Revelations and ponderings
They go into the Library. There is a small table, upon which the tray Esperanza was carrying has been placed, with two comfortable chairs on either side. Esperanza herself, however, has not returned. Margaret allows Shirley to seat her, then looks up at him. She is entirely focused on him now, and is not even humming.
Shirley lowers himself slowly into the other chair, and puts his head in his hands. “I might have guessed,” he says, in a voice less deep and resonant than his wont, “that an inappropriate outburst of hysteria would be my unmasking, Dr. Byrd.”
And then Margaret has it. The supraorbital ridge of Shirley’s skull, the jaw, the line of the head and neck—they are all the wrong shape. Now that she looks, knowing what to look for, she finds confirmation in the curve of Shirley’s hip, the waist under the tailored waistcoat.
Whoever “Shirley” is, she is a woman.
Margaret just nods. “It must have been very difficult, wasn’t it? Medicine is a difficult enough profession for a woman to get into. But if you were brilliant, and fascinated by both the law and the good you could do with such training… oh, my. Law is still entirely closed to women. You have my deepest admiration.” It is very clear that she is utterly sincere. Then she grins quite impishly. “I have the clothing and accoutrements to effect a similar transformation in a false compartment in each of my trunks, you know. I can become “Mark” with very little preparation.”
She lays her hand on Shirley’s arm. “But really, it wasn’t the depth of your concern or the emotion it engendered that gave you away. It was physiognomy and anatomy, and I don’t think it would at all obvious to anyone who wasn’t both a physician and intimately aware that a female creature need not be a fragile, shrinking flower. I think your secret is still safe. Certainly it is safe with me.” And then suddenly, wistfully, “I’ve never had a woman friend; I’ve always been too much the odd one because of my pursuits. Please, when we are alone, would you call me Margaret?”
Suddenly tears stand in Shirley’s eyes. “Stop it,” he—she—says ruefully, straightening in the chair in order to reach into a pocket for a handkerchief. “Stop being so kind, Margaret. I haven’t cried in—I hardly know, it must be nearly ten years.
“What a day this has been. I walked into dinner celebrating my narrow escape; Major Harston told me the moment I walked in that Scotland Yard’s been going over my background with a fine-toothed comb. I took care of my legal records myself, of course, quite some time ago, but I’d no idea whether they would stand up to rigourous examination. Apparently they have, though, as Major Harston did not treat me as a lusus naturae.”
Shirley tucks the handkerchief back into a vest pocket. “I was about to tell you to call me Shirley,” she says, “but that is ridiculous on its face. My life is in your hands; I shan’t cavil about my name. It’s Elizabeth. Shirley was my younger brother. I will tell you the story sometime—but I think Esperanza is coming back.”
By the time the young Spaniard has her easel set up, Shirley is once again the mannerly Yorkshire barrister of the pleasantly dark voice. “Now that I consider it further, Doctor, it seems unlikely that Finnegan intended to kill Jimmy from the outset. What about the other assailants? There should have been a wave of murders, but there has been only one. No, the likeliest thing is that Finnegan’s underlings committed the murder, when they learned who betrayed him.
“So, where were we? Yes, quite, events and their motives. The obvious conjecture is that the assaults were an attempt to narrow the field, presumably for the benefit of one contestant. The responsible party might be the contestant, or—as this dreadful business of Lady Hester’s wager demonstrates—someone else with a stake in the results. Or conceivably both, working together or apart; who can say?
“Which contestant? Or is the goal that one particular contestant lose? I don’t know.
“There is another possibility, however, far-fetched though it may be: that the Ellipse is a blind for some intensely secret diplomatic manoeuvre, and the attacks were an attempt to disrupt that, presumably by disrupting the entire race. The ineptitude of the attacks militates against this theory, as does Addison’s history as a trifling man-of-affairs. However, the involvement of Scotland Yard does make me wonder. High though the Ellipse stakes are, I should not have thought them that high.
“The next question is why Addison has left England. He may simply be fleeing Scotland Yard, but in that case I should have gone to the States or South America in his shoes, not Europe. He may wish to exact revenge for his unmasking, in which case I can no doubt expect to hear from him. Or there may yet be hope of him accomplishing his task, whatever that is. That is the possibility that worries me; I wish I could be sure whom he was targeting.”
Margaret frowns thoughtfully for a second. “You know, Mr. Addam, that might not be so far-fetched a theory as it sounds at first blush. If you recall, Her Majesty had her granddaughter Princess Ella with her, although the young lady didn’t speak. I recall reading that the princess been recently betrothed to a Russian duke, though for the life of me I can’t recall which one. Of course, Scotland Yard might also be involved simply of Her Majesty’s patronage of the contest. Since she has given it her public support, I suppose it might be an embarrassment to send out an event that brings disruption and mayhem with it.”
“True. Still, a certain amount of disruption is only to be expected. A dangerous world, Dr. Byrd. As to that—I still must respectfully disagree that the Alexandria explosions are connected to our situation, unless they were truly spectacularly bungled. I checked Lord Harston’s book. The only person to have been caught in the riots was Lord Longsworth-Brunfondle, the first to arrive. But do go on.”
“I’ve been pondering this,” replies the doctor, “and I believe what we may have is a combination of factors. Your patron has placed a wager on you, and possibly on other aspects of the competition. It would surprise me greatly if others of sufficient means and insufficient useful occupation have not done likewise. Some person or persons unknown have taken those bets, and that gives them an interest in the outcome. I would think that both the individual competitors and the order in which they finish might be subjects of interest, and of manipulation by the unscrupulous.”
“I fear I must add a slightly more sinister possibility: that competitors finishing at all may be the subject of a wager. I rather think Lady Davies’s wager must be something similar, though she steadily refuses to inform me on the subject.” He bows toward her slightly. “Given the quality of the field, Lady Davies cannot possibly have cared to risk a large amount on my victory. Her confidence in my finishing the race might well be rather higher. Mark that this also explains why the attempts to inconvenience us thus far have not been dangerous, much less lethal; there has been no need to risk lethal force.” Shirley glances at Esperanza, and then raises his eyebrows at Margaret. That previous attacks were non-lethal is no guarantee for the future. Margaret will understand; Shirley need not frighten the Spanish girl by speaking his thought.
“It may also be that we have some less than honorable co-competitors, who are attempting to improve their position by delaying the rest of us.”
Shirley sighs. “I earnestly hope not, but I cannot discount the possibility. It is perhaps a measure of my naivete, Dr. Byrd, that I entered this contest considering no more hindrances than the ordinary ones of travel.”
The doctor nods. “As for Addison, it seems to me that he would prefer to be the mind behind whatever attempts are made. He might have come to Europe simply because his first attempt to influence matters was so spectacularly unsuccessful, and he wants to be closer at hand.”
“Well, I think it fairly clear he left to evade the Yard; he did not go until Finnegan’s capture imperiled him. But I daresay you are correct about his current aims. We shall hear of him again, I am certain of it. I hope Scotland Yard gets to him first.”
“As do I!” interjects Margaret. “And Mr. Addam? Would you be interested in travelling together for a time? We are well set to observe the proprieties,” she nods toward Esperanza; “and I believe it might provide a measure of safety to each of us.” She looks like she is trying not to laugh outright. “And between us, I would say our ability to think our way out of any situation we might find ourselves in formidable enough to give even Mr. Holmes pause!”
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