Edwardian Murder Mystery 01; Snobbery with Violence

they would be all the files of Dr. Jennets patients.

He wandered over to them and then realized Dr. Perriman was addressing him. “Would you mind leaving us, sir? I need to examine the lady.”

“Of course,” said Harry.

He went into the waiting-room and then outside into the square where Becket was guarding the car. “I’m just going to see if there’s a way into the back,” he whispered to Becket. “Do you think you can hold the crowd’s attention?”

“Get Daisy, sir,” said Becket. “I’ve got my concertina in the car.”

Harry summoned Daisy while Becket located his concertina and took it out of the box.

“What’s going on?” asked Daisy.

“I think Becket needs your help to keep the crowd’s attention away from me while I see if there’s a way into the back.”

Harry found there was a narrow alley running down the side of the surgery. He paused and listened as Daisy’s voice, accompanied by Becket’s concertina, rose in song.

“Come where the booze is cheaper, Come where the pots hold more, Come where the boss is the deuce of a joss, Come to the pub next door.”

Harry grinned, remembering his tutor telling him that a Guards band had played just that song one Sunday afternoon on the terrace at Windsor castle, and Queen Victoria asked her lady-in-waiting to find out the words to the pretty air. It was with great reluctance that the bandmaster told her.

There was a tradesmen’s entrance at the side. Harry studied the door. It had four panes of glass on the upper half of the door. He could smash one and reach in and slide back the bolt, of there was one. He cautiously turned the handle. The door was unlocked. He stepped inside and examined the other side of the door. No bolts, only a large key in the lock. He extracted the key and went out and closed the door. Now for a locksmith.

A large crowd had gathered around Becket and Daisy. Daisy lad moved onto a sentimental ballad, “The Blind Organist.”

“The preacher in the village church one Sunday morning said: ‘Our organist is ill today, will someone play instead?’ An anxious look crept o’er the face of every person there. As eagerly they watched to see who’d fill the vacant chair. A man then staggered down the aisle whose clothes were old and torn, How strange a drunkard seemed to me in Church on Sunday mom; But as he touched the organ keys, without a single word, The melody that followed was the sweetest ever heard.”

By asking one of the few residents who was not listening to Daisy, Harry located the locksmith and handed over the key, saying he needed an extra one to the stables.

The locksmith chatted as he ground the key, saying he had taken over the business from his father, who had died only two months ago. “Funny, I always refused to go into the business,” said the locksmith, “although he trained me. But he left the shop to me, so here I am.”

“What was your trade before?”

“Sort of traveling carpenter. Bit of work here. Bit of work here. There you are, sir. That should do very nicely.”

Harry paid him and took the keys. As he hurried across the square, he saw to his horror that Rose and Daisy were now standing up in the car with their arms around each other, singing at the tops of their voices.

“Any old iron, any old iron, any-any-any old iron:

You look sweet, you do look a treat,

You look dapper from your napper to your feet…”

Harry hurried up the alley, opened the door and put the original key in the lock and sprinted back to the car just as Rose and Daisy were bowing before a burst of tumultuous applause.

Coins were raining into the car. Harry groaned and thrust his way through the crowd. “Show’s over,” he shouted. Daisy clambered into the back next to Becket, and Rose sat down in the front.

Harry switched on the engine. “Throw the money back,” he ordered.

“We earned it,” complained Daisy, but she and Rose and Becket scooped up handfuls of coins and threw them back into the crowd as they drove off.

“What on earth were you doing making a spectacle of yourself like that?” shouted Harry to Rose above the noise of the engine.

“It was fun,” said Rose. “Tremendous fun.”

“Dr. Perriman no doubt was called by his nurse to have a look at you performing and he will wonder if your adventures have turned your brain.”

“Did you find a way in?”

“Tell you in a minute.” Harry waited until they were clear of the town and then stopped and turned to her. “I got a copy of the key to the tradesmen’s entrance. I’ll go along tonight.”

“I’ll go with you,” said Rose, her eyes shining with excitement.

“No, you most certainly will not.”

“I’d be safer with you than in my room at the castle, policeman or no policeman.”

“We could be the look-out,” said Daisy.

“I don’t know what you were about, singing music-hall songs, Lady Rose,” said Harry.

“King Edward sings music-hall songs,” protested Rose. “His favourite is: ‘Hey, hi. Stop, waiter! Waiter! Fizz! Pop! I’m Racketty Jack, no money I lack, And I’m the boy for a spree!’”

“But just think if the doctor informs your parents of your behaviour!”

“Then it is up to us to find something dramatic in the records,” said Rose, “so that then no one will be able to think of anything else.”

¦

Dinner was a long and tedious affair, enlivened only by the effect Sir Gerald was having on the grim American, Miss Fairfax. They were seated together and he seemed to consider all her blunt utterances the highest form of wit. The more he laughed, the more Miss Fairfax glowed.

To his amusement, Harry, on the other side of Miss Fairfax, heard Gerald saying at one point, “You really must let me take you around when we are both in London. I see you in midnight taffeta with a high-boned collar, very grande dame.”

“I’ve never bothered about fripperies,” said Miss Fairfax.

“But you must, dear lady,” said Gerald. “And your hair would be magnificent if it were red.”

“Wicked boy,” she said with a great bray of laughter.

So enamoured was Miss Fairfax of Gerald’s company that she only turned once to Harry during the long meal and that was to ask him what the hunting was like in the countryside around. When Harry replied that he did not hunt, she said, “I should have known,” and turned back to Gerald.

Harry had told Rose he would leave the castle at two in the morning. He now wondered whether he should trick her and leave earlier. He had a sudden picture of her standing up in his motor car with her arm around Daisy, singing her heart out. She had looked really young and carefree for the first time since he had known her.

Lady Hedley was complaining that police had been crawling over the roof of the castle all day. “All Lady Rose’s fault,” she said loudly. “The young women of today are prone to fantasies and hysterics.”

Rose felt like shouting a denial down the table but kept quiet. She had told Daisy to use her wiles on Becket and make sure Harry did not change his mind about taking her with him.

¦

Daisy had rummaged in the hamper of costumes for charades and had managed to get two boys’ outfits. Giggling nervously, they put them on and crammed their hair up under a couple of tweed hats. Long overcoats completed their disguise. Before they changed into their costumes, Rose told the constable on duty that she would sleep in her mother’s room that night and suggested he take up his guarding duties outside Lady Had-shire’s door.

Becket had told Rose firmly that if his master planned to leave them behind there was nothing he could do about it. So it was with relief that they saw the car parked on the other side of the moat. They hurried across the drawbridge, Rose clutching Daisy’s arm and looking nervously to right and left.

When they climbed in, Harry let in the clutch and cruised down the slope away from the castle, not switching on the engine until they were well clear. Once out on the road towards Creinton, he stopped the car and got out