Page 49 of A Ruse of Shadows
But the young woman who stood outside, in her modest Sunday best, was only about sixteen, plain and rather squarely built, hardly the ravishing Mrs. Claiborne.
“Are you Mrs. Hudson, ma’am?”
Mrs. Watson hesitated. “Yes?”
The girl curtsied. “My name is Sally Tompkins. And I work in the kitchen at Pettifer’s Hotel. Yesterday afternoon I was standing outside and this fancy-looking lady came up to me and told me to give this letter to you.”
Mrs. Watson sucked in a breath. “You’d best come in then.”
By the time tea arrived, Mrs. Watson already knew how long Sally Tompkins had worked at the hotel, where she lived, and her general family situation. It seemed that the girl was who she said she was, a kitchen maid, but Mrs. Watson would personally verify that with the hotel later.
“Tell me how you came to have this letter.”
The sealed envelope in Mrs. Watson’s hand was made of cheap brown paper, already wrinkled from time spent in Sally Tompkins’s pocket.To Miss Holmes and Mrs. Hudsonwas written in black ink on the front of the envelope.
The girl sat with her bottom barely on the chair, holding the cup and saucer Mrs. Watson had offered her with both hands. “Like I said, mum, I was standing outside for a bit—the kitchen was hot and I was feeling faintish. The lady ran up. She had a funny accent and talked fast. She said that she was supposed to meet you inside the hotel but she couldn’t anymore, and it was really important that you had this letter.
“And then she ran off, speedy as the Scotch Special Express, before I could tell her that we kitchen maids aren’t allowed in the front of the hotel—or to speak to guests.
“All the rest of my shift I thought about it. She gave me a whole crown, and I didn’t want to take that much money from someone and not do what they asked. So when my shift was over, I asked one of the waitresses if anyone in the private dining rooms waited for someone who didn’t show up.
“The one I asked was the one who waited on you, and she knew that you’d left your address with the reception in case anyone could tell you anything. She got that address for me, so I thought I’d best come, mum, and give this to you before church.”
Mrs. Watson urged the girl to have a slice of cake and at last opened the envelope.
Dear Miss Holmes and Mrs. Hudson,
I hope this note will prove to be an unnecessary precaution. But just in case…
If you have come to Pettifer’s at all, you must have received word I had sent earlier. At the time, I dared not set down the reason for my secrecy, lest my missives were intercepted by the wrong parties. Applying that logic here, I ought not write too much either. But I am confused and need your sage advice.
So here it is: I felt the need to leave the town house because I found it under surveillance last night. I believe there were two of them, one man and one woman.
And if all they had done was watch the house, it would still have been all right. But they approached the back door. By the service stairs Mr. Underwood had hidden a rifle. In my fright, I grabbed it.
I listened, my heart pounding, for the door to be breached. When I heard nothing, I slipped to the window and to my surprise saw the would-be intruders running away. Perhaps they had heard me loading my firearm. I could not tell—my blood pounded in my ears just then.
They must be young for they were fast and agile as they leaped over the low wall of the small rear garden. But come to think of it, maybe they were not a man and a woman—the night was too dark for me to make them out clearly. It was only that I had seen a man and a woman observing the house recently, sometimes together, sometimes singly, and immediately decided that it must have been the same two people.
I could be grossly overreacting. I do not know. I wish Mr. Underwood were here to advise me.
I cannot tell you how I long to hear your words of counsel.
Yours,
Mrs.ClaiborneOverhill
Miss Charlotte appeared then, clad in a cream-colored dressing gown embroidered with poppies and buttercups. She wore a large cap to cover her short hair, but her face still looked splotchy from all the beard-gluing of late.
“My dear!” exclaimed Mrs. Watson. Her partner had scarcely slept—she’d returned from her night’s work just as Mrs. Watson had woken up in the morning.
“Good morning, ma’am,” she said, her voice sludgy, her eyes barely open.
To Sally Tompkins, who had leaped out of her chair to curtsy, shenodded and gestured for the girl to sit down again. And then she extended her hand for the letter.
Mrs. Watson waited for her to read the letter twice. It was how Miss Charlotte took in important information—one quick perusal, followed by a more meticulous study.
After she was finished with the letter, Miss Charlotte appeared slightly more awake. “Miss Tompkins, is that correct?”
