“Yes, but without success. There are so many of those places in the city, and none of them are likely to admit to keeping an innocent young woman against her will. As you can imagine, her parents are distraught, as are the people in her father’s church. In fact, the sense of outrage by all decent people in the city is growing daily.”
“A serious matter, indeed,” Holmes agreed. “Is Miss Penny a friend of yours?”
“No, I don’t know her personally, but her plight has affected me deeply, as it must affect all who know of it. I have determined to help in any way I can, even to enlisting the assistance of the best detective in the world,” she added with her charming smile. “Do you think you could find her, Mr. Holmes? I know you aren’t familiar with the city, but—”
“I would be glad to be of assistance,” Holmes assured her, “if the police are agreeable to consulting with me.”
“I know one of them will be. Mr. Roosevelt has already said he would give his permission if you were willing. I’ll send word to Detective Sergeant Malloy first thing tomorrow to meet you at your hotel.”
Holmes’s expression never changed, but I knew he was thinking, as was I, that Mrs. Brandt had indeed given her affections to someone socially inferior if she had chosen a policeman.
Holmes and I had hardly finished our breakfast the next morning when the expected Detective Sergeant presented himself. From his expression, he either had a bad tooth or he deeply resented having to consult with Sherlock Holmes. He grudgingly accepted the offered chair and deigned to take a cup of coffee with us while he reviewed the details of Miss Penny’s disappearance. We learned nothing that Mrs. Brandt had not already told us.
“When Mrs. Brandt told me about the case, I did not want to offend her by insinuating that it would be easy to solve,” Holmes said, “but in my experience, when a young woman disappears, there is usually a young man or a theater troupe involved, often both. But surely you already know that.”
“Of course I do,” Malloy said impatiently. “But Harriet Penny is a minister’s daughter, so she wasn’t allowed to attend the theater. And usually, when a girl elopes, she climbs out of her window in the middle of the night and takes a carpetbag with her. Harriet Penny disappeared in broad daylight with nothing but the clothes on her back. Besides, from all accounts, she’s twenty-five years old and as plain as an old boot. So far as I’ve been able to find out, no man ever looked at her twice in her entire life.”
“Do the police believe she simply wandered off and found herself in the wrong section of town where she was taken in by a kindly madam?”
“No, they think she was tricked,” Malloy explained with more than a touch of annoyance. “The madams employ young men they call cadets to find lonely girls and charm or seduce them into eloping with them. Instead of getting married, the girls end up locked in a brothel and forced into a life of shame.”
“An innocent young woman like Miss Penny might easily be charmed by such a man,” I pointed out.
“Indeed. What else can you tell me about Miss Penny?” Holmes asked.
“Not much. Everyone in the church knew her, but nobody could tell me a thing about her except to say she was devoted to her parents and to doing good works.”
“Her friends?”
“She didn’t have any close friends, anybody she confided in. She spent all her time with her mother, keeping her company.”
“One wonders how any young woman could be lured away from such a delightful existence,” Holmes observed wryly. “May I meet her parents?”
“They don’t have any idea what happened to her, either,” Malloy warned him.
“I’m sure they don’t, but perhaps they can help us understand Miss Penny better.”
“I’ll ask her parents if they’ll see you,” Malloy said, although he didn’t sound as if he held out much hope that they would.
But Mr. Malloy returned that afternoon with an invitation to visit the Reverend Mr. Penny and his wife at their home.
“May we stop by the church on our way?” Holmes asked as we were crossing through the hotel lobby. “I should like to see where she was when she disappeared.”
“If you want to,” Malloy said. “It’s just a block from their house.”
Malloy procured a cab for us, and after a harrowing trip through the crowded city streets, we found ourselves in a quiet neighborhood shaded with stately trees. The church was made of gray stone and boasted many stained glass windows. Inside, the dark wood gleamed brightly, and the altar was richly appointed. The congregation had been generous in their support. Still the building lacked the character of English churches, being only a few decades old, but in several hundred years or so, it might be considered a handsome example of some architectural period yet to be celebrated as classic. Malloy led us down a staircase to the basement and into a room where several partially filled barrels had been placed. Bundles of clothing were piled along one wall, and a table that had apparently been salvaged from a trash heap sat in the center of the room. Although it was likely used for sorting, it was bare now.
“She was sorting through the used clothing that people had donated for the missionaries,” Malloy explained, indicating the stacked bundles of clothing. “They collect things and send them overseas in the barrels.”
Holmes examined several of the bundles of clothing, then peered into the barrels, almost as if he expected to find Miss Penny hiding in one of them. But the barrels were only partially full, and not even a tiny child could have concealed herself in one of them for any length of time. “Is this the way they found the room after she disappeared, or did someone straighten it up afterwards?” he asked when had completed his inspection.
Malloy frowned. “This is how it looked when I got here. I don’t think anybody would’ve had time to do anything to it.”
Holmes nodded as if his answer held some mysterious secret meaning. “Does the basement have an entrance directly to the outside?”
Malloy led us down a dreary hallway to a door. It opened into the alley behind the church. Back gardens of the houses on the next street abutted the alley and were cluttered with ash cans and other refuse. People were passing by but not paying any particular attention to the three gentlemen who had just exited the church. They all seemed preoccupied with their own business and in a hurry to get somewhere else.
“What time of day did she disappear?” Holmes asked.
“In the morning, between nine o’clock and noon.”
“No one missed her all that time?” Holmes asked in surprise.
“She was supposed to be working in the church,” Malloy reminded him.
“Alone?”
“Her mother had come with her, but she got sick and went home. Miss Penny decided to stay.”
“Then let’s ask her mother about that, shall we?” Holmes said.
Malloy sighed in resignation and guided us down the alley toward the next street.
The church had provided a large, comfortable home for their minister. A young maid answered the door, an Irish girl who frowned at Malloy and actually glared her disapproval that two English gentlemen were invading her master’s home. She showed us into a formal parlor that was fairly choked with the heavy furniture and the multitudinous bric-a-brac that people considered fashionable nowadays. A well-dressed couple of middle years awaited us.
Malloy made the introductions, and I noted that the Reverend Mr. Penny appeared to be familiar with my friend’s reputation and expressed his heartfelt gratitude for our assistance. He was a well-groomed man of at least sixty, whose thick hair had gone a distinguished gray and whose middle had gone a bit soft.
Mrs. Penny had clearly been a beauty in her day and was still a handsome woman, although she was approximately the same age as her husband. She was practically enthralled by her visitors.
“Mr. Holmes, I understand Mr. Roosevelt himself has asked you to look into the matter of our poor daughter,” Mrs. Penny said, plainly gratified by the attention of such an important
person as Theodore Roosevelt.
“Although the police have been more than diligent in their efforts, Mr. Roosevelt thought perhaps a stranger would have a fresh perspective,” Holmes quickly demurred, with a nod of recognition toward Mr. Malloy. Holmes never openly disparaged the police if he could help it, no matter how inept they might be. “Could you tell me about your daughter?”
“I’m not sure where to start,” Mrs. Penny said uncertainly.
“What would be helpful to you to know?” Penny asked.
“Tell me about your family,” Holmes invited. “Is she your only child?”
“Oh, no,” Mrs. Penny said. “Not at all. She is the youngest of five.”
“A surprise baby,” Penny added, but without a hint of embarrassment or even the delight that people often displayed when describing such an event. “She came along years after we thought our family was complete.”
“Which was fortunate,” Mrs. Penny hastened to explain. “My health began to fail shortly after her birth, and she has been such a comfort to me. I remember when she was only a child, she told me her fondest wish was to live with her Papa and me forever and to care for us in our old age.”
I could not help noting that in my professional opinion, Mrs. Penny looked remarkably well for a woman whose health had been failing for almost twenty-five years.
“Harriet is a beautiful girl,” Penny said, contradicting what Malloy had told us and earning a look of shocked disapproval from his wife. “Her beauty is inner, however,” he hastened to explain. “A beauty of the spirit.”
“All my other children are quite handsome,” Mrs. Penny wanted us to understand, implying that she should not be judged poorly because she had produced one child who failed to meet her standards. “But poor Harriet . . . So it was just as well she had no desire for marriage and a family.”
“She has a good heart, though,” Penny continued. “She kept up a voluminous correspondence with our missionary families and was always collecting things for them.”
“How did it happen that she was alone at the church on the day she disappeared?” Holmes asked.
“I went with her that morning, of course,” Mrs. Penny offered, almost defensively. “Just as we always do. We were sorting old clothes and packing them in barrels to send to the missionaries in foreign lands.”
“Yes, Mr. Malloy explained that.”
“But shortly after we arrived,” Mrs. Penny continued, “Harriet said to me, ‘Mama, I see that you aren’t feeling well today. Why don’t you return home and rest?’ Harriet was always very solicitous of my health.”
“So you left her there alone?” I could not help saying.
“Of course not!” Mrs. Penny exclaimed. “Mrs. Jenkins and Mrs. Smith were expected momentarily. She would have been alone for only a few minutes at most.”
“And when did these two ladies actually appear?” Holmes asked.
“Never,” Penny said before his wife could answer. “They did not come at all. There was some . . . some confusion about the day they were supposed to meet at the church.”
“They thought they were supposed to come the next day,” Malloy offered, as if to remind us this was his case and he was in command of all the facts.
“I will never forgive them for not being there,” Mrs. Penny declared. “If they had been, our daughter would still be with us. Oh, Mr. Holmes, do you think you can bring poor Harriet back to us?”
“I will certainly try to locate her,” Holmes said, being careful to promise nothing. “When you went to the church that morning, did you walk or take a carriage?”
“Oh, we always walk. It’s just a step over to the church.”
“Did Harriet bring anything with her?”
“A bundle of clothing. She had called on some of our neighbors to collect donations for the barrels. She was always thinking of others,” she added.
“Did you see her sort the clothes she brought with her?” Holmes asked.
Mrs. Penny frowned. “I don’t believe I did. We had hardly arrived at the church when Harriet suggested I return home, you see.”
“You said that Harriet had no desire for marriage and a family, but had any young man expressed an interest in courting her?” Holmes asked.
Mrs. Penny shook her head sadly. “Dear me, no, Mr. Holmes. Poor Harriet is very shy, and she lacks those . . . those characteristics that make a young lady attractive to young gentlemen.”
“And I am a clergyman, as you know,” Mr. Penny added. “So Harriet had no financial expectations that might have overcome her lack of beauty and charm in the minds of potential suitors.”
“Is it possible that in her entire life, no gentleman had ever so much as befriended her?” Holmes asked in astonishment.
Her parents exchanged a puzzled glance as they tried to recall and could not come up with a single candidate. I had begun to pity Miss Harriet Penny with all my heart.
When they failed to answer, Holmes said, “What sort of mood was Miss Penny in that morning?”
“Mood?” Penny asked, as if he were not familiar with the word.
“How strange you should ask,” Mrs. Penny said, obviously familiar with it. “She was quite cheerful that morning. I can’t recall the last time I saw her in such good spirits. Oh, wait, yes, I can. It was the time she beat Mr. Etheridge at chess.”
“Who is Mr. Etheridge?” Holmes asked with interest.
“He was a student from Princeton Seminary who served his internship at my church last year,” Penny said dismissively.
“He played chess with Harriet a few times while he was here. I believe he let her win,” Mrs. Penny confided. “Harriet was never very good at chess.”
“What became of Mr. Etheridge?”
“After he served his six months with us, he returned to the seminary.” Penny said. “We haven’t heard from him in almost a year.”
“And you are sure that Miss Penny had not made the acquaintance of any other gentlemen recently? Someone at your church, perhaps, who had befriended her of late?”
“Absolutely not,” Mrs. Penny said severely. “Harriet lived a quiet life. She did not go out in society like so many girls do today, and she had no interest in meeting gentlemen. As I told you, she had no wish to be married.”
“Yes, she had dedicated her life to your well-being,” Holmes re-called, and I must confess, I had to cough to keep from laughing out loud at his subtle sarcasm. Even Malloy had to rub his mouth to cover a smile.
The Pennys completely missed his barb.
“What could have become of her, Mr. Holmes?” Mrs. Penny asked with genuine concern. “Do you think—? I mean, the newspapers have said such horrible things.” She shuddered.
“I would not like to raise your hopes just yet, but I would be happy to look into the case, if I may.”
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Penny said eagerly. “Please do! Even if you learn the worst. Well, I can’t bear to think of life without her by my side.”
Holmes rose, and Malloy and I followed his lead. We took our leave of the Pennys, and the maid showed us to the door. “Are you a maid of all work here?” Holmes asked as she handed us our hats.
She stiffened, ready to take offense at whatever this Englishman might say to her. “Yes, sir, I am.”
“And did you serve Miss Penny?”
“I did, and a sweeter lady there never was.”
“Would you do me a favor and look through Miss Penny’s clothes?”
“Whatever for?” she asked, not sure if she should do his bidding or not.
“Just to see if you find anything unusual.”
“Do you mean if there’s anything missing?” the girl scoffed. “Nobody’s touched her things since she left that morning. I saw to that!”
“I believe you are mistaken,” Holmes said. “If you will check her things, you will discover something unexpected. We will most likely call again tomorrow, and you can report to me then what you have discovered.”
The girl frowned, obviously deter
mined to show the Englishman he was wrong, and slammed the door a little too loudly behind us.
“I told you they wouldn’t be able to help,” Malloy reminded us.
“On the contrary, they were very helpful.”
“Are you saying you know where the girl is?”
“I believe I do,” Holmes said, shocking him. “I must return to my hotel and make some enquiries and send a telegram. As soon as I have received a reply, I will ask you to accompany us back to the manse to see the Pennys again.”
A skeptical Malloy left us to find our own way back to our hotel. Holmes used the hotel telephone to make one call. Then he sent a telegram, as he had told Malloy he would. Since the day was still young, Holmes insisted that we visit the Natural History Museum. Although I asked him about the case, he declined to discuss it until he had received the answer to his telegram. The reply came shortly after luncheon the next day, and Holmes sent a message to Malloy. We arrived at the Pennys’ home late that afternoon, with Holmes still refusing to enlighten Malloy or me until he had spoken with the Pennys.
The same maid admitted us, but today she treated Holmes with much more respect. She whispered a few words to him, her eyes wide with surprise over whatever news she was delivering. He nodded, as if he had expected to hear exactly what she told him, then allowed her to show us in to see the Pennys.
They were waiting for us in the crowded parlor again, their expressions expectant.
“Have you found her, Mr. Holmes?” Mrs. Penny demanded anxiously. “Is she all right? Will you bring her back to us?”
“Now, Mother, you mustn’t get your hopes up,” Penny cautioned her with a worried frown. “Even should Mr. Holmes succeed in returning her to us, she may no longer be the same girl she was, you know.”
“I believe I can guarantee she will not be,” Holmes said, startling a gasp from Mrs. Penny. “Although I am happy to tell you that your daughter is safe and in good health.”
“But where is she?” Mrs. Penny cried. “And why hasn’t she come home?”
Sherlock Holmes In America Page 14
