23

Monday, June 14, to Tuesday, June 15

James stomped into the Ethington apartment after slamming the door, then flung himself into his favorite chair. Elizabeth and I exchanged glances at his stormy entrance.

“I take it the day did not go well?” I asked, unsure how to proceed.

“Fossils! If they didn’t occasionally move from behind their desks to go to their club, you could put them in a museum.”

“What’s wrong?”

“We are nearly slaughtered in the street, and what do we do? I’m told to wait and surveil a wealthy anarchist on the off-chance he could be sheltering the man. Piffle!”

“What would you rather do?”

“We have more information on our assassin, Herman Ott, and among his many talents he is a skilled electrician. A foreigner arriving unprepared in our country would have a difficult time finding employment as a gunsmith, but with the rapid spread of electrification in London, men with his experience have their pick of jobs. We expect a sketch of Ott in two days’ time. Until then, I could inquire around about any recently hired foreign electricians, but my hands are tied. Senior Inspector Murdock has assigned me to watch a well-to-do Russian anarchist. Murdock said it could lead to Ott, but I suspect he is just having me complete his checklist of known troublemakers prior to the Jubilee. He expects a full report in two days.”

“Do you have any copies of old surveillance reports here?”

“I probably have some drafts. Why?”

“Elizabeth and I could watch the man, which would free you to follow your instincts. I write the report, and you edit it to sound like you, and no one’s the wiser.”

His mouth gaped for a moment, then snapped shut. “You and Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth’s eyes flashed. “Yes! A real surveillance. We can do it, Father. Please?”

“Certainly not! Why, the very idea of the two of you playing detective . . .”

“Is exactly what Elizabeth needs if she is to become one. Consider it a training exercise.”

“I forbid it!”

“Is this assignment dangerous?”

“Well, no.”

“Does it require any specific skill I do not possess?”

James glared at me. “No.”

“Then is there any logical reason not to allow us to help?”

James swallowed. “I don’t want Elizabeth to become a detective.”

Elizabeth went to James and laid her hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be an adult soon, Father, free to make decisions on my own. Wouldn’t you rather I learn these skills now, while I have someone like Margaret to teach and watch over me?”

“My little girl,” he whispered. “You’re all I have left.” He sat, unspeaking, for a moment. “Why does the world have to change so much, and so often?” Then he turned to me. “Please look after her.”

“Like she was my own,” I promised, my voice huskier than usual. I cleared my throat. “I need a name, a description, and an address.” Then, to Elizabeth, I said, “Let’s go to your room. I need to take some measurements before we go shopping. Having you try on male clothing while dressed as a woman would attract too much attention, but you may have some preferences. The shops close in two hours, so make haste!”

Elizabeth flew to her bedroom, so didn’t notice James’s sad smile as she left.

On the way to the Kropotkin residence the following day, I reminded Elizabeth to stop scratching three times while on the Underground. “I thought we agreed not to ape that particular male mannerism,” I said.

“But my legs itch! These short wool trousers rub every time I move. How do they stand it? Don’t they feel trapped in their clothes?”

“If you’d ever worn a corset, you’d feel less sympathy for men, on that account at least, but if they’re so bothersome I suggest next time you wear stockings underneath. Now, be a good lad and behave.” We exchanged a smile, and Elizabeth settled down.

James had advised me to favor male attire for the time being and I had just enough forbearance to pretend it was his idea. Elizabeth’s disguise was agreed upon by her and me, and we were both rather pleased with the result.

She was dressed in short, charcoal-gray wool trousers with white knee-high socks, black brogans, a white shirt with suspenders, and a navy-blue blazer. I’d trimmed three inches of her hair to allow it to be neatly braided and placed beneath her flat schoolboy cap.

I was in my Pennyworth attire, a modest clerk’s suit with a black derby, and wearing pince-nez glasses with clear lenses. My only extravagance was a gold watch and chain across a black silk vest. Together we looked like a father and son on an outing.

Elizabeth was still ungainly as she tried to walk like a boy, but boys that age grow so quickly they tend to be awkward, so no one noticed. As the day wore on, her confidence grew. At one point she tried to spit. I advised her to practice in private before attempting it again.

Peter Kropotkin was not a challenging subject, even for a novice like Elizabeth. He took a constitutional around the park after breakfast, a walk of about one mile. As it was a circuit, we observed his ambulation from the comfort of a park bench. I brought a book while Elizabeth wrote in her notebook, practicing shorthand. “It’ll be useful someday,” she said, “for when I am questioning witnesses.”

The Russian seemed to get along well with his neighbors, greeting other walkers as he passed them, tipping his hat and speaking with the musical lilt of his native tongue. After his walk he returned to his house and sat by the window of his study, writing. No visitors happened by and no men other than Kropotkin were seen passing by the windows or in the surrounding garden. For a man who wanted to change the world, his own life appeared sedate.

Elizabeth bought us meat pies from a pushcart and enjoyed gulping hers down in an unladylike way. “Being a boy is ever so much fun!”

“It has its moments,” I agreed. “Do you know why we are here in male costume?”

“Sure,” Elizabeth said, her mouth full. “For practice.”

“Partly true. But also because men tend to pay less attention to other men, in public at least, unless they see them as a rival or a threat. But even the homeliest maiden will be scrutinized by every passing male beyond puberty. They can’t help it. Thus, dressed as women, they would be more apt to remember us the next time they saw us. In our masculine façade, their eyes slide right past us. A useful fact to remember, Detective.”

She laughed. “This is the most fun I’ve had since, well . . .” She returned to her pie.

“I’m sorry, Elizabeth, and I’m sorry we won’t have more outings like this.”

“I noticed how stiffly you walk in the morning. Are you sick?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Elizabeth finished her meal, then wiped her face with the back of her sleeve, smiling as she did so. She turned toward me but avoided my eyes. “Is it serious?”

“It’s hard to tell. I’m more apt to die with it than of it, but it will get worse over time. My doctors advise that I move to a warmer climate.” I put my hand on Elizabeth’s arm. “I’ve booked passage to Australia on the seventh of July.”

She looked away. “Does Father know?”

“Not yet. I have no intention to deceive him, so I need to have that conversation soon. For both our sakes.”

“Yes, I suppose so. I’m sorry, Margaret. It’s been nice acting like a family for a little while. I’ve missed that, and it was nice to let someone else do the cooking.” She sighed. “How much longer should we stay here?”

“It’s only now one o’clock. We should probably move to another bench, something in the shade, so that when Mister Kropotkin looks out, he doesn’t see us. Tell you what, once we move, I’ll let you compose our surveillance report for your father. Do it in shorthand, that way you’re practicing two skills at once.”

“I’ll do my best to describe the pigeons’ activities with great precision.”

Nothing of import happened until four o’clock, when Kropotkin and his teenage daughter went for a stroll together through the park. They made their way past us without a backward glance from the father, but the daughter paused to give Elizabeth a second look, then she smiled shyly before hurrying to catch up.

Elizabeth blushed. “That was an odd moment. I think she was flirting with me!”

“Take it as a compliment, both for your good looks and your convincing disguise. I don’t get many second looks from the ladies these days, but clerks rarely do.” Then in a dry voice, I continued, “Be sure to put that into your report.”

“What, that his daughter is a flirt?”

“I’d put it rather more diplomatically. Say she has an eye for handsome lads her age.”

We shared a brief laugh before Elizabeth said, “I wish I could go to Australia. I love their accent, and they ride horses everywhere. I have never been on one. It all sounds so romantic, to ride with some handsome young man in the moonlight as he speaks his heart in an Australian accent.”

“I must be sure to write that into my next novel, Elizabeth. I believe it would double my sales.”

After the Kropotkins returned home, I stood and dusted off my trousers. “I think we’ve served queen and country well enough today. We have a bit of shopping to do before returning home ourselves, and I need your help to do it right.”

“Why? What are we shopping for?”

“An apology, of sorts. In the form of a new bowler hat.”