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

laden with coffeepot, cups, creamer and sugar bowl, and a plate of cakes and biscuits. Lady Pat smiled brightly at the rest of the group.
    â€œCoffee?” she suggested.

CHAPTER 8
    Mr. Upshaw’s departure seemed to be the signal for a general relaxation in Lord Richard’s study, as if something not quite pleasant had been removed from the atmosphere. Lady Pat availed herself of the secretary’s place, while the butler ceremoniously deposited the tray on Lord Richard’s desk with the air of one who was doing his duty, however distasteful it might be. Clearly, Farnham disapproved of Lord Richard’s habit of taking refreshment anywhere he chose. He left with a sigh, as if to indicate that the proper place for partaking of food was the dining room, the breakfast room, or, in a pinch, the private parlor at teatime.
    Dr. Doyle took several biscuits while Lady Pat poured coffee and handed cups to her brother and husband. Mr. Dodgson refused refreshment until pressed.
    â€œI do not take food during the morning,” he said finally. “It impedes the mental processes, and what is needed here, Lord Richard, is logical thought. This is clearly not a random act of abduction. Quite a bit of planning must have gone into it. For instance, the man who impersonated me would have to be found, and either bribed or otherwise suborned; then, the letter would have to be typed.” He fumbled in his pockets to find the fatal letter. “There, you see?” Mr. Dodgson tapped the offending numerals with a gray-gloved finger. “The overstrike makes the time of Miss Marbury’s arrival ambiguous, leading me to miss the train, and giving the miscreants time to take her away.”
    Lord Richard turned his gaze on the doctor for the first time. Mr. Dodgson performed the necessary introductions: “This is Dr. Doyle, of Portsmouth, I believe. He has been good enough to assist me in this matter. Dicky Doyle’s nephew, you know,” he added, as if this explained everything.
    It did not explain much to Lord Richard. “Do you think my daughter will need the services of a physician?” he asked, in real alarm.
    â€œI sincerely hope not!” Mr. Dodgson replied, shocked.
    Dr. Doyle had produced a small magnifying glass from his jacket pocket and had been examining first the original letter, and then the papers on Lord Richard’s desk. Now he spoke up. “Lord Richard,” he asked, in a voice of suppressed excitement, “have these notes been typed on this machine?”
    â€œThey have,” Lord Richard said.
    â€œAnd there is no other machine in this house?”
    â€œNo. In fact, this one is the very first of its model to be installed in a private home,” Lord Richard said proudly. “I believe in progress. In fact, I am seriously considering having the telephone put in, so that I may be in contact with my constituents day and night. This matter proves it to me. Why, you could have used the telephone in Brighton and spoken to me from there, and saved yourself the time and expense of the journey to London.”
    â€œI don’t think I would like having the telephone,” Lady Pat murmured. “Jangling away at all hours, no privacy.”
    â€œOh, very well, but I think it might be a good idea. Think it over. Meanwhile”—Lord Richard began to sort his documents out—“there is this matter of Alicia. It is obvious why she was taken. That ransom note proves it. They want me to stop my efforts on behalf of the Special Bill. Well, I won’t do it.”
    Lady Pat stared at her husband. “Richard!”
    Lord Richard refused to look at his wife. “I cannot, Pat. Too many people are depending on me to finish what they have started. Mr. Gladstone would never forgive me if I did not see this through.”
    â€œAnd I may never forgive you if anything happens to Alicia!” Lady Pat’s voice throbbed with pain. “How can you?