by Jack Murray
‘Sir, what are you doing?’ asked Miller more in embarrassment than surprise.
‘Don’t complain,’ ordered Kit, ‘Or I’ll fire the staff.’
Miller smiled and looked at the tea pot. Turning back to Kit he said, ‘You forgot to bring the milk sir.’
‘You don’t take it black then?’
‘No sir. I also like it with a cup.’
‘A cup also?
‘Sorry sir.’
‘You’re devilishly demanding, aren’t you?’
Kit returned with the milk, a cup and saucer as well as some sugar. He pointed to the sugar and said, ‘Just in case. Now, the doctor said you were to rest up for the next few days, so I’m afraid you’ll just have to put up with an inferior level of service than you’re used to.’
‘Very good sir.’
‘I’m off to my aunt’s now. I’ll pop by later to see how you are. I’ve left you the paper. It makes for grim reading I’m afraid.’
Miller glanced down at the headlines. It was pretty grim for Jellicoe. The headlines told of another jewel robbery. The fact that it was the Phantom was now out in the open. There was no picture of Caroline Hadleigh yet, but one was promised for later editions of the paper.
‘There’s nothing about the Chief Inspector being taken off the case,’ noted Miller, scanning the copy. He opened the paper and looked at the editorial, ‘But they do seem to be demanding it.’
‘I think they’ll get what they want this morning. Jellicoe’s head on a proverbial plate. I can’t see Commissioner Macready standing up to the press on this.’
‘Is there noting we can do, sir?’
Kit’s eyebrow arched, and he looked at Miller, ‘There’s nothing you can do Harry except recuperate.
Miller eyed the lord closely and said, ‘There’s something on your mind sir, isn’t there?’
Kit didn’t answer but grimly shook his head. Something was on his mind, but he couldn’t give it form and he certainly could back it up with evidence. Right now he desperately wanted to give Jellicoe a chance to save his reputation and reveal the truth behind the robberies. But the only solution was…Kit smiled and looked at his manservant.
‘We’ll see. Alright, I’m off. Alfred’s due to collect me now to bring me over to Grosvenor Square.’
-
The knock at the door had a military air about it. Two sharp knocks followed by silence and expectation of an answer directly.
‘That’ll be Betty,’ said Agatha to Mary. Both were sitting in the drawing room. A few moments later they heard the stately footsteps of Fish clip clopping like an elderly shire horse through a Suffolk village.
As forecast by Agatha, Betty made an appearance a minute later, dressed head to foot in brown tweed. She waltzed through the door and threw her tweed shooting cap, with well-practiced accuracy, over a copy of Canova’s Helen of Troy.
‘I do wish you wouldn’t do that, Betty,’ said Agatha, not for the first time. Mary smiled. This scene had played itself out on several occasions during her brief stay. She wondered idly for a moment over how many years Betty had been perfecting her throw.
Although the moment had brought some badly needed levity the air was far from light and frothy. Betty placed her copy of the Telegraph down beside Agatha’s Times.
‘Makes for disagreeable reading doesn’t it?’ said Betty, grimly.
‘Indeed,’ agreed Agatha, equally downcast.
‘We need Kit to get his thinking cap on,’ announced Betty, with a finality that brooked no arguments. ‘He’s slowing down. The old Kit would have solved this day’s ago, and then off to Sheldon’s for dinner.’
Mary raised her eyebrows at this and made a mental note to encourage alternative dining arrangements after they were married. The confidence in Kit shown by the two ladies did bring a smile to her face however, and something approaching hope.
Within a few minutes, there was another knock at the door. This was accompanied by the sound of muttering as Fish made his way back to the front door.
‘Must be Kit,’ suggested Agatha.
Moments later the door opened and into the room walked Spunky Stevens. Mary was standing nearest the door and said with surprise, ‘Hello.’ Spunky immediately walked over to Mary and kissed her on both cheeks.
‘I’m sure Kit won’t mind,’ said Spunky by way of explanation.
He immediately went over to Agatha and did likewise, ‘Looking irresistible as ever Lady Frost.’
Agatha gave every impression of being delighted by this comment by looking sternly at Spunky and declaring him a young fathead.
‘That’s the spirit,’ said Spunky before turning his attention to Betty.
‘Aldric, what are you doing here?’ asked Betty, more austerely than she felt.
‘Auntie Betty is that any way to talk to your favourite nephew.’
Mary turned to Agatha and mouthed, ‘Auntie Betty?’
Agatha looked slightly surprised and said, ‘Didn’t you know?’
-
The café was beginning to become crowded. Chief Inspector Jellicoe and Sergeant Ryan looked at some of the new arrivals. Mostly policemen arriving for duty or on their way home from working the night roster. Jellicoe recognised a few of them. One of them passed him and smiled down and said, chirpily, ‘Hello chief don’t normally see you here.’
Jellicoe looked up and smiled back at the man, ‘Hello Johnson, go easy on the cakes for a change.’
‘Will do, sir,’ laughed Johnson, as he moved past.
Jellicoe sensed the eyes of the café on him. Most would know or soon know of his humiliation. This would be compounded when the Commissioner made the call and officially removed him from the case.
Ryan looked at Jellicoe with sadness. The morning papers had been merciless. How quickly they turn, he thought. A hero one week, an idiot the next. The anger must have been apparent in his eyes because Jellicoe looked at him with sympathy.
‘At least the papers didn’t mention you, Ben. I’m glad of that.’ He meant it, too.
Ryan nodded but he felt no better. This would have been the worst day of his life had he not spent four hundred equally bad days in France. His fingers drummed on the side of his tea cup. He noticed Jellicoe looking at the cup and then him. If he had been a criminal, he could no more have revealed his guilt than by what he was doing at that very moment. The noise in the café was swirling around him, taunting him with laughter and stabbing him with guilt.
Whether the papers had mentioned him or not no longer mattered. His life had been turned upside down a couple of hours ago when Joe had arrived at his flat. The news was as unbelievable as it was horrifying. If Joe hadn’t been there, he knew he would have broken down completely and in a way he had never done when he was over there.
Over there. It seemed a lifetime ago. Was it really only eighteen months since he’d been climbing over the dead bodies in the mud? Then it was survival. His survival. And by then, anyway, he’d reached a point when it no longer seemed to matter.
This was different. It wasn’t just that someone else was involved. It was Caroline. She was gone, and he knew why. And there was the Chief Inspector. The man who had lifted him from the ranks and given him a chance. The man he had betrayed.
The six months working with Jellicoe had been an education professionally but also a rebirth. He returned from France like an unexploded bomb. Anger inhabited him like rats in a warehouse. He detested Bulstrode and Wellbeloved but recognised, also, just how close he had come to being like them. Jellicoe had done more than lift him from the ranks, he had done nothing less than rescue him.
Working with this quiet, diligent and intelligent man, he rediscovered in himself something he thought he’d lost in France. He learned to care again about the victims of violence, of crime and, yes, even those perpetrating the crime. Finding humanity in those he had to deal with restored the humanity he thought had died in the killing fields of Flanders.
Yet now, a traitor he sat, in front o
f the man he’d betrayed. His loyalty to his job, more importantly, to this man had been tested and found lacking. Why? Was it love? A reason perhaps, but an excuse? Love had trumped duty and allegiance. His reward was to be misled by the one he had chosen to love. His punishment was to trust her.
‘Is something on your mind Ben?’ asked Jellicoe. Ryan looked at Jellicoe wishing he could hide from the older man’s eagle-gaze. And here it was. A moment of truth. What was he to do now? Confess his duplicity or hope for a miracle that would rescue his girl? His career was over whatever happened.
He made his decision.
Chapter 28
Fish set down a fresh pot of tea on the table while Agatha and Betty sought further clarification on why Spunky was not yet married or, indeed, engaged. This was dealt by Spunky with the well-practiced ease of a man with many aunts. Wisely he forswore any attempt to deal rationally with the ladies on the wisdom of sacrificing the exalted happiness only a single chap of means can know for the daily contrition required of man by his partner in wedded bliss.
Although aunts, in his experience were, by tradition, nurture and, who knows, even nature, evolutionary machines designed and devoted to the encouragement of connubial associations between young people of an age, indeed, whether they knew them or not; he felt that auntie Betty and her partner in crime, Kit’s aunt Agatha, were particularly assiduous. This made his shameless disregard all the more maddening to them and entertaining for Mary.
In exasperation, Betty turned to Mary and pronounced, ‘You’ll have gathered by now, my dear, that Aldric is a hard man to ignore, but you’ll find the effort pays dividends.’
‘Trifle harsh old girl,’ said Spunky.
The arrival of Kit just before eight thirty was like the cavalry coming to the rescue. For the aunts. They could withdraw gracefully, from their siege on the subject of Spunky’s bachelorhood and live to fight another day.
One look at Kit as he walked through the doors confirmed, to Mary, he had slept no more easily than she. There was a darkness underneath his eye that told of a restless night. Hers had been no more peaceful.
‘Hello Sp_, Aldric, what are you doing here old chap?’ asked Kit, a little more cheerfully than he was really feeling.
‘I saw the headlines in the papers, old boy. They’re really letting old Jellicoe have it. Full double-barrelled n’all. Seems frightfully unfair to me. One minute he’s helping save the nation from the assassination of the royals, the next he’s bally well the cause of all that’s wrong in the country today.’
‘I know. It’s horrible.’
‘So are you saying that this Caroline Hadleigh is the Phantom?’ asked Spunky.
‘It looks like it,’ answered Agatha.
Betty then chipped and explained to Spunky the events of the last few days. Each subsequent revelation from the two aunts and Mary cracking the case to the subsequent undercover work was greeted with loud acclaim by Spunky. When they had finished he clapped the table in delight, looked at Mary and said, ‘My dear, if you ever get tired of Adonis, here, and fancy pootling round the foothills of Mount Olympus instead, then I shall gladly be your guide.’
‘I will bear that in mind, sir,’ said Mary with a grin.
‘She’s too good for you, Aldric,’ commented Betty, ‘I suggest you paddle back to the shallow end of the pool where you belong.’
‘I say, auntie Betty, you’re really being a bit unfair on a chap today.’
The look on Betty and Agatha’s faces suggested his aunt had provided a kind assessment of what he could offer. Spunky decided to let the matter drop. They were probably right, anyway, he decided. Turning to Kit he asked the question on everyone’s mind, ‘So come on Bloodhound. Have you solved this case or what?’
All eyes turned, hopefully to Kit. He looked at each person then cast his eyes down and shook his head.
‘I’m missing some things. I can’t say what they are because I don’t know.’
Mary put her hand over Kit’s in encouragement. More than anyone, she was desperate that her fiancé would find the connection he was looking for. Her night had been awful. The guilt overpowering made worse by seeing the newspaper reaction to the night’s events.
Spunky looked on and said, ‘Well, I’ve no sympathy with all of these people who’ve been robbed. It’s 1920 for goodness sake. We’ve figured out how to fly, how to sail underwater and how to kill thousands of people in a matter of seconds. Keeping some silly trinkets safely tucked away shouldn’t be beyond any sensible person’s compass, if you ask me.’
Kit smiled reluctantly at this and said, ‘True.’
‘I know if I had the kind of money that could buy diamonds I would have the security that protects them. These people almost deserve it.’
‘Trifle harsh, old chap. Do I detect the sound of envy?’ smiled Kit.
‘You do, sir,’ admitted Spunky.
‘Your father looks after you very well, young man,’ said Betty.
‘Your brother is tighter than a monk after lent, auntie Betty, and you know it,’ answered Spunky rising to his feet. ‘I spend more time thinking about how I can make ends meet than I do on the safety of our country. I would argue this is probably not good for me or, in all modesty, the nation.’
Kit looked up and laughed, ‘Have you any new guaranteed schemes for securing your financial position?’
‘Bang out of ideas at the moment, old chap,’ replied Spunky before adding, ‘perhaps I should open an agency for placing servants, by the sounds of what you’ve said, this is a goldmine in London. I’ll make you a director auntie if you invest.’
‘I’d sooner bet on a donkey in the Derby.’
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence,’ responded Spunky brightly, before going around the ladies and kissing them on their heads. ‘On that positive note, I shall head now to the work that pays me, that allows me to serve my country and ensure its security rather than sitting about like the idle rich.’
After Spunky had left, Betty shook her head and simply said, ‘That boy.’
Kit stood up from the table and walked over to the window seat. Mary joined him a few moments later. Neither said anything. They looked out of the window and saw Spunky jump into a taxi and drive off.
Kit felt Mary take his hand again and he was glad. Their fingers intertwined, and they looked at one another. Mary smiled up encouragingly towards him. Kit said nothing. He just looked at Mary simply because he could and because he wanted to. The rest of my life, he thought. A warm feeling encased the two of them, sheltering them from the world and the rain that always seemed to fall.
Mary, too, felt the need to melt like water into this shared moment. The room was warm and vibrated with a rosy light. The silence between them was like soft music brushing past their ears. The sadness she remembered in Kit’s eyes when she’d first met him was back and Mary knew this was guilt. She tightened her grip slightly and gazed so deeply into his eyes that she felt might fall into them. Then she saw it. Was it a change in the darkness of the pupil, a change in his focus? Or was it an almost imperceptible narrowing of the eye? She knew something had changed.
He looked at her face and saw something also. Her head moved slightly. Both eyebrows had raised by the width of a hair. The corner of her eyed crinkled slightly. She knew. He nodded to her and then stood up. Turning to Agatha he said, ‘Auntie, can you get Alfred? And I need to get to a phone.’
-
The rain fell gently onto the two policemen’s fedoras as they skipped up the steps into Scotland Yard. Neither said much in the short walk from the café to their headquarters, both lost in thought. The sky overhead was a sad grey, and all around the two men, fellow police officers and members of the public rushed past to get shelter.
Upon arrival in the lobby, a policeman behind the counter noticed their arrival and called over to, ‘Chief Inspector.’
That didn’t take long, thought Jellicoe, walking over to the constable.
‘There’s a message for you s
ir.’ The constable looked at Jellicoe, his face not difficult to read. He knew. They all knew. His failure was in black and white across all the broadsheet newspapers. ‘Sorry sir,’ said the policeman. ‘It’s a bad business.’
Jellicoe nodded his thanks but did not open the message.
‘Before you go,’ added the policeman, ‘Can you give this to Ryan?’ He handed Jellicoe a brown envelope. The name ‘Ryan’ was scrawled on the outside. Jellicoe took the envelope and walked over to Ryan.
‘For you,’ said Jellicoe.
Ryan looked at the envelope and felt himself shiver involuntarily. He looked at Jellicoe. Nothing was said. The two men turned and took heavy steps up the flights of stairs to their office.
Bulstrode and Wellbeloved were not around the office which, at least, was a relief. However, Jellicoe had no doubt they would make a triumphant appearance later once he had received confirmation he was off the case.
Jellicoe took off his coat and hung it up. He sat down with a weary bump on the chair and stared at the unopened message. Ryan hadn’t bothered to take off his coat. He opened his envelope and stared at the note inside. The Chief Inspector was too preoccupied to see his sergeant almost turn white with shock before turning a burning red. He stuffed the paper in his pocket and sat down.
After a few moments, Jellicoe opened the message. It was short. He looked up at Ryan and said, ‘The Commissioner wants me to pop up and see him at my convenience.’
Ryan’s mood was already in the unhappy situation that exists between crestfallen and anger, so his appearance didn’t change much on hearing this news. The silence was broken by the ringing of the telephone on Jellicoe’s desk.
‘He’s obviously impatient,’ commented Jellicoe sourly.
But for once Jellicoe’s instincts were wider of the mark than a fourth team schoolboy bowler. When he heard the voice he sat bolt upright. Colour returned to his face and his eyes grew wide. Ryan saw the transformation and looked at him questioningly. The conversation was not giving much away, consisting as it was of Jellicoe nodding and saying ‘yes’.
