Chapter 18: Orient Express

By the following morning, I was no wiser regarding the visit of the night before. I was at once annoyed and puzzled by the behaviour of Miss Mbute. Was she there at Sir Bristow's instruction, I asked myself, or was there some other motivation for her burglary? It all seemed most irregular.

As far as I could tell, nothing was missing. My guests had not been disturbed. There was only the problem of the broken window which was soon resolved by a local glazier who was good enough to replace the panes with those of wire set glass to deter any future intrusion. The only evidence of Miss Mbute's visit was the disarray in which she had left the Tusker files on my desk. My assumption was that she, in some way infatuated with my charges after their encounter at Greenwich, was keen to learn more of the Tusker girls. It was, of course, quite unacceptable behaviour and I resolved to complain to Sir Bristow at the first opportunity.

My considerations were interrupted by an unexpected arrival in the street outside. In the busy streets of Highgate, one can expect to see most forms of transport from the small steam cycles that have proved so popular in the city of late to the Stanley taxi cabs and the injected steam coupes favoured by those seeking more convenience in their travelling. The vehicle outside my rooms on this occasion was one quite unlike any I had seen before. It most closely resembled a motorised cabin, a veritable house on wheels, as long as my own house was wide.

The strangeness of the vehicle was echoed by the strangeness of its occupants.

As someone whose own style of dress is considered eccentric, I suppose I should not comment on the appearance of others but the two visitors that were calling on me were of distinctive appearance.

The first to step down from the mobile house was a woman. As is sadly so often the case these days, she affected male garb, dressing in a dark, man's suit in pinstriped cloth. A flat leather cap sat atop slicked-back blonde hair. Dark glasses covered her eyes. Thin, red tinged lips outlined a wide mouth. She held in front of her with gloved hands a black, highly-polished leather brief case. It appeared to be chained to her wrist.

She stood motionless on the curb-side, staring straight ahead for a short time, before a second visitor joined her. Whereas the woman was tall and thin, the man that joined her was little more than half her height and almost twice her girth. He, too, wore a dark pinstriped suit and almost in parody of the city gentleman carried a rolled umbrella and a bowler hat. From his features, his long thin moustache and equally thin beard, I judged him to be of Chinese origin.

The Chinese gentleman rapped on my door with the head of his umbrella. Amanda and Estelle had yet to reach the stage whereby they could be expected to greet visitors, so I opened the door myself.

"Theophilus Chang," my visitor announced. The woman standing behind him was looking first up and then down the street outside. "I would like to have a conversation with you regarding the wards of Harwell Tusker. You are, I believe, responsible for their preparation to meet the requirements of the Institute of Practicing Engineers."

I am always open to conversation although I am sensitive of my clients' confidences. I also found myself wondering if this unannounced visitation and the events of the night before were in some way connected. I invited the two of them in. If nothing else it would give the two girls practice in their new roles as house maids.

I rang the bell to summon the two. They duly appeared, waiting politely for whatever might be asked of them, presenting a bizarre presence in their identical uniforms and face masks. Chang elected in favour of tea. The woman wordlessly demurred. The twins left. "Your premises are modest." Chang's statement seemed neither a criticism nor a compliment. He made no comment on the girls.

"They are sufficient for my purpose," I responded watching as Chang looked around my study, his eyes apparently unable to move independently of his head as he took in each feature of the room from the tome-filled shelves to the single Whistler landscape painting over the fireplace.

"Very well," Chang said, apparently satisfied by his examination. "To business. How is your work progressing in the matter of Miss Estelle and Miss Amanda Tusker? Are you confident that you can meet the expectations of Sir Bristow?"

I am usually only too happy to discuss my work and my methods but I have always felt that my clients and those that I work with deserve the utmost discretion from me. Besides, I could not see what possible benefit there would be in my discussing my work for the Institute and for Harwell Tusker with Theophilus Chang. I told him so.

My rather blunt response was punctuated by the return of my two girls. Amanda was carrying a tray of tea things. She was followed by Estelle with some napkins.

"And which of the twins is which?"Theophilus asked looking up, bemused by the two girls' almost identical appearance in their uniforms. "Perhaps, Miss Amanda," he speculated, accurately. "I wonder if the reports I have do you justice?" Chang stroked his beard as he contemplated the girl that was serving his tea.