by Jack Murray
‘Your Detective Sergeant is interesting. He must be quite a talent.’
Jellicoe looked at Kit shrewdly, ‘May I ask why you say that?’
Kit smiled and replied, ‘Well his youth for one thing and, dare I say it, he doesn’t sound like you.’
‘Or you, Lord Aston?’
‘Or me,’ laughed Kit. ‘I imagine he must be useful undercover.’
‘Very useful, sir. One of the best I’ve seen. He joined us straight from the army, but he didn’t come to my attention until six months ago on another case. We needed someone to pose as a gang member. A police sergeant acquaintance of mine recommended him. Anyway, we rounded up the gang thanks to his intelligence and no little bravery. I had him promoted immediately and transferred to my office. He’s going places. Remember the name, Lord Aston. Ryan, Ben Ryan.
-
Lady Agatha Frost had always been an early riser. She had lived by the motto: early to bed, early to rise makes the heart grow fonder, or some such notion. She sat in her dining room polishing off a breakfast that was nothing short of hearty. Two eggs, bacon, and black pudding with a single kipper.
‘Fish?’ said Lady Agatha, turning to her equally elderly butler.
‘Yes, milady?’ replied Fish.
‘Can you send young Alfred to collect Betty Simpson? I take it he’s here now?’
‘I haven’t seen the young man yet, but I shall tell him once he arrives.’
‘Thank you, Fish. That will be all.’
Meal finished, Lady Agatha rose from the table and went to the hallway. On a small table beside a Tiffany lamp sat one of these new-fangled communications devices: the telephone. Initially distrusting of the device that seemed as intrusive as it was ugly, she had grown to become quite addicted to its utility and could spend hours on it with her friends. She sat down at the table, picked up the receiver and put it to her ear. She dialled a number and waited a moment.
‘Mayfair 6237. Yes, I’ll hold.’
A few moments later someone answered.
‘Betty, it’s Agatha. We have a case. I’ve sent Alfred to collect you. The Phantom is back. Yes, I know. Oh, and bring the book. We have a new colleague.’
This brief, rather one-sided exchange formed the sum of the conversation with Betty. Lady Agatha replaced the phone just as Mary was passing her by.
‘The book? Betty?’
‘You’ll see,’ said Lady Agatha’s excitedly, ‘It’s big’.
Mary smiled and walked into the dining room to see if any food remained unconsumed on the breakfast sideboard. An initial inspection suggested Agatha had been a bit hungry. Not that Mary minded. She picked a few items from the debris on the sideboard and sat down, intrigued by the latest twist in her increasingly fascinated take on Kit’s aunt. Eccentric hardly seemed adequate in describing either the wonderfully unpredictable nature of the lady nor an extraordinary life force that was almost palpable.
Half an hour later as she was finishing her breakfast there was a commotion outside the door. Giving her mouth a quick dab, she rose and went to see what was happening. In the hallway there were two elderly women. One was Aunt Agatha, the other was a lady that Mary took to be Betty.
Betty Simpson was, if anything, slightly shorter than Kit’s already diminutive aunt and arguably stouter. She was dressed in a tweed skirt, sensible brown brogues. Her woollen pullover was barely up to the job of containing the ample bosom of the worthy lady. Mary noted, with a smile, her hair was styled not dissimilarly to her own. This was also noticed by Aunt Agatha.
‘What on earth have you done with your hair?’ she exclaimed in surprise once Betty had removed her hat and tossed it towards the sideboard.
‘Do you like it?’ asked Betty, innocently.
‘You’re too old,’ said Aunt Agatha tartly.
‘Nonsense, my dear,’ replied Betty, touching the side of her hair.
‘Seventy-three, not too old?’
‘Seventy-two,’ responded Betty before adding, ‘and a half.’ It was then she noticed Mary standing at the dining room door. She turned to Agatha for an explanation.
‘This is Lady Mary Cavendish. She and Christopher are going to be married.’
Betty turned with a look of delight and walked towards Mary, “Well I must congratulate that young man. You are quite a beauty young lady.’
‘More than a pretty face you’ll find, Betty,’ pointed out Agatha shrewdly, ‘Now let’s retire to the library. We’ve work to do.’
Although she didn’t show it, Mary felt unaccountably delighted with the compliment as Betty embraced her in a bear hug. After a suffocating few moments, Mary felt a powerful hand grip hers and she was being led into the library.
‘Alfred,’ ordered Agatha, ‘Can you bring Mrs Simpson’s bag in and then tell Fish to organise some tea. We’re not to be disturbed.’
The young chauffeur had escaped Mary’s attention initially. She smiled at him on the way past. He was rather portly with dark hair and a rather feminine mouth.
‘Hello, Alfred.’
‘Ma’am,’ replied the young man shyly, touching his hat, and blushing.
Chapter 6
Detective Sergeant Ryan read through the statement given by Lord Wolf. Both Kit and Jellicoe listened intently. Every so often Kit caught Jellicoe’s eye. The look was a question: what do you think? The answer returned by dint of a look also was I’m impressed. The young sergeant had clearly given the industrial magnate a comprehensive interview. He easily fielded questions from both Jellicoe and Kit as he delivered his report. When the summary was complete, Jellicoe said nothing to praise Ryan, instead he turned to Kit, and asked, ‘Have you any further questions, Lord Aston?’
Kit fixed his gaze on Ryan, ‘Was Lord Wolf hiding anything?’
This was an unusual question which caught both Jellicoe and Ryan by surprise. Ryan glanced at Jellicoe and then replied, ‘No. He was genuinely shaken by what had happened. This is normal. The sense of invasion is the same whether you’re a lord, a lady or just a normal bloke whose house has been broken into.’
‘That was my sense also, Lord Aston,’ added Jellicoe. ‘No one ever thinks it will happen to them. When it does, when the realisation sets in that your home, your castle, even, has been breached, that you, your family, your possessions are not as safe as you first thought. It can be troubling, and it doesn’t matter who you are. The reaction of Lord Wolf was entirely sincere in my view.’
Kit nodded. He thought so too.
‘Why did you ask that, sir?’ asked Ryan.
‘I’m not sure. I suppose it was the joke he played last night, pretending that a robbery had taken place. It seemed out of character.’
Jellicoe thought for a moment then asked, ‘How did you guess the safe had a secret compartment?’
Kit laughed, ‘It was certainly a guess. You see, I was standing near the chandelier and didn’t hear anything thrown into it or, for that matter, anyone come near me to put anything inside. Based on this, I reasoned Lord Wolf had simply put the diamonds back into the safe. It wasn’t such a big jump to guess you could press down on the bottom of the safe to find another compartment.’
‘But how did you know it was a practical joke?’ continued Ryan.
Jellicoe answered this one on Kit’s behalf, ‘That was easy, lad. The only people in the room were Lord Wolf, Lord Aston, Lady Mary, a former Prime Minister, a few cabinet ministers and their wives.’
‘A dishonest politician? Perish the thought, Chief Inspector,’ added Kit with a grin. Jellicoe’s eyes crinkled so Kit assumed that underneath his beard there was a smile.
‘What are your plans now, Lord Aston?’ asked Jellicoe. There was a look on his face that Kit suspected was meant as an invitation. He certainly hoped so. This case was intriguing, and he hated to admit to himself how much he wanted to be involved.
‘I‘ve no plans, but I’m certainly open to suggestions, Chief Inspector,’ replied Kit, hoping his intuition was correct.
‘How wo
uld you feel about renewing a couple of old acquaintances?’
Unsure of who the second one could be, Kit was sure of the first.
‘I would be delighted, Chief Inspector.’
-
The library at Aunt Agatha’s house had been one of several pleasant surprises for the Cavendish sisters, stocked as it was not only with the classics, in several languages, but also with the latest book releases, many of an eyebrow raising quality. One cabinet seemed to have been devoted to “penny bloods” and the works of Conan Doyle, R Austin Freeman, Arthur Morrison, Guy Boothby, and the like.
‘Now you sit there, my dear,’ suggested Betty to Mary, pointing to a seat at the head of the table. The two ladies sat either side of Mary. Betty took a large scrapbook out of a carrier bag and placed it on the table.
‘The Phantom is back you say?’ asked Betty.
‘Looks like it. Mary, can you tell Betty what took place last night at Lord Wolf’s? Listen to this, Betty.’
Mary looked at the two ladies and, suppressing a smile, began her report. Like Kit she had the ability to provide sufficient detail without it slowing the overarching narrative. Neither of the ladies said a word, listening intently. Both took notes in large, well-worn notebooks.
When Mary had finished, Betty asked, ‘And you say you saw the card?’ Mary nodded in response. Betty pushed her notebook in front of her and said, ‘Can you draw it my dear?’
‘I have to say Essie is the better artist,’ admitted Mary, ‘But, as you know, she’s in Sussex with Richard’s family. I’ll do my best.’ Mary proceeded to draw the outline of the figure, roughly colouring in the black features but leaving the eyes white. ‘Something like this,’ said Mary. When she’d finished the two ladies looked at one another.
‘There can be no doubt,’ said Agatha.
‘None,’ confirmed Betty.
Mary looked them both for an explanation. Betty nodded to Mary and opened her scrapbook. A card was clipped to the inside. She handed the card to Mary.
‘Is this what you saw?’
The small business card was blank save for a black silhouette wearing a fedora. The eyes were white.
‘My goodness,’ said Mary, fixing her gaze on the card before turning to the others. “Where on earth did you obtain this?’
‘We weren’t robbed if that’s what you’re thinking,’ said Betty, ‘Let’s just say we have contacts.’
Betty took the card back, holding it with something approaching reverence before carefully replacing it inside the cover.
There was a knock on the library door and in walked Fish with a trolley containing the tea and some biscuits. Spying the scrapbook and the presence of Betty he said, ‘A new case, milady?’
‘We live in hope,’ replied Aunt Agatha.
Once the tea had been served, Betty got down to business.
‘What do you know about the Phantom, my dear?’
‘It was a little before my time. I was aware of him obviously. Who wasn’t? It was all over the papers. But I didn’t really follow the case. War was in the air and with my papa and Uncle Robert, well, our minds were elsewhere.’
‘Perfectly understandable,’ acknowledged Agatha, ‘Perhaps, Betty, you should do the honours.’
‘Good plan. Before I start, where is Christopher?’ asked Betty.
Mary smiled; Kit hated his Christian name. ‘Kit is with the police. He went to Scotland Yard this morning to see Chief Inspector Jellicoe.’
‘Jellicoe, you say. Makes sense,’ said Betty, looking knowingly at Agatha, ‘Still, bit of a bad show that you weren’t invited. Typical men.’
‘Indeed, typical men,’ agreed Mary. She had been rather put out by Kit going alone. ‘If he thinks this is the way it’ll be in the future, he’s in for a rude awakening, I can tell you.’
‘Quite right, Mary,’ nodded Agatha. ‘Betty?’
‘Right, where are we? The Phantom. Also known as Raven Hadleigh. Born 1871 in Gloucester to the youngest brother of Lord Ronald Hadleigh. Went to a local public school before a successful career at Oxford studying geology.’
‘He obviously had an interest in rocks right from the start,’ pointed out Agatha. This made both ladies giggle conspiratorially, causing Mary to start also. In fact, such was the mirth at Agatha’s joke it took a few minutes and another round of tea before the meeting was able to resume.
‘The first recorded crime was,’ continued Betty, turning the page of her scrapbook to a newspaper cutting, ‘In 1907. Before then it seems, he’d spent time abroad working for a petroleum company.’
‘So, it’s entirely possible, his criminal career could have started long before then,’ pointed out Mary.
Agatha and Betty exchanged glances and nodded.
‘Entirely possible, Mary. We both certainly believe so,’ replied Agatha, ‘I’m glad you’re of a like mind.’
Mary studied the press cutting of a robbery of a small painting by Reynolds in Glasgow in which the robber had left behind a small calling card.
‘Between 1907 and 1914 a further thirteen robberies were reported. In each case a calling card was left behind by the Phantom. Interestingly, the calling card was never made public.’
‘I’m not surprised. I think a few other phantoms would’ve emerged from the woodwork. But what did he normally steal?’
‘Beautiful objects mostly. In fact, beautiful things which were portable. Diamond necklaces and brooches, small but valuable paintings. He never took sculpture, probably too fragile,’ said Betty.
‘Or heavy,’ pointed out Agatha.
‘Indeed,’ replied Betty. ‘He was finally caught in June 1914. The printer of the cards, a man named Felix Kane, was in custody for another crime and he traded time in prison by pointing the finger at Mr Hadleigh as being the Phantom.’
‘Did they recover the stolen objects?’ asked Mary.
‘Well, that is one of the more interesting aspects of this case,’ interjected Agatha, ‘Some of the objects were sent back to the owners soon after the theft. The paintings were found at the home of Hadleigh, however, and that was that.’
‘The man who caught the Phantom was your friend, Chief Inspector Jellicoe, or Detective Inspector as he was then.’
‘Why did he return the objects?’ asked Mary.
‘Good question. The belief was that he enjoyed the thrill of the crime more than the actual end product. In fact, the theory at the time was he only needed the necklaces for his wife when they were attending society events. Remember Hadleigh was a respected member of society and would have attended many balls in the city over the years,’ explained Betty.
‘His wife was a beauty,’ added Agatha.
‘Was?’
Betty took up the story, ‘I believe she died relatively recently. Not sure if it was that ghastly flu or something else. There was a daughter I believe.’
‘How terrible,’ said Mary, ‘She’s effectively an orphan.’
‘A very well-off orphan,’ suggested Betty, ‘And not a child, either. I would say she must be your age, Mary, perhaps slightly older.’
At this point there was a knock at the door.
‘Yes?’
Alfred walked in, ‘Sorry to disturb you, ma’am, but I was hoping I could be off now. The studio has been in touch.’
‘Yes, perhaps you can take Betty on your way. Just wait there for a moment, we’ll be finished soon,’ said Agatha.
‘She would be in her early twenties by now, Mary.’
‘Really? That’s interesting,’ said Mary, her mind considering an extraordinary possibility. The three women looked at one another, each thinking the same thought.
‘I see no reason why a woman can’t do what this Phantom did,’ pronounced Mary.
‘I quite agree,’ replied Betty, ‘Especially if it’s his daughter. Imagine that, a chip of the old block. The daughter of the Phantom becomes the new Phantom. How wonderful.’
‘I’m not sure we should be delighting in criminal behaviour, Betty d
ear,’ pointed out Agatha although she didn’t seem completely convinced by this idea herself. Especially if the master criminal in question was a woman.
‘I think we may be close to cracking this case,’ announced Betty excitedly standing up and putting the scrapbook into her bag which she then handed to Alfred. Mary and Agatha walked Betty to the door. ‘I’ll make a start in finding out where the young lady is living now and report back to you tomorrow morning.’
‘Excellent idea, Betty,’ said Agatha. “but can you remember her name?’
‘Caroline according to one of the cuttings. Caroline Hadleigh,’ replied Betty on the doorstep. With that she turned around and followed Alfred down the steps towards a large Bentley parked on the street outside.
Agatha closed the door and looked at Mary, ‘A productive morning, I think. Now, we must plan our next steps carefully. I don’t think Christopher need know what we’re doing, do you?’
‘Certainly not,’ replied Mary, ‘Let’s see if we can do this ourselves.’
‘That’s the spirit.’
‘By the way, where or what is Alfred up to? He mentioned the studio,’ asked Mary.
‘Alfred? Oh, I believe he has a part time job in one of those moving picture studios. He wants to direct films, apparently. A bit like those chaps Griffith or de Mille. Preposterous of course, but young people will have these ideas.’
Chapter 7
‘Would you like to come in my car?’ asked Kit as he descended the stairs at Scotland Yard with Jellicoe and Ryan.
‘I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Lord Aston,’ replied Jellicoe until he spied Harry Miller pulling up in the Rolls Royce. ‘On the other hand,’ said Jellicoe. He didn’t finish the sentence. One look at Ryan and the decision was made.
The three men walked down towards the Rolls. Harry Miller hopped out of the car to let them in. Jellicoe and Ryan surveyed the interior of the car. Kit, meanwhile, studied the two men with a wry smile.
‘How the other half live, Chief Inspector?’
Jellicoe seemed amused but made no comment of a feudal nature, confining himself to saying, ‘It’s certainly an improvement on our usual mode of transport. When I first started this job, sir, we were lucky to have a carriage. That was a long time ago.’
