Come home. And write me no more lies. Theydouble the pain!
Your twin sister,
Christine
“You see, sir, how my absence torments her. I don’tsee how I can do anything but get the first coach back toToronto.”
“She does sound desperate, but if she’s beenhaving these headaches since she was little, they are obviously notlife-threatening. They sound like migraines to me.”
“That may be so, but they are exceedinglydistressful.”
“Has she servants to take care of her?”
“Mrs. Baldridge, a long-time widow, has beenwith the family ever since Christine and I were tots. She wasreally a nanny to us, and she dotes on Christine. And Gulliver isour butler, who keeps the house running smoothly. He’s also veryprotective of my sister.”
“Well, there you are,” Marc said. “She’s gotpeople who care around her.”
“But they’re not me, are they?”
“My honest opinion, Christopher, is that yourpoor sister does not want you to marry. These letters are reallyabout Miss Dodd, whom she sees as bewitching you.”
“But I’ve been honest with her all along. AsI mentioned to you, I even told her that Martha looks likeher.”
“And she was not amused, right?”
“She flew into a rage. I thought, foolishly,that she’d be flattered.”
“But you are determined to getmarried?”
“I am.”
“So going back to Toronto, even for a fewdays, is not going to change that fact. It’s more likely she’ll seeyour return as a sign of weakness, and press you harder not tomarry.”
“You may be right. And Martha and I intend togo to Toronto right after the wedding — Christine has refused totake part — and then we’ll all be together.”
“So you need to stick it out here, don’tyou?” Even though he was making an argument he believed to beright, Marc still felt guilty about pressuring the lad.
“And I am needed here, aren’t I?”
“You’re essential to the success of ourplans.”
Pettigrew smiled. “And my sister is loved andsafe in Toronto, isn’t she?”
NINE
They were all in the anteroom of the police quartersat the rear of the City Halclass="underline" Cobb, Wilkie, Christine Pettigrew andChief Bagshaw. The latter had just arrived, having been wakenedjust after falling asleep. He was drowsy and shivering as he cameinto the room, and was shocked to find a young blond woman seatedbetween Cobb and Wilkie. Wilkie had got a roaring fire going in thestove, and Cobb had found in the constables’ room an extra cloak tothrow over the trembling shoulders of the girl. A tea kettlewhistled on the stove.
“What on earth’s happened?” Bagshaw said,though it was plain that he saw readily enough what hadoccurred.
“Another attack, sir,” Wilkie said.
“And unsuccessful this time,” Cobb said,pointing out the obvious.
“Our police whistles may have saved thelass,” Wilkie said.
Bagshaw glowered. “But four of you up therecouldn’t prevent the attack!”
“No, sir,” Wilkie said.
“The culprit got clean away?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Was he seen?”
“We were waiting to question the young ladytill you came,” Cobb said. “She’s had a terrible fright.”
“I’m much better now, Constable,” Christinesaid. “You’ve all been very kind.”
“I’ll make the tea,” Wilkie said.
“Can you tell us your name?” Bagshawsaid.
“Christine Pettigrew.”
Bagshaw blanched. “You live up in Birch Grovewith your brother, Christopher Pettigrew?”
“That’s right.”
Bagshaw now realized the enormity of what hadjust happened. A young woman of social standing had been attacked.The stakes were raised yet again.
“What were you doing in a place like Devil’sAcre?” Bagshaw said gently.
“Well, sir, I decided to pay my cousin avisit. She lives on King Street past York.”
“At ten o’clock in the evening?”
“I sent her a note saying I was coming, and Igot delayed at home.” Christine was still trembling now and then,but otherwise seemed quite composed. Wilkie handed her a mug oftea.
“But you have a carriage and a driver.”
“I do, of course. But I felt like a walk.It’s only fifteen minutes or so.”
“But we’ve had three murders in the last tendays.”
“I’ve always felt safe on our streets,especially with our constables on duty.”
Wilkie smiled at the compliment.
“But Devil’s Acre is not on your route, isit?”
“Birch Grove is about a quarter of a mileaway, off Jarvis Street north. I came down Jarvis and decided — foolishly, I now see — to cut through the corner of Devil’s Acre tosave a little time.”
“And you got lost in that maze ofalleys?”
“Yes. I couldn’t believe how fast I gotturned around.”
“This may be painful, ma’am, but tell us whathappened in there.”
Christine took a swallow of tea and held themug in both hands. “Well, I was walking along, peering right andleft, when I heard a thumping of footsteps coming up behind me. Iturned to look back and — ”
She paused and took another sip at hertea.
“Go on when you’re ready,” Cobb saidquietly.
“I looked back and this large dark shape wascoming at me. Its right hand was raised. There was a knife in it.”She shuddered at the memory. “He lunged at me and I fell backwards.I heard myself screaming.”
“And that — ”
“That seemed to scare the man, for it was aman, a tall man with a big black greatcoat, a fur hat and big blackboots. He paused and raised the knife again. I screamed. I heard apolice whistle somewhere. He did, too. And he took off.”
“Did he speak?”
“No. Not a word.”
“Did you see his face?” Cobb asked, and got aglare from his superior.
“No. It was too dark. I saw only that it wasa man.”
“Did he run off the way he had come?” Cobbasked.
“I’m not sure. I was terrified. I couldn’tscream again.”
“We didn’t find any bootprints,” Cobb said toBagshaw. “But that’s because the whole area was covered with ourown tracks.”
“And if those tracks had been where theyshould have been, Miss Pettigrew would not have been shamefullyattacked!” Bagshaw retorted.
Wilkie looked at the floor.
“Well, we did foil him, sir,” Cobb said.
“Wilkie, I want you to take Miss Pettigrewback to Birch Grove. And don’t try any short cuts!”
Wilkie escorted Christine out of theroom.
“Well, Mr. Detective, are we any furtherahead?” Bagshaw said, standing closer to the stove.
“We’ve got the description of the fellowrepeated,” Cobb said. “It jibes with Pugh’s.”
“That’s not a lot, is it?”
“We know now he’s right-handed.”
Bagshaw snorted. “So we’re looking for asix-foot, big-booted gentleman or would-be gentleman who’sright-handed?”
Cobb grimaced. “It’s not much, is it?”
***
Cyril Bagshaw was right about the stakes beingraised. On the afternoon following the latest attack, Bagshaw wassummoned to the mayor’s office, where he was given a gooddressing-down by Mayor Kennedy and two aldermen.
“We’ve doubled the size of your force toallow you to patrol our streets day and night,” the mayor ranted.“And suddenly we’ve had three murders and a near-murder, all withinan area no bigger than a city block. Get your troops out there andcatch this maniac!”
Bagshaw took the criticisms quietly, but hewas boiling inside. The mayor was right, though. His troops hadfailed him. And especially that fellow who called himselfdetective. “I’d like permission, sir, to end this detectiveexperiment. I’d like to put every man on the street.”
The Mayor’s gaze narrowed. “It seems to me,Bagshaw, as if what we need on this case is more detecting, notless. Move Cobb around as you see fit, but he remains our detective- for now.”