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On the conclusion of my discussions with Chang I immediately contacted Harwell Tusker. I was most concerned by the appearance of Chang and by the fact that he was evidently in possession of confidential data that I suspected had been obtained by the efforts of Miss Mbute. I also contacted Horatia Allenby and asked if she would be so kind as to keep watch on my charges. Some premonition suggested to me that it would be unwise to leave the girls alone but with Horatia installed at Highgate for the afternoon I felt less concerned.
Harwell agreed to meet me in town and the two of us made our way back to the Whitworth House.
After some bad-tempered exchanges with the Institute’s porter, were we able to enter the building and force our way into Sir Bristow’s office. He was annoyed at being disturbed. We in our turn were angered by what we saw as the disruptive influences of his assistant.
I wasted no time in coming directly to the point in hand. “I am sorry, Sir Bristow, I must insist that you rein in the activities of your personal assistant.”
“Insist, Sir? Insist? I am not sure I appreciate such language. Ms Mbute is a valued employee of the Institute. She has done nothing of which the Institute would disapprove, I am sure.”
It was clear that his opinion of his assistant was completely clouded by her undoubted physical allure. “Sir Bristow, Miss Mbute’s actions are in utter contravention of the Institute’s best interests. I have come directly from Highgate where two individuals sent at her behest, I am sure, have just attempted to usurp the position of the Institute in the matter of the two Tusker sisters. The previous day I caught her buglarising my property.”
Sir Bristow’s faced became still more florid. “I don’t believe it. You fail to see the woman’s talents behind the colour of her skin.
My hackles rose. I have worked with those of all racial origins and hold none in lower esteem than any other, preferring to judge the individual by their deeds rather than their complexion. I got to my feet but Harwell held me back.
“That is a scurrilous remark, Sir Bristow, and one which you will retract if you wish the Institute to benefit from my good friend’s work.” Harwell Tusker could be a commanding figure when roused and now, with his wards at risk and a friend insulted, roused he most certainly was. Tusker spoke more bluntly than I would have. “You will do as he asks or I will take my two wards back to Benfield and you can explain the change in plan to the Institute’s Board.”
He was bluffing, of course, but fortunately for our enterprise Sir Bristow was overwhelmed by Tusker’s bluster. Sir Bristow stepped back and his voice took on a more measured tone. “Excuse me, gentlemen. Miss Mbute has been a cornerstone of my work. I find it hard to credit that she would do anything against the interests of the Institute.”
“I can quite understand.” I thought it best to ignore a remark obviously given vent to in the heat of the moment. “She is obviously a capable and apparently loyal employee but, whatever her motives might be, her actions are causing great complications for the project. Can you at least speak to her and discover for what reason she suggested that Mr Chang should contact me?”
“Chang? Theophilus Chang?” Sir Bristow’s demeanour changed at once. It was as though some dark shadow had passed over him.
“The same.”
“This is indeed most disturbing. This Chang is a dangerous individual. He has been implicated in attempts to prevent members of the Institute winning contracts in the South China Seas. The growth in strength of the Chinese Imperial Industrial Company has been a great cause of concern to us. He is suspected of being the orchestrator of underhand attempts against our interests. I am most surprised to hear his name mentioned in the same breath as Miss Mbute. I am sure there is a good explanation but ….” Sir Bristow’s words tailed away. He shook his head. “You are right. I must confront Miss Mbute with this. Unfortunately, she is not here. She did not arrive for work this morning. A most unusual occurrence.”
The change in Sir Bristow’s attitude convinced me that he did, indeed, take our concerns seriously and that, whatever Miss Mbute’s motives were, her machinations did not result from any instruction given her by the Institute. Harwell Tusker and I left an evidently worried Sir Bristow and began our return to Highgate.
The journey back across London was without incident. Our steam cab pressed its way insistently through the busy mid-day traffic. Harwell Tusker sat silent, uncertain as to whether the events of the last days affected his plans. I, too, was quiet in thought. I remained confident that our objectives could be achieved. It seemed apparent to me that Miss Mbute’s plans were not shared by Sir Bristow and that our agreement with the Institute would not be compromised. The hiss of the Stanley motor behind us was sufficient to drown out the comments and suggestions of our driver as to the parentage and suitability for a career behind the wheel of every other road user we encountered on our trip. We were soon back at my rooms. I had been reassured by our encounter with Sir Bristow, but what confronted us on our arrival at my Highgate rooms at once disrupted my complacency.
In my living room we were greeted by the sight of Horatia Allenby, helplessly bound and gagged, tied to one of my armchairs. Horatia had evidently made great efforts to free herself. In the process of her struggles she had managed to tear open her blouse, revealing what, in other circumstances, would have been pleasing glimpses of her underwear beneath. I did what I could to swiftly free her while Harwell Tusker headed to the basement.
I first freed Horatia of her gag, untying the thick rag that had been pulled across her face and prising out the wad of cloth that had been cruelly wedged into her mouth. “The girls,” she gasped as the gag was pulled clear and I started to pick at the knots in the ropes that held her captive.
“They’re gone!” Harwell Tusker announced, reappearing at the door in considerable distress. “The cellar is empty. Whatever should we do now?”
© Freddie Clegg 2012
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