The Problem of the Missing Miss by Roberta Rogow Read Free Book Online Page A

thing.”
    Dr. Doyle reached across the table and squeezed Touie’s hand. “I knew you would understand. You are the best wife in the world, and we are going to be very happy!”
    Together they smiled into a future that they were sure would lead to fame and fortune, either in medicine or literature, or both.
    Outside, on the Chain Pier, the crowds jostled each other in joyful camaraderie. Below the pier, the Jolly Jokers lined up for their performance, clad in mismatched checked and striped trousers and spotted shirts, topped with battered hats. The leader, Joker Jim, flourished his trumpet, while the others pranced about him, waiting for the signal to begin their well-rehearsed banter. The only problem was that the feed, the person who began the routine with a well-timed quip, was unaccountably absent.
    â€œWhere’s Keeble?” the trumpeter hissed.
    â€œDunno,” said the lanky fellow with the concertina. “Went off before tea, said ’e ’ad summat to do. ’Aven’t seen ’im since.”
    â€œI thought I saw him in the boozer,” piped up the youngest member of the troupe, a wiry youth with a mop of dark curls topped by an outrageous striped cap, who answered to the name of Bouncing Billy. “He was with some toff.”
    The trumpeter cursed. “Damn the old souse! Well, Billy, you’ll take his lines. The crowd’s picking up, and we’ve got to make our nut somehow. Here we go!”
    The trumpeter stepped out of the shadow of the pier and onto the pebbled beach, into the pool of light thrown down by the electric bulbs on the pier above him. His trumpet fanfare drew the audience, while the rest of the group cavorted to the gay strains of the concertina. No one noticed the two men at the very back of the pier, where only a railing separated the crowds from the tumbling surf below, and the lights cast deep shadows.
    Keeble, the old actor, had used his riches to fortify himself with gin. Now he faced “the Guv’nor” and breathed alcoholic courage into the other man’s face.
    â€œMiss Harmon employed me to abduct a child,” he wheezed. “Well, I did. However, I did not reckon on the child belonging to a Member of Parliament, and one related to the Marquis of Waltham at that. Ah yes, Guv’nor, I recognized the young lady for who and what she is, and ten pounds is not enough payment for that, Guv’nor. Not by a long chalk.”
    The other man tried to step backwards, but found himself braced at the railings that separated the pier from the lapping waves below. “You’ve been paid once. That was all that was agreed to.”
    â€œAh, but that was before I got a good look at you,” Keeble said with a boozy grin. “I have seen you before, Guv’nor, and under very different circumstances, with very different companions, on more than one occasion. You would not like your noble employer to be aware of your, um, secondary interests?”
    â€œIf this is an attempt to get more money from me—” The other man began to shift around. Keeble persisted. The two men were now leaning against the railings, while the water beneath them lapped at the exposed struts of the pier.
    â€œTen pounds? Did you think that I, Keeble, who trod the boards with Forrest, would be bought off with a mere ten pounds?” The old actor drew himself up with dignity bolstered by gin. “Oh, no, Guv’nor. You shall pay me ten pounds a week, until I say nay!”
    â€œI don’t have that kind of money!” The other man tried to get away from the insistent drunkard.
    Keeble grabbed at him. “Don’t you turn away from me!” One trembling hand closed around the man’s waistcoat, wrenching the top button from its moorings.
    â€œGet your filthy hands off me!” The Guv’nor seized Keeble’s fist. The actor clutched tighter at the natty waistcoat that matched the suit worn by his