Petronella Saves Nearly Everyone Page 11

  I started with surprise. So the sailors' conversation I had overheard was not about breakfast, but about provisions. And kidnapping was not the only string to their bow. James had been right in thinking that the abductions were a diversion to mask a different agenda. Now it seemed they had devised a ghastly threat. I suppose putting down a rebellion is commendable when your viewpoint is from that of the country seeking to halt a colony's liberation. Just look at what had happened with the American colonies. Most distressing. But to threaten England with tropical diseases was unconscionable. And how were they to carry out such a threat?

  My attention was brought sharply back to the present as Don Hernando said, "The addition of several members of the British aristocracy to our cargo will only increase our bargaining power. Thank you for making it so easy to capture you. I'm afraid accommodations will be rather crowded, though. We were only counting on two."

  Then he said, "Pedro, check the ropes and make sure they are tight. We must make ready for our journey along the Thames and the depositing of our cargo along the way."

  There was a bit of noise as if people were standing and moving about. I, too, stood, wondering what to do. If Don Hernando and Pedro left the cabin, they would certainly find me. Additionally, whatever I did, it had to be before the crew returned, or they could carry out their horrific plan.

  As I considered what few options I had, my fingers played with the folds of Moriarty's coat and found a small, hard object. I smiled. Of course. I had the perfect weapon.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  In Which a Plan Is Perpetrated

  WHEN ONE HAS THOUGHT OF the perfect plan and has but split seconds to execute it, one prefers not to consider consequences, since the consideration of consequences may lead to hesitation, and he or she who hesitates is often lost. Consequences are those often nasty effects that follow decisions or actions, rather like the aftershocks of an earthquake. I have heard it said that one may choose one's actions, but one may not always choose the results. However, in this case I took care to ensure that the outcome of my perfect plan would be inimitably satisfactory.

  My scheme required but three items: two lengths of rope, found conveniently wrapped around the large cleats on the deck, and the object I had located in Moriarty's coat pocket—the Vile Vial. The rope I formed into loops, one on the end of each rope and knotted securely with a knot that Miss Spackering had taught me while I was embroidering a tea cosy. The Vile Vial, however, was the crowning glory of my plan.

  I tied my handkerchief to cover my nose and mouth. Then I eased open the cabin door, wincing as it creaked a bit, and threw down the unstoppered glass Vile Vial, which splintered on the metal floor of the cabin as I slammed the door shut and leaned against it with all my might.

  Screams echoed from inside the cabin. Oh, well. It was for their own good.

  I managed to hold down the door handle for a few seconds, which I was sure was enough to allow Moriarty's potent potion to take full effect. Don Hernando Salas and Pedro (I assumed it was they) lunged against the door once and it nearly gave way. But the next lunge was weaker than the one before, and the one after that was more like a bump than a lunge. Even the screaming of my beloved relations died to a mere mumble. I hoped they would forgive me eventually.

  I threw open the door. As Don Hernando and then Pedro stumbled out, reeling from the effects of the Vile Vial, I flung a loop of rope over each in turn, pulled tight, and then used the rest of the rope to secure feet and hands. Neither one had the strength to do more than wriggle a bit after taking the full force of the Vile Vial, being closest to the door when it broke. I was grateful for the sea breeze that saved me from having to breathe any of the fumes. In a trice, both kidnappers were trussed up like the swine they were. Miss Spackering would have been proud of my knots.

  I gloated over the results of my plan for only a moment before I rushed to help the other inhabitants of the cabin. From the baleful looks they gave me as I entered—looks that would have been murderous if the lookers had not been coughing and wheezing and attempting not to vomit—I could tell that my estimable relatives and the other victims might not appreciate my cleverness to the extent that I did. Even after at least a minute of fresh air circulating about the cabin, the fumes were enough to make my eyes water, so that I could barely see the bonds that tied the victims to chairs and bunks. I decided that discretion was the better part of valor and untied only Moriarty, who seemed the least affected, probably because he had built up an immunity to his own concoction, having been exposed to it quite recently.

  Once my butler was free, I asked through my handkerchief, "Moriarty, would you do me the favor of untying everyone while I look for someone who has the authority to arrest the kidnappers?" I edged toward the door of the cabin in order to be away as quickly as possible lest one of the victims should recover enough to take revenge once untied.

  "Yes, miss," gasped Moriarty.

  "And don't let the kidnappers escape." Tearing off the handkerchief, I whirled away, sprinting around to the gangplank and onto the dock, only to run smack into James's chest. I considered staying comfortably splayed out against him, but he grasped my shoulders and held me at arm's length.

  "Wherever have you been?" he shouted. "We've been looking all over the Constanza for you. I've been so worried. First Jane and then you." His voice caught.

  I goggled at him. Could he care for me even the least bit? His concern seemed to indicate that such might be the case. Then I realized that he blamed me for his inability to find me, and my temper flared.

  I shouted back, "And where have you been? I've had to capture the kidnappers and rescue everyone all by myself. You could have been a great help, but no, you had to ignore all the clues and—"

  "You did what?" he shouted even louder.

  I pulled from his grasp and pointed to the stacks of logs with butterflies flitting about them. In the same voice I would use with a two-year-old, I said, "Look at the Tou-eh-mah-mah butterflies and the logs. Look at the ship they came from. Put the two together and voilà, we have kidnappers and victims on that very ship."

  James chose to ignore my tone of voice. "You didn't board the ship by yourself, did you?" he asked accusingly.

  "Rather," I answered. "There was no one else to save everyone." I hoped that he would be stung by my sarcasm, but it did not seem to affect him in the least.

  "You should have waited for us." He indicated at least twenty government personnel, all nearly identical to each other, who ranged behind him. One of them waved at me. I waved back.

  "Halloo! Halloo there!"

  Both James and I turned to view Sir Alastair clambering out of a carriage and scuttling toward us, followed by Inspector Higginbotham and Sergeant Crumple hauling Georgie Grimsley, who looked much the worse for wear, between them.

  Gasping for air from his exertions, Sir Alastair stopped in front of James and me. "I do hope I've caught you in time before you do anything foolish to upset international relations, such as barging onto other people's boats. We've caught the kidnapper."

  "Georgie Grimsley?" James and I said together in disbelief.

  Sir Alastair beamed at the two of us. "Yes. Without a doubt. The clues all point to him. He was at the party. He was at Miss Arbuthnot's shortly after the second note arrived. He was in London yesterday, and he was hanging about the place where the last note demanded the delivery of the five thousand pounds. The only problem is that he won't tell us where the generalissimo and the dame are. Says he doesn't know or some such rot. I thought that perhaps you could persuade him to do his patriotic duty and confess."

  "I didn't kidnap anyone, and I don't know where anyone is. All I did was send that stupid note about the five thousand pounds because I was rejected by Miss Arbuthnot," whined Georgie.

  My mind reeled. "You did what? You worm." I turned to Sir Alastair. "But it is true, he doesn't know anything else, and he is not the kidnapper," I said. "Because the kidnappers are all tied up on that ship and being wa
tched over by Moriarty, the generalissimo and the dame, and most of my relations."

  "You didn't tell me about your relations," accused James.

  "You didn't ask," I retorted. I turned to Sir Alastair, "Now, you'd better hurry and relieve poor Moriarty of guard duty."

  Sir Alastair motioned to the government personnel to follow him and marched up the gangplank. Inspector Higginbotham and Sergeant Crumple stood on the dock hanging on to Georgie as if loath to let him go.

  James started after Sir Alastair. Then he turned slowly toward me. "You didn't mention Jane. Was she not on the ship with the others?"

  I shook my head sorrowfully. "No. She was not."

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  In Which a Door Is Opened

  AFTER FOILING A DESPERATE CRIMINAL, one would expect to feel just the least bit exhilarated. I did not. I felt a complete failure. Part of the depression, I'm sure, came from not sleeping for over twenty-four hours, but a great deal more of it came from having failed to find my friend.

  "Where could she be?" asked James. He seemed to be in as great a despair as I was.

  Inspector Higginbotham and Sergeant Crumple both turned to glare at Georgie Grimsley, who whimpered, "I don't know anything, I say. I don't know how to find her, either."

  His words triggered a memory of Don Hernando Salas saying, "If your stupid Scotland Yard inspector could not find Pedro last night, no one shall find Miss Sinclair, either."

  "We must go to Trafalgar Square," I said.

  "What? This is no time to be sightseeing," blustered Inspector Higginbotham.

  "I still fink it's 'im wot's pinched the girl," complained Sergeant Crumple, pointing to Georgie. James and I ignored him.

  "You're on to something?" James asked me.

  "I think so," I answered.

  He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward Sir Alastair's carriage. "Then let's be off."

  As we climbed in the carriage, leaving Inspector Higginbotham, Sergeant Crumple, and Georgie Grimsley staring after us, James shouted up to the driver, "Trafalgar Square, and there's a hundred extra quid if you're quick about it."

  When the carriage halted, we climbed somewhat gingerly out at nearly the same place I had stood the night before, opposite Nelson's Column.

  ***

  We blinked owlishly in the early-morning sunlight as we gazed at the contents of Trafalgar Square. The fog was gone. The sun illuminated the plinths, all but one of which had statues atop them. There was Nelson's Column in all its glory. There were the fountains that were supposed to keep mobs from getting out of control. Where could Pedro have hidden in all this open space? I walked forward to gain a different viewpoint, but saw nothing unusual. I backed up. What was that? There, on the southeast corner, stood a small stone-and-glass building no bigger than a closet. The odd structure even had a faceted glass ball that seemed to be a light fixture sitting atop it. The whole structure looked something like a squat lamppost. Londoners strode past it without giving it a glance, but I could not tear my eyes away.

  "What is that?" I pointed toward the little building.

  "Oh, don't you know? It's the world's smallest police station. There is only room for one officer in there, and the light on top is said to come from Nelson's flagship, the Victory." James continued scanning the square.

  I tugged on his sleeve. "Let's go look."

  "We are looking."

  Now, I have often thought that James is the most adorable man I have ever known, but he can be maddening at times. He has flashes of insight that lead one to believe in his intellectual prowess, but at other times he is positively imbecilic. I started off in the direction of the tiny police station.

  "Where are you going?" James sprinted after me.

  "To that police station. It's the only place Jane could be. That kidnapper could easily have hidden in there, since the police might not have manned it in the middle of the night, and I heard Don Hernando Salas say that if we could not find where Pedro had hidden last night, we would not find Jane," I explained reasonably, and kept on walking. James followed, muttering.

  When I reached the police station, I pulled on its glass-paned door only to find it locked. I tugged harder, but it would not budge. I pressed my face against the glass, but there was not enough light to see to the very bottom, so I resumed rattling the door. I could have sworn it budged the tiniest bit.

  James peered in but evidently did not see anything more than I had. "I think you're quite insane. We should look in one of the nearby shops. Much more logical," said James.

  When I didn't answer, he said, "Fine then, do as you please. I shall investigate the shops myself." He left.

  "Here, what do you think you're doing, miss?"

  I turned to see a bobby hurrying toward me. He pointed his nightstick at me and asked again, "What do you think you're up to, messing with my station?"

  "Rescuing my friend," I answered.

  "And what friend would that be?" he asked, rocking back on his heels. "If you're in trouble, you should go to the main station that's open all night. This one isn't manned until seven each morning, and I'm the one that's manning it now."

  "Then would you please be so good as to open it? My friend Jane is inside."

  He rolled his eyes. "Now what would she be doing in a place like that?"

  "Kidnappers put her there," I answered with equanimity. I was seething with impatience, but I held my tongue. I'd met the bobby's like before. I knew that if I pushed, he'd just dig in his heels harder and I'd never find Jane.

  "Kidnappers, is it? Fine tale, that."

  "Yes, it is. When are you going to be on duty so I can tell you about it?" I asked.

  He puffed out his chest. "I'm on duty now. You can tell me, miss."

  "But when are you going to be inside your station? You do have the key, don't you? How do I know you're not just posing as a bobby?"

  He sighed and took out a ring of keys from his pocket, slipped one of the keys into the lock, and opened the door. Out rolled Jane, tied up in a sack with only her eyes showing. They were quite large and filled with tears. I hoped they were tears of relief.

  "Well, I never," said the bobby.

  I gently released the rope that tied the sack. The knots were not nearly as tidy as the ones Miss Spackering had taught me, exhibiting a shocking lack of professionalism on Pedro's part, and were therefore much more easily undone. "Oh, Jane. What have they done to you?"

  She mumbled something, but I could not hear because of the gag in her mouth. I undid that as well.

  The bobby and I raised her to a standing position, but she collapsed, and we had to set her down on the stone wall next to the police station.

  I sat next to her and took her hand in mine. "Are you all right?" I asked as I handed her a rather crumpled handkerchief that I unwound from my somewhat squashed ham sandwich.

  She sniffed and blew her nose into the handkerchief. "Yes, thank you. I've been wanting to do that all night."

  "Glad to oblige," I said. As the morning sun warmed my back, a lovely peace stole over me. Family, friends, and country were all safe. If only Uncle Augustus would take the antidote, all would be well and I could concentrate on a brilliant London season.

  "Is that a ham sandwich?" Jane asked. "I'm rather hungry. Adventuring does that to one, doesn't it?"

  At that moment James rushed across the square and knelt at Jane's feet. "Jane, dear. Are you all right?"

  "Quite," she answered. She smiled at her brother but then looked longingly at the sandwich.

  I handed it to her. "Adventuring does indeed make one hungry. I've become rather an expert in that area."

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  In Which Retribution Is Averted

  EVEN WHEN ONE HAS RESCUED one's dearest friend, as well as several relations and other persons of consequence, in addition to the British economy and the Panamanian cause for liberty, there is still, forever and always, something that requires one's attention. That is, unless one is deceased, and
I, fortunately, was not.

  When Jane was finished with the ham sandwich and we had explained all that had transpired since we last met, I rose to my feet and held out my hand to her. "Dearest friend, do you feel up to a ride? We must return Sir Alastair's carriage and retrieve miscellaneous relations who are most likely without the means of retrieving themselves."

  "Absolutely not, old prune. Jane is much too battered to cavort about in a carriage. Give her time to collect herself," said James.

  Jane grasped my hand and pulled herself up, albeit a bit shakily. Our eyes met, and we exchanged the silent message of friendship and the knowledge that men can be ever so silly regarding misconceptions of female intrepidity. She swallowed the last bite of ham sandwich and said, "Nonsense, James. I'm not some hothouse flower. Besides, aren't you the least bit curious about those you left at the docks?"

  We turned to the bobby, who was standing open-mouthed near his minuscule police station, looking every bit as silly as James. I bent my head grandly in the bobby's direction. "Thank you for your good offices, sir. We truly appreciate your cooperation, and your country thanks you as well."

  We nearly made it to the carriage before Jane and I burst into a fit of the giggles. The carriage had been driven by the alert driver nearer to the corner where the police station was located and where we were situated.

  Jane turned back toward James. "Are you coming or not? Too tired, dear brother?"

  At that, James leaped to his feet from where he had been sitting on the wall and strode forward to insert himself between Jane and myself. He took Jane's arm on one side, and my arm on his other. Did I delude myself, or did he hold my arm close in a particularly warm manner? How was it that after all that had happened, I still tingled at his touch? I felt myself to have grown much older in the last few days, having changed in many ways from the girl whose coming-out party was foremost on her mind. For one thing, I now knew I was capable of more than I had thought possible and that my family, friends, and country mattered.