The Mysterious Affair at Greenhampton
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A NOTE TO THE READER: Those familiar with my accounts of the cases of the great Belgian detective Henri Peugeot may find the frankness of this report somewhat shocking. I am attempting neither to sensationalize the case nor to titillate the public by the descriptions herein. I am only describing the events as they occurred at the time. Because of the sensitive nature of this affair, certain liberties taken by the authorities in the resolution of the case, matters of state secrecy involved, and, above all, the personal importance of some aspects of the business, it is necessary that publication of this account must wait for a future date, when all the active participants have passed from the scene. ----- MAJOR ALLEN BOSWORTH, D.S.O., M.C.
OF ALL the cases I shared with my remarkable Belgian friend Henri Peugeot, none began more bafflingly than the affair of the beautiful Ellsworth sisters. Though it has been some years, I hardly need consult the notes I made at the time to set down an account of this extraordinary case.
It was during the midsummer of 193_, a time when London was enjoying a period of delightfully fair weather. Various social calls had occupied me the previous day and evening, so I had slept late. When I came to breakfast, Peugeot had already finished his croissants and was examining the morning post while sipping the noxiously thick chocolate he loved so well.
“Are you sure you won’t have some eggs and sausages, Peugeot?” I asked. “Just the thing for starting an active day.”
Peugeot looked up from the letter he was carefully extracting from its envelope.
“To you I leave the activity, mon ami,” he replied. “Me, I do not venture out in the chill, but prefer instead the exercise of the grey matter.”
“But it’s such fine weather today!” I protested. “A vigourous walk or, better yet, nine holes of golf would do you a world of good.”
“Ah, you and your golf, Bosworth,” he sighed. “To you it is such an enjoyment to put a ball into such a small hole with tools that seem quite inappropriate to the task.”
“Well, we must be out for a time today,” I reminded him. “Inspector Sapp needs our statements in that Abercrombie business this morning. You hadn’t forgotten, had you?”
Peugeot looked up from his reading.
“Ah, mais oui. J’ai oublié complètement. And when is it that we must be at Scotland Yard?”
“We’re due at eleven o’clock,” I replied, checking my wristwatch, “which means that the car Sapp’s sending should arrive in a hour.”
Peugeot put down the letter he had been reading.
“That should be enough time, mon ami. Apparently, we will have visitors this morning.”
He reached for a letter he had put aside and pushed it across the table to me. It was in an obviously feminine hand.
Dear Monsieur Peugeot,
We are confronted with very trying and perilous circumstances, and since we have nowhere else to turn at present, we are very much in need of your services. You were, we believe, of great help to our friend Lady Lucy Wetherby a few months ago.
If convenient, Daphne and I shall call upon you on Saturday the 20th, at 9.30.
Julia Ellsworth
“It came by the last post yesterday,” Peugeot said.
“What do you think it means?” I asked, handing the note back to him.
“That I do not know,” he said slowly, stroking his moustaches thoughtfully. He turned to me and smiled. “But I think that a visit by two young ladies très charmantes would be greatly appreciated by you, my friend. Especially if one of them has the auburn hair.”
I gave a distinctly unamused snort as I reached for my teacup. Why Peugeot thinks I am so greatly swayed by auburn hair is a mystery I have never been able to solve.
My irritation was interrupted by the appearance of Miss Lime, Peugeot’s secretary, from her little office near the entrance to our rooms. She wore a new summer dress of light blue, which showed well her still youthful and attractive figure. Her dark hair was combed and curled rather too severely as usual, but it was beneath a smart white picture-type hat with a red band. The effect was quite attractive and charming. Letters for the outgoing post were in one gloved hand, which she was using to pull on the other glove.
“I’m off to the Post Office, Mister Peugeot,” she announced brightly. “These bills must go out, and we’re in need of stamps.”
“Your efficiency is second only to your delightful appearance this morning, Miss Lime,” Peugeot said with a little bow. “I find your new frock très chic.”
“Decidedly quite smashing,” I added.
I had always thought of Miss Lime as a rather attractive girl who went to great pains to hide it. But today, even though she was a few years past the age at which she could properly be called a girl, she flashed a smile of girlish pleasure at our remarks.
“How nice of both of you to say so. Oh, Mr. Peugeot, there was a call a few minutes ago from a Miss Ellsworth confirming her 9.30 appointment with you.”
“Quite so, Miss Lime,” nodded Peugeot. “Major Bosworth and I were just discussing it. We hope it will prove to be an interesting case.”
“Well, I’ll be off then,” she said. “I shan’t be too long.”
Miss Lime exited briskly. I finished my tea and rang for George to clear away. He had no sooner done so than the door buzzer sounded. I hastened to answer it.
Awaiting me were two very lovely young women, obviously sisters, both in the first blush of real womanhood. The older, whom I judged to be about twenty-two, was tall and slender, dark-haired and rosy-cheeked. Her younger sister was perhaps two years younger, blond-haired and fair skinned, and most attractively fuller of figure. They were dressed in well-cut suits (with skirts short enough to display very shapely legs, I must say), giving them the appearance of active, healthy country gentlewomen. Two pairs of luminous blue eyes looked eagerly to me.
“You must be Major Bosworth,” said the older girl, extending a hand to me. “I’m Julia Ellsworth, and this is my sister Daphne.”
“Oh, Major Bosworth!” Daphne gushed excitedly as she took my hand. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you! I do hope that you and Monsieur Peugeot can help us!”
She and Julia exchanged a glance then quickly turned away, as though suppressing the urge to burst into nervous giggles. I found their schoolgirl shyness very charming indeed.
“There’s no need to be nervous about meeting Peugeot and me,” I said, assuming my best avuncular manner.
“But he’s so famous!” exclaimed Daphne. “And your books about his cases are ---“
“What my sister means, Major,” Julia interrupted firmly, “is that our problem is a very delicate one. We need not only the best brain in England, but the greatest discretion as well.”
“Then you have come to the right man” Peugeot announced from the doorway into his study. He gave the little mock modest bow he employed on such occasions.
After another round of introductions, fervent hand shakings, and more gushing from Daphne, the girls entered the study and seated themselves on the sofa. While I poured tea for them, Peugeot engaged them in small talk about Lady Lucy, which led to more effusive outpourings of praise for his handling of the case.
“But tell me, mes petites, why have you come to Papa Peugeot?” he was finally able to ask. “Your note spoke of grave perils, though how such young and charming ladies could find themselves in danger I am at a loss to know.”
Julia and Daphne exchanged another look. Daphne nodded. They turned to Peugeot with serious expressions.
“You see, Monsieur Peugeot,” Julia began, “We have reason to believe we are in danger from completely unknown forces. In the past two months, several attempts have been made to kidnap us, both individually and together. We do not know whether these attempts are motivated by a desire to demand ransom or to do harm to us for reasons of which we know nothing.”
Peugeot, sitting behind his desk, leaned forward. He rested his elbows on the blotter and stroked his moustaches as he studied the two young women thoughtfully.
“These attempts to abduct you,” he said slowly. “You are certain that they were real and not just imagined?”
Julia Ellsworth bristled.
“I should say that we could hardly imagine being surprised and overpowered in our own beds, being bound, gagged, and blindfolded, and being taken from the estate and left helpless in our night-dresses, M Peugeot!” she said indignantly.
“Sacré tonnerre! You have my apologies,” Peugeot said hastily. “I had no idea of the seriousness. How and when did these attempts take place?”
Julia and Daphne looked at one another again. Daphne lowered her eyes and spoke first.
“The first attack was made upon me, Monsieur Peugeot, some two months ago. I believe the date was the 12th of May.”
Peugeot consulted his desk calendar.
“A Sunday,” he observed, taking out his tiny memorandum book. “And the circumstances?”
Daphne Ellsworth hesitated. Julia spoke.
“Daphne and I had been out with some friends in the afternoon. We had returned home at about eight o’clock in the evening with the intention of retiring early.”
“Pardon, mademoiselle,” Peugeot interjected, “but who else was in the house that evening?”
Julia’s expression softened a bit.
“And I must beg your pardon, Monsieur Peugeot. We seem to have begun our story in the middle. I should probably give you some background information on us and the other members of the household.”
“It would be of great help,” he said politely.
She explained that they were the daughters of Sir Garrick Ellsworth, of Ellsworth Manor in Greenhampton, who held a diplomatic post in the Foreign Office. They knew very little about his duties except that he travelled a good deal, often for long periods as he was doing now. His present trip abroad had lasted for more than three months, and was expected to last several more weeks.
Peugeot and I said nothing, but exchanged a glance of our own. The name of Sir Garrick was well known in higher circles of Military Intelligence.
The household at Ellsworth Manor consisted of Sir Garrick, the girls’ older brother Richard, presently serving abroad with the Royal Navy, the two daughters, aged 22 and 20 as I had guessed, and their stepmother, Lady Brenda Ellsworth. Julia explained further:
“Our mother died when we were very young. Poor Father was quite distraught over her loss, and we thought he would never remarry until he met our stepmother some six years ago.
“Mind you, gentlemen, though she is our stepmother, she is not even ten years older than I am. You probably know her as Brenda Alexander, the actress.”
I am afraid to say that I was unable to contain myself.
“Oh, I say!” I burst out.
Peugeot turned to me.
“You have something to add, Bosworth?”
“Nothing much,” I stammered. “It’s just that I’ve seen her in several plays over the last few years. She’s one of the loveliest women on the stage.”
Julia smiled at me.
“We quite agree with you, major.”
Daphne nodded.
“She appears less frequently in the theatre now, you understand,” she added. “She is quite devoted to Father, and a wonderful stepmother and friend to us.”
“And the other members of your staff?” asked Peugeot.
“We have a modest staff at the Manor,” Julia replied. “Randall, the butler; Mrs. Daily, the cook; Bell is footman and chauffeur when needed; Elizabeth, Brenda’s maid; Annie and Josephine, the housemaids, attend to us; and Sophie, the kitchen maid.”
“They are all of long service to the family?” inquired Peugeot.
“Randall and Mrs. Daily have been with us for many years. Elizabeth was our stepmother’s dresser in the theatre and came with her when she married Father. Josephine has been with us four years. Annie and Sophie are near our ages, and have both been with us about two years. Bell came a little over a year ago.”
“What about gardeners and outside staff, mademoiselle?”
“A man named Miller and his four sons take care of the gardens and stables for us, but they live in the village. Old Miller has worked for the Ellsworths for more than forty years and is known for his honesty.”
“So you trust your staff, Mademoiselle Julia?”
“They all seem quite reliable.”
We looked to Daphne for confirmation of this opinion. There was an uneasy expression on her face. She glanced at Julia and hesitated.
“You have a contrary opinion, Mademoiselle Daphne?”
Julia gave her sister a disapproving look, causing Daphne to hesitate again.
“I-I really have some doubts about Bell, M. Peugeot. He seems a wrong ‘un to me. Quite sneaky and sly, I think.”
“I’m sure you’re wrong about Bell, Daphne,” Julia said flatly. “Just because he’s not a choirboy doesn’t mean he’s a villain.”
“You just never see that look he gives me!” Daphne said warmly. “Or you, when your back’s turned. He’s familiar with the maids, too.”
“Does he have any unsavoury habits?” I asked. “Drinking or gambling or anything like that?”
“Randall has had to retrieve him from the local pub once or twice on his nights off,” Julia said rather dismissively. “If he places bets on horse races they aren’t excessive, as far as we know.”
Peugeot wrote briefly in his little book.
“But on the whole, you trust your staff. Eh, bien. Continuez.”
“Well, as I said,” Julia went on, “on the night of the first attack, we had planned to retire early. Brenda had been in London for a month doing some preparatory work on a play, but had returned for the weekend before rehearsals began the following week. She was in the sitting room when we returned home. We chatted about our day and her play for about an hour, then we all went to our rooms. I dressed for bed, then read for perhaps another hour before going to sleep.”
“And you, mademoiselle?” Peugeot asked Daphne.
“Oh, I’m not the reader that Julia is. I dressed for bed, then listened to some music on the radio for a while. It must have been a quarter to eleven by the time I turned off my light.”
“And then?”
“As you may recall,” continued Daphne, “May was quite warm. All of our bedrooms have French windows that lead to an upper storey of the terrace outside the dining room. As a lover of fresh air, I had left mine open.
“I have no idea what time it was when I was awakened, but it must have been quite late. I thought I heard something stirring in the room. As I started to rise, strong hands gripped me about the wrists, and another hand went over my mouth, preventing me from crying out. The bedclothes were thrown off me, and more hands took hold of my ankles. A wad of cloth was thrust into my mouth and bound in place by a scarf wound around my head and passed between my teeth. I was turned face down on the bed. My arms were pulled behind my back, and my wrists bound tightly with rope. More cords secured my legs at the ankles and knees. I was made to sit up, and more ropes were passed around my body, pinning my arms to my back and sides. Another scarf was used to blindfold me, and pieces of wide sticking-plaster were pressed over the gag.”
Daphne put a hand to her generous breast, shuddering at the memory.
“It was terrifying, Monsieur Peugeot!” she said, wide-eyed. “I was utterly helpless in the hands of unseen enemies I knew not! You can imagine my terror as I waited for their pleasure.”
Peugeot nodded sympathetically as he made another note.
“And then?”
“I was left on my bed for some few minutes. I struggled in my bonds for all I was worth, but it was no use. I was too well tied. Not long after, I was lifted from the bed and carried out through the French window, down the steps, and through the garden. We had nearly reached the lane leading to the Greenhampton-Millchester Road when they stopped. They must have heard some noise that alarmed them, for I was placed on the ground with my back against a small tree and bound to it with more rope. Then they... they...”
She lowered her eyes, unable to go on. Julia laid a hand on her arm.
“Go on, darling,” she said gently. “You must tell them.”
Daphne smiled tearfully but bravely at her sister.
“Yes. I suppose that I must.”
She turned back to Peugeot and me.
“They pulled down the shoulder straps of my night-dress to reveal my... my...”
Peugeot raised a hand in a gesture of discretion possible only for a French speaker.
“Je comprends, je comprends,” he murmured.
Daphne gathered herself for a moment then continued with great agitation.
“I struggled madly, madly you understand, for several hours, I think. I could not loosen a rope. Just before seven o’clock, I was found by Annie, who had begun searching for me when she discovered I was not in my room. She alerted Brenda and the rest of the house. Thank goodness it wasn’t Bell who found me!”
“You notified the police, of course,” said Peugeot.
The sisters looked at one another again.
“We did not, Monsieur Peugeot,” answered Julia. “There was the matter of embarrassment of the news getting out to consider, and, upon further reflection, we began to wonder if Daphne had not been the victim of some prank that had been intended for some other girl.”
“Prank!” I exclaimed. “What sort of prank is that?”
“It may sound rather absurd, major,” admitted Julia, “but with nothing stolen, no ransom note left in Daphne’s room and no one else in the house accosted, what could we think but that it was some sort of mistake?”
Peugeot was nodding thoughtfully.
“Peut-être, peut-être,” he said softly.
“But then there were other attempts,” said Daphne.
“Ah, oui. And when were they?”
Julia Ellsworth related a similar, though more straightforward, story. Two weeks after Daphne’s experience, Julia had also been surprised in her room during the night, overpowered, bound, gagged, and blindfolded, then carried out of the house and across the grounds, only to have her abduction interrupted as well. She had also been left bound to a tree with her night-dress pulled down to an immodest position. She had been found by two young women from the village taking a short-cut through the grounds on their way to their work as domestics at a neighbouring house.
“And the exact date of this attempt on you, Mademoiselle Julia?”
“It was the 28th of May, I believe. At least, it was the morning of the 28th when I was found, and the 27th when I went to bed.”
“Two weeks and one day later,” observed Peugeot with a glance at the calendar. “Monday night and Tuesday morning.”
Julia went on to describe a third incident which had occurred on the 9th of June involving both sisters. Julia had been passing her sister’s room at about eleven o’clock at night when she heard suspicious noises and scuffling inside. Opening the door, she had been confronted by four hooded figures in the act of binding an already gagged Daphne. Before she could turn to run or cry for help, another intruder seized her from behind, silencing her with a hand over her mouth. The intruder’s allies had come to her aid and overpowered Julia, trussing, gagging, and blindfolding her as well. Securely bound, the sisters had been held on Daphne’s bed while their captors held a whispered conference on the other side of the room. In the middle of their parley, they were further interrupted by the arrival of Annie, who was also overcome and made as helpless as her mistresses. Their conversation over, the intruders placed Annie in a chair and secured her there before removing the two sisters from the house. They were carried across the grounds to a waiting car and were driven some four miles from Ellsworth Manor. The car stopped, the girls were taken from it and bound to opposite sides of a tree in the yard of an inn run by a local widow and her daughters. When found by one of the daughters next morning, Julia and Daphne had concocted a story about being the victims of a prank played on them by girlfriends in order to prevent the police from being summoned.
“And you have no idea why this last, nearly successful abduction attempt was abandoned?” asked Peugeot, his green, cat-like eyes watching the girls closely.
“None, monsieur,” said Daphne. “Though we could not hear well, there seemed to be nothing that indicated pursuit.”
Peugeot nodded.
“We will leave that for now. I must say that you have been very fortunate that no harm has befallen you. I must ask why you have declined to call the police when you could not possibly believe that after three attacks upon you that this was a case of mistaken identity.”
Julia fidgeted a bit.
“We wanted to be certain that no ransom note had been left and that nothing was missing from the house. If abduction was not the motive, we might have been taken hostage incidental to a robbery and been released when the robbers’ escape was sure.”
“And what did you find?”
Daphne shook her head.
“Nothing at all had been taken.”
“And no ransom note had been left,” added Julia.
There was a pause as Peugeot stroked his moustaches.
“What does your stepmother say of all this?” I asked.
“Brenda returned to London on the 15th of May,” answered Julia. “For most of this time she knew of only the first attack upon Daphne, and thought, as we did, that it must have been some kind of misdirected prank. When she found out there had been others, she summoned us to London and advised us to put the problem to you, owing to your kindness and discretion in helping Lucy Wetherby.”
“She’s been appearing in Murder at the Manor in the West End for almost two months,” put in Daphne, her eyes shining with pride. “It closes tonight. Have you seen it?”
“Most regrettably, no,” Peugeot answered politely.
“You still haven’t gone to the police?” I asked.
The girls exchanged sheepish glances.
“You must think us very foolish, gentlemen,” said Daphne, her eyes lowered. “But something like this is utterly beyond our experience. It isn’t easy to know what to do.”
“Besides,” said Julia, “what would we tell the police? We’ve not been robbed or held for ransom. I suppose that being bound and gagged by intruders is technically assault, but we feel that the police would hardly take us seriously. And then there’s the embarrassment to Father and the family and to Brenda and her career, to say nothing of ourselves.”
“But surely by now the police must know something of what has happened,” said Peugeot, looking at them intently.
“It’s all over the village, as well as Grantonbury and Millchester as well,” Julia sighed. “There’s really nothing we can do but hold up our heads and dismiss everything as rumours.”
She looked at Peugeot gravely.
“We still hoped it might be some kind of a joke until last night.”
Peugeot leaned forward, his eyes gleaming soft green light like a cat’s.
“What happened last night?”
“We attended last evening’s performance of Murder at the Manor to see our stepmother. When we returned to our hotel, Mockridge’s, we found Josephine, who had accompanied us, locked in our room, dressed only in her underclothes on one of our beds, bound, gagged, and blindfolded exactly as we had been.”
Julia drew a slip of paper from her handbag and handed it to Peugeot.
“This was left on the dressing table.”
The little Belgian scanned it and passed it to me. The message was typewritten and unsigned.
Sorry we missed you tonight.
Peugeot rose from his desk, clasped his hands behind him and looked out the window.
“You have been in London long?” he asked.
“Exactly a week. Since Saturday the 13th.”
“Josephine was not harmed and nothing was stolen?”
“No,” Julia replied coolly . “But we cannot expect to be so lucky if these attacks continue.”
“Julia tries to be brave and defiant, Monsieur Peugeot, but I cannot go on much longer!” cried Daphne. “It is a terrifying to be bound and helpless before unknown assailants, unable to speak or even see what is about to happen! You must help us!”
I was greatly moved by the plight of these two lovely young creatures. But this tearful entreaty, so attractively delivered by the beautiful Daphne, brought an unexpected response from Peugeot.
He turned abruptly.
“Then why do you not consult the police, mademoiselle?” he thundered. “Why do you blunder about doing nothing in the face of such dangers? And why do you wait more than ten weeks before you consult me? Even the excellent grey matter of Peugeot must have some time to work! It may already be too late!”
Astonished as I was by this outburst of my friend, I reflexively reached for my handkerchief and turned to the Ellsworth sisters, ready to offer it to one of them. To my surprise, there was no sign of tears, only silent shock.
Julia rose.
“I can see that we have come to the wrong man, monsieur,” she said coldly. “Our friend led us to believe that you were kind and sympathetic, and willing to help young ladies in great distress. I see that we were sadly misinformed.”
Peugeot’s expression changed instantly. He smiled sympathetically and extended a hand to her.
“Calmez vous, calmez vous,” he said gently. “I ask your pardon, mesdemoiselles, but it was necessary for to discover what kind of young women you are before I decide on a course of action. Now that I am certain of your courage and resolve, I am satisfied to take your case.”
Great relief showed in the face of both girls.
“You will work on our behalf, then?” asked Daphne.
“I accept your commission to find the truth,” he replied, kissing their hands in turn.
At this point, the door buzzer interrupted our interview. I answered the door to find a rather dowdily attired, bespectacled young woman who introduced herself as Miss Galway. She explained that she was a friend of Miss Lime’s seeking some information about a mutual friend. She was disappointed when I told her that Miss Lime was out, since she was sure that Miss Lime should have been expecting her at this hour, and that she was unable to wait.
“Perhaps she left a note for me,” she suggested diffidently. “If you’d allow me to look.”
I showed her to Miss Lime’s desk and allowed her to look. From the other room I heard the Ellsworth sisters telling Peugeot that they were returning to Greenhampton the following morning on the 9.25 from Waterloo. Peugeot told them he would send Miss Lime to stay with them for the afternoon and evening, and would ask Chief Inspector Sapp for some police protection at their hotel.
“Open the door for no one else,” he cautioned them. “Miss Lime wears the fetching light blue dress and white hat today. Admit her or the police only.”
Miss Galway found no note and declined my suggestion to leave one for Miss Lime, saying that she would call again later. I showed her out. The Ellsworth sisters took their leave a few minutes later. I returned to Peugeot’s study to find him staring thoughtfully out the window. He turned to me.
“What do you think, mon vieux?” he asked.
“Damned strange business,” I replied. “What does it all mean? Are these kidnapping attempts for ransom, or is someone trying to gain a hold over Sir Garrick? Or perhaps Lady Ellsworth?”
“It is a puzzle, is it not?” he answered absently. “Are we sure that any of it is real?”
I pondered a moment.
“Well, there’s that note left behind. And two of their maids have also been attacked and bound. They couldn’t have imagined that.”
Peugeot nodded, turning back to the window.
“This affair will test the grey matter, to be sure,” he said. “Please leave a note for Miss Lime, instructing her to go to the young ladies’ hotel. Below I see that the car sent by le bon Sapp has arrived. We must go now.”
I scribbled a note and stuck it in Miss Lime’s typewriter as we departed for Scotland Yard.
| Chapter II |
Copyright © 2001 by Frank Knebel |