Higginbotham and his lackey Sergeant Crumple did not notice, as I did, the occasional rustle of bushes or the swaying of tree branches, which could only mean that Uncle Augustus was breakfasting.
"My dear Miss Arbuthnot, it would help immeasurably if we could speak to your uncle. Not only is he your guardian, but we've been told that he is also the means by which the tent collapsed. Pray tell us where we might find him," said Inspector Higginbotham, his jowls swinging below his chins
with each syllable. If Uncle were a bullfrog, the inspector would surely be a bloodhound. Fittingly so, I might add.
I had visions of Uncle Augustus popping up from the petunias to capture a tasty morsel and became instantly certain that Inspector Higginbotham should not talk to my unfortunate relative. How could I explain such a circumstance? What would society have to say? Besides, I would not care to see Uncle Augustus hauled off to prison, or worse, to Bedlam, simply because he had a penchant for insects. 'Twould be most unfair and uncomfortable as well, for both Uncle and myself. I was having enough trouble trying to think of how to explain Uncle Augustus's condition to James and Jane, as I should have to once the detectives from Scotland Yard had gone. The two of them were already drawn to stare at said bushes and trees in bewilderment instead of paying attention to the interrogation, and besides, they had seen Uncle devour the insect on the note.
However, I could not betray him to the Yard. Several alternatives to producing Uncle to the detectives presented themselves to my mind. I could faint, but I was quite sure that James would take sadistic pleasure in waving a burned feather under my nose if I did, and burned feathers are immensely unpleasant. No, fainting would not do. I could make up some story about Uncle having gone missing at the same time as Dame Carruthers and Generalissimo Reyes-Cardoza,
but Uncle was not mentioned in the note, and James and Jane might let it slip that they had seen him since. The other ideas were equally worthless. Instead, I decided to tell the truth ... of a sort.
"I'm sure my uncle Augustus will be with us shortly. He is currently searching the grounds," I said. Indeed, the hawthorn bushes at the entrance to the maze moved suspiciously, and I caught a glimpse of a formally attired leg disappearing behind them. I moved slightly to one side so that the inspector would have his back to the hawthorns in order to look at me.
"He's more'n likely in cahoots wiv them kidnappers, thet's wot I fink," said Sergeant Crumple.
The inspector stiffened and bent a look of disapproval on his junior officer. "You will keep such thoughts to yourself, Crumple."
"I think the intrepid Sergeant Crumple has come up with a most intriguing idea. Please do not reprimand the man for doing his duty, dear Inspector Higginbotham," Jane simpered as she fluttered her eyelashes at the superior officer and then at the junior. "Don't you think so, James?"
Both James and I stared in surprise at Jane's sally into the fray.
James seemed at a loss. His majestic brow furrowed in
that endearing way he has when he is puzzled. Even in my extremity, I could not help but notice his charms.
Inspector Higginbotham harrumphed a few times and muttered something about "dear Miss Sinclair" under his breath, but he was clearly pleased by Jane's attentions. Sergeant Crumple turned crimson and could only stare at his much worn shoes, which appeared to have been tied with packing twine.
"My darling sister, surely you jest," James said.
"Not in the slightest, dear brother." Jane continued, "You do mean, of course, that Miss Arbuthnot and her uncle staged the coming-out party entirely for the purpose of kidnapping Dame Carruthers and Generalissimo Reyes-Cardoza, did you not, Sergeant Crumple?"
James was more bewildered than ever. "But Dame Carruthers and Generalissimo Reyes-Cardoza were not even on the guest list. How could it have been
"My dear Miss Arbuthnot, it would help immeasurably if we could speak to your uncle. Not only is he your guardian, but we've been told that he is also the means by which the tent collapsed. Pray tell us where we might find him," said Inspector Higginbotham, his jowls swinging below his chins
with each syllable. If Uncle were a bullfrog, the inspector would surely be a bloodhound. Fittingly so, I might add.
I had visions of Uncle Augustus popping up from the petunias to capture a tasty morsel and became instantly certain that Inspector Higginbotham should not talk to my unfortunate relative. How could I explain such a circumstance? What would society have to say? Besides, I would not care to see Uncle Augustus hauled off to prison, or worse, to Bedlam, simply because he had a penchant for insects. 'Twould be most unfair and uncomfortable as well, for both Uncle and myself. I was having enough trouble trying to think of how to explain Uncle Augustus's condition to James and Jane, as I should have to once the detectives from Scotland Yard had gone. The two of them were already drawn to stare at said bushes and trees in bewilderment instead of paying attention to the interrogation, and besides, they had seen Uncle devour the insect on the note.
However, I could not betray him to the Yard. Several alternatives to producing Uncle to the detectives presented themselves to my mind. I could faint, but I was quite sure that James would take sadistic pleasure in waving a burned feather under my nose if I did, and burned feathers are immensely unpleasant. No, fainting would not do. I could make up some story about Uncle having gone missing at the same time as Dame Carruthers and Generalissimo Reyes-Cardoza,
but Uncle was not mentioned in the note, and James and Jane might let it slip that they had seen him since. The other ideas were equally worthless. Instead, I decided to tell the truth ... of a sort.
"I'm sure my uncle Augustus will be with us shortly. He is currently searching the grounds," I said. Indeed, the hawthorn bushes at the entrance to the maze moved suspiciously, and I caught a glimpse of a formally attired leg disappearing behind them. I moved slightly to one side so that the inspector would have his back to the hawthorns in order to look at me.
"He's more'n likely in cahoots wiv them kidnappers, thet's wot I fink," said Sergeant Crumple.
The inspector stiffened and bent a look of disapproval on his junior officer. "You will keep such thoughts to yourself, Crumple."
"I think the intrepid Sergeant Crumple has come up with a most intriguing idea. Please do not reprimand the man for doing his duty, dear Inspector Higginbotham," Jane simpered as she fluttered her eyelashes at the superior officer and then at the junior. "Don't you think so, James?"
Both James and I stared in surprise at Jane's sally into the fray.
James seemed at a loss. His majestic brow furrowed in
that endearing way he has when he is puzzled. Even in my extremity, I could not help but notice his charms.
Inspector Higginbotham harrumphed a few times and muttered something about "dear Miss Sinclair" under his breath, but he was clearly pleased by Jane's attentions. Sergeant Crumple turned crimson and could only stare at his much worn shoes, which appeared to have been tied with packing twine.
"My darling sister, surely you jest," James said.
"Not in the slightest, dear brother." Jane continued, "You do mean, of course, that Miss Arbuthnot and her uncle staged the coming-out party entirely for the purpose of kidnapping Dame Carruthers and Generalissimo Reyes-Cardoza, did you not, Sergeant Crumple?"
James was more bewildered than ever. "But Dame Carruthers and Generalissimo Reyes-Cardoza were not even on the guest list. How could it have been
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