Such is the Sicilian police. Mr. Shuttleworth, senior, evidently knew what he was talking about.
Of course, we had no difficulty in obtaining Lady Molly’s release. The British Consul saw to that. But in Budapest they still call the assault on “Mrs. Carey” at the Hotel Hungaria a mystery, for she exonerated Lady Molly fully, but she refused to accuse Piatti. She was afraid of him, of course, and so they had to set him free.
I wonder where he is now, the wicked old wretch!
IV.
THE FORDWYCH CASTLE MYSTERY
Can you wonder that, when some of the ablest of our fellows at the Yard were at their wits’ ends to know what to do, the chief instinctively turned to Lady Molly?
Surely the Fordwych Castle Mystery, as it was universally called, was a case which more than any other required feminine tact, intuition, and all those qualities of which my dear lady possessed more than her usual share.
With the exception of Mr. McKinley, the lawyer, and young Jack d’Alboukirk, there were only women connected with the case.
If you have studied Debrett at all, you know as well as I do that the peerage is one of those old English ones which date back some six hundred years, and that the present Lady d’Alboukirk is a baroness in her own right, the title and estates descending to heirs-general. If you have perused that same interesting volume carefully, you will also have discovered that the late Lord d’Alboukirk had two daughters, the eldest, Clementina Cecilia—the present Baroness, who succeeded him—the other, Margaret Florence, who married in 1884 Jean Laurent Duplessis, a Frenchman whom Debrett vaguely describes as “of Pondicherry, India,” and of whom she had issue two daughters, Henriette Marie, heir now to the ancient barony of d’Alboukirk of Fordwych, and Joan, born two years later.
There seems to have been some mystery or romance attached to this marriage of the Honourable Margaret Florence d’Alboukirk to the dashing young officer of the Foreign Legion. Old Lord d’Alboukirk at the time was British Ambassador in Paris, and he seems to have had grave objections to the union, but Miss Margaret, openly flouting her father’s displeasure, and throwing prudence to the winds, ran away from home one fine day with Captain Duplessis, and from Pondicherry wrote a curt letter to her relatives telling them of her marriage with the man she loved best in all the world. Old Lord d’Alboukirk never got over his daughter’s wilfulness. She had been his favourite, it appears, and her secret marriage and deceit practically broke his heart. He was kind to her, however, to the end, and when the first baby girl was born and the young pair seemed to be in straitened circumstances, he made them an allowance until the day of his daughter’s death, which occurred three years after her elopement, on the birth of her second child.
When, on the death of her father, the Honourable Clementina Cecilia came into the title and fortune, she seemed to have thought it her duty to take some interest in her late sister’s eldest child, who, failing her own marriage, and issue, was heir to the barony of d’Alboukirk. Thus it was that Miss Henriette Marie Duplessis came, with her father’s consent, to live with her aunt at Fordwych Castle. Debrett will tell you, moreover, that in 1901 she assumed the name of d’Alboukirk, in lieu of her own, by royal licence. Failing her, the title and estate would devolve firstly on her sister Joan, and subsequently on a fairly distant cousin, Captain John d’Alboukirk, at present a young officer in the Guards.