A Curious Beginning

“You know her name?” Stoker looked from Mornaday to me. “Did you tell him that we are not really married?”


“I did not,” I replied. “How he came to know my name is entirely beyond my ken.”

“My methods are my own,” Mornaday said silkily. “Now, Miss Speedwell, I have in mind to be a chief inspector someday. That will not happen with blots upon my record, and you will not be a blot.”

“Then why help us?” I asked, drawing the blanket about my sodden body more tightly. As I warmed a little, I was aware of a distinctly unpleasant aroma beginning to emanate from my person, and Stoker’s was worse. The Thames was a filthy place, I reflected, and we would both be thoroughly fortunate if we did not contract one of the more virulent wasting diseases after our dunking.

Mornaday’s reply to my question was prompt. “Because the police do not always get it right. My superior likes Mr. Stoker for the murder of the baron, and he suspects you of being an accomplice. I believe he is wrong. And I very much like it when he is wrong.” His mouth curved into an arch smile. “Unfortunately, it is never wise to point out the shortcomings of one’s superiors. So I have acquired the habit of occasionally circumventing him by conducting my own investigation and removing his suspects from under his nose. I followed you to the traveling show on a hunch of my own. I observed you there and formed my impression that neither of you was responsible for the baron’s murder.”

“Did you bribe the professor to let you have the position as groom?”

“I did. I spun him a tale about thwarted love and disappointed hopes. I persuaded him that Mr. Stoker had stolen my fiancée. He was most susceptible. I suspect him of being a romantic, and he was very quick to believe the worst of Mr. Stoker. In fact, he insisted upon it.”

“And you promised him more money if he discovered any relevant information. As you did Salome,” I accused.

Mornaday clucked his tongue. “Very well, yes. I paid them both to discover what they could. And it was remarkably little,” he said with a repressive glance at Stoker. “The promise of a few coins to the professor, a few more to Salome, and they were more than willing to turn over whatever information they discovered. The professor still bears a grudge over some old quarrel, and Salome’s head for business is hard as nails. She would sell her own mother for a copper.” He glanced to Stoker. “You really ought to choose your friends more carefully, old man.”

“You needn’t worry,” Stoker returned with equal coolness. “It isn’t as though you were going to be one.”

“If you do not believe in our culpability in the baron’s murder, then how did that notice get into the newspapers?” I asked. Mornaday winced.

“As we had so few leads in the case, my superior was willing to let me take a short holiday. I did not tell him I was chasing down a hunch, and so, when he grew impatient, there was nothing to stop him from pursuing what he believed to be his likeliest suspect. I followed you back to London and picked up your trail again at the baron’s house when you broke in.”

I could see his disapproval. “We had reasons,” I said coolly.

“I am sure that you did. I have no doubt you went there with the idea of playing amateur detective and solving the baron’s murder in order to make certain Mr. Stoker was not unjustly accused of a crime he did not commit.”

“And how is it that you were on hand to effect such a timely rescue today?” Stoker asked.

Mornaday smiled again. “I have a number of contacts in the community of watermen. By a little judicious bribery in the right quarters, I happened to learn that Mr. de Clare had secured the hire of a boat for himself, and that he insisted upon something light and fast. It seemed logical that he meant to attempt to spirit Miss Speedwell away, and it was a small matter to find myself a boat that was even faster. Once I had done that, I needed only to keep a close watch upon him and follow along to intervene when required.” He gave us a severe look. “But we are beyond that now. You must believe me when I tell you that you must leave London. My superior is growing suspicious of my frequent absences. I cannot always be there to stand at your back, and these miscreants will not relinquish their pursuit.”

He gestured to the helmsman, who began to make for a short boat landing just before a great cluster of docks and ships. “Those are the West India docks beyond. You should be able to pick up a hansom here. I cannot take you further. And I cannot say more. Please, for the sake of your lives, go. Anywhere but England.”

“What about Ireland?” I asked deliberately.