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

victim.
    â€œYou will pay me, or I will go to …”
    â€œYou may go to the Devil!”
    The Guv’nor grabbed Keeble’s wrist with a surprisingly strong grip, and threw him off. The other hand reached for Keeble’s throat. Keeble feebly tried to pull the man’s hands away, but the Guv’nor’s chokehold grew tighter. Only the actor’s stiff, old-fashioned collar saved his neck from being broken. In a reflex action, he brought up a knee to try to break away from the throttling. The Guv’nor grunted in pain and rage; the choking stopped.
    Keeble tried to dodge away, but the Guv’nor was upon him again. The two men struggled in the shadows cast by the electric lights. Keeble reeled forwards, bending the Guv’nor over the rails. Together they staggered back and forth, while the crowd shouted encouragement to the Jolly Jokers on the other side of the pier.
    With one last effort, driven by fear and rage, the Guv’nor turned Keeble around, lifted him by the tails of his frock coat, and heaved him over the rails. There was a cry, a splash, and a heavy thud. The waves lapped at the pier, daring those cast-iron struts to give way under the relentless pressure. For this night, at least, they did not.
    The man on the pier joined the rest of the merrymakers. He was breathing hard. This was the second accident he had seen in the space of twenty-four hours, and he had to keep telling himself it was not his fault. Keeble was still alive when he went over the side. He must have been, for he had cried out. The girl had cried out.…
    The Guv’nor took a deep breath. “It’s not my fault,” he repeated to himself. “It had to be done.” He straightened his hair, pulled his waistcoat down, and found his hat, which had been knocked off in the fight. He must get on with the business at hand, he told himself sternly, as he caressed his bowler hat, the symbol of his respectability. The Plan must be followed. Tonight he would go back to his lodgings; tomorrow he would go to London and see Marbury, and everything would be all right. To this end, he joined the crowd again, one more punter in Brighton.
    Somewhere below him, Keeble floated in on the tide.

CHAPTER 6
    Dr. Doyle appeared at the door of the Barclay house before breakfast, as promised. Mr. Dodgson and his hosts were still ingesting tea, kippers, and muffins when the young doctor was shown into the breakfast room by a flustered butler.
    â€œYou did say you wanted to take the earliest train to London,” Dr. Doyle explained. “I took the liberty of consulting my Bradshaw. There is a train at eight-forty-six. We can just catch it, and be in London in an hour. One of the miracles of modern transportation!”
    â€œWill you sit down and have some tea?” Mrs. Barclay asked, ever mindful of her duty as a hostess.
    â€œNo, thank you, I have had my breakfast. Mr. Dodgson, are you ready for this, sir? I can go myself …”
    Mr. Dodgson carefully wiped butter off his chin and set his napkin down. “Dr. Doyle, I am quite capable of finding my way to London. I have done it for more years than you are alive. However, since you have invited yourself on this expedition, I suppose we had best be off. Henry, I thank you for your hospitality. I will return as soon as I can, with Miss Marbury!” He glared at Dr. Doyle, who appeared totally oblivious to sarcasm. The butler handed Mr. Dodgson his hat at the door, while the scholar felt about him, mumbling to himself.
    â€œFare for the train, for the cab to Grosvenor Square, back to Victoria, back to Brighton.”
    â€œAre you quite ready, Mr. Dodgson?” Dr. Doyle asked sharply.
    â€œI keep my various monies in different pockets. It foils thieves.” Once more farewells were exchanged, and once more Mr. Dodgson headed for the door.
    â€œAnd one more thing …” he began. Dr. Doyle’s patience had worn thin.
    â€œI can see