Death on the Sapphire Read Online Free PDF

with. “Here—get rid of this damn tea and bun.” He shoved them at his sergeant. He stood up, brushed the crumbs off his uniform, and straightened his jacket and tie. “And show her in.”
    In the outer office, Frances and Mallow sat on unpadded wooden chairs. Frances didn’t mind waiting; it was interesting being in a bustling office, men running around, the clacking sound of typewriting machines. They were most interesting devices; Frances considered buying one and seeing if she could engage a professional typist to teach her how to use it. Telephones would ring, and men would shout into them. A few glanced her way; she was not the typical Scotland Yard visitor.
    Mallow, on the other hand, was deeply unhappy. Where she came from, no good ever came from police involvement. Respectable people never had anything to do with the police, except maybe a brief greeting to the “bobby” on the corner. She’d done and seen a lot of things with her ladyship, but to be in a police station . . . She was sure his lordship, her ladyship’s brother, would be very displeased with this.
    But then again, trying to enter into Lady Frances’s enthusiasm, she did reason that this wasn’t a common police station.This was the headquarters of all the police, her ladyship had explained. And they were seeing someone very important—a superintendent, her ladyship had said, not a common bobby. He might even be a gentleman. Less a policeman, in fact, than “someone in government.” Mallow had only a vague idea of what it meant to be “in government,” except that Lord Seaforth was in government, and he was a marquess—perfectly respectable. So this might be acceptable. But she still hoped to leave as soon as possible.
    The sergeant with the pleasant face came back to tell Frances that Superintendent Maples would see her now. He asked if he could get her a cup of tea, but she graciously declined. He turned to Mallow. “And you, miss? Would you like a cuppa while you wait?” Mallow was surprised and flattered that she was noticed and said yes, thank you, that would be very nice.
    Maples forced a smile on his face and greeted Lady Frances as Cardiff showed her to a chair and then left, quietly closing the door behind him.
    “A pleasure as always, Lady Frances.”
    “My pleasure, too, Superintendent. You have been so helpful in the past, I knew I had to see you again.” She remembered the first time she had argued her way into his office: The streets around the mission where they set up their soup kitchen were so dangerous, some people were afraid to come. Couldn’t additional officers be deployed? A few weeks later, emboldened, Frances had returned. While organizing a peaceful political meeting in the park, she and her friends had been heckled and jeered. Couldn’t the superintendent read them the Riot Act? The third time she came, it was to complain that his officers were harassing beggars who had drifted too close to well-heeled areas looking for richer handouts.
    “I’m not a lawyer, Superintendent, but I do not think it is actually a crime to be poor.”
    And now she was back again—regarding a crime, it seemed.
    “I understand you are here about a crime. I hope your ladyship has not been a victim.”
    “Not at all, but thank you for your concern.” She smiled. “I am here about a family friend, Major Daniel Colcombe, who died in an accident about two months back. It seems an important manuscript of his was stolen from his house shortly after his death.”
    So that’s what this was. And next, he’d be asked to help find the Duchess of Something’s lost lap dog. He vaguely recalled the Colcombe case—not something he was directly involved with, but a minor scandal nonetheless. Colcombe was a war hero, a member of Society. But it was just some clumsiness with firearms.
    “It’s probably just missing,” he said. “After his family gets around to fully cleaning out his rooms, I’m sure it will turn up.”
    “And