prison in Chelmsford and may be headed for the coast in an attempt to make his way out of the country?”

The Chief Inspector gazed at her open-mouthed. “What good would that do?”

“Tomorrow, it will be reported that the escaped murderer has been seen in the vicinity of Colchester and may soon be passing through this neighbourhood. Everyone will be asked to be on the lookout for him. Describe him any way you like. The state of alert will be maintained until John Snell heads for London with his waggon-load of vegetables. The local constabulary will stop the waggon at a properly secluded place and insist that it be unloaded. A heaped waggon-load of vegetables is an ideal place for an escaped prisoner to hide, especially if he has changed his mind and decided to make for London—or so the constables will explain when Snell protests heatedly. If they find casks of wine under the potatoes, as we expect, they will take no official notice of them. It is a man they are searching for. Actually, they will count the casks carefully and look for distinguishing marks on them. Then, having satisfied themselves that the casks are too small to contain the escaped prisoner, they will apologize, carefully reload the vegetables, and allow Snell to proceed to London.”

“So what does all that accomplish?” Chief Inspector Mewer demanded.

“That waggon is of critical importance. It connects the farm, which is the source of the stolen wine, with the Poplar Produce Company, in London, from which the wine is distributed. A number of witnesses will have seen wine casks hidden in the waggon and be able to describe them. Their testimony will be evidence enough to obtain warrants to search both the Snell farm and the produce company.”

“I see,” Chief Inspector Mewer said, but his tone indicated that he did not see at all. Not only did he consider Lady Sara’s approach to detective work to be unladylike, but she made of it a job not quite suitable for a gentleman, and he resented that. “Do you mean, my lady, that you are willing to terrorize the countryside with a false report about an escaped murderer just to get evidence about a few casks of wine?”

“Didn’t the Admiralty tell you how many murders have been committed by the wine thieves? If we don’t secure evidence for a warrant and put a stop to this business, there certainly will be more murders. The countryside won’t be terrorized for long. As soon as the Snell waggon has been inspected, you can circulate a notice that the escaped murderer has been recaptured. And as soon as we can obtain warrants, we will set about capturing the Snells, who are as cold-blooded a gang of murderers as any you have encountered in London.”

“Why all the pother about reloading the waggon and letting Snell proceed?” the Chief Inspector demanded. “Why not just arrest the bloke and then go get the others?”

“That might work in London but not here. As we have found out, anyone setting foot on that farm is carefully scrutinized. A squad of police would be met by bullets, and I don’t want casualties. The Snells know there are ropes waiting for them, and if cornered, they will fight rather than surrender. It would be foolhardy to approach the Snell property without a proper warrant and sufficient force to handle any eventuality. Even in London, where customers are coming and going all the time, it would be better to choose a moment when James Snell is fully occupied. The best time for a raid will be shortly after his brother has arrived with another waggon-load of wine. Then both men will be working to unload it quickly, and they won’t notice what is happening until it is too late.”

The Chief Inspector’s face was a study. It was slowing dawning on him that he now was in the position of having to take orders from Lady Sara. With the Admiralty backing her so emphatically, he had no choice but to do what she asked. He left for a conference with local police about the notice concerning a fictitious escaped murderer. Rick, Charles, and I went back to Great Helmwich to circulate the notice on our own. I called at all of the shops in the High Street. Rick and Charles made the rounds of the farmers they had met and arranged for one of them to inform the Snells.

On the morrow, we made the rounds again to warn everyone that the escaped murderer had been seen only a few miles away. The constables placed a guard around the harbour, supposedly to prevent him from stealing a boat. It was all very realistic, and the good citizens of both Great and Little Helmwich talked of nothing else.

The following morning we watched—from a carefully chosen hiding place in some shrubbery along the road—while a group of constables halted John Snell’s waggon and insisted on unloading his potatoes. He protested vehemently. He had loaded the waggon himself, he said, and he knew there was no one hiding under the potatoes. The constables and their sergeant, all of whom knew John Snell well, were extremely sorry. Orders were orders; escaped murderers were not to be trifled with. They had to unload the potatoes, but they would do it carefully and not delay him a moment longer than necessary.

They drove another waggon alongside and quickly transferred John Snell’s potatoes to it. As Snell’s waggon was emptied, it quickly became evident that it contained a far greater volume of wine casks than potatoes.

Snell began what was probably a carefully prepared explanation, but the sergeant waved it aside. “That’s your business,” he said. “We’re looking for a man. As long as your casks are too small to contain the escaped prisoner, which they are, they don’t interest us.”

The constables checked them carefully anyway and then reloaded the potatoes. The sergeant thanked Snell and allowed him to proceed.

“What’s to be done now?” he asked me.

“Write your report,” I said. “Be sure to describe the wine casks carefully. Have all of your men sign it. We will spread word that the escaped murderer has been recaptured.”

At Lady Roulson’s, Chief Inspector Mewer was further daunted to learn that Lady Sara now had the backing of the War Office, which was furnishing a battalion of infantry. To her considerable credit, Lady Sara had persuaded the authorities to send in sufficient force before it was needed. During the long series of riots and insurrections that had blighted English history during the nineteenth century, troops had rarely been called out before serious damage and bloodshed occurred.

The battalion’s commander, Colonel Millward, a tall, ramrod erect officer, had just reported to Lady Sara. The Admiralty remained deeply concerned, and Lieutenant Juster’s presence indicated that a combined land and naval manoeuvre was contemplated. Lady Sara spread an Ordnance Survey map on a splendid old mahogany drum-topped library table and took command.

Lady Roulson produced a neighbouring farmer who knew the Snells’ farm intimately and was able to describe in great detail every creek, drainage ditch, and fence line. He also knew which were sufficiently overgrown to offer cover for advancing soldiers.

“We want these people taken alive,” Lady Sara told the Colonel. “We certainly don’t want any of the women and children injured or killed. At the same time, we have to consider the men scoundrels who will stop at nothing. Four of the brothers murdered their shipmates—in four different ships—by catching them asleep and cutting their throats, and they won’t hesitate to shoot a few soldiers if we give them the opportunity. If the Snells insist on being killed, we have no choice but to accommodate them, but I don’t want any casualties among your men, and I don’t want to escalate this into a war.”

“I understand, my lady. The idea is to display enough force to convince the Snells it is futile to resist.”

“Precisely. If they insist on resisting anyway, we will put them under siege, and if that doesn’t work—which it probably won’t, they have the farm animals and a full winter’s provisions on hand—we may have to burn them out.”

The operation envisaged by Lady Sara involved two detachments of troops. One would be transported by the navy in small boats that would reach the Snell farm by way of creeks that flowed into the inlet. The other would approach on foot from the land side. Once in position, each detachment would form two sides of a rectangle as its troops moved quickly to surround the buildings. What happened after that was up to the Snells. They would be served with a warrant—by a police officer, the Chief Inspector thought; by Lady Sara herself, she thought, since the Snells would be less likely to shoot a woman without a parley. The soldiers were to be highly visible but take no active part unless the Snells forced that on them.

In London, police would close in on the Poplar Produce Company as soon as John Snell arrived there. Since there would be only the two Snell brothers in the building, Chief Inspector Mewer doubted that the army would be needed, but he promised to have plenty of police on hand.

Colonel Millward had a distinct advantage over Chief Inspector Mewer. He had a sense of humour. He said to me, with a twinkle in his eyes, “Your employer would make a fine general.”

Unfortunately for him, the War Office had placed him under Lady Sara’s orders when it sent him to report to her, and he had not yet fully grasped the implications of that fact. The possibility that she might ask him to do something he disagreed with simply had not occurred to him. Actually, Lady Sara was a fine general, and, given that authority, she had every intention of exercising it.

She asked me to sketch a map of the Snell farm and make as many copies as possible. I consulted with the farmer and also with Colonel Millward, and then I quickly produced a pencil sketch that included every important feature. When both the farmer and the Colonel were satisfied, I copied it in ink and began making tracings.

While I worked, I listened to the hubbub of discussion and debate. I was waiting to find out what Lady Sara was going to do. Then I intended to do the same thing.

Colonel Millward was trying to make certain she did nothing at all. In his view, she had already located the culprits, reconnoitred their farm, and planned the attack, which should have been sufficient to satisfy any woman, even one with enormous political influence. Now it was time for the men to take over. She listened patiently, and then she coolly gave him his orders, informing him that if he refused to follow them, she would ask the War Office for another battalion.

I had been tempted to join the detachment of soldiers that would be landed from boats simply because there would be far less walking that way, but Lady Sara had a better idea. She intended to drive a trap right up to the farmhouse door, which meant virtually no walking at all. I told her I was coming with her, and so were Rick and Charles, and all three of us would be well-armed.

“Very well,” she said. “That might be a better idea. I’ll borrow Lady Roulson’s carriage. Rick and Charles can sit on the box as coachmen. You can be a footman. All three of you should be in uniform. I’ll see if Lady Roulson can find something for you. Arm yourselves however you like, but make certain you don’t show any weapons.”

In the end, everything was done precisely the way Lady Sara wanted it. The morning was cold but clear, with a stiff wind off the sea. The operation, launched just before dawn, went smoothly, and the soldiers were in position when Rick and Charles drove Lady Roulson’s carriage at a slow pace down the long, bumpy, narrow road to the door of the Snell farmhouse. The carriage had been new about the time of Queen Victoria’s coronation and was ornate enough for a Lord Mayor’s procession. It made me feel ridiculous. The uniforms Lady Roulson had found for us had been in storage for years, in that damp climate, and they smelled of mildew and decay and looked about as venerable as the carriage, and of course they didn’t fit, so I also felt uncomfortable.

When the carriage stopped, I climbed down stiffly and ceremoniously handed Lady Sara down. She was dressed in a gown Lady Roulson had inherited from a frivolous ancestor—all frills, ribbons, billowing skirts, and violent colours. Her hat, also borrowed from Lady Roulson, was a colossal construction of artificial fruit, flowers, and feathers. She must have felt as foolish as I did, but she considered the total effect of uniforms, dress, and carriage to be critically important.

I went to the door with Lady Sara and worked the old, corroded knocker energetically. Then I stepped back and folded my hands behind me.

The door opened a crack, and Abner Snell’s sharp nose appeared. “What’cha want?” he demanded.

“Take a look,” Lady Sara said. “There are four hundred soldiers surrounding the farm.”

Probably Snell had already seen them—we already knew that very little happened on the farm without his knowledge—but he opened the door wider and looked out. The soldiers were standing motionless in a line a hundred yards distant that now curved completely around the farm buildings. They were placed where they could take cover instantly if trouble developed.

“Trespassin’,” Snell growled. “All of ye are trespassin’. I’m orderin’ ye to get.”

Lady Sara presented him with a copy of the warrant. “We know what happened to the missing wine ships,” she said, speaking slowly and very distinctly. “We also know what happen to their crews—the members who weren’t Snell brothers. We know how you got the wine ashore and how you have been disposing of it in London. Your sons James and John are about to be arrested there. I’m calling on you and your other sons to surrender peacefully.”

Abner Snell pointed a finger. “Get.”

“If you want to make damn fools of yourselves, that’s all right with me,” Lady Sara said. She sounded superbly indifferent. “We have enough guns, including artillary, to pound your farm buildings to rubble. But we don’t want to harm the women and children. You have no right to make them suffer just because you are feeling reckless. Send them out, and I’ll see that they get to a safe place. If you and your sons surrender now, the women and children will still have a home when this is over with. If you decide to fight, there won’t be any farm buildings left.”

The door closed. For a few minutes nothing happened. I hoped Snell and his sons were conferring inside. Then the door opened again. Abner said again, “Get!”

“Don’t be a bloody idiot,” Lady Sara said impatiently. “The women and children are innocent. Why needlessly destroy their home and their means of earning a living? At least send them out and let me take them to a safe place.”

The door closed again. Then it opened on a parade of frightened, crying children and frightened, white-faced women. Lady Sara got busy at once, packing the smallest children and one woman who was heavily pregnant into the carriage.

The last woman remained in the doorway for a sharp altercation with Abner. It was his wife, Lila. She didn’t want to leave him. She was stooped and grey and looked more like his mother than his wife, which demonstrated how hard farm life could be on a woman. Finally he slapped her face with a sharp crack. “Get!” he said.

She staggered out, sobbing, and Lady Sara found a place for her in the carriage. When Lady Sara turned to remonstrate again with Snell, he threatened her with a rifle. She shrugged and signalled to Charles to drive off. She and I followed on foot, and two women and the older children walked with us. Rick walked behind, acting as rear guard.

We passed the line of soldiers. Out of sight of the farm buildings, Lady Roulson was waiting for us with another carriage. We got the walking refugees packed into it, and the two carriages headed for the harbour, where boats would take them to Lady Roulson’s home. Lady Sara turned her attention to the farm.

“Your men are not to shoot unless they are shot at,” she said to Colonel Millward. “Do they understand that?”

“Perfectly, my lady,” Colonel Millward said.

“Very well. They can start moving up.”

One or two at a time the men began dashing forward to the next cover or working along overgrown fence lines or drainage ditches, Gradually they drew closer to the house.

Shots rang out; one of the soldiers fell wounded. Two of his mates carried him to safety; the others sought concealment. For a time nothing at all happened, and it looked as though we had a stalemate. The soldiers could rush the farm buildings at any time and overwhelm the Snells, but there certainly would be more casualties.

The carriages returned. Lady Sara mounted into one, drew its curtains, and exchanged her frilly dress for a practical woman’s riding habit. She emerged wearing a close-fitting, plain jacket, a foot-length, tight skirt, Wellington boots, and her own adaptation of a deerstalker. Lady Roulson joined us wearing men’s clothing.

Two of Lady Roulson’s grooms led horses forward. Lady Roulson vaulted onto one that was equipped with a man’s saddle. Lady Sara gracefully mounted the one with a woman’s saddle. A box-like container was secured behind the saddle of each horse.

At that moment Colonel Millward rode up and began to remonstrate with Lady Sara. He wanted her and Lady Roulson to remain in a safe place and let two of his men undertake whatever it was she was planning to do. I joined in with a different kind of argument. I wanted to come along.

She didn’t bother to answer me. We both knew I was able to keep my seat on a horse only with the horse’s full consent and cooperation.

She told the Colonel, “Nonsense! We’ve spent hours practising this manoeuvre. I wouldn’t trust it to your men. Maybe it will work; maybe it won’t. Better to do something than to sit and do nothing.”

He changed his tone. It would humiliate his men, he said, if they had to stand and watch two women do a job they had been trained for.

Lady Sara shook her head. “In a military operaton, which this now is, delay is always costly.”

“At least give us a little time to plan a diversion,” the Colonel pleaded. “Then the men can feel that they have helped.”

Lady Sara studied him gravely. “What sort of diversion?”

“Something to keep the Snells occupied.”

“Very well,” Lady Sara said. “Plan your diversion.”

The two women dismounted again. The Colonel gave his orders. The diversion required preparation, and both women were becoming impatient before the Colonel finally was ready. An old abandoned sledge that stood beside the drive leading to the farm had given him an idea. Messengers had been sent galloping. Finally two waggon-loads of hay bales arrived along with another sledge drawn by a team of horses. The hay was loaded onto the sledges to a height that would give the soldiers cover. Several sturdy individuals were told off to push each sledge. One sledge was to approach the farm along the road. The other was to move across a field and approach from a different angle.

“Move slowly and steadily,” the Colonel told his men. “Make certain you stay under cover. Your job is to attract the Snells’ attention and keep it.”

They certainly attracted the Snells’ attention. As soon as the moving hay bales came into sight, fusillades were directed at them. The soldiers lowered their heads, braced their legs, and kept the sledges inching forward. One caught a bullet in an exposed arm; the others remained safe behind the rows of hay bales. The Snells kept shooting.

While that was going on, the two women rode off at a trot, widely circling the farm buildings. Rick, Charles, and I ran after them trying to keep them in sight. They were a study in contrasts. Lady Roulson sat astride her horse as erect and at ease as any man. She rode superbly. Lady Sara, though riding side-saddle, sat on her horse with the same ease and somehow managed to look wonderfully ladylike and far more graceful.

They vanished from sight behind a small grove of trees. When they appeared again, the containers were billowing smoke. They rode at a gallop toward the farm buildings, approaching the windward side of storage and animal sheds at an angle. The stiff wind whipped the smoke ahead of them almost like a curtain.

But the Colonel’s diversion was such an overwhelming success that the women’s approach was unnoticed. It was one of the few times in my memory that Lady Sara had been outmanoeuvered by a man. The Snells’ attention remained focused on the sledges; they were firing as rapidly as they could. Further, the Colonel ordered his men to discharge their rifles into the air when the women approached the farm buildings. The battalion’s artillary began firing guns loaded only with powder, but they certainly sounded warlike. The racket became thunderous, and the approaching horsewomen were both unseen and unheard. They did not attract a single shot. When they came close to the buildings, they wheeled sharply, dropping the containers, and left at a gallop. The wind quickly enshrouded the farm in thick, oily smoke.

The women rode back to their starting point and coolly dismounted.

Under the cover of smoke, the soldiers began to move forward. Those who had been pushing the sledges abandoned them and ran to a rickety outbuilding that offered a good measure of concealment. They began peering around its corners toward the farm building.

Suddenly several shots rang out. Lady Sara took a rifle and carefully sighted it at the house. After a few minutes, she put it down again without firing. There were no more shots.

The soldiers were becoming bolder. Finally one of them walked up to the door and tried the latch. It was locked. He backed up and crashed into it with his shoulder. The door splintered and flew open; the soldier leaped aside and peered in cautiously, rifle at the ready. Then he gingerly vanished into the house.

He emerged a moment later and called something to his sergeant. The sergeant passed the message along, and eventually it reached us. Abner Snell and the three sons who were with him had shot themselves. All were dead.

Lady Sara shook her head regretfully. “The wine would have brought them long prison terms in any case,” she said. “If the Admiralty succeeded in connecting the sons with just one of the vanished ships, they would have been hanged for mutiny and murder. Abner, because of his age and the fact that he had no direct part in those crimes, might have been let off easy.”

“No doubt they all expected to be hanged, my lady,” the Colonel said. “Otherwise, why shoot themselves?”

“It was a silly thing to do,” Lady Sara said. “We still don’t know how much of a case could be made against them.”

When the burning containers had been dragged away and doused with water, she insisted on searching the farm buildings. In a cellar we found enough wine to keep the Poplar Produce Company in business for a year or more.

“When supplies got low, there would have been more murders and another ship stolen,” Lady Sara said soberly. “What a horrible ending to a horrible business.”

“It isn’t ended yet, my lady,” I reminded her. “The two brothers in London should have been captured alive.”

“It is ended for us,” Lady Sara said. “The eldest son, John, wasn’t a sailor. He may escape with a prison term. His brother will be hanged if the Admiralty can produce the evidence. Certainly it will try, but none of that is any concern of ours. Let’s get back to London. We have work to do.”

The Admiralty gave Lady Sara a special commendation and medal, which amused her greatly. Reginald Dempster also received a commendation as well as a substantial reward for his role in the recovery of a large quantity of stolen wine. He was overwhelmed. “My word!” he exclaimed to Lady Sara afterward. “I had no idea law and order could be so profitable. You’ve been holding out on me. I’d have taken this up years ago if I had known.”

“It is never too late to start,” she said. “Neither of us will live long enough to exhaust the supply of criminals.”

“I’ll have to give it serious thought and maybe even work at it,” Dempster said. “Until now, I’ve only taken what came my way.” He looked at his cheque again. “My word! Cicely and I will be able to afford Bath next year and the year after that. She’ll be pleased. Do you have anything else in hand I could help with?”

“Thus far you have exposed a ring of housebreakers and brought a family of murderers to justice,” Lady Sara said. “Your information about the Whitham giant came to nothing, but two out of three is a score the most expert detective would be proud of. Just keep your eyes open for oddities.”

“I will,” Dempster promised fervently.