The Phantom

by Jack Murray

  ‘I rather think Mr Rosling is smitten, Mary’

  ‘I wish he wouldn’t be so obvious. I think men are like dogs, sometimes. You can see their tail wagging.’

  ‘I’m sure she knows,’ replied Caroline.

  ‘Why does she put up with it?’

  ‘They do get on well, you know. It’s strange, I know but they seem to have reached an accommodation.’

  ‘I’ll never do that,’ said Mary, ‘God help the man who thinks he can look at other women and be with me.’

  Caroline regarded Mary for a moment before saying, ‘Somehow I don’t think you need worry on that score, Mary.’

  They reached the kitchen and conversation stopped immediately. Miss Carlisle sat at the kitchen table while Rose prepared a meal for the servants. She looked up at the new arrivals. They were smiling conspiratorially. She knew she would never know the source of their amusement. Was it her? Someone or something else? After only a day or two they were more intimate than she would ever be with them. They liked one another. That was plain enough. A wave of sadness swept over her. She did not have that closeness. It was something which she no longer felt capable of giving or comfortable in receiving. It had never been her way.

  The two young women in front of her had an easiness of manner, a youthful vitality and a natural beauty, even Miss Hannah, that could not be denied. By dint of her role, or more likely, her life, Miss Carlisle was imposing and awkward in equal measure. Had it always been so, she wondered? Was there a moment in time when another path might have made her into someone different? Both of the girls had sweethearts. This much she knew. There had been no one in her life.

  As the two girls fought hard to suppress their smiles, Miss Carlisle felt like crying. In a moment she would reflect on later, with surprise, she wanted to tell the girls to leave. Not because she was jealous, nor because she felt she was being mocked. She felt neither of these dark emotions, or at least not at this moment. She wanted to tell them to choose another way of life. Service was safe, but it was an escape from life, from experiencing the world yourself. And the world was very different now for young women. There were choices now.

  A bell sounded on the wall causing everyone to look up. Then another. And then another.

  ‘I thought everyone had left,’ said Miss Carlisle irritably.

  ‘They have,’ replied Caroline.

  Grantham walked into the kitchen, also, at this moment and said, ‘I think Mr Headley must have fixed the bells.’

  ‘I’ll go up and see if he’d like a cup of tea or something to eat, it’s quite late now,’ suggested Caroline, rising from the table. She looked at Miss Carlisle. A curt nod of the head provided confirmation that she could leave.

  ‘Don’t be too long,’ shouted Rose as Caroline went through the door, ‘I’m serving the dinner now.’

  Caroline smiled and replied, ‘Just start without me, please.’

  -

  About ten minutes after the departure of Mr and Mrs Rosling the front door opened again. This time a small, bearded man came out wearing a bowler hat and carrying a bag.

  Kit turned to Alfred and asked, ‘Is that the man who came earlier?’

  ‘Yes sir, I’m certain,’ said Alfred. ‘It’s the same man.’

  The man walked to the bottom of the steps and looked in both directions, before choosing to walk in the direction of the car where Kit sat with the other men. As he drew closer they could see he was wearing spectacles. Underneath his coat he wore overalls. The bag looked like something a workman like a plumber of an electrician might carry. As he passed, he looked at the Rolls first and glanced inside on his way past.

  Kit smiled and said, ‘It probably looks a little suspicious all of us in this car.’

  The others laughed in agreement. Although there were many other fine cars on the street, the Rolls was very distinctive. In this sense it was the perfect cover for surveillance. Kit looked at the small figure of the man recede into the distance before turning a corner and going out of sight.

  Something seemed out to place to Kit, but he couldn’t quite grasp what. He turned to Alfred and asked, ‘When did the man arrive?’

  ‘Around five, sir,’ said Alfred.

  ‘Can you remember from what direction he came?’

  ‘No sir, I may have been distracted,’ replied Alfred. In fact, he had been finishing the lobster and chips that Mary had brought out and had, only by chance, seen the man arrive. Alfred decided not to say this. There seemed to be a lack of heroism in such an admission and Lord Kit Aston looked every bit the noble hero of one of the penny bloods he loved reading. Another less-than-heroic admission would have been the state of Alfred’s bladder, which was reaching danger levels.

  Kit looked out the window and began tapping furiously on the door. Something was not quite right. Ryan looked at Kit and then to Harry Miller. Miller shrugged.

  ‘Sir is something wrong?’

  ‘Yes, but I can’t put my finger on it. That man. It’s wrong. What we saw was wrong.’

  Miller smiled at Ryan. His boss was about to make a breakthrough. He’d seen it before. The tenseness, the frustration, the anger followed by the revelation.

  And then it seemed to hit him Kit turned to Alfred and asked, ‘Alfred, when the workman arrived, did he go through the front door?’

  ‘No sir, he went down the steps through the servant’s entrance.’

  Ryan nodded his head, following Kit’s line of thought before adding, ‘Perhaps they let him out of the front door because Mr and Mrs Rosling had left and the younger one’s not in the house tonight.’

  ‘It’s possible,’ said Kit, but he didn’t give any appearance to thinking it likely.

  Alfred was the first to see it. While all the others had looked at Kit, his attention had been drawn to the upstairs window of the house.

  ‘There seems to be a light moving around upstairs, look.’

  The four men craned their neck upwards to one of the front rooms upstairs, presumably the bedroom.

  ‘My guess is that it’s a flashlight,’ said Ryan.

  ‘I think you’re right,’ said Kit.

  He looked at the young policeman. A decision would need to be made. Ryan’s heart began to pound wildly. If he went to investigate the game would be up for Caroline. But the game was already up wasn’t it?

  ‘Let me go,’ said Ryan after a moment. ‘I’ll say I was passing and saw a suspicious light.’

  ‘Good idea,’ agreed Kit.

  Ryan stepped out of the car, relieved that he was still in control of the situation. If anything, this was an opportunity to speak to Caroline and warn her. As he walked towards the front door he felt a wave of relief. There was a chance, just a faint chance that this desperate situation could be resolved before it spiralled completely out of control.

  Ryan flew up the front steps and was just about to knock on the door when he saw the two police cars arrive. He hesitated. From the front police car stepped Jellicoe with a uniformed constable. From the second police car, stepped a grim-faced Bulstrode followed by Wellbeloved.

  Caught like a fawn in front of a hunter, fear gripped the young man. He turned to the door and with a heart hanging heavy in his chest he wrapped three times shouting, ‘Police, open up.’

  Chapter 23

  For Alfred, the arrival of the police was like the appearance of the US cavalry saving the day for besieged homesteaders in one of those westerns he’d grown up watching at the picture house. He nearly screamed in joy as Kit and Harry Miller got out of the car and joined the other policemen on the steps of the Rosling household.

  Alfred was not a man to look a gift horse in the rear, and this was truly a gift from the gods. While the police hammered away at the front door of the house, Alfred virtually beat the car door down himself in his haste to get out. Exiting from the other side from the car, he moved with a rapidity surprising in someone so large around the corner, to the road leading towards Sloane Square. It was deserted. This was his opp
ortunity to siphon away his distress and he was going to take matters, quite literally, in both hands.

  The front door of the Rosling house finally opened. Grantham looked bemused at the sight on the doorstep. A tall, good-looking young man alongside a smaller man that, in any normal situation, Grantham would happily have crossed the street to avoid. They were joined by a number of other men.

  ‘Yes?’ said Grantham for wont of anything better to say.

  ‘Sir, we’ve reason to believe your house is being burgled,’ said Ryan, in a surprisingly loud voice.

  ‘You don’t have to shout young man, I’m not deaf,’ replied Grantham with as much dignity as he could muster.

  Bulstrode took decisive action and brushed the elderly butler out of the way. His next obstacle was Miss Carlisle. Even Bulstrode stopped momentarily when confronted with the glaring malevolence that was the housekeeper’s natural facial repose.

  ‘Yes?’ snarled Miss Carlisle. The servants were certainly spare with the questions, thought Bulstrode as he tore his eyes away from the middle-aged medusa and went up the stairs, followed by Ryan and Wellbeloved.

  Kit gently tugged Jellicoe and Miller back.

  ‘Harry,’ suggested Kit, ‘perhaps you should get onto the street in case the thief looks to exit from an upstairs window. If you search this floor, Chief Inspector, I’ll head downstairs to check the servant quarters.’

  Jellicoe readily agreed to this proposal and he and Kit went in different directions as Miss Carlisle and Grantham looked on in utter confusion. Seeing this Kit stopped and explained the situation.

  ‘My name is Lord Aston. For reasons I cannot go into, this house has been under surveillance. We believe a thief may have been in an upstairs bedroom looking to take Mrs Rosling’s diamond necklace.’

  Comprehension dawned slowly on Grantham’s features while Miss Carlisle looked on stonily.

  ‘Will you accompany me please?’

  The tone of voice used by Kit was calm and reassuring. It appeared to work on Miss Carlisle as her features softened a little and she nodded, leading the way for Kit to follow. She had been caught off guard by the extraordinary events, but composure restored, she once more became the woman of, if not action then at the very least, narrow self-possession. This would not last long, however.

  Kit’s motives for wanting to check the servant quarters were not a little bit self-serving. He wanted to see if Mary was safe. When they arrived in the kitchen, he saw Mary, bewigged blonde, sitting with the cook, no doubt having been ordered to remain there by Miss Carlisle. When she saw Kit she leapt from her seat and exclaimed, ‘Kit!’

  She immediately ran over to her fiancé and embraced him.

  ‘Miss Tanner,’ called out Miss Carlisle in a tone that bordered on apoplexy. Mary, hearing the housekeeper’s cry decided to up the ante in the embrace.

  ‘Mary,’ laughed Rose as she looked first from Mary and Kit to Miss Carlisle who had turned white in shock.

  Mary finally released Kit and looked at Miss Carlisle, trying to avoid any hint of triumphalism. Trying but not succeeding. Rose, meanwhile, was beaming.

  ‘Where’s Miss Hadleigh?’ asked Kit urgently.

  ‘She went upstairs to see to the handyman fixing the bells.’

  ‘Miss Hadleigh?’ asked Miss Carlisle, now thoroughly confused again. Events were rapidly spinning out of control both upstairs and downstairs.

  Mary turned to Miss Carlisle and said, ‘Long story and there’s no time now. Her name is Caroline Hadleigh not Charlotte Hannah. My name is Mary Cavendish, not Mary Tanner. And this is Lord Kit Aston.’

  With this, and as a final flourish, Mary removed her blonde wig. Miss Carlisle promptly sat down in the seat recently vacated by Mary and took a long drink of Mary’s tea. Rose, by now was moved to clap.

  ‘Come on Kit. Where have they gone?’

  Kit took Mary’s hand and they headed back up the servant’s staircase. Kit explaining on the way the events of the evening. By the time they reached main hallway at the top of the stairs they ran into Jellicoe. The Chief Inspector took one look at Kit hand in hand with Mary and smiled, raised his hat and said, ‘Lady Mary. It seems we’re always destined to meet in unusual circumstances.’

  ‘Indeed, Chief Inspector,’ said Mary.

  ‘Any sign of Caroline Hadleigh?’ asked Kit.

  The shouts from the top of the stairs answered that question.

  -

  The younger man, Ryan was the first up the stairs followed by Wellbeloved and Bulstrode. He continued bellowing ‘police, open up’ although, he was certain that Caroline, unless she was either deaf, or stupid, would have taken the required steps to absent herself from the building. The shouting by Ryan had begun to fray Bulstrode’s nerves.

  ‘Shut up sergeant, you’ve made your point.’

  They all moved toward the front bedroom where the torch had been spotted. It was, not surprisingly, empty. Ryan breathed a sigh of relief and they proceed to the other rooms upstairs, each splitting up to do so.

  Ryan burst into the next bedroom along, he opened the lights and looked around. Taking a chance, he whispered, ‘Caroline?’ There was no response. ‘Caroline it’s me, Ben.’

  Silence.

  The door opened behind him and in walked Bulstrode. The two men looked at one another for a moment. Had Bulstrode heard him? Ryan’s heart began to beat even faster, and he felt the oxygen evacuate his body.

  ‘No sign,’ said Ryan, finally.

  Bulstrode nodded and then they heard a shout from the other bedroom. It was Wellbeloved. The two men immediately ran out of the bedroom into the corridor. Wellbeloved was in the bedroom at the far end. When they arrived they saw the other detective standing by an open window.

  ‘She escaped this way. I saw her climbing onto the roof.’

  Bulstrode and Ryan both looked out the window, up at the deserted roof, then to the guttering that Caroline had obviously used to climb up. Ryan looked down at the drop and nearly fainted. This was some girl, he thought. If we get through this, I’m either going to jail her or marry her.

  Bulstrode was already on the move out of the room. In the corridor he met Kit, Jellicoe and Mary.

  ‘No sign of her downstairs,’ said Jellicoe.

  ‘She went out the window. She’s on the roof.’

  Mary gasped involuntarily. She wasn’t sure if she’d done so out of fear for a person she felt was almost a friend or out of pride for the bravery of the young woman.

  ‘My man Harry Miller is patrolling the at the back.’

  ‘Let’s get down there now,’ said Jellicoe but Ryan was already halfway down the stairs, followed by Bulstrode.

  -

  Such was the blissful interlude being enjoyed by Alfred as he released, copiously against the brick wall, the tension that had built up over the previous hour, he failed to notice Harry Miller run past him. Eventually, he became aware of Miller climbing the wall to his side. Even the presence of Miller was not enough to deny the exquisite feeling of relief being enjoyed by Alfred. However, he felt it best to inquire why Miller was breaking on to a neighbour’s garden.

  ‘What’s happening.’

  ‘Lord Aston wants me to check around the back. This is the only way in.’

  Alfred took one look at the wall and realised two things immediately. He was probably lacking the circus-supple agility to scale such a barrier; furthermore, the wall was quite high. A fall from such a height could be quite nasty.

  ‘Can you open the gate when you’re on the other side?’ pleaded Alfred.

  Much to Alfred’s surprise the gate opened with Miller saying, ‘Come on.’

  Thankfully the next barrier was a lot smaller and Alfred, in his newly lightened state, found it within his compass to manage, albeit inelegantly. One more fence was encountered and dealt with leaving Alfred feeling decidedly chipper about both this adventure and his own cat-like dexterity.

  The moon shone down on the back of the Rosling house, giving the two
men a good view of a small figure dressed in black emerging from one of the windows. Miller immediately sprinted forward.

  Alfred whispered loudly and rather superfluously, ‘Wait for me.’ He watched in amazement as Miller, with a grace and a sprightliness of a ballet dancer, hopped onto a bin on the back of the house, followed in one swift movement by his grabbing the top of a wall and levering himself up onto the roof of the basement kitchen.

  Clearly Miller was on his own at this point, so Alfred found a garden seat and decided to watch the show from this vantage point. And what a show it was turning out to be. Miller’s acrobatic skills were extraordinary, for within moments, he was shinning up the guttering that led vertically all the way to the roof, in pursuit of the dark figure that had so recently emerged from the window.

  At the picture house, Alfred liked nothing better than accompanying his film viewing with a generous snack. Sadly this was the only thing missing as the spectacle in front of him unfolded.

  Just as Miller had made it onto the roof, a man appeared at the window and shouted at Miller to halt, obviously mistaking him for the thief. Alfred stood up and went to correct the misapprehension but decided against doing so as he saw the highly unattractive features of the man at the window. Instead he returned to his seat and watched two dark silhouettes clamber over the rooftop. The direction of travel looked to be back towards the road from which he and Miller had come.

  Reluctantly, Alfred rose from the seat and retraced his footsteps over the fences, through the neighbour’s garden towards the alley. Up ahead he could see the first figure had an athleticism no less than Miller’s and was sliding down the roof towards another vertical pipe that led all the way to the ground.

  This presented Alfred with a dilemma. If he broke into a trot, something he hadn’t done since 1917, he could conceivably reach the alley way before the villain. This would mean he could catch the thief. However, Alfred wasn’t a brave man. Nor was he so gifted athletically that the encounter may not end up the worse for him. Discretion formed the better part of valour. Alfred made stately progress to the alley while the two figures descended the pipe.