Petronella Saves Nearly Everyone (7 page)

"It?" I hissed, trying not to attract the attention of my relations or Georgie Grimsley, who, I deduced from the way he kept smirking at me, was flirting outrageously with Crimea in order to pay me back for ignoring him. Poor girl. Georgie Grimsley's attentions were a heavy price to pay for interfering uninvited in international relations.

"Yes, what do you mean?" asked Uncle Augustus. "Are you privy to some information from the Home Office that pertains to this case? Can you tell us?"

"Perhaps I can. It's really no secret," said James thoughtfully.

"
It?
" hissed Jane and I in unison. I was suddenly in sympathy with Miss Spackering, my former governess, for insisting on clarity regarding pronoun referents.

"The kidnapping is a diversion. At least I think it is." James grinned at our shocked and outraged expressions. "Although we know the Colombians are probably happy to have Generalissimo Reyes-Cardoza in their clutches, there is more at stake now than capturing a rebel officer."

Light dawned. "Of course—the canal and all. So why do they need a diversion?"

"Britain is siding with the Americans, of course, because we need the canal. One of the communiqués I saw from the Colombian ambassador threatened retribution if we don't change our policy."

"But what could a poor nation such as Colombia do to Britain?" asked Jane.

"I'm not sure, but if we are concentrating our national attentions on finding Dame Carruthers and Generalissimo Reyes-Cardoza, they may be able to put something in place while we aren't looking."

"It makes sense," I said. "If they wanted to do serious damage, they would have asked for more than twenty thousand pounds. Such a sum would hardly impoverish Britain."

"The question is, how can we stop them?" said James.

"No one will believe us unless we have more evidence," said Jane.

James stroked his manly chin thoughtfully. "If only we knew more about the man who gave Ralph the message. Then I would have something concrete to report to my superiors."

A half-formed plan popped into my head. I consulted my watch and then caught Moriarty's eye and nodded. When he came over, I said quietly, "Please have Bumbridge bring the carriage around. We'll be going to the train station."

Now it was James's turn to look puzzled. "What?"

"Shh," I warned. "We will leave this room one at a time and go in different directions so we do not attract the attention of the relatives, and then meet outside the front door.
The same train that took the Colombian to London has had time to get there and come back and be ready to go to London again. Jane and I used to escape from our governesses for a few hours by riding back and forth on that train, so we know the schedule. We can search the cars for more clues as we ride."

AS I SLIPPED OUT THE
servants' entrance and around to the front where Bumbridge—almost as fine an example of efficiency as Moriarty—waited with the carriage, I mused that nothing I'd ever experienced in my short life was as exhilarating as escape. Miss Spackering had been a praiseworthy and astute governess, but she was no match for my Arbuthnot-and Percival-bred skills at evasion—skills I had employed in my childhood with regularity and success. I often thought fondly of an ancestor I strove to emulate who had not only managed to escape from Cromwell's forces, but had also ingeniously freed himself from the Tower of London when the Royalists returned to power and imprisoned him because of a misunderstanding. They later apologized when he rode into London with his personal army.

With my good humor restored, I accepted my hat, my Italian gloves, and my favorite French crewel-embroidered handbag from the ever-thoughtful Moriarty, who handed me up into the carriage. There I found Uncle snacking on delicacies previously hidden in
Insectile Creatures.
At least he was doing so in privacy. I pretended not to notice as I placed the tiara and
peso
into my handbag. We were joined by Jane and then, soon after, by James.

James puffed a bit as he entered the carriage. He mopped at his brow with another of his snowy handkerchiefs. "I say, your pith-helmeted aunt gave a good account of herself while chasing me through the kitchen. I barely managed to give her the slip by detouring through the dairy."

Just as the carriage horses accelerated into a trot, I heard a faint "Petronella!" Through the carriage window I viewed Aunt Cordelia vigorously brandishing an umbrella on the front steps. Bumbridge, efficient as ever, cracked his whip and the horses broke into a canter. I settled back against the squabs, satisfied that we would not be followed for quite some time. According to my watch and what I knew of the train schedule, we should be pulling out before any of the horde could reach the station.

"Do you really think there will be any clues on the train?" asked Jane.

"It's entirely possible, old stick," said James. "After all, Ralph did say the fellow's shoes were mucky, and I don't expect the railroad will have had time to clean the floors yet."

"We may also get some information from the stationmaster. He might know where the Colombian intended to leave the train. Then we could ask people at that stop if they have seen him," I said, trying to ignore the crunching coming from Uncle's corner, next to me.

"Capital idea!" exclaimed James. Then his magnificent brow darkened. "But I shall do the asking. It is all very well for the two of you to collect clues in the safety of the countryside, but quite another matter for you to brave the dangers of the unsavory side of London."

Jane and I did not deign to answer him. We merely glanced at each other, one eyebrow raised. If James only knew of some of the escapades his exemplary sister and I had experienced in the safety of the countryside, he might not be so complacent about our going into London, after all. I was reminded especially of the time Jane and I had loosed a large number of garden snakes among the participants in the village sack race. The resulting race times were admirable, although the number of people who saw the end of the race was much diminished from what it had been at the beginning. I do not believe that the record set that day has been bested since.

The carriage slowed enough for me to hear the familiar midday village sounds of Upper Middle Totley-on-Wode. Just as I had predicted, a train rested in front of the station, with clouds of steam rising, pointed in the direction of London. We ascended the platform, where the stationmaster rushed to greet us.

"Why, Miss Arbuthnot. Mr. Percival. Lord Sinclair. Miss Sinclair. What can I do for you?"

"Hello, Mr. Drake. Do you recall a foreign gentleman in a slouch hat who bought a ticket to London this morning?" asked James.

"Very well. Don't get many foreigners in these parts."

"Then you'd remember where he was going?"

"Bought a ticket to Charing Cross Station, he did."

James produced some money. "Thank you. We'd like four tickets to Charing Cross Station."

The train was mostly empty, as was normal for a midday run to London, so we had our choice of compartments and ample opportunity to search.

Since we had chosen a compartment in the middle of the train, I said to Jane, "Would it be all right if Uncle and I search from here to the rear of the train, and would you and James search the front?"

"Certainly," said Jane, and James nodded agreement.

I would have enjoyed having James as my partner no end, or even Jane, but I also felt responsible for Uncle's safety and decorum. The last part of the train it would have to be, since I had to be my Uncle's warden. At least, the rear of the train was usually more sparsely occupied, so there would be less chance for him to publicly misbehave.

After searching three compartments, one thing became profoundly clear—British trains are by no means insect free. Uncle and I did not find remnants of Tou-eh-mah-mah butterflies or beetles, but we did find a surfeit of spiders, flies, ants, and all sorts of other insects. I concluded that I would never be able to travel in public transport again without checking corners and crevices. In one compartment, in particular, a large number of ants that were blithely feasting on the remnants of someone's sack lunch became picnic fare for Uncle.

The next two compartments produced nothing more interesting than additional prospective sustenance for Uncle and a morning London newspaper. However, when I stepped from the rear platform of our carriage into the next, I was surprised to find a disheveled and sweaty Georgie Grimsley.

"Why, Mr. Grimsley. Whatever are you doing here?" I asked as I circled around the young man and peered into the first compartment.

"Didn't know I had a bicycle, did you?" he said. "Thought you'd get away."

"Get away? I don't understand your meaning." I lifted a newspaper from the floor and shook it out. Nothing fell. I moved on to the next compartment, while Uncle searched the seat cushions for sustenance.

Georgie Grimsley followed me. "You and your smarmy friends thought you could ditch me."

"Ditch? Where do you come up with such words? You must be mistaken." My reply was made in an inattentive fashion because I had spotted another Colombian
peso
resting on the seat just where a trouser pocket would have deposited its contents. As I reached for the coin, however, Georgie Grimsley snatched it from beneath my fingers.

I sighed. Really, he was being too tiresome. "Mr. Grimsley. Would you be so kind as to hand me that coin?"

"Not until you look at me. You always ignore me."

I looked at him. It was not a pretty sight, especially his overlong nose hairs. "Now, please give me the coin." I held out my hand and was appalled to have him grab it and hold on. "Mr. Grimsley. My hand and the coin, please."

"Petronella, Pet. I may call you Pet, mayn't I?"

"No, you most certainly may not."

He pulled me closer. "You know I have loved you since I first set eyes on you. If we change trains in London, we can
make it to Gretna Green in a few hours and be married. I know you'd like that."

I struggled to disengage myself. The little fiend had a grip like a vise. "Is this about your impecunious family's debts? Much good marrying me will do you. I must tell you that I don't come into the majority of my inheritance until I'm twenty-one. Besides, I heard that you proposed to Jessalyn St. John last week."

"How can you speak of money when I'm declaring my undying devotion?" he cried as he grabbed my other hand.

At that moment, the train swayed and I was able to free one hand. Fortunately, that hand clasped the strap of my French crewel-embroidered handbag, which struck Georgie Grimsley in the eye with a satisfactory
thwop!

I was immediately released.

"Ow! Ow! and I say ow again!" Clutching his eye, Georgie stumbled backward and flopped onto the seat, where he writhed rather like one of the earthworms Uncle had plucked from among the rocks in my garden.

While he gyrated, I decided that discretion was the better part of valor and fled back to the train car where I had left Uncle Augustus. I was followed by Georgie Grimsley's wailing, "You'll be sorry for this. I swear you will!"

AS I SCUTTLED BACK TO
Uncle, I reflected with growing indignation that one's first proposal of marriage should be memorable because of pleasant associations, rather than sweaty hands and struggles with a repugnant philanderer. I was so intent on retribution that when Uncle Augustus abruptly emerged from a compartment, we collided.

"There you are," he said, stuffing a bit of waxed paper into
Insectile Creatures.

"Oh, Uncle. I was nearly dragged off by that horrid Georgie Grimsley. He wanted me to go to Gretna Green with him."

"That young rapscallion. He'll not treat my niece so," Uncle said as he pushed past me with a look that bespoke ill for Mr. Grimsley.

I caught his arm. "Don't go, Uncle. The last thing we need is to give the police a reason to pay attention to you."

"Oh. I suppose you're right. But that young pup should not get off scot free after such an insult."

I remembered Georgie holding his eye while rolling around in agony and could not help but chuckle. "He did not get off scot free. I'm afraid he will be sporting a blackened eye for a while thanks to my rather sturdy handbag." I held up the bag to illustrate my point.

Uncle guffawed. "Good show, Petronella. You have a bit of the Percival in you, after all."

"I suppose I get it from both sides of my family. However, I'm afraid I have to report that Georgie Grimsley prevented me from acquiring another Colombian
peso
that was on a seat in the last car. It proves the man in the slouch hat is connected to the other
peso.
"

"No matter. We have the other coin."

At that moment James and Jane came down the corridor toward us. "What ho! Did you find anything? We found nothing," said James.

We settled into one of the empty compartments as I explained about Georgie Grimsley and the
peso.
Jane laughed at Georgie's black eye, but James's reaction was much more gratifying. He started up out of his seat, his fists balled up.
"The scoundrel. He'll have more than a black eye when I'm through with him." Could it be that he cared?

Both Jane and I leaped up to stand in his way. "Rather than worry about Georgie Grimsley, we need to develop a battle strategy for when we get to Charing Cross Station," I reasoned.

"Yes," said Jane. "We should be getting there soon." Indeed, the clickety-clack of the train wheels came farther and farther apart.

James sat back down, still muttering, but cooperative enough that by the time we arrived at Charing Cross Station, we had a working plan. I wished that in James's mutters there was something of the lover, but as far as I could tell, he was more worried about the slight to my good name than any danger I might have been in.

Once we disembarked, Jane and I strolled arm in arm through the busy station, making our way from vendor to vendor while Uncle and James departed in different directions to question ticket sellers, guards, and bobbies. At the first stall, I bought newspaper-wrapped fish and chips. "Thank you," I said as the vendor, a plump little woman with cherries hanging from her straw hat, handed me the steaming, fragrant food. "I was supposed to meet my gardener here in the station to choose summer flowers for my estate. You haven't happened to see a man with a dark mustache
and slouch hat, have you?" I gave the woman an extra sixpence and a smile.