StarDestroyer.Net BBS

This is the second story with Chief Inspector Danton, who is an agent for the Bureau of State Security in the Free Republic of Pendleton. This is another story set in the Lords of Ether universe, or as some of you know it the Pendleton universe. For the first Danton story see here

For those of you new to the Pendleton Stories you may find a Brief Introduction helpful.

For more stories by the same author see list here.

Chapter I A pair of streetsellers make a shocking discovery; Inspector Danton receives a telephone call in the night; Danton & Watson begins investigating the case.

Chapter II Inspector Danton & Watson go to General Morleys mansion to investigate; Danton makes several important discoveries, and queries the staff; a dangerous impasse imperils the case, is a solution possible?

Chapter III A Dreadful Confession!; Inspector Danton receives a mysterious phone call; Sergeant Tanner reveals a surprising secret; the truth of the matter is revealed.

Chapter IV Inspector Danton & Watson celebrate their success along with Sir Hubert, & Danton reveals how he solved the mystery.

Epilogue Justice is Done; General Morley leaves Pendleton.

Pendleton City
Pendleton
Erde
August 1005 NE

A Common Street
The Old Town

It was one of those oppressively warm late summer nights, the residents of the Old Town were in the main asleep now, but there were a few night ravens still wandering about; trying perhaps to catch the last rounds of the tram. In general though it was only women of ill repute, and the occasional passed out drunk - it was after all Saturday night-, that were still outside. The street was dark as the street lights were far apart. There were many irregularly shaped buildings with upper stories jutting into the street, casting long shadows that might hide a footpad or worse.

Walking down the street was a young woman, her features somewhat heavier than fashionable, with long curled dark hair. Behind her a young man with a family resemblance was pushing a simple wooden wheel barrow, inside of which a handful of old moshed fruit could still be seen in the bottom.

"Oy whazzat?" the girl suddenly cried as she pointed at something pressed against a wall.

"Iz chust a sleepin' dronk, lets go home Becca," the boy replied looking tired.

Yet some strange instinct made the girl move closer "he ain't breathin'," she said, and then she nudged him with a stick before letting out a howl of "EEEEES DEEEEED!"

Seconds later they could hear the sound of heavy boots against the cobblestones as a bobbie rounded the corner, his heavy uniform coat flapping around him like a banner in the wind as he rushed towards what sounded like a murder or worse.

Danton's bedroom
18 Wosmey Road

Brrrrinnng brrrrrinng Danton stirred, opening a heavy eyelid he peered at the night table, his alarm bell had not rung, but rather it was the telephone that was practically skipping about with excitement. Casting away all hope of a wrong number he sat up in the bed and picked it up "Chief Inspector Danton."

"You must come at once Chief Inspector!" came a rather agitated albeit tinny voice from the other end.

Danton sighed, mon dieu, why me? "it is polite to introduce oneself and say where I am supposed to come."

"It is I, Sir Humphrey Westingstoke, and it is an emergency. We've already sent a steamer for you, and it should be arriving shortly. I will tell you all about it when you arrive at the crime scene!" there was a momentary pause and then the voice added "oh yes Watson has already been informed"

"Good Sir Humphrey, I shall be there."

"Goodbye then Sir"

"Good bye," there was a click and then a low buzzing tone, in the distance he could almost make out the ghostlike voices of the telephone operators, but he hung up the phone and rose "ALBERT!" he roared summoning his manservant. After all, a gentleman had to be well dressed even in an emergency.

Beneath the sheets a second shape stirred, and a shapely feminine arm appeared, pulling down the sheets to reveal a rather fetching face. "What is it now then?" she said in petulant voice, as she pouted a bit too, her eyes slightly red from being woken up so early.

"Go back to bed mon cherie it is just official business," Danton said and smiled at her, though this did little to improve her mood. Moments later Albert came barging in wearing little more than a long nightshirt "Very good, there you are, come come I must get dressed."

"Yes Sir," Albert said as they immediately walked over to the morning room for an emergency grooming 'ere he ventured into the world.

"A gentlemans' moustache is most important," Danton commented as Albert removed the custom made hair net that protected Dantons moustache during the night.

"Indeed Sir and you have a most magnificent one," Albert replied even as he applied a tiny dash of wax to keep it properly polished.

A Common Street
The Old Town

It was an insufficiently refreshed Inspector Danton that stepped out of the steamer some two hundred feet from the scene of the crime. The scene was a classic one, there was the darkened street with the cobblestones slightly moist; a small crowd of locals standing at a respectful distance, among them a small coffee stall had been set up by an enterprising street merchant plying his trade to police and locals alike; the bobbies and Gendarmes keeping them at bay while a couple of detectives milled around; and of course the guest of honour: the dead man on the ground with chalk marking his outline and a couple of photographers firing off their magnesium flash powder.

It was with some relief that he noticed Watson, who was looking rather glum as he drank his coffee, "Good evening Watson," Danton called out as he walked over, his shoes and cane clacking against the cobblestones.

"Good evening Sir," Watson replied before emptying the cup "Sorry about that but I need the coffee just to stay awake, dragged me out of bed at a right ungodly time they did."

"Ah yes Watson, me too I fear," Danton replied, then he pointed at the corpse with his cane "can you tell me about this then?"

"Not much to tell right now, a couple of street merchants, boy and a girl," Watson indicated the pair with his hand "say they came down the street and found this body, girl cried out and that's when Constable Smith came running."

Danton nodded "Ah yes, well," he cast a glance at the boy and the girl.

They were a matching couple, their features much alike with slightly darker than usual complexion, both of them with curled dark hair. Studying them closer Watson could see that from the bottom of the boys coat there hung several knotted strings, and he wore a simple dark sixpence cap. The girl was dressed modestly enough, in a dress that almost brushed against the pavement, she had a heavy shawl, a bonnet, and a large apron of sorts. Both their clothes were taken good care of, but had clearly been patched and fixed many times. Their barrow was also heavily worn, but well maintained.

"Hmmmmm, yes, Watson there is something we're not being told," Danton said in a low voice "this appears like an ordinary murder, albeit it with some peculiar elements, and yet we were both roused from our sleep even though this appears like a case for the Gendarmes."

"Yes sir I thought about that," Watson admitted, he scratched his side burn a bit and blinked, trying to force the sleep from his eyes, "I suppose you want to see the body?"

"Indeed Watson, indeed," Danton said, they then walked over to the body, with Danton absentmindedly tapping the iron tracks of the tramway as he walked.

The body was of a young man, somewhere in his twenties, laying in a rather peculiar fashion on the pavement. He had dark brown hair, fair skin, parts of his face had been injured and there was a nasty gash in his forehead, but the face was recognisable enough. He was wearing a jacket, an untidy shirt, a pair of trousers, and a set of shoes, all of which were of excellent manufacture. Danton bent down and made a quick examination of the body, taking care to touch as little as possible.

As he rose up he motioned to Watson and whispered "Somebody's son Watson, somebody important." At that very moment a large luxurious cream coloured steamer drove up behind them, Danton stifled a smile "and here is Sir Hubert to tell us whose it is."

Indeed emerging from the steamer was Sir Hubert, still dressed in his immaculate white suit, the moment he saw Danton he began to move towards him, quickly and half swinging his silver tipped cane as he did.

"I apologise for the delay Sirs," Sir Hubert said, then he looked at the body and closed his eyes for a moment "Good heavens, it is him," he whispered "I had hoped it would not be but it is the son of General Maximilian Morley, Stephan Morley."

Danton raised an eyebrow "My, I have some vague recollection of him Sir Hubert, but ..."

"Several documents of great importance went missing from his fathers house, as did he, now he turns up dead," Sir Hubert added in a whispered tone "it is vital no one finds out about this that is why I asked you to handle it Chief Inspector. Fortunately Stephan Morley is important enough in his own right that your presence won't arouse any additional suspicion."

"It's going to rain Sir Hubert," Danton replied as he peered up at the sky "the body should be moved, I've learned as much as I can from it, but I did feel something tucked into his jacket in a most peculiar fashion."

"Papers?" Sir Hubert asked voice low but insistent "were they papers sir?"

"Yes, but for discretions sake... am I in charge of the investigation Sir Hubert?"

"Yes, you have full authority Sir," Sir Hubert handed him an piece of paper with an official seal "signed and stamped."

"Excellent Sir Hubert, now if you'll forgive me I must commence."

Sir Hubert tipped his hat again "of course Sir, I shall retire then, is there anything I can arrange for?"

"Not right now Sir Hubert, but I would be most obliged to you though if upon returning I would find a written account of this matter."

"I shall do that, but if there is nothing more I will depart Sir, too many cooks spoil the broth and all that," he turned around and walked back towards his steamer, not seeming too bothered about having turned a tricky case over to someone else.

As Sir Hubert left Danton turned to his partner "Watson, please arrange for the transport of the body to the coroners office, and please be sure that the coroner takes careful note of how and where the various items on his person were tucked away, indeed have them photograph the precise position of the papers when they are found."

"The papers Sir?" Watson asked seeming a bit nonplussed.

"Yes it is imperative that these details are recorded."

"I'll get right on it Sir, anything else?"

"Don't let anyone else look at those papers, eh Watson?"

Watson nodded, a smile crossed his lips "No Sir, I'll see to that."

While Watson arranged for the body to be moved into a hearse, to be taken to the coroners, Danton walked over to Constable Smith, who had been the first policeman on the scene. Smith appeared to be a hale and hearty man weighing maybe seventeen stone, slightly red in hue, all in all your stereotypical bobbie.

"Evenin' Sir," Constable Smith said as he touched the brim of his helmet.

"Constable Smith was it?" Danton asked politely.

"Yes Sir."

"What did you see?"

"Not much Sir, I was doing my patrols, nothing unusual to be seen, when all of a sudden I hear a right unholy cry and I rush over to see what it is Sir. So I spot these two," he motioned towards the boy and girl "standing by the body, and the girl holding a little stick, they says they figured he was drunk, but when they see he's dead she screamed out loud."

"and that's all Constable?"

"Yes Sir, Gods own truth I didn't see nothing else out of the ordinary, just regular folks, last round of the tram, had to chase of a drunken whore, but that's it Sir."

"This whore when was it?"

"About half an hour before the scream Sir, dainty little thing couldn't be more than fourteen-fifteen I figure, but can't have'em wanderin' around in a nice neighbourhood like this."

"No indeed not Constable, indeed not, and that is all?"

"Yes indeed, I keep a keen eye out Sir, some young coppers they might let a man go unnoticed if he dressed like a mail man or a chimney sweep, but not I Sir. I keep my eye out, crims offen like to dress up in disguise to scout out, so I don't let nothing slide by me." He sounded quite sincere but also a tad defensive, as if deep down he worried that somehow he had missed the crucial bit of evidence.

"Hmmmm, right... do you know the pair?"

"Seen'em every now and again Sir, they sometimes walk through here at night on the way home, never gave me trouble so I leave them be."

"Quite, quite," Danton said, seeing that Watson was coming up by his side.

"I've had the body loaded into the hearse Sir, was there anything else before I go to the coroners?" Watson asked.

"Thank you constable, I'll have to see your written report though," Danton noticed an exasperated sigh from the man, no one liked paperwork, but he had things to do so he turned to Watson "now then let us speak with the fruit sellers."

"Now what have we here," Watson asked in a gruff voice as they reached the boy and the girl.

The boy doffed his cap, and the girl curtsied a bit, the two of them studying the strangers before the girl oddly enough spoke up "We're de froot salespeepel, Rebecca Solomon and Isaac Solomon."

"Hmmmm," Danton began "what can you tell me then about this murder?" he asked both of them.

"We're walkin' home when we find a body, and I poke wi' a steek, den we see he's deed and I screem loud, den de policeman comes and tell us to vait, and ve've vaited since," she said in a simple voice before adding "plees Sir, ve've told all to the other gendarme, an' soon's we get our guinea we like to go home."

"Don't worry Ms Rebecca," Danton said as he made some quick notes in his book, "you will get your guinea, and we're not..."

"Hah," came a voice behind them, one of the bobbies commented "hebe's and their guineas," probably not meaning for it to be heard but the voice carried far.

Isaac suddenly looked angry, a glow came to his eye as he spoke up, "chust because ve're Joos doan mean ve doan have rights, and ve found a bodie and reported it, and den ve've supposed to get a guinea!"

"As I said you will get your reward," Danton began, referring of course to the one guinea reward that was given to the first person that reported a death by unnatural means, provided of course that they did not instigate it "but as I also said we are not Gendarmes."

Seeing their surprised looks he pulled out his badge with the ornate Shield and Sword design and the legend Bureau of State Security "I am Chief Inspector Antoine Danton, and this is Inspector Quentin Watson of the Bureau of State Security" Danton informed them.

The reaction was the usual, surprise, a bit of fear, and then a bit of awe "Yes Sir, ve saw nothing othah than vat we tell you," Rebecca Solomon explained."

"No one in the streets? Nothing at all?" Danton asked again, studying the two of them "come now wrack your minds."

"Ve saw one man running for de tram," Rebecca said finally "das all."

"Very well then," Danton said, he smiled and nodded "you'll have your payment right away and then you may be on your way."

As Danton and Watson walked away Danton stopped briefly to arrange for the two youth to receive their reward, and then he turned back to Watson "I think Watson that I have some clues, but ... you must at once return with the hearse to carry out my instructions with the body, while I conduct my investigation elsewhere."

"As you say Sir," Watson said.

Bleak Castle
Autopsy Room

The Autopsy room was cold and barren, there were many tables here with enamel surfaces and slight ridges leading to a hole with a plug in it, very suitable for draining blood and other things from a table. The floor was made from glazed bricks tightly packed in concrete, easily cleaned and there was a large floor drain for that purpose. The walls were in the main barren brick, aside from one which held multiple coolers into which bodies could be put. Over the whole place there was a smell of formaldehyde, carbolic acid, and decomposition.

Standing over young Stephan Morleys' body was the coroner, Dr Latham, a tired looking medical gentleman of a former generation; with his heavy leather apron, and enormous scalpel he looked like some mixture of a ships surgeon and a butcher, but of course appearances were deceiving for he was one of the finest forensic minds in Pendleton.

"What can you tell me doctor?" Watson asked impatiently.

Dr Latham looked up "Well one things for certain Mr Watson."

"What?"

"He's dead."

Watson sighed, Latham was not one for being harassed when he was working, and there was nothing to do except wait.

Moments later the doctor looked at the thermometer that he had jammed into the deceased's liver, he felt the arm once more "Dead four to five hours, beginning rigor mortis, and he was definitely upright immediately after his death."

"I say doctor standing upright? Are we dealing with a necromancer?"

"I shouldn't think so, there's no signs of etheric essences, or of unusual muscular mobility post mortem, so no he was not moving under his own power Mr Watson," Dr Latham commented "cause of death is this nasty gash in his head, cracked his skull, all the other injuries were inflicted post mortem, about an hour post mortem in fact."

"So in other words he was carried by someone," Watson said "and that means he wasn't killed where we found him, but dropped there."

"Perhaps, but that is your purview not mine Mr Watson."

"I'll need a written report Doctor."

"Of course Mr Watson, of course, you will have it by the morning have no fear."

Bleak Castle
SCI Danton's & SI Watsons' office

Watson was feeling quite fatigued as he put the finishing touches on the preliminary report, looking out the window he could see the moon peering down between the rain heavy clouds. Then with a sigh he returned to his work beneath the incandescent light.

"More tea Sir?" Morcerf asked as he returned with the metal coffee pot.

"Ah yes please Morcerf," Watson said as he held out his cup, as it was filled he mused "you know Morcerf twenty years ago I would have a valid excuse not to be here writing, but modernity has given us such blessings as the incandescent lightbulb."

"Yes Sir it's very funny," Morcerf agreed, "will there be anything else Sir?"

"Get some sleep."

"Thank you very much Sir," Morcerf said as he bowed and then pulled away.

For a moment Watson was strongly tempted to lay back in his chair and take a nap, but he knew he wouldn't wake up before morning if he did. Instead he concentrated on those aspects that Danton had considered most important, namely where every item of Stephan Morleys clothing had been, and how the documents, now safe in a locked drawer in Watsons desk, had been tucked into Morley's inside pocket.

Once more he leaned back trying to understand why this was so important, he was very tired but the solution seemed to be just outside his comprehension. Suddenly he smiled "Of course," he said out loud to no one in particular, then he closed his eyes for just a second, to reward himself for the clever conclusion.

What seemed to be moments later he started awake as he felt a hand on his shoulder, and heard a voice calling "wake up friend Watson."

"What?" he cried, then he looked out the window, the clouds were gone and the sun was shining, he felt rather more refreshed but still his eyes were quite bleary as he looked up at Danton "I must have fallen asleep Sir."

"Indeed you did Watson, and I let you sleep, you need to be on top of your game."

"I figured out why the position of those papers mattered so," Watson suddenly said, he took a sheaf of paper and shoved it into his own jacket showing how they had been in Morley's.

Danton nodded "Yes, I suspected as much, especially after my rather fruitful investigation last night."

"Indeed Sir?"

"Yes Watson, it was quite enlightening, but now we have an important visit," Danton turned towards the door "MORCERF!"

"Yes Master," Morcerf called as he came back into the room "I've prepared a light breakfast," he said rather unnecessarily as several thick slices of bacon, toast, and roasted eggs were present on the large plate he was carrying. "I've also ironed Sirs spare suit," he told Watson "and brewed some good strong tea."

"Well then," Watson said, feeling better at once "the day is starting to look up Sir."

"Indeed Watson, indeed," Danton said as he sat down to his own, rather more modest, breakfast which he ate slowly while studying the morning papers "and when you're done Watson we're paying a call to General Morley, it's time to take a look at the household".

Pendleton City
Pendleton
Erde
August 1005 NE

General Maximilian Morleys mansion
Kenselton

Kenselton was one of the finest neighbourhoods in Pendleton; once it had been a farming district owned by the Warrick family who though much reduced were still a rich and powerful family. The late Eugene Warrick had been a brilliant businessman in his youth, but in his old age, he had dissipated his wealth on gambling and loose women, selling large plots of land to finance his habits. As a strange apropos a decade before he died, he changed once more, finding religion, and the last remaining plot of land aside from his own mansion was converted into the famous Kenselton Cathedral.

Such historic facts were however not the main issue for Danton and Watson as they drove the hansom cab to General Morley's home. The road was unusually wide, four carriages could drive side by side here, and old maple trees shaded the wide elevated sidewalks. Yet you could not really get a feel for the place, in part because of the tall walls surrounding each mansion. Above the walls, they spotted the jutting turrets and mansard roofs of the mansions, and the odd tall tree, often oak or even blood oak, the red leaves contrasting against the green of the surroundings.

"What do you think Watson," Danton asked as he peered out the window.

"I think Sir, that if the walls of these houses could speak they would wail in shame and horror," Watson said in a dark voice as he spied the dark houses, and their walls.

"These are the homes of the greatest men of Pendleton."

"Yes and how many horrors and tragedies have not occurred behind those walls, covered up by wealth and influence, I've seen too much of that... I shudder when I look at those places."

Some of the walls were made of red brick or stone; others were simply thick hedges; but a few were surrounded only by tall, intricate, cast iron fences, where you could look for some feet into the garden before your view was blocked by trees. All of them had one thing in common; they kept those on the outside from looking in.

"No doubt you're right Watson, but that is neither here nor there, for I perceive that the cab is about to stop, and we have business at hand".

"Yes Sir that we do."

Danton tapped his cane against the roof of the cab "I say cabman, stop here," he cried. Obediently the hansom cab stopped by the sidewalk next to the iron gates leading into General Morley's estate.

"I dare say we could have taken the carriage all the way up to the mansion," Watson commented as the pair of them exited the cab, stepping down onto the elevated cobblestone pavement. He took a deep breath, smelling a scent of blooming flowers, and even the odd pale petal floating in the air.

"Well Watson, let us advance," Danton said as he walked towards the gate. The black cast iron wall was intensely ornate, elegant fleur de lys shaped decorations jutted slightly out, its leaves sharp and discouraging to climbers; and if one looked up you could see sharp points on the top of the fence, like ancient spears jutting up towards the sky.

Watson frowned a bit "it'd be a desperate burglar to climb that fence," he mused.

"Indeed Watson," Danton replied, then he tapped one of the jutting iron fleur de lys with his cane. There was a dull nasty sound, "Indeed," he repeated. They then walked over to the large iron gates leading into the mansion. By the side of the gate, there was a large lion's head knocker; Danton sounded this three times in short succession, firmly but not overly so.

Moments later, there was a soft sound, and an elderly servant in old-fashioned gilded liveries appeared. He bowed and then said "Greetings gentlemen," before looking at them expectantly.

"We are expected by your master," Danton announced "I am inspector Danton and this is inspector Watson, kindly let us enter."

"Yes Sir, of course." The doorkeeper said as he struggled with the old-fashioned lock, before it slowly swung open with the hint of a creak.

The road to the mansion was covered with gravel, which crunched beneath their shoes as they walked across it. Turning slightly Danton watched the massive iron gate slowly closing behind them, there was a loud CLANG as the lock snapped shut. Afterwards the gatekeeper bowed once more to the two gentlemen. Then he retreated to a small ivy covered brick guardhouse, almost invisible against the general greenery of the garden.

Danton walked slowly and deliberately towards the mansion, on the way he would occasionally stop to look at the trees, or the lawn, or even the gravel track itself. He did not seem to see what he was looking for, for he frowned a bit and then told Watson "there has to be a side exit."

"I suppose so Sir but..." Watson felt perplexed, once more, he was not quite following Danton's chain of thought.

"I shall explain later Watson, but now let us hurry for I suddenly perceive that time is of the essence," and thus without any further ado Danton began to walk towards the mansion in a very brisk pace.

The mansion itself deserves some mention, as it is rather curious in design. Construction had begun immediately after the Avonlean War; originally, the design had been a neo-classical one, but at some point, the design had been changed to a Gothic one. All that remained of the original neo-classical idea was a portico supporting a large balcony. The first floor of the building was elevated a few feet above ground level, so a wide set of stairs led up to the front door.

The building itself was three stories tall, in addition to however deep the ceiling went. The tall gothic style windows lining each story contrasted oddly with the small low lead glass windows in the elevated foundation, the ones providing light to the cellar. The ceiling had probably been an arched one at some point, to fit in with the Gothic motif; but it had been replaced by a mansard ceiling, presumably to gain more space for servants.

The door had another huge lion heads knocker; they were a very popular stylistic element in Pendleton. Watson walked up to it and sounded it a few times, the dull noise from the brass knocker felt shocking somehow in the silence that surrounded this place. Moments later the door slid silently open on well-oiled hinges, a young footman stood there in fine liveries complete with gold braid. "How may I help the gentlemen?" he asked in a slightly superior tone of voice.

"State Security Chief Inspector Danton," Danton announced as he offered up his card. The footman betrayed no emotion as it was accepted, nor when Watson offered up his own card.

"The master has instructed me that you are to be shown directly into the drawing room, if the Sirs would please follow me," the footman said as he opened the door fully, bowing slightly as the two detectives walked past him. After removing their hats and coats they were then promptly introduced into the Drawing room as the footman called "Master, Chief Inspector Danton and Inspector Watson," bowed and departed closing the door behind him.

The general was an impressive man, once upon a time, he had been an amateur athlete, and the impression of athletic vigour still clung to him. Yet he also appeared oddly gaunt, as if his face had been stretched across a skull, and dark bags appeared beneath his eyes. His white hair, though short, was in disarray, his uniform jacket was open, and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. The moment that he perceived his visitors his head swung up, and his piercing intense dark eyes surveyed the two detectives.

"So you are the gentlemen detectives from the Bureau?" he called out in a clear, but cold voice.

Danton bowed slightly "Yes General that is quite correct."

The gaunt old man bowed his head a bit, for a moment he fell silent "Well put your hats down gentlemen, sit down if you wish, and do what you must."

"General, I do believe that I have the proof that your son is innocent," Danton suddenly said, even as he placed his hat on a nearby table "but I shall need your most dedicated co-operation Sir, and that of your household, to catch the murderer."

"Yes..." General Morley visibly recovered "I have heard of your reputation Chief Inspector... it is most impressive," he was most calm, but the tension was visible beneath the exterior, like the ripples of an underground rock.

Watson had also put away his hat, and was carefully watching the scene, as Danton approached, and pulled out his notice book. "If you would please Sir tell me what occurred in your own words, I would be most obliged," Danton said as he sat down on a chair near the general.

"There'd been an awful quarrel, one of those silly things, you see my son..." the General stopped, after a moment he continued, "My son had fallen into bad company. I am sure you've heard this story a thousand times, I know that I have. He begun studying at Bambridge, very prestigious of course, not terribly clever I fear, and he spent most of his time wearing fluffy shirts, betting on the horses, partying, and otherwise being a damned fool, but... that is being a student."

"I was not too pleased about this of course, but I was not too worried either until suddenly his spending increased rather heavily. I found that he had fallen in with a rather rough crowd led by Allan Horton. Perhaps you've heard of him, the biggest rake in the whole of Bambridge, and an instigator of radical politics at that, he emancipated all of his slaves even the ones used for collateral for a loan; that was a major scandal and bad business too. Most of these radicals are often ascetic, but Horton fancies himself a nobleman radical, and though his family is barely gentry he's managed to pull off the charade so far."

Danton's eyebrow arched at the mention of Allan Horton, he nodded once as if to show that he recognised the name, and then looked at the general who continued his tale.

"He was far too clever to buy into the whole charade of radical abolition, but he rejoiced in his spending and the new clubs that he had found entrance into. He had begun going to Tawbridge's Coffee House, the so-called most fashionable hell in Pendleton, and there he gambled away considerable sums. Additionally he was part of those wild rampages that the young bloods engage in, rushing across the streets in their steamers and four horse carriages, seeing which is the fastest, and racing each other cross Pendleton Bridge. I spent hours covering these things up, and hundreds of pounds paying for damages and gambling debts."

"A few days ago we had an abominable row, one of those stupid things, we were sitting down to breakfast, and he asked me for a thousand pounds. A thousand pounds I cried, and he said yes sir, for he had suffered a bad run at the cards, and if he didn't get the money he could never show his face in any gambling establishment in town. In my anger, I cried that I should most certainly not extend any more money, not without his oath to never again set foot in such a place anyway. He was not pleased about this, refused to make any such oath, and then declared that he would raise the money by some other means."

"Yesterday I brought home some secret documents, it was an indiscretion on my part, but I decided I would read them at home, and that I could not be bothered to stay at the office an hour longer. When I returned home I began to regret my decision, and I immediately walked to my office, which is not my usual routine. After leaving the office, I encountered my son, who at once asked 'are you hiding something now then Sir?' I denied it, but he pressed the issue for some reason, and there was an exchange of heated words. This was when my niece, Theresa Morley, who also lives here, acted as a peacemaker."

"I didn't really think much more of the matter, except that I was definitely going ahead with my plan of getting him a commission in one of the new regiments; I thought that the experience of acting as a sub-altern would do him well, and take him away from the unhealthy air of the city. During the night, however I thought that I heard strange sounds, and even though the dogs did not bark, I decided to put on my dressing gown and go check. When I came to my office I found that the door was open, I rushed inside and saw an open window, the drapes were fluttering. As I rushed inside, I saw that the window had been tampered with, a piece cracked and it had been opened. Then to my horror I noticed that the safe was not properly closed, and peering inside of it I found that the documents were gone."

"I then went over to the window, but there was nothing to be seen outside, nothing at all. I went to the telephone and, ah, I think I woke up the Gendarme dispatcher, told them to raise an alarm, but I was gravely concerned. I then ran towards the side door, determined to investigate things myself, instead of waking the household, as their efforts would only muddle the evidence. Of course there was nothing there, except the dogs that rushed to my side, so I had trouble seeing how a stranger could have made it inside without them barking like mad."

"When I went back inside I encountered my niece who seemed most distraught, apparently she had checked on my son and found that he was no longer there. I sent for more servants, and had them search for him, crying out, but there was no sign of him. At the time, I did not know what to think, if he had taken the documents or if he was chasing after the thieves. There came some gendarmes in about ten minutes, but we declined to make a mess of the gardens, for who knows what evidence might be lost in a haphazard night time search."

"During the night my niece was pacing back and forth, quite distraught, and claimed that her female intuition was warning her that something terrible was happening. Though she kept saying that she was certain that he was alive, that he had to be alive, which I thought was rather queer at the time. Then when the news came from the detectives, I tried to keep the news from her, but she must have heard somehow, and when I came to her next I found her sobbing and quite out of it. I fear that she has not really recovered."

"After a while I received note of what documents had been found in my sons pocket, I have compared it against those which were missing I fear... I fear that several of the most compromising documents are still missing. They are of a most sensitive nature, regarding the Communist threat against our nation, but I am sure you already know this," the General said, his hands trembling slightly "Now then Sir, you said that you suspected that he was not guilty, that someone planted the documents upon him?"

"I suspect Sir that it is most likely, yet I have two questions, when the chaos broke out were all other members of the household, including the servants, present and accounted for?" Danton asked.

"Yes Sir, they most assuredly were, I had a roll call run, and I dare say my butler and housekeeper would notice if anyone was absent from their proper place," the general said.

"Thank you Sir, and secondly, your key, where do you keep it?" Danton asked.

"Right here, Chief Inspector" the General patted his breast pocket "night and day, it is always with me."

"Very good Sir, but before I can make a decisive statement I shall have to see three things, first your office from which the documents were stolen, and secondly the side door from which you can also leave the estate," Danton said quietly as he closed his notebook and tucked it into his jacket.

"Of course Sir, of course," the General said, he rose up from his chair and discretely buttoned up his shirt, "I shall show you myself."

"Most gracious Sir," Danton said as he rose up himself, letting the general lead them away from the drawing room and towards the office. On the way, the house seemed empty and silent, as if everyone was afraid to show themselves.

When they reached the office, the General pulled out his key and was about to unlock the door, when Danton called "One moment please Sir". Then he knelt down before the lock, pulling out a cotton swap and gently rubbing it against the opening, as he pulled it out again he smiled, and wrapped it up in a handkerchief. "My apologies Sir; if you would please open the door now."

Watson's eyebrow rose slightly, but he said nothing as the general turned the key and opened the door. The office appeared quite common actually, Danton and Watson walked inside taking great care not to disturb anything. Danton carefully studied the scene, looking at the open safe with the documents scattered around it, and then peering at the safe's keyhole. He sighed as he tapped his finger against it "See here Watson, scratches," and quite true, there were several deep scratches around the keyhole.

"So it was picked Sir?" Watson asked, suspecting the scratches were evidence of the cracksman's' lock picks.

Danton shook his head, "No Watson, quite the contrary, they had a key," he said. Then he walked towards the window, he bowed slightly examining the crack in the corner of the glass, and then he opened the window and peered down on the ground below. "Ah Watson, this is a dark business," he said as he closed the window "darker than I had feared."

"I say Sir," the General said sounding rather, "How do you draw such conclusions? My mansion is warded against scrying magics of all kinds, and yet you seem to draw conclusions out like the finest mage!"

"I am flattered Sir," Danton said as he bowed politely, "but I have no thaumaturgical talent. The keyhole of the office door had minute quantities of grease on it, the kind used to prevent scratches when you pick a lock. However the safe, there you have no grease, but several rather nasty scratches."

Danton tapped the engraved brass plate on the safe door "Francis Jaeger of Altdorf, an excellent but old safe, which a cunning cracksman could open in two or three hours, but..." He held up his index finger "behold how deep the scratches are, and how they are around the keyhole, as if someone took a sharp metal object and scratched it on purpose. Then behold that though there is a crack in the window the area outside the window is undisturbed, thus I conclude that no one ever climbed in or out of this window; no Sir the culprit walked in and out of that door," Danton said as he dramatically pointed at the only door into the office.

"Now then Sir, I realise that you wish an explanation, but I cannot give away the game as it were at this time, except to say it is imperative that I see the side exit at once, and the side gate leading out from it," Danton explained in a insistent tone of voice. "I assure you Sir that by the end of this day you will have your explanation."

"Very well," General Morley said, his voice was a bit gruff "then come here," he added as he walked out.

"I fear you upset him Sir," Watson whispered.

"Yes Watson, you are most likely correct."

The side door was a subdued thing; to get to it you had to take a short stair down. The door opened up to a depression in the ground, surrounded to the left and the right by a low brick wall, and another set of five steps brought you up to ground level.

At once Danton rushed up the stairs and carefully examined the ground, the path leading to the side door was covered in gravel, but nevertheless he seemed to find several tings of interest as he walked down it. When he reached the side door, a short somewhat ugly thing set in the cast iron wall, and leading into an alley between two mansions; he tapped a single cast iron fleur de lys by the side of the door, it was slightly bent.

"Yes!" Danton said, and then he walked back to the other two "I have seen what I need here, now Sir for the third item I need to see it is, ah, the household staff."

The elder Morley looked at him pensively, then finally he nodded "Of course you do Chief Inspector," he suddenly sounded more amenable as he added "I shall instruct Smithers at once."

At this, they all went back inside, and the elder Morley found the butler instructing him that the servants should line up in the hallway outside the library, and not depart from there until specifically told to do so. Aside from a humble protest from the cook that the current meal would be spoiled if he had to abandon it, there were no further arguments.

The library was a two-story one, made primarily in beech and cherry wood giving it a brighter appearance than much of the rest of the house. A single spiral staircase ran up to the second story, where a tall railing, and shades, partially obscured the bookcases lining the second story. More to the point, as far as Watson could see, there were two doors leading into the library on the ground floor, and a third on the second story; thus when they were done they could send the servants out the second door without letting the ones that had been questions speak with the ones that hadn't.

One by one the servants were shown in, most of them meek but not fearful, later Danton would remark that this was always a good sign. In most cases, Danton simply asked a few questions, and then he nodded and dismissed them, seeming a bit annoyed at times.

"None of them know anything of interesting, all of them firm asleep, no youngster that couldn't sleep and peered out the window, no old crone working throughout the night," Danton complained, "it's most annoying Watson."

"Yes Sir, bit odd too actually," Watson said, he scratched his head a bit.

Suddenly Danton perked up "No Watson! We are fools," he smiled as he made a note, then he showed it to Watson "Claim you need to leave on an errand of nature, then take a servant and have him show you to the second story door into the library. Be sure not to be seen. Then report back to me."

To his credit, Watson sounded perfectly sincere when he rose "If you'll excuse me Sir I've got a pressing errand, nature calls."

"Of course Watson, I can handle this for a few minutes," Danton called, sounding a little annoyed as he waved his hand dismissively.

After Watson left, Danton rose up and walked to the main door, "next please," he called out, and into the room walked a rather attractive woman. She was perhaps in her mid thirties, as the flesh ages, fair skin, blonde hair, deep blue eyes, features suggesting Avonlean descent. She had a pair of spectacles that hung around her neck from a light golden chain, and a small crucifix hung from another light golden chain. If not for the length of her skirt, about two inches shorter than what any free woman would wear, one might very well think that she was the lady of the house; for she had a noble bearing, and her clothes were of a fine cut.

"And you are Perkins the housekeeper, no?"

"Yes Sir," she said and curtsied politely, but Danton noticed that even when she bowed her head she was studying him through her long golden eyelashes; a feminine trick that often catches men off-guard.

"You are I take it a favoured servant?"

"Yes Sir, I am much honoured."

"Did you see anything that night?"

"No Sir, I was fast asleep."

"When did you realise something was happening?"

"When the general got up Sir, I ah, came to the scene just as he came back inside. He was comforting his niece, and then he told me to fetch some of the other servants to search for his son."

"Perkins, how do you feel about the household?"

"It's a happy one Sir, the master is most kind."

"Really? You like your position here?"

"Yes Sir, General Morley is the best master I've ever served under."

"Quite, so do you think that the younger Morley could have taken these documents?"

"No Sir, most assuredly not," she hesitated "If you will forgive my impudence Sir I should say that they were most alike in many ways, and neither one of them would be capable of betraying a confidence."

"What of freedom?"

Immediately her hand went up to her crucifix "I have been offered it, but I love his house and would not leave it."

"I see..." Danton leaned forward a bit "a slave has some indulgences a free woman cannot."

Perkins seemed quite uncomfortable; she clutched her crucifix "Yes Sir."

"What shoes were Miss Morley wearing that night?"

"Sir?" Perkins looked confused, she wet her lips a bit "her Bruxellois walking shoes, very nice leather shoes, she bought them on her trip there last year."

"Thank you Perkins," Danton smiled "only another women could answer that, you may go now."

It was maybe half an hour later when Danton ended his interrogations. Watson had come back a few minutes earlier, and now he was giving his report as to what he had seen. Danton listened intently, and towards the end of the story, he smiled "Very good! I have the solution to the mystery extra-ordinary, but..." he wagged his finger a bit and now he looked a bit worried "it is a dark business, and the last piece, that would make it perfect, is not yet in place."

"Sir? I think I can see where you are going, in part, but surely there is no evidence yet," Watson said in a questioning tone of voice "I mean what I told you is circumstantial..."

"Do not worry Watson," Danton said "we should see General Morley now, but the mystery is, at this end, quite resolved, and if it should come to trial it would stand up most perfectly, but" he held up his index finger "something tells me," he tapped his head "that this matter will never come to a magistrate or a jury, no... But just will no doubt be done nevertheless."

After this exchange, they once more approached the general, who was sitting in his drawing room, indulging in a fine cigar as he leaned back in an upholstered armchair. Peering through the whiffs of smoke the General studied the two of them, finally he spoke "please gentlemen, my apologies you are my guests after all," he held up the cigar "I pray you don't mind?"

"Not at all General, provided that you do not mind if we join you," Danton said politely, nodding a little.

"Of course, there are cigars in the humidor," Morley said "I hope you do not mind Sir if you must help yourself, for I'd rather not have company when we discuss the matter at hand."

"Of course not Sir," Danton said as he picked a cigar up from the silver humidor. He rubbed the cigar between his fingers and smelled it too. It was of course exquisite. He went through the whole ritual of cutting the end of the cigar and lighting it properly with the attendant lighter, all the while staying quite still while the general studied him.

"Sir please!" Morley finally said "indulge me!"

While Watson picked a cigar, simply biting the end off with his excellent teeth, Danton began to speak "Sir I have news, which is part good and part somewhat disturbing, I have the evidence conclusive that your son was quite innocent. He had poor judgement in friends, but he did not betray your confidence."

"That is good to hear Sir," Morley said "but how... and who?"

"Ah Sir, that is a matter somewhat peculiar, one of the culprits is identified most undeniably, but the other is merely suspect I fear..." Danton took a deep smoke, he tried to delay this, but from Morleys annoyed glance he could tell he had to bite in the sour apple and speak up "I need your indulgence."

"Another one Chief Inspector?"

"Yes Sir, another, but this is but a minor one, and it would quite possibly resolve the matter entire," even as Danton spoke he pulled out his fountain pen and began to write quickly on a piece of paper.

"How?"

"If Sir could," Danton began as he wrote, and then as he was done he folded the note "have this brought to your niece," before Morley could reply Danton added "I realise she is in grieving, but... I believe she is most curious about this matter, and that her reply to this note would do much to resolve the matter."

"Damn it man!" Morley said half rising, his patience was apparently wearing thin "why should I have this brought to her, whatever does Theresa have to do with this?"

"Sir," Danton began, he noticed that Watson, usually quite stolid, had also been alarmed by the generals outburst "there are two reasons," he began speaking very fast "first that she was eaves dropping on the interrogations in the library, and second that on the night of the murder she was wearing her Bruxellois walking shoes."

"What the Devil..." the Generals voice raised high, but then with a visible effort he lowered it "does her shoes have to..." but then through the anger dawning realisation came "Good heavens! The shoes..." He dropped back into his armchair, he almost dropped his cigar, but with a trembling hand he placed it in the ashtray "how do you know this?"

"Perkins observed the shoes Sir."

"Yes she would... always an eye for other women's clothing..." Morley muttered, "Send your note, but so God help me if you are wrong there will be consequences of a most ... vigorous sort."

"I understand Sir, I understand most perfectly, but now..." Danton walked to a pull cord "with your indulgence." The General just nodded, and Danton pulled the cord, handing the letter over to the footman and instructing him to, without fail, deliver the letter to Ms Morley.

After the footman had left, Danton spoke up once more "Now Sir, I should say that in the main the case will be solved in the evening, and hopefully resolved entirely within a couple of days, at most."

An oppressive silence greeted that remark, as General Morley sat very quiet, his left hand covering his mouth, and in his right he held his smouldering cigar. Watson's keen eyes darted from his superior to the general, even as he placed the large Southern Island cigar in the corner of his mouth, moving it about a bit, as he pondered what was happening.

Damit, Holmes, how does it end?

Pendleton City
Pendleton
Erde
August 1005 NE

General Maximilian Morleys mansion
Kenselton

The drawing room was quite silent; all two of the men were sitting in one of the red leather armchairs, whiffs of cigar smoke drifting up towards the ceiling as an oppressive silence filled the room. Danton had pulled aside the curtains to one of the windows, and now he stood there, silent, looking at the road.

Then after what seemed an eternity the main door into the drawing room was pushed open, and in strode a young lady; in normal circumstances, she would have been most fetching, she had the beauty of a delicately reared woman, but with a hint of fire behind her cool eyes. Now however she appeared haggard, her eyes were red from crying, and her long dark brown hair was in disarray, strains of it standing out in every direction like a halo, or more irreverently like a hedgehog.

There was a certain wildness to her glance as she turned it from man to man, finally she haughtily cast her hair back "Yes Mr. Danton, it is true, it is all true! But that is all that I will say about it!" she cried out in a loud clear voice, with every bit of the determination of the martyr.

There was shocked silence for a moment you could hear a pin drop.

"Whatever do you mean Theresa?!" Morley cried as he leapt up from his chair, his lit cigar still in his hand "If you have somehow been tricked into this matter this is the time to speak up and clear your name."

"It is ever about clearing the good name isn't it!" Theresa Morley shot back "Never about justice!"

"What is this radical nonsense?" Morley cried, "Would you sacrifice... would you give up your own cousin on the altar of abolitionism and radicalism?"

"I..." Theresa said, and then she stopped, the tears were welling up again "I know that it was all some horrible coincidence, but..." she now stood mute.

"This is outrageous!" Morley began, only keeping his temper with the greatest of effort.

"Madam, Sir," Danton began "far be it from me to interfere in the affairs of the family, but pray that you both grant me..."

"Another grant! You've had far too many of those Sir!" Morley burst out, then turning to Theresa "and you..." he stood silent as she was, "have I been stabbed in the back by my own family?" He turned from her angrily and stomped up to the window, and there was a horrid silence that filled the room, broken only by the lock ticking of a pendulum clock, each tick tensing already highly wound nerves.

Suddenly there was a sound at the door, every eye turned towards the door, but it was not Theresa, just a servant. He bowed to them, "Gentlemen, Madam, there is a telephone for Chief Inspector Danton a Sergeant Tanner says it is most urgent."

Danton spoke up at once "This is most fortuitous, with your permission Sir I should like to answer this call."

"Of course, the telephone is in my office," the General hesitated for a moment, then he turned around and added, in a cold voice, "I will show you Chief Inspector."

Watson stalked after the pair, his cigar moving uneasily in the corner of his mouth; just before he left the room, he put it out in a crystal ashtray, out of deference for the more delicate members of the household, he felt a bit embarrassed that he had forgotten but the violence of her arrival had flustered him.

Theresa however made no intention of leaving the drawing room she stood peering out of the window with her arms akimbo.

They walked to the office in total silence, even the mess of the office, and the way that the cardboard patch on the window let in cool air, seemed oddly appropriate.

Danton looked at the telephone and then picked up the receiver "Sergeant Tanner?" a pause "I see, are you quite certain?" another longer pause "Most excellent Sergeant, one moment please," he looked at the two other men "General would you mind if another guest were to come here?"

"Not if he can help resolve the case Chief Inspector," General Morley replied.

"Most excellent, then please come at once," Danton spoke into the telephone, then he nodded a couple of times "yes that would be good," before he hung up "gentlemen, ah, the case is now as you say it, entirely solved, it is merely a matter of clearing up some loose ends."

The Generals jaw clenched, clearly his patience was wearing thin, but, once more, he suppressed the burning fire inside and waited.

"If we could please retreat to the drawing room once more Sir, then I shall, I promise Sir, upon the arrival of the Sergeant, explain everything about this case," Danton said in a soothing tone of voice. "And if I may add Sir," he continued, "I promised that I should have this case resolved by the end of the day, and I never break a promise."

"As you wish Sir," Morley said.

They walked back to the drawing room and found that Theresa still stood there, apparently not having moved one inch since they departed, nor did she speak up when they entered. The whole party stood very silent now, the smell of tobacco still clung to the air, and the dark masculine nature of the room now seemed almost oppressive.

'Twas but a few moments later that the butler returned with a visiting card on a silver tray, the card read simply "Security Sergeant John Tanner". With a look of exasperation, Morley dropped the card onto the table, "So Sergeants come in the front door now?" He asked in a sardonic tone of voice.

"Sir, I should say that the custom," Watson began; he was always a tad sensitive of such things due to having risen up from the ranks.

It was customary that Plain Clothes would enter through the front door, regardless of their rank, unlike their uniformed comrades, where other ranks entered through the back door unless the matter was most urgent.

Morley just nodded "Yes, yes, the custom Inspector, the custom," he turned to the servant "by all means show the man inside, let us end this matter." His voice sounded tired more than anything.

"Very good Sir," the Butler said as he bowed again, and then left, glad to be out of that room.

Moments later Sergeant John Tanner came into the room, he was holding his bowler hat as he walked in, his attire resembled that of an office clerk, but there was an unmistakable air of the lawman about him. He was a huge man, the very stereotype of the rough and tough bobby; weighing maybe eighteen stone, with a pugilists nose, and enormous handlebar moustache and sideburns. "Gentlemen, Ma'am" he said as he looked about the room and nodded politely, his voice deep, but not at all unpleasant.

"So what news do you bring Sergeant?" Morley asked at once.

The Sergeant first eyed his superior, and, seeing a tiny nod of approval, he announced "Sir we have arrested Allan Horton, and we have found in his possession the stolen documents."

For the first time Theresa showed emotion, she turned around with a shocked, and pained, expression on her face. Then she spoke "they have arrested him?"

"Yes Ma'am, awful business, got him as he was about to board the airship for Bruxelles. Bit of a ruckus at first, but when one of the lads clasped a pistol to his head he calmed down." Sergeant Tanner explained in his calm matter of fact tone of voice.

"Goodness no!" Theresa cried, "Is this when you tell me that you already know everything, and that I should just talk?" she said as she cast a cold as ice glance at Danton.

"No doubt Madame you have been informed of such tactics," Danton begun "but I am not one for using them; however Sergeant was there something else?"

"Ah right," Sergeant Tanner continued "yes as I said he was right upset when they arrested his missus, but..."

"His what?" Theresa called out, her eyes round "No! You lie! There is some mistake! He is not married, I know it!"

"Well Ma'am, beggin' your pardon, but my mother always said not to lie," Sgt Tanner said in his slightly naïve down to Earth tone of voice, indeed the idea that he might lie seemed quite preposterous "and I just happened to..." Now he began rummaging in his big wide pockets, pulling out a handful of documents and going through them. "See I was told that I should bring over all the documents, and I didn't right know which ones were important so..." he held out one "Right here we are, one marriage certificate between Lady Susanne deBray and a Mr Allan Horton, right here..."

"SUZETTE!" Theresa cried out, as if some dark suspicion had been confirmed, her face contorted in anger in a most unladylike fashion "The HARLOT! The WHOREMONGER! The VILLAIN claimed he loved me! He said ... he said she was just a comrade in arms! AAAAH!" she grabbed a crystal ashtray and threw it as hard as she might against the window, so that both of them shattered in a shower of twinkling glass "THE BASTARD!"

"Well Ma'am, that's why they had to marry recon," Sergeant Tanner explained in his, by now annoyingly, calm and down to earth voice "See the young lady claimed her belly when..."

"HER BELLY?" Theresa grabbed a letter opener; she held it as a dagger as she roared "LET ME AT HER! I'll tear that whore child right out of her womb!" There was a wild and savage expression to her face one that utterly shocked the elder Morley and the men too.

Danton swiftly moved to her side "Madam, please there is no need for this," he said as he quickly removed the letter opener "but I fear that Milady deBray will go away scot-free, after all there is no evidence against her..."

"No evidence!?" Theresa said, her eyes flared "Oh let me tell you! She's as guilty as anyone else, just let me tell you!" Which she did, at some length, indeed Lady Susanne deBray had been surprisingly deeply embroiled in the operations of the group. Indeed, though she often ranted and cried during her speech, she gave a wealth of names, places, and even operations, to the Bureau men who were eagerly scribbling it all down.

General Morley didn't speak at all, he just walked to the window and stood there, utterly silent, like some statue hewn from granite rock.

It was not until some ten minutes later that Danton finally offered "Perhaps Madam Morley should rest for a moment, a more suitable location" but he stopped "My general, with your permission, may we move her to the parlour?"

"Take her wherever you want..." Morley replied, his voice sounded empty, utterly without feeling or care.

Danton turned very discretely to his partner "Watson," he said, "take Miss Morley to the parlour now, jot down whatever she says, and you too Sergeant." The two of them nodded on reply, realising that speaking aloud would not be good right now.

After the pair had left General Morley finally spoke up again, but he kept looking out the window, "You said Sir, that you would explain all of this, the case, before the end of the day, so tell me... tell me now, according to your brilliant deductions what occurred." There was a bitterness to his question, but it was most empathically an order and a not a request.

"Are you certain Sir that you wish to hear this now?" Danton asked nevertheless.

Morley turned around, facing Danton, "Yes, I am quite certain," he said calmly, "tell me now, exactly what happened, all of it, so I can decide what to do further."

"Very well Sir, as you wish," Danton said, "I shall tell you what happened, and how I reached this conclusion, so that you may see that my argument it is unassailable."

"In the night, just after everyone in the household had gone to bed, the thief and his accomplice struck. For the thief was an outsider, but he was admitted inside by someone within the building, someone who kept the dogs quiet. They walked up inside the house, through the door, they came to the office door, it had already been greased, and they opened it. Only one of them went inside, the outsider, and he, for it was a man I am sure of it, goes inside to open the safe. The other waits outside to stand guard."

"He has a key, but he needs to hide that fact, so from his pocket he pulls a pocket knife and he scratches the surface of the safe. This is not enough, so after taking the documents, he wants, and scattering others about the office, he looks to the window. Here is a chance to muddy the waters yet further, he takes his knife and he pushes it against a corner of the glass, cracking it out."

"Now he comes out again, he meets his accomplice again, they hurry back towards the door, and now... ah yes here they stand at the door and now perhaps they wait, but at any rate your son sees them. He is taken with surprise, he is wandering about in his slippers, then he puts on his shoes without having time to put on his socks, and he grabs a jacket and rushes outside. He catches up with the outsider just by that gate, that small gate leading into the alley, and there's a scuffle; and now your son is thrown towards the fence, and his head it strikes the fleur de lys of the cast iron fence."

"So now what? The outsider he is shocked, most likely his accomplice would not in any way approve of this, and so he picks up the younger Morley and carries him away. Pretending to be supporting a drunkard, it is not hard to do so for it is Saturday evening and drunken gentlemen are hardly an uncommon sight. So this then seems to him a prudent course..."

"Where on Erde could he go? Ah yes, he has a hidden lair nearby, and so he must to meet with his accomplice, so he goes there. He is panicking, he is nervous, but he manages to get inside without being seen... no doubt he picked this particular building for that virtue, ease of coming and going without being seen. He sets the body down in a chair, he checks the throat and the brow, and he finds they are cold. Now he sits down, for a long time he sits, and he is most nervous, what to do? No doubt he wonders why he took the body here, cursing himself for being all kinds of a fool, but..."

"Ah yes, suddenly a solution offers itself, one which is brilliant, the tram. See it is already dark, and the street not all that well lit, and beneath his window is a spot where the tram must stop for a moment before it moves on. Deliverance! Yet wait! If the body is found soon questions are asked, so what now? Yes, he takes some of the less important papers, the one he can afford to lose, for he grabbed everything he saw, and he tucks the papers into the deceased's jacket. No doubt he hopes that Stephan Morley will be blamed for the theft."

"He waits for the last tram of the day, then when it slows down and stops he lowers the body onto the ceiling, and the tram departs carrying its grizzly burden. If any inside of it heard something, they no doubt think that it was a branch tapping the ceiling. So it travels until it reaches the Old Town, and there in one of the sharp turns the body is thrown off and lands upon the street. Moments later it is found by a pair of street sellers, brother and sister, who let out a scream and then the police arrive."

For the first time in the story General Morley interrupted "By he, the culprit, you mean Allan Morton yes?"

"Yes Sir."

"And by accomplice Sir... you mean Theresa?"

"Yes Sir, most regrettably but the evidence, and her own statements, offers no other explanation."

"This fiend Sir, this fiend, he corrupted her, he killed my son and corrupted by niece," Morley's jaw set firmly, "there is not enough devils in hell to give him what he deserves."

"If you forgive me Sir, I believe Hell is enough to punish far greater sinners, and if he must be suspended to his neck in ice... before too long he'll stand before a greater judge than any that our Republic can offer."

"Yes... that he will, that he will," Morley said slowly and calmly as he once more turned towards the window "Forgive me Sir, but once you are done speaking to my niece I should appreciate it if you refrain from making any public note of her involvement."

"I see Sir, in this at least I can be of some assistance," Danton agreed easily enough, it was after all nearly inconceivable to actually arrest her.

Bleak Castle
SCI Danton's & SI Watsons' office

The next day

"Gentlemen I come bearing gifts!" Sir Hubert exclaimed as he walked into the office, beaming at the two somewhat haggard detectives who were finishing their official reports.

Watson put down his fountain pen, obviously glad for any excuse to end his labour, "Gifts you say?"

"Indeed, champagne, Chateau de Champignac Sec 984," Sir Hubert said as he motioned his hand, Morcerf entered holding a large silver champagne cooler filled with ice and a bottle of champagne.

"An excellent vintage Sir," Danton announced as he rose up, "Over here," he announced to Morcerf, pointing at one of the rare empty spots on his desk.

After Morcerf had put down the cooler, and just as quickly brought in Champagne flutes for the three gentlemen, Sir Hubert picked up the bottle "if I may?"

"Of course, you bring the Champagne Sir, you may indeed open it!" Danton said a smile on his face.

Sir Hubert carefully opened the bottle, the cork came out with a soft whisper as it is supposed to, and he then handed it over to Morcerf. After Morcerf had filled up the Champagne Flutes, and they had all toasted each other's health, Sir Hubert suddenly mused, "You know Chief Inspector, I've always ah, admired your deductions, but I must say I'm not quite certain how you reached your conclusions in this case."

"Well," Danton sipped the champagne, the taste was somewhat sweeter than he preferred, but not odiously so. "I should be delighted," he said, "I admit Sir that I am hardly disinclined to elaborate on my art... Ah, but where to begin...".

"Why not at the beginning Sir?" Watson chimed in "As I for one am not quite certain how you managed to go from the finds at the crime scene to finding Horton's hideaway!"

Danton held up the glass and watched the bubbles ascend in neat vertical lines through the light amber champagne "Ah yes the beginning, well Gentlemen... lets see now."

"You all know the circumstances around my summoning, like you Watson I am called by Sir Hubert here, who is in a mood most upset summoning us to duty. Already I know that the matter is most grave and serious, I know that someone of importance, someone connected to state security, and probably connected to the fight against Communism, has been found dead."

Sir Hubert looked up "Already you knew this?" he said, sounding astounded, not noticing Watson's forbearing smile.

"Perhaps Sir you think me a braggart," Danton said calmly "but it was a simple enough calculation once I thought it over, that it was important I knew for I was woken up at night. Without false modesty I am considered one of the finest agents of our Bureau, and so for me to be summoned in the night... it is a matter of the greatest importance. Sir Hubert summoned us, aha, a matter so important that he is frantic, ah yes, obviously a matter connected to the security of the state, and since it is Sir Hubert whose interests go into Communism, well..."

"Yes I see, sounds so simple," Sir Hubert said.

"Alas Sir, everything sounds, and looks simple when you know how it was done," Danton said, concealing the annoyance he always felt when people failed to realise the difficulties involved in his craft.

"I will continue, the first thing I see on the scene is the body being examined, and I speak to Watson who points out to me the street sellers and the constable. Now I walk over to the body, and what do I see? It lies there in a most awkward and peculiar pose, I am tapping the tramline as I walk, and an idea begins to form in my mind. Sir Hubert comes, and there is an interlude with him, and now that I know about the documents, aaaaah, matters begin to clear up."

"Already?" Sir Hubert burst out.

"Yes Sir, already, for the place and the way the body lay, combined with the sharp turn that the tramway made just there, it left but one conclusion! Someone had placed the dead body on top of the tramcar, and when it came to the sharp turn... off it went! So I know this, and therefore I think that since there is no sign of the robbery, ah yes, someone has murdered this poor man and is trying to frame him."

"You may ask why I think he is framed. Well I am not entirely certain at that time, but I suspect it for one reason; he has no socks on! If he were an accomplice, slain outside the home of his father after stealing documents, why wouldn't he be properly dressed? Yet I know the danger of making theory without evidence, so I tell Watson to account for any papers found, and how they were placed."

"Then I question the constable and the street sellers, just to rule anything out. The constable is a reliable type, a solid beat cop to use the vulgar term, and his testimony is of little importance here. The street sellers, they were an interesting study, but otherwise of no import here. My one consideration was if they had carried the body in their wheelbarrow, rather unlikely but... I could quickly rule this out; they were neither murderers nor thieves."

"Bearing in mind my theory I now rush to the end station, and there I rouse the station caretaker who is preparing to sleep. With a couple of gendarmes, I spend half an hour scrambling on the tops of tramcars, but then we find it! Yes, the marks of the blood, and the scratches in the soot that accumulates on any ceilings in this city. Our only issue now is backtracking; checking the books we find which route that this tramcar had serviced, so I requisition one of the tram drivers, and we walk down the length of the route."

"We find many spots where the tram must stop, but only at a handful of them can the body be lowered onto the tramcar, and then I find that one of them is within easy walking distance of General Maximilian Morley's office. Logically then this is the most likely spot, and so a friendly judge is roused from his slumber, and a search warrant is issued."

"I go to the room we pick the lock very carefully, and we go inside, what do we find? Not much, a large bed, a few books of a radical nature, some brandy, some feminine garments, and most empathically a slightly soiled chair; Thus we know that in this chair a dead body had lain! We also dust for fingerprints, and here we find a handful, but we cannot trust that the culprit has been arrested before."

"The caretaker is roused from his sleep, and he gives a most detailed description of his lodger. The name of the tenant is of course 'John Smith', an obvious forgery. Now we know more, but very interestingly we find that from time to time there has been feminine company, not entirely inexplicable since the caretaker said, and I quote 'I assume 'e's sum toff wot was bangin' 'e's fancy wimmin 'ere.' Which were a most obvious explanation, but in his defence I think some of these women were revolutionaries swayed to the cause by his persuasiveness."

"Now then a handsome young man, a womanizer, a radical, and all in the social circle of young Morley? Even before I asked General Morley about his son's acquaintances, I had some idea that our culprit was Allan Horton, and that he would try to flee very soon. We watch the harbours and the aerodromes, but what if he is not captured? Seeing that he has a file I study it, the list of accomplices, and I make a plan... it is perhaps a bit of a gamble, but I think it likely that his accomplice in the house will be a woman."

"Then, after a few moments of sleep, I wake up Watson who can tell me that only some of the papers were accounted for, and that they looked like they had been stuffed into young Morley's jacket. Eureka! It was now absolutely clear that he was being framed."

"I must confess I fail to follow your reasoning here Sir," Sir Hubert said, looking quizzically at Danton.

"The socks were gone Sir Hubert this shows that he had put in shoes on in rather a hurry, if you know you are meeting someone you do not do so in bare feet! So whatever happened he was not planning on seeing someone, or on leaving the house, and so... he was in a hurry, and was surprised by something. Combine that with someone tucking documents into his shirt... seeking to send attention his way, well, if he were really an accomplice would you want to draw attention to him in this fashion? Think it over, what would you gain from pointing out the obvious, that Stephan Morley was engaged in theft of documents? Immediately everyone would examine him, and his contacts, and his doings, and surely they would lead perilously close to you! No Sir, this action only makes sense if he was not an accomplice."

"That is..." Sir Hubert blinked, "Why that is true, no Pendleton gentleman would ever greet a guest bare foot."

"Indeed Sir Hubert, indeed, and such social convention, so deeply imbedded in us, it is the safest signs of the behaviour. Now then pray let me continue."

"The next day I and Watson went to Kenselton, and to the Morley Mansion, around it there is a tall iron fence with sharp iron fleur de lys... well" Danton shrugged "I tapped one with my cane, I realised that it looked very much like the wound on Stephan Morley's head. Yet as I studied the walkway up to the mansion I saw that it could not have happened there, yes there was interesting things to be learnt, but nothing relevant for this case."

"I speak with the general, and I learn some interesting facts; for instance the niece would also have some idea that these documents were kept there, so she comes onto the list of suspects. The mention of the dogs not barking confirms that this was done from the inside, an accomplice silencing the dogs while the thief enters. I am already suspecting that the intruder did not enter through the window."

"Next I examine the door into the office, there is the remains of fat on the lock mechanism, as you all know lock pickers often smear fat onto locks so as to avoid leaving scratches in the metal. It is clear why they wanted to hide their entrance through this door, for they wanted it to look as if he came through the window. The fact that the metal around the keyhole of the safe has been so ludicrously scratched shows most empathically that they had a key, and wished to hide the fact; in short, the perpetrator was able to take a wax impression of the safe key. This means that only someone who was most close to the General, a member of the family or someone otherwise intimate could have done it."

"Then I examine the side entrance, aha, here I find what I am looking for, the signs of the struggle. It is quite clear, young Morley sees the thief leaving the house. Morley has no time and only puts on his shoes and rushes out, and there is a scuffle, then his head, Morley's' that is, it is smashed against the iron fence and he dies. The thief cannot leave the body there, for it's clear that the alarm would be raised, and so he carries the body away with him to his apartment and lovers nest. Yet that part we have gone over already."

"Now comes the obvious question, which member, or members, of the household were involved? Also why did not young Morley cry out? He could have had half a dozen sturdy servants there to back him. There are two possibilities, one he wanted to protect the accomplice or two he wanted to protect the thief! I cannot know just which, not quite yet, and so the investigation it continues."

"I interview the servants now; the housekeeper seems interesting, for her position in the household could have enabled her to make a copy of the key. However she is most favoured in the household, and have been offered her freedom twice, I think Sir that we have heard this sort of story often enough. I could see her turn against the General in a fury if her affections were betrayed, but there was no sign of anything of that nature."

"Thus my attention turns to the niece, who alas is just the sort of woman that the likes of Horton would target; Idealistic and naïve. My suspicions are confirmed when Perkins, the housekeeper, informs me that on the day Theresa Morley was wearing Bruxellois walking shoes. Why would she wear such shoes indoors? No, at that moment it was clear that Ms Morley had been outdoors, and that the reason was to silence the dogs. I then find out that Ms Morley was listening in on the interrogation, but this only increases my suspicions."

"So with the generals' indulgence I write a note, describing the events as they occurred, but without mentioning Horton's name and I send it to her. Then we wait, but now I must confess to something, as I stood in the window I gave a secret signal to an agent watching from the street." Danton smiles and bows apologetically "La, I confess, but it was most imperative that the telephone call come at the precise right moment! Just after Ms Morley came rushing into the room to announce her confession."

"In the telephone I received note that Mr Horton had indeed been arrested, but of course he had clammed up most resolutely, in 48 hours he'd be free and with his money and solicitors... no doubt he'd be found guilty, but it would take far too long. So having confirmed the guilt of Ms Morley I instructed them, by way of a pre-arranged code, to use a bluff."

"Sergeant Tanner is a most brilliant man, he looks like he has never thought an original thought, or told a lie, in his entire life. Behind that bovine appearance there is, gentlemen, a brilliant mind, and a consummate actor if I may say so. He tells the story of how Mr Horton was arrested with another woman, how they were married, and how she was pregnant! Here a gamble, I confess, but we chose a woman not known for the Sapphic proclivities, who Ms Morley would be prone to be jealous of."

"This I confess was a rotten trick, I feel somewhat bothered by it, but we could scarcely arrest her, and we could not put Mr Horton to the question. See a woman like Ms Morley, idealistic and naïve, she would never betray the man she loves, she would endure the torture for him! Yet show her that her love is spurned, that the villain has sired a brat with another woman, that he has given to another what he promised to her," he tapped the ring on his hand "the band of marriage, ah! Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, then suggest that nothing will happen to this woman that she so loathes! Now whatever affection may still linger for the man, it is turned to pure hate, and for her rival? She wants nothing more than to see her thrown into the abyss, and so she told us all we needed to know."

"You forged the marriage certificate?" Sir Hubert asked incredulously.

"Why of course, it seemed the most expedient wait of lending credence to our claim. It is amazing how people can doubt what is said, even by a most credible source, and yet immediately believe anything, however absurd, if it is written down on an a piece of paper," Danton mused before he sipped some more champagne.

LadyTevar wrote:Damit, Holmes, how does it end?

Well the last two chapters have been posted! I do hope you enjoy them, I'll finish with a prologue I think.

The Mystery of the Generals Son Epilogue

Church and Magdalen Convent of St Julian the Hospitaler
Naumburg-an-der-Queis
Helvetia
Erde
September 1005 NE

Some weeks after the dreadful events in Pendleton...

Theresa Morley huddled from the cold mountain air as the lumbering ox cart made its way up the windy rocky road to the convent, it stood there with its tall walls and jutting towers like some medieval castle. Indeed, it had been built a long, long time ago, when armies and roving bands of robbers, respecting neither God nor man, would threaten the convent. Now however those same walls, that had once kept evil doers out, were just as effective in keeping them in.

On either side of her sat Father Robert and Father Bernhard, both of them middle aged and sturdy priests, dressed in long old-fashioned cassocks. They were there to prepare her for leaving The World, and to make sure that she arrived safely, instead of accidentally falling of the ox cart and getting lost apparently that had been a problem a times, with some women getting so lost that they found themselves in an entirely different city under another name.

Be that as it may, she could now see the huge iron bound gates of the convent draw near, there was no moat or drawbridge, but the convent was situated right on top of a steep hill filled with small stubborn shrubs and nasty sharp rocks. Slowly, and with great creaking, the weatherworn gates of the convent began to open, revealing the courtyard within. The ox cart passed through the doors, revealing how thick the walls were, and in the distance, there was the sound of a crows mournful cry.

The sound of the oxcarts wheels changed a bit, as they moved from the gravel road, onto the cobblestone surface of the convent proper. There was no one else in the courtyard, but behind some of the windows, Theresa thought she could see a flutter of curtains, and a pale shape pulling back. There was no sign of who had opened the gates, nor was there any sign of anyone other than the cart driver, and the two priests.

"Ich geht zuruck," the cart driver said in the mangled Germanic dialect of Helvetia. Then looking at Theresa he touched the dirty brim of his hat and added, "Glück auf," before he turned the ox cart around, slowly driving back out the gates.

"Why are there no one here Father?" Theresa asked nervously.

Father Robert replied, in a calm voice, "Because my child, this is a cloistered order, and as such they see no one from the outside other than us priests."

Theresa shuddered at that response, and at the loud thunderous sound of the gates slamming shut, the sound seemed to echo forever around the barren courtyard. She watched the door, and suddenly all her revolutionary ideas seemed so distant, so foolish, such utter folly, and she wept.

"Do not cry child," came a female voice, Theresa started up to see who it was, and she saw a middle-aged woman in a white habit "I am the Mother Superior, and I will prepare you for your new life, as you leave The World and join the convent where you will, God Willing, spend the rest of your life."

Snargate
Pendleton City
Pendleton Archipelago
Erde
September 1005 NE

Some weeks after the dreadful events depicted earlier...

Rat-tat-tat, rat-tat-tat, the sound of the drummer echoed across the bleak stone square at Snargate. There was a small crowd directly in front of the scaffold, a smattering of press reporters, officers of the various services, and a few other gentlemen of note. Some of them shivered slightly, either from the cold raw wind, or from the event, they were about to witness. They were quite silent, but behind them, separated from them by double lines of stone-faced Gendarmes, the mob was gathering.

"Oh my think I'm gonna die," started the mocking anticipatory song of the mob, a mixture of middle-class people, and common labourers, on the way to work. For an occasion such as this, a man might be excused if he was late for work. Here and there street peddlers could be seen, selling coffee, tea or hot chocolate, crying "Somethin' ta keep ye warm!" and occasionally offering a drop of liquor with that; others sold food, and the newspaper boys ran around hawking pamphlets listing the crimes of the condemned.

The only ones that seemed to cry, or grieve, aside from his family that is, was the tiny handful of radicals and slaves that dared to show up; they had huddled themselves together in a corner, between two exits, and they peered nervously looking for either the law or an angry master. Often they were better dressed than the rabble surrounding them, certainly they were better fed, but whenever even a casual labourer saw them he'd straighten his back and stand up proud a free man I am he'd think and look down on them.

Now came the rickety cart with the condemned man, he stood upright, his hands bound before him; Allan Horton was still somewhat handsome, even if his face was haggard and worn, he moved and shifted awkwardly as if sick, or elderly. He wore the same suit he had worn on the day of his arrest, it was clean though, clean and ironed, despite it all someone had done that for him. As the cart moved through the crowd, the pretty flowergirls threw flowers at him he stood very quiet throughout smiling at them occasionally.

They were spreading straw on top of the scaffold, it was meant to absorb the blood, it was difficult with the wind, and they piled up large amounts of it to keep it there. With each burst of wind, straws would fly gently across the square. The executioner, a huge man with a black hood, began to unpack his sword from its leather wrapper; slowly and ritually, he unwrapped the package revealing the heavy executioners sword, and the various whetstones.

Now the cart reached the scaffold, and it stopped, a pair of gendarmes moved up on side of the prisoner and untied his hands. Then they escorted him up to the top of the scaffold, but they let him walk on his own. Allan Horton tried to hide his fear, but he was only partially successful, but he walked forward nevertheless.

There was a scuffle near the outer ring of the gendarmes, and a cry went up "The priest! The priest!" Sure enough, an elderly clergyman in a fine, but rather old fashioned, cassock pushed through the crowd, clinging onto his round wide brimmed hat and his well-worn bible. He appeared frail and harmless, almost a bit simple minded, with his enormous grey sideburns.

"Have they not defrocked you yet!" someone cried out from the quality, in a most unseemly fashion.

The priest was not about to take this lying down and turned towards his mocker, "I see you!" he cried "and God also sees your deeds, and it is God I answer to, and his truth I speak!"

A murmur went up after this, two words "radical," and "abolitionist," no doubt some foolish clergyman relegated to a minor parish for his radical politics.

"Does the condemned have any last words," asked the representative of the prosecutor, he stood before Horton looking at him questioningly.

"I do," Horton replied, he looked at the people before him, and in the distance he could see the slaves expectantly, "I am not a very good man, but today you make me a martyr like any..." There was an outraged cry from several voices at this, and it was some time before Allan could continue "like any you read of in your chronicles. Execute me for murder if you will, even that is not just, but everything else is nonsense."

There were more calls at that, but the priest quietly administered the last rites, and heard his quick last confession, before making the sign of the cross and pulling away.

First, the executioner took a cudgel and held up a wooden plate where Horton's coat of arms had been painted; with a mighty stroke from the cudgel, he shattered the coat of arms "THIS IS NOT DONE WITHOUT GOOD CAUSE!" The executioner roared. Then he picked up his sword and walked behind Horton, who knelt down, the kneeling prisoner tried not to tremble, but a couple of tears rolled down his cheek; he was not a particularly brave man, or a good man, and to a great degree it was vanity perhaps that made him behave.

There was a flicker of light as the heavy executioners blade flashed downwards in a perfect arch. Allan Horton's head was severed in a single clean stroke; it tumbled down onto the ground where it landed in the thick hay. There was a moment; a moment that seemed like an eternity, between the moment that the head came off and it hit the ground, and in that moment the headless body just knelt there apparently unaffected.

Then all of a sudden, a fountain of blood shot up from the body, squirting several feet up into the air, and the wind carried some of this blood with it as a fine mist splattering it onto the clothes of the nearby quality. Shocked cries rose from some of the more delicate people, even as the mob roared with pleasure. The body crumbled into the hay, and pumped out its last remains of blood there, the hay soaking it up.

The executioner bowed down and picked up the head, holding it aloft by the hair "BEHOLD THE HEAD OF A TRAITOR!" He roared aloud as he held the head, dripping blood, and the crowd howled with joy as he eyes and mouth of the head moved silently for several seconds yet before finally the motion stopped and it remained quite dead in his hand.

General Morley nodded with satisfaction, apparently unaware of the blood splattered across his face and his uniform; he turned towards a man at his side, who was desperately wiping his face with a white silken handkerchief, "today we killed a traitor," Morley informed him.

Two other gentlemen, somewhat further way, were rather glummer however. "This is a bad business," Danton announced, "very bad."

"Yes," Watson agreed, "fools ought to have locked him up somewhere, now they've made him a bloody martyr."

"That too Watson, that too," Danton agreed.

"What else can there be to it?" Watson asked.

"Corrosion Watson, corrosion," Danton said enigmatically.

In the distance, beyond the gentlemen, a few of the slaves wept, before they filtered away into the side alleys, not daring to spend a moment longer. Unlike the mob who would stand there for up to half an hour longer, and more for those who wanted a chance to get hair, blood, or straw from the scaffold for making lucky charms.

Pendleton City
Pendleton Archipelago
Erde
September 1005 NE

Platform 4
Ramilles Railway Station

Two days after the execution

The large train had stopped at the station, small whiffs of steam flowed from the chimney; in the distance, the occasional shriek of a locomotives flute could be heard. Around the locomotive, itself a mixed group of travellers were making their way to their compartments.

Among these travellers, moving towards the first class compartments, there were a man and a woman, followed by a couple of servants who kept a respectful distance. Occasionally some of the other upper class travellers would look briefly and the couple, and then engage in a whispered conversation.

Moving closer the perceptive observer would see why, the gentleman was General Maximilian Morley, but he had apparently eschewed the honourable uniform that was his right. Instead he wore a simple dark three piece suit, with an old fashioned cravat, silver tipped cane, and of course a top hat. He was speaking casually to the woman by his side; she for one was dressed as any lady of quality, though occasionally she almost stumbled a bit.

As for the woman, there was but one word for her appearance, and that word is bliss, she smiled happily and clutched Morley's arm, the sunlight reflecting of the golden ring on her hand. Perkins, having been emancipated, was now Mrs Morley it was of course a most horrendous scandal; it was worse than a crime, for nothing illegal had happened, it was just not done!

THE END

Very well done! Very Doyle-esque, and I loved the scene of the neice's fate.

*begins humming John Brown's Body, then Marching Through Georgia*

Oh Veggie......

This is for both Pendleton and your new TGG idea.

Bring the good ol' Bugle boys! We'll sing another song,
Sing it with a spirit that will start the world along,
Sing it like we used to sing it fifty thousand strong,
While we were marching through Georgia!

Hurrah! Hurrah! We bring the Jubilee.
Hurrah! Hurrah! The flag that makes you free,
So we sang the chorus from Atlanta to the sea,
While we were marching through Georgia!

How the darkeys shouted when they heard the joyful sound,
How the turkeys gobbled which our commissary found,
How the sweet potatoes even started from the ground,
While we were marching through Georgia!

Yes and there were Union men who wept with joyful tears,
When they saw the honored flag they had not seen for years;
Hardly could they be restrained from breaking forth in cheers,
While we were marching through Georgia!

"Sherman's dashing Yankee boys will never make the coast!"
So the saucy rebels said and 'twas a handsome boast
Had they not forgot, alas! to reckon with the Host
While we were marching through Georgia!

So we made a thoroughfare for freedom and her train,
Sixty miles of latitude, three hundred to the main;
Treason fled before us, for resistance was in vain
While we were marching through Georgia!

Steve wrote:Oh Veggie......

This is for both Pendleton and your new TGG idea.

I am sensing that you are not entirely happy about Pendleton, for some inconceivable reason...

LadyTevar wrote:Very well done! Very Doyle-esque, and I loved the scene of the neice's fate.

Thank you I definately like to hear that, always good to get feedback; it's odd but the men I talk to like the beheading, but many of the women prefer the niece's fate, hmmm wonder why.

Norseman wrote:

LadyTevar wrote:Very well done! Very Doyle-esque, and I loved the scene of the neice's fate.

Thank you I definately like to hear that, always good to get feedback; it's odd but the men I talk to like the beheading, but many of the women prefer the niece's fate, hmmm wonder why.

Because dying's the easy way out. There in the cloister, they will make sure she doesn't attampt suicide. It's life without parole, not even a cellmate to talk to, and totally forgotten by former friends and family.

The guys probably like the fact the man died bloodily and honorably, and was made a martyr thereby. We girls feel pity for the neice, alone and forgotten by all, abandoned by everyone she ever cared for and left to suffer for it the rest of her days.

LadyTevar wrote: Because dying's the easy way out. There in the cloister, they will make sure she doesn't attampt suicide. It's life without parole, not even a cellmate to talk to, and totally forgotten by former friends and family.

The guys probably like the fact the man died bloodily and honorably, and was made a martyr thereby. We girls feel pity for the neice, alone and forgotten by all, abandoned by everyone she ever cared for and left to suffer for it the rest of her days.

On the other hand, while alive there is always the hope of escape to sustain one. Though, given the treachery the neice has suffered, death may have indeed been more merciful.

That said, I'll make sure to have the bummers get her out when the March Across Pendleton begins. *begins humming John Brown's Body once more*

Steve wrote:On the other hand, while alive there is always the hope of escape to sustain one. Though, given the treachery the neice has suffered, death may have indeed been more merciful.

What treachery did the niece suffer? If you mean the marriage and pregnancy then Danton specifically mentioned that the marriage certificate was a forgery; they tricked her to make her give up he contacts.

Steve wrote:That said, I'll make sure to have the bummers get her out when the March Across Pendleton begins. *begins humming John Brown's Body once more*

Now we've got her bang dead to rights guv'nor! She's guilty I tell ya! Whether she deserves life or not that is a different matter.

She helped kill a slaver and to undermine a slaver society. That's not a crime; that's a victory for Human dignity.

yup, dark and tragic....

and very much like a yarn from mr. Sam Clemons too.