‘Up to me? But you’re the editor of this newspaper! You should be arguing my case!’
‘And I have done my best to do so. But without knowing exactly where you got that information, I can’t convince the minister that the article should be published.’
Walter put his head in his hands. Mrs Peel had won again. The ordinary bookseller who had worked as a spy in the war. She was such a plain-looking woman that you could walk past her in the street without giving her a second glance. And yet she always managed to succeed.
‘It was a very interesting article, Mr Ferguson,’ said the editor. ‘The secret history of the spy-turned-bookseller intrigues us all.’
Walter set back in his chair. He had done so much work on this. He had even paid the War Office archives clerk out of his own pocket. But his efforts had been for nothing. He imagined how Mrs Peel would be feeling today. Relieved and happy that the article he had threatened her with would no longer appear.
All he could do now was solve the disappearance of Alexander Miller. He had befriended Miller’s brother-in-law and gained his confidence. He had also read all of John Gibson’s letters. The case was almost solved! The editor, proprietor and Scotland Yard were going to be eternally grateful to him.
After leaving the editor’s office, Walter went downstairs and stepped out onto Fleet Street. He needed some air. Even if it wasn’t particularly clean air.
The sun was shining, and he enjoyed the warmth on his face. He was going to solve the case of Alexander Miller. And he couldn’t wait for Augusta Peel to read about it in the newspaper. She was going to be very upset about him solving it before her.
‘Walter!’ came a shout from behind him.
He turned to see the angry, square face of Robert Stanton. ‘Hello, Robert. What a surprise.’
‘I thought we agreed you’d provide me with an alibi.’
‘We did. And I did.’
‘No, you didn’t. You told the police we met at nine.’
‘Because we did.’
‘I told you to say eight.’
‘Did you?’
‘You told me you’d help me!’
‘I did and I am! I think there must have been a misunder—’
Walter didn’t finish his sentence because the blow from Robert’s fist sent him crashing to the ground.
Chapter 55
After closing the shop for the day, Augusta went up the stairs to Philip’s office. She was pleased to find he hadn’t yet left for home.
‘I never thought I’d say this,’ she said. ‘But I think Sherlock Holmes can help with this case after all.’
‘Even though he’s a fictional detective, Augusta? You reminded me of that when I mentioned him.’
‘Yes, even though he’s a fictional detective. I think there’s a story which could apply to our case. Can I have a look at The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes?’
‘By all means. Are you sure you’ll be able to find it on my shelf?’
Augusta smiled and picked up the book. ‘I recall there’s a story with a typewriter,’ she said. ‘And I remember it’s a young woman who asks for Sherlock Holmes’s help.’ She continued to flick through the pages. ‘I think it might be this one. A Case of Identity.’
‘Oh yes, that one.’
‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Philip?’
‘I doubt it. You’re going to have to explain a bit more, Augusta.’
‘I need to do some research tomorrow,’ she said, putting the book back on the shelf. ‘And then I’m going to visit Jemima Campbell. After that, I might just have a plan.’
Chapter 56
Augusta visited Holborn Library in the morning and then the public records offices in Somerset House. Then she called on Constable Simpson at Crawford Place police station before travelling by train to Wimbledon. A theory was developing in her mind. But was she on the right track? She hoped Jemima Campbell would be able to help.
It was late morning when Augusta rang the doorbell at the neat semi-detached house. A scent of jasmine lingered in the well-tended front garden.
‘Oh.’ There was no smile from Mrs Campbell when she opened the door. She kept a hand on the latch as if intending to close the door again shortly.
Augusta was reminded of the lacklustre response from Mrs Bradshaw’s housekeeper. Had Mrs Campbell also been threatened? Augusta couldn’t allow the door to be closed on her again. She prepared herself to put a foot in the way if necessary.
‘Mrs Campbell, it’s obvious you don’t wish to speak to me. Perhaps someone has warned you not to?’
‘I’m afraid I’m busy.’
‘It’s really important that I speak with you. I think I’m close to finding out what happened to Alexander Miller.’
The door began to close a little and Augusta got her foot ready.
‘Does Dr Jackson mean anything to you?’
