Petronella Saves Nearly Everyone (12 page)

"There you are!" said James. "Then it absolutely could not have been the kidnapper who placed the note on the door at your home in the country. There would scarcely have been time for the kidnapper to get back to meet you at Lord Nelson's Column at midnight. The only train at that time of night arrives from London at 10:30 and returns at 11:43."

As James spoke, I could not help but notice that he looked absolutely stunning with disheveled hair. My longing to punch him had long since passed. Now I desired only to smooth his locks into place.

"There are several Wood Whites in the woods on your grounds, Petronella," said Uncle Augustus, absently patting his insect book. I wondered how many of my Wood Whites were squashed between slips of waxed paper in those pages.

Uncle continued, "Whoever wrote the note most likely acquired the butterfly in the vicinity of your home."

"But the only people left at my home are my servants," I said.

All eyes, which had been on Moriarty, then James, then Uncle, now swiveled back toward Moriarty.

"Seize the butler!" shouted Sir Alastair. "I should have known. It is always the butler who does it, whatever it is. Seize him, I say."

"No!" I cried.

Dashing in from the front hall, two government men, indistinguishable from all the other government men we had seen, grabbed Moriarty's arms from behind. "We have him, sir."

Sir Alastair shook his fist in my butler's face. "Where are they? Where have you hidden the dame, the generalissimo, and Miss Sinclair, you fiend?"

Moriarty looked absolutely stunned. "I have no idea what you are talking about ... sir."

"Of course he doesn't!" I protested.

The home secretary ignored me. "Trying to play innocent, is he? He is obviously in league with the kidnappers. He and only he knew of the plans for the party and was there when the first notes arrived, as well as this latest note. Take him away and lock him up."

"But I have no idea where those people are. And what of Miss Sinclair? Where is she?" Moriarty began struggling. "I've known her since she was a child. If anyone has harmed her..." He nearly broke free, but the government men grasped him even more tightly.

"But what of the different handwriting on the notes? Moriarty obviously did not write all of the notes. And what of the different butterflies?" protested James.

"Quite right," I agreed, but no one paid the least attention to me. I was beginning to feel invisible.

"He's in league with the kidnappers. They took turns writing the notes, and I suppose they ran out of Colombian butterflies," said Sir Alastair obdurately. "Take him away to prison."

"Miss Arbuthnot!" wailed Moriarty as the government men hustled him toward the door.

"Wait! He has not said how he came to find us here," I said. "No one knew we were coming here. You cannot take him away until we find out." That got their attention.

The government men ceased their hustling. They seemed to be as curious to know as the rest of us.

"Well, man?" asked Sir Alastair.

Moriarty assumed an air of injured dignity. "I came on the train as fast as I could after I found the note and went straight to the Sinclairs' London residence, where I assumed
Miss Arbuthnot would be staying with Miss Sinclair. It seems that Lord Sinclair here had telephoned his man to tell him that he would not be in tonight because of business at the home secretary's residence. I had to run most of the way because there were no cabs to be had at this time of the morning."

Now we all looked at James.

He shrugged. "True. I did phone after I talked to the dock master."

"That information still does not clear the butler of wrongdoing," persisted Sir Alastair.

"Chumpy, old egg. You cannot be serious about imprisoning Miss Arbuthnot's butler. There is not enough evidence," said Uncle.

"And I protest," I said. "I vouch for Moriarty's character. I have never known him to be dishonest about anything. Please release him into my custody, or at least into Uncle Augustus's."

Moriarty wanly smiled at me, but he looked as if he knew he was a condemned man in spite of my protests.

Sir Alastair patted my shoulder condescendingly. I was reminded of the odious Mr. Berwick. "My dear girl. We who are much older and wiser understand that you have a most commendable affection for a family servant, which blinds you to the possibility of his guilt. Please allow those of us
who have more experience to guide you in matters of importance beyond your ability to grasp."

The only thing I wanted to grasp at that moment was his nose. And then I wanted to give it a violent twist. I recognized in Sir Alastair that most lamentable, yet common, attribute possessed by men of large responsibility and little ability—the desire to protect one's authority at all costs, no matter how injurious it may be to others, as well as the inability to let go of a bad idea.

"My dear Sir Alastair," I said through gritted teeth. "Please allow this young and inexperienced girl to aid you in recognizing the danger you will face when you suffer public humiliation for accusing the wrong person."

Sir Alastair's face turned puce. "Take him away."

Moriarty struggled anew as the government men dragged him off. Then, with a surprising turn of strength, he threw off his captors and bolted through the front door.

IT IS A HEAVY BURDEN
when one is responsible for the safe return of one's dearest friend, the national security of Mother England, and proving the innocence of one's butler. It is also a circumstance that one hopes will occur only once in one's lifetime. In this case, such an eventuality seemed very likely, since the collection of strange events we were experiencing could never be duplicated. Of that, at least, I was sure.

As our hansom cab bumped over cobbled streets on the way to the docks, Uncle Augustus ventured to speak to me. "Petronella, my dearest niece—"

"Your only niece, you mean," I interrupted. I was still in high dudgeon over Sir Alastair's condescending manner and his arrest of Moriarty.

Uncle sighed. "Yes, you are my only niece and therefore all that much more precious to me. However, I am not about to be the victim of your temper or your penchant for interrupting. We are on the same side, if you remember."

Anger sparked within my bosom for a moment more. Then a sense of the fairness of what Uncle Augustus said seeped in, and I could not remain angry, at least not with him. Sir Alastair was another matter. "I'm sorry, Uncle. I should not have spoken to you so. But I must say that Chumpy, as you call him, will rue the day he crossed Petronella Eunice Arbuthnot."

"Very well. The best way to get your revenge, dear niece, is to prove Chumpy wrong."

"And how do we propose to do that? This last note turns everything on its ear. How can we be sure of what anything is anymore?"

"Elimination. We narrowed down the possible source of the Colombian insects, and now we narrow down the ship they came from," said Uncle Augustus.

"Good plan," I said.

In the pearly dawn light subdued by thinning fog, I saw his fingers play with a bit of waxed paper protruding from his book. I looked away, unwilling to witness Uncle breakfasting. At least I'd provided for myself, having learned a
valuable lesson about provisions and adventuring. In my pocket resided a tasty ham sandwich ready for any emergency requiring sustenance.

"Do you think the dame and generalissimo and Jane will be on the ship that brought the insects?" I asked, yawning. I had been awake for nearly twenty-four hours and the rocking of the hansom cab acted as a soporific. I could scarcely keep my eyes open.

Uncle, however, seemed wide awake and energetic. He said, "Very good observation, that. It is my belief that the ship in question is precisely where they are. They could scarcely be kept at the Savoy."

I yawned again and leaned my head back against the squabs, preparing to nap until we reached the docks. "My thoughts as well," I murmured. Then my eyes flew open. "Goodness gracious! Is that a head?"

"Eh, what?" said Uncle.

The top of a roundish object bobbed just outside my window. In the previously mentioned pearly dawn light, the object was only just discernible as a head. However, as I watched in fascination, I realized that the head could not accurately be described as bobbing. Bobbing involved more of a sharp ascension accompanied by a sharp descent. The action of this head consisted of smoother movements, which
could not actually be described as a bob. It was almost as if the body attached to the head were gliding.

"Moriarty!" I exclaimed. I threw open the cab door, and my esteemed butler leaped inside.

"My word, man. What are you doing here?" asked Uncle Augustus.

Moriarty seated himself next to Uncle Augustus and straightened his shirt front and tie. "I thought it my duty to assist Miss Arbuthnot and yourself, Mr. Percival, and I could not do so from a prison cell. Besides, I wish to prove my innocence."

"Capital idea," I said. For some reason Moriarty's presence gave me much more confidence. Additionally, I was not loath to put one over on Sir Alastair.

Uncle Augustus frowned. "I'm afraid you have placed us in somewhat of an ethical dilemma," he said. "We are law-abiding citizens and you were lawfully arrested. We shall have to detour and return you to the authorities."

"Uncle Augustus!"

Moriarty nodded thoughtfully. "I understand your concern, sir. And I should do the same in your shoes. However, I am in possession of some vital information that precludes my returning to the authorities until I have acted upon it, and I presume that you will feel the same."

I HAD ALWAYS THOUGHT OF
the Thames as a quiet river. When one punts on the upper Thames, one hears only a bit of sloshing, with the occasional splash when some unfortunate punter falls in. Then there might also be a bit of shouting. Such an occurrence leaves one feeling smug that one is safe and dry; however, for the most part, the upper Thames is a prime example of the maxim that still waters run silent and deep.

The docks in London are another matter altogether.

When James had said that the
Star
and the
Constanza
were at the Royal Albert Dock, I imagined a collection of picturesque wooden piles and planks such as those where punts are tied up, only larger and perhaps encased quaintly in moss. I was unprepared for the complexity of the dock system, with the warehouses and locks and boats in all sizes and shapes and an extraordinary amount of loading and unloading being done.

I was also unprepared for the noise. Laborers shouted, sea birds cried, winches ground, and water slapped against the hulls of hundreds of ships—even at five in the morning. In fact, it looked as if the dockworkers never slept. If Uncle had thought that his strolling along the docks at this time of the morning might be conspicuous, he was sorely mistaken. So much bedlam was taking place that one would have had to run screaming, naked and on fire, through the crowds to attract attention, something I was not at all prepared to do.

Uncle, Moriarty, and I stood, daunted as we stared down the rows of vessels. Holding the piece of paper on which James had written the numbers of the berths where the
Star
and the
Constanza
were docked, Uncle Augustus started walking and counting. Moriarty and I followed.

"What was the information you wished to share?" I asked my butler.

"Only that I found footprints leading from the house to a tree and a set of bicycle tire tracks that led out from the tree to the road," said Moriarty.

"So, the person who delivered the ransom note for five thousand pounds came by bicycle. Very good, Moriarty. We shall tell Uncle Augustus."

We hurried after my uncle, still weaving his way down the dock. Every once in a while I noticed Uncle's fingers dart into the air or toward a pile of cargo and presumed that Uncle was breakfasting. I patted my pocket containing the ham sandwich.

While Uncle counted, I studied the name of each ship that we passed. Somewhere on one of them, if our summations were correct, were my dearest Jane and the dame and generalissimo. Tears gathered in my eyes as I worried about my bosom friend. Was she frightened or hungry or cold? I suppose I should have been worried about the generalissimo and dame and England's supremacy on the high seas as well, but I was tired and a bit frightened myself.

The thought of Jane, most naturally, brought additional thoughts of James, and my longing for him surprised me by its strength. I remembered how, only hours earlier, I had studied his manly profile, which was silhouetted in the dark carriage against the gaslit window. I pictured his broad shoulders and firm chin and could almost smell the perfume of his brilliantined hair. My heart beat a quick tattoo, rather in the manner of the drummers in the King's Guard as they changed watches at Buckingham Palace.

I had to admit that throughout this escapade, James had behaved with a great deal more fortitude than I would have thought possible, which only made him that much more at
tractive. However, I also had to admit that James had paid no more attention to me than he had when I was five years old. I sighed and realized that thoughts of James had prevented me from noticing the ships we were passing. So much so, in fact, that I bumped into Uncle Augustus when he stopped abruptly.

"Did you see one of the ships we seek?" I asked.

"No, but I did find this." Uncle opened his hand. In it was a Tou-eh-mah-mah butterfly. Its wings quivered, then waved gracefully up and down. It took off, fluttering erratically down the dock.

Uncle, Moriarty, and I glanced at each other in astonishment. Then we sprinted after the butterfly. I soon lost sight of the insect, but Uncle Augustus seemed to see it quite clearly and darted down the dock as erratically as the butterfly. Moriarty and I were left to pound along behind him as best we could, although, to be honest, Moriarty glided and I pounded.

Ahead of us, Uncle slid to a halt, his fingers flashing in and out of stacks of logs next to a large, enclosed wagon. Was Uncle so famished he could not help but stop to feast? To my amazement, though, he didn't seem to be eating. Instead, he pulled out a handkerchief and deposited whatever he had caught into the fabric's recesses. He knotted the corners of the handkerchief together and dropped it into his
coat pocket. Only then did he deftly snag a few flitting creatures and pop them into his mouth. I was close enough to hear a crunch or two as he chewed, but I was too interested in what he had found to be as thoroughly revolted as I would have been at another time.