Sophie glanced up, only half-interested.
And then it happened. As Sophie and Lil stepped on to the pavement, the gentleman passed them to go up the steps. He gave them a polite but cursory nod, and in that moment, his eyes met Sophie’s. A split-second glance, under the brim of her hat – and it was as if a tempest rushed over her. In that single instant, everything whirled upside down; and then it was over, he had passed them. The maid was opening the door, and saying, in quite a different voice from that she had used for Lil and Sophie, ‘Good afternoon, Lord Beaucastle, sir,’ and he was going inside.
‘I must say, I don’t see what’s so special about him,’ Lil said under her breath. ‘He’s a bit on the old side, isn’t he?’
The world had righted itself again, but Sophie’s heart was pounding. Quickly, she grabbed Lil’s arm and dragged her around the corner, away from Belgrave Square.
‘Whatever is the matter?’ Lil demanded, looking completely astonished.
Sophie could barely get out the words. ‘That man – Lord Beaucastle,’ she gasped. ‘He’s the Baron .’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Mr McDermott’s house looked quite different in the bright June sunshine. Sophie had last visited it in the middle of the night, so she hadn’t noticed the red geraniums in the window box, nor the shiny brass knocker on the front door. Now, Lil rapped it sharply and they stood nervously on the front steps, awaiting an answer.
‘We’re here to see Mr McDermott,’ said Lil, her words falling over each other in her hurry when the maid finally answered.
‘I’m afraid he’s away at present.’
The girls exchanged glances. ‘When he is expected back?’ asked Sophie.
‘Not for two weeks, miss.’
Sophie’s heart fell. McDermott wasn’t here – he wouldn’t be home for a whole fortnight. They wouldn’t be able to tell him what they knew.
‘Where is he staying?’ Lil was asking. ‘Is there an address where we could reach him? It’s important that we speak to him at once.’
‘He’s away on the Continent, on business,’ said the maid importantly. ‘But he did leave an address where he might be reached – just a moment, if you please.’
She came back with a sheet of paper. On it was written a poste restante address for a post office in Paris. Sophie took it, her heart sinking right down to her boots.
Lil thanked the housemaid politely, and they walked away down the street again, not knowing what else to do.
‘This address is no good to us at all,’ said Sophie, frustrated. ‘If he’s simply collecting his letters from a post office, it could be days and days before they reach him.’
‘We should write anyway,’ said Lil hopefully. ‘He might receive it sooner than we think.’
Sophie nodded. ‘But what should we do until then?’ she wondered.
The question tormented Sophie all that night. She tossed and turned in her narrow bed in the lodging house, wrestling with her thoughts. Lord Beaucastle was the Baron. The respectable aristocrat who had given Veronica the jewelled moth was none other than London’s most notorious criminal.
Whenever she closed her eyes, she fell into a strange half-dream, half-memory of when she had first crossed paths with the Baron. She was back in the stuffy darkness of the box at the Fortune Theatre, trapped behind the velvet curtains. Then she was waking up, locked in the Baron’s study, lined with eerie ticking clocks; then scrambling through the shadowy cellars of an empty house, desperately trying to find a way out, alone and afraid in the dark.
Again and again, she saw the Baron’s face before her, smiling his mocking smile. It was an expression that seemed to hint that he could read her thoughts, that he would always know her better than she would know herself. She saw him so clearly: the smart gentleman in the silk top-hat at the theatre, his face cast half into shadow. The man at the grand opening party for Sinclair’s department store: glimpsed for a second amongst the blur of the crowd. Then standing on the steps of Miss Whiteley’s town house that afternoon: that infinitesimal moment when their eyes had met. The thought of that exchange of glances made her feel cold as ice, even in the warm summer night.
Had he recognised her? His glance had been casual enough, and McDermott had said he had forgotten her – but somehow she felt certain that the Baron was not the sort of man who would easily forget anyone. After all, she had thwarted him. She and the others had prevented him delivering secret naval documents into enemy hands; they had stopped him destroying Sinclair’s department store; they had restored the clockwork sparrow to its rightful owner. She thought of some of Joe’s stories of how the Baron’s Boys had taken revenge upon the Baron’s enemies. If he had even an inkling that she knew his identity – his most closely guarded secret – she could not imagine what he might do.
And then her thoughts led her back to the jewelled moth and to Emily Montague. There had to be some connection, she thought. The Baron had given Veronica the jewelled moth – Emily had stolen it from Veronica – and Emily had ended up dead with the moth in her pocket. Had Emily been murdered – and could the Baron have been responsible? The questions went round and round in her head.
She knew that she must act on what she had discovered, but how? She had written a brief letter to Mr McDermott and managed to catch the evening post, but she knew they could not rely on his help immediately. They would have to act alone – and quickly. Plans rushed through her mind all through the long night, until at last a pink dawn broke over the rooftops.
At Sinclair’s that day, she could not think clearly. She felt as though she were walking a tightrope and an unexpected movement might send her plummeting. She could barely concentrate on serving the customers, and made so many mistakes in the sales ledger that Edith began to sneer at her in her old way. As the day drew on, she became more and more weary, but there was no respite, and by closing time Mrs Milton was worried enough to express concern.
‘You look pale, dear. You aren’t your usual self. I do hope you aren’t sickening for something,’ she said, as the other girls prepared to head for home.
Sophie murmured something about not having slept well.
‘Goodness, I do hope you’re not worrying over that poor young lady,’ said Mrs Milton sympathetically. ‘Heaven knows, it’s given me a nightmare or two since the weekend. So dreadful for you girls to see. What a thing to happen when Mr Betteredge had planned such a lovely day out for us all!’
But Mrs Milton found that she was speaking to empty air. Sophie had gone.
Finding a place to talk in private at Sinclair’s was always difficult, but Joe had discovered an empty hayloft above the stable buildings, which made a perfect place to meet in secret. The four of them were sitting in a circle, perched on bales of hay, talking in low anxious voices.
‘Are you certain – absolutely certain, that it was him?’ Billy was saying.
‘Of course I am,’ said Sophie. ‘There’s no doubt about it – Lord Beaucastle is the Baron. I’d know him anywhere. He’s the man I saw in the box at the theatre, with Fitz and Cooper. He’s the man I saw at the party at Sinclair’s.’
‘Do you realise what this means?’ asked Lil, sounding rather awed. ‘We’ve discovered his true identity – who the Baron really is!’ She turned to Sophie. ‘Don’t you remember how Mr McDermott told us that they believed that the Baron had another identity in polite circles? Even Scotland Yard haven’t managed to discover it – and now you have!’
‘But I don’t get it,’ said Joe, looking troubled. ‘If the Baron is really this toff, then how come no one has ever put two and two together? From what you say, Lord Beaucastle is top brass – the sort of fellow people know about. So how has he managed to keep his secret all this time?’
‘That’s what makes it so clever,’ said Sophie. ‘On the one hand, he’s an immensely respectable aristocratic gentleman. He has a title, a grand house, important society friends. On the other hand, there’s the Baron – a mysterious East End criminal whom ha
rdly anyone has ever seen. There’s no connection between the two. The people of the East End wouldn’t have anything to do with society people. And the aristocrats in Lord Beaucastle’s world, well they’ve probably never even heard of the Baron. Why would they? He has taken advantage of operating in completely separate worlds.’
‘But what should we do now?’ asked Billy, who had been running his hands through his hair anxiously until it was all standing on end. His important office-boy persona had vanished. Sophie knew that he too remembered just how alarming their previous brush with the Baron’s Boys had been.
‘I don’t know. But we have to do something,’ said Sophie. Her stomach twisted. ‘We can’t be sure whether he recognised me, and whether he realised that we know who he really is. But I don’t want to risk waiting to find out.’
‘Ought we to go to the police, then?’ asked Lil earnestly.
Sophie looked uncertain. Their last encounter with the police had not been an encouraging one. The policeman responsible for finding Mr Sinclair’s stolen jewels turned out to have been in the pay of the Baron himself, and to have aided him in his crimes. According to what both Joe and Mr McDermott had told them, this was not at all unusual. It was for this reason that simply walking into a police station to tell them what they had discovered was out of the question. They had no way of knowing who could be trusted. ‘I wish we knew who Mr McDermott had been working with at Scotland Yard, so we could get in contact with them,’ she said at last.
‘Maybe we could find out,’ said Joe, hopefully. He’d never set much store by the police, but he liked McDermott. Anyone McDermott trusted would be a good egg, he felt sure.
‘And do you really think that the Baron had something to do with what happened to Emily Montague?’ asked Billy, his face growing even more anxious.
Sophie shook her head, unsure. ‘It just all seems like such an extraordinary coincidence.’
‘It certainly wouldn’t be the first time the Baron’s Boys had got rid of a body that way,’ added Joe, darkly.
‘What I don’t understand is where Veronica Whiteley comes into all this,’ said Lil. ‘It seems fearfully unlikely that the Baron would be courting a debutante. Do you think he really is planning to marry her?’
Sophie gazed at her for a long moment. In all her anxiety about the Baron, and Emily Montague and the jewelled moth, she had forgotten all about Veronica.
‘Oh my goodness – Veronica !’ she exclaimed. ‘We can’t possibly let her go ahead and marry the Baron. We must let her know the truth!’
‘The girls at the tea party told me that they were all expecting him to propose to her at her debutante ball,’ said Lil. ‘That’s taking place later this week, isn’t it? That’s why she was in such a terrific hurry to get the brooch back.’
‘We’d better go and tell her at once,’ said Sophie. She got to her feet. Lil jumped up too.
‘Half a jiffy,’ said Joe. ‘We’re coming with you.’
‘To see Miss Whiteley? Are we?’ asked Billy, looking rather taken aback at this announcement.
‘Look, the way I see it is this,’ said Joe patiently. ‘We don’t know if the Baron recognised you outside Miss Whiteley’s place or not. But if he got even the slightest whiff that you were on to him, then you’re in danger – both of you. And what’s the first place he’s going to expect you to go? Right back to Miss Whiteley of course – to tell her what you know.’
‘You think he’ll be waiting for us?’ said Sophie.
Joe shook his head. ‘Not him. He doesn’t stick his neck out. But his Boys, maybe. There’s no way you’re going back there on your own.’
‘We don’t need looking after,’ said Lil, a little haughtily. ‘We can take care of ourselves.’
Joe laughed, breaking the tension. ‘There’s no doubt about that. But there’s safety in numbers, I reckon.’
‘Right,’ agreed Billy loudly, as though he was attempting to sound more certain than he felt.
‘Let’s all go then, but let’s hurry,’ said Sophie impatiently. A minute later, all four were hastening down the hayloft ladder.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
‘This is starting to feel like a habit,’ said Lil, as she once more rang the bell to Miss Whiteley’s town house. For most of the walk to Belgrave Square, Joe had been casting glances all around them, as though he expected the Baron’s Boys to pop out from behind a tree or a postbox at any moment.
‘Is Miss Whiteley at home?’ asked Sophie, as soon as the maid answered.
‘She’s dressing for dinner, miss,’ said the maid, and made as if to close the door again.
‘Well look here, do you mind asking if she will see us?’ demanded Lil, stepping forwards before she could.
‘The ladies don’t receive visitors at this hour of the evening, miss,’ said the maid, frowning. ‘If you’d like to leave a calling card, you may do so.’
‘You don’t understand,’ said Lil firmly. ‘It’s very important that we see her now. Tell her it’s Miss Taylor and Miss Rose – and that it’s urgent.’
The maid frowned, but to their relief, she nodded and went back inside, leaving the four of them still standing in an awkward clump on the steps. They were waiting there in silence for some time, but at last, the maid returned, looking flustered. She showed them through into the little sitting room, casting disapproving glances at Billy’s untidy hair and hay-strewn trousers, and at Joe, who brought with him a distinct aroma of the stables.
The room was empty. Sophie and Lil sat down on the same low sofa they had occupied last time, whilst Billy perched himself on a spindly gilt chair. Apparently not quite daring to sit down in such a grand place, Joe began pacing about behind the sofa, swinging his arms restlessly, until he knocked over a fringed lamp that stood on a side table.
Lil was helping him right it again when Veronica swept in. It was obvious that she had indeed been dressing for the evening: she was wearing a stiff, rustling gown, but her hair was still hanging down her back. She looked very annoyed.
‘Whatever do you want?’ she began. ‘I told you, you can’t just turn up here. Why, these aren’t even calling hours! You’re just lucky that Sarah had the good sense to come straight to me rather than Isabel.’
‘We need to speak to you,’ began Sophie, unsure of how she was going to continue.
Veronica ignored her. ‘Don’t think I’m not grateful that you got the moth back for me. And for telling me about what happened to Emily. But our . . . business arrangement is finished now. There’s nothing else I need to speak to you about. And who are these people ?’ she demanded suddenly, taking in Billy and Joe.
The two boys gaped at her, unsure how to react to being referred to in such a manner by this imperious china doll. Lil, however, had no such hesitation.
‘These are our friends,’ she said indignantly. ‘This is Joe and that’s Billy. We’ve come here to help you!’
Veronica made a little sound of exasperation that made it quite clear that she didn’t care in the least who they were. Sophie plunged on hurriedly.
‘Please listen to us,’ she said. ‘We’ve got something enormously important to tell you.’
‘Well for heaven’s sake, hurry up then and say it,’ said Veronica. ‘At this rate I won’t be half dressed before the carriage is ready.’
‘It’s about Lord Beaucastle,’ Sophie went on swiftly. ‘We saw him arriving yesterday. I recognised him. Miss Whiteley . . . Lord Beaucastle is the Baron.’
‘The baron? Of course he’s a baron. That’s his title. Please don’t say you came all the way here to tell me that!’
‘Not a baron, the Baron,’ said Lil crossly. ‘He’s a criminal! He and his gang, the Baron’s Boys, are behind most of the crime in London. He was responsible for the theft of Mr Sinclair’s jewels!’
Veronica gave a brusque laugh. ‘That is nonsense!’ she said.
‘It isn’t,’ said Sophie. ‘You have to listen to us. The Baron is a thief, and a murderer, and a spy. He h
ad me drugged and kidnapped – and he tried to kill us all. He’s always kept his identity carefully hidden, but I’ve seen him, and I’ll never forget his face. When I saw him again yesterday, I realised who he was. Lord Beaucastle is the Baron .’
‘I don’t believe you,’ said Veronica shortly.
‘What’s more,’ Sophie plunged onwards, ‘we suspect he might have had something to do with Emily Montague’s death. He could be the one who had her murdered!’
Veronica was scarlet with anger. ‘That’s enough!’ she spat out. ‘How dare you insinuate that Lord Beaucastle could have had anything do with what happened to Emily! As if that wasn’t awful enough without you coming here with your . . . your horrid accusations . Why, he’s a very respectable man! He couldn’t possibly have anything to do with any criminals .’
‘Listen, whether you believe us or not, you mustn’t marry him,’ went on Sophie urgently. ‘You have to do what you can to get out of the engagement – before it’s too late.’
Veronica looked angrier than ever. ‘I can’t get out of it,’ she spat out. ‘That’s not how it works. Don’t you understand anything? Even if your ridiculous story were true, I couldn’t just say: “I’m sorry, I won’t marry you” to a man like him! Anyway, it’s too late now,’ she continued, her voice suddenly flat. ‘Lord Beaucastle had an interview with Father yesterday when he came to tea. It’s all been decided. Our betrothal is going to be announced at my debutante ball.’
Lil was gazing at her in horror. ‘You mean, you don’t even get to say yes for yourself ? How perfectly beastly.’ She looked suddenly as though she felt very sorry for Veronica, but the other girl only scowled back.
‘You don’t know the first thing about it,’ she said in a low, furious voice. ‘Look, I don’t know what you think you’re playing at. Maybe you think this is funny. Maybe you’re trying to get more money out of me. But I’m not interested in games or silly tales or horrid attempts to slander Lord Beaucastle. You need to leave now, before Isabel comes down. And don’t come back again .’
The Mystery of the Jewelled Moth Page 10
