February 16, 1889 Morning #2
Byron pored over it again. “‘Did you know that Franz Joseph Haydn had a brother? I used his work and Bach as inspiration . . . ’ Obviously, Bach is a reference to the motif. I’m certain Haydn’s brother is referring to the cipher you found in the encyclopedia.
It was H.M.’s way of informing Mr. Harris the method of decoding the music, but he needed to be cryptic in case it fell into the wrong hands. ”
Mira took the letter back from him. “If Mr. Harris regularly corresponded with this Mr. H. M., wouldn’t he already know the cipher?”
“Not necessarily. Not if H. M. determined that these papers were important enough to change the cipher. Evidently, Circe was aware of the situation, enough to know the package existed. H.M. may have added another layer of encryption so that, in the event that it was intercepted, the information would stay safe.”
“He must have encrypted it too well, in that case. Mr. Harris worked on it for weeks and still didn’t decode it before he was killed. We have just over a day.”
“There must be something else.” Byron picked up the letter, standing and beginning to pace. “‘My dear niece, I know how much you enjoy Mendelssohn . . . ’ That’s another composer. Have we accounted for him?”
“One of his songs plays on the musical box that was sent with the sheet music.”
Byron rubbed his chin. “Why did H.M. send the musical box? It would have been much more expensive.”
“I wondered about that myself. Perhaps it was part of the cover? If someone opened the package looking for political documents, they would only find sheet music and a musical box.”
He hummed. “‘Book 1, Op 19b No. 1 in E minor—’” He stopped still. “E. You don’t suppose that’s the key, do you? Not musically, I mean. But that the cipher starts at E, not G?”
“Maybe?”
He rushed back to the low table, kneeling beside her. She handed him the pencil and they reworked the cipher together, heads close.
Once the adjusted cipher was written out they started at the beginning again, testing a few measures before moving forward to the measure after the BACH motif. Mira stood, pacing back and forth with the sheet music and reading out the notes as Byron translated them.
“D, F sharp, F flat, D flat, F sharp, D sharp, F flat—”
“Secret,” Byron whispered. “The first six letters spell secret.” He looked up at her, breaking out into a wide grin. A sensation of breathlessness came over her. They’d done it. They’d broken the cipher.
“Keep going,” he said, making a slash after the word.
“C flat, B, C, E, D flat, D sharp, B, F sharp—”
“Compartment. I would bet anything it will say compartment.”
“Let me finish the word!” she laughed.
They continued back and forth, with Byron reading out the words as he discovered them and Mira reading out the notes. After a point, he set down the pencil.
“Wait. Wait just a moment.”
“What is it?” she asked, turning towards him.
“It’s the musical box. That’s where the documents are!” He jumped to his feet, and before she knew it he had lifted her into the air, swinging her around. She dropped the sheet music in surprise, letting out an unladylike squeal.
He set her down, handing the now crumpled deciphered message to her.
Secret compartment, box, blue, horse, twist, use key.
He slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her close to him and kissing the top of her head. “We’ve done it. We’ve solved it!”
She laughed, looking up at him. “The musical box.”
He nodded. “The musical box.”
The two of them devolved into sleep-deprived giggles which were only interrupted by someone clearing his throat in the doorway.
“I’m sure this is all very exciting, but can you have some consideration for those of us who are convalescing?” Castel wandered in wearing a colorful dressing gown and a scowl. He held a hot water bottle to his head.
Byron bounded over to him. “We’ve figured out the cipher! Mary is safe. Regardless of what happens, she’ll be safe.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Castel said, moving to sit in his preferred armchair. He picked up one of the papers that had been inadvertently scattered on the seat and scanned it as he sat down.
“And now that you’re feeling better, you can tell us what happened with Hoddle,” Byron said.
Castel’s gaze flicked up to him. “He got the drop on me, that’s all. I didn’t realize he’d put anything in the drink.”
“What were you talking about?” Mira asked, closing the encyclopedia in triumph.
“His time at sea. I was questioning him about it. Thought it might give us some insight into what he was up to.”
Byron’s expression blanked. “You knew that he was working with Circe, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Then why on earth did you think that was a good idea? It’s no wonder he poisoned you! Why, that might be why he went after Mary!”
Castel winced. “Please, lower your voice. My head is killing me.”
“You should be relieved it’s the only thing trying to kill you.” Byron returned to picking up the strewn papers.
A moment passed before Castel said, “Whoever wrote this is musically inept. Book 1 Op. 19b No. 1 is in E Major not E minor.”
Byron moved over and snatched the letter out of Castel’s hands, reading it over again. “I missed that. How did I miss that?”
Castel adjusted his hot water bottle. “Anyone familiar with Mendelssohn would know it.”
“Mr. Harris loved Mendelssohn,” Mira said. “He would have known immediately.” She picked up the deciphered message. “It must have been written incorrectly on purpose, to draw his attention to the key. It was a clue to help him with the cipher.”
“And we unwittingly stumbled upon it,” Byron groaned. “I should have noticed it before. We would have had it decoded much sooner.”
“You don’t suppose Mr. Harris solved the cipher before he died, do you?” Mira asked.
“If he did, Circe certainly wouldn’t still be looking,” Byron said.
“No, he must have gotten hung up on one of the other clues. My guess is Haydn. The package was postmarked in Austria, so we can assume that the man who sent it, H.M., was Austrian. He would have been more familiar with Michael Haydn and his cipher. But Harris was English. It might have escaped his notice.”
“Poor man,” Mira said. “Spending all that time trying to decode the message, and then killed for it without knowing why.”
“I think it’s about time someone found out what H.M. was so adamant on protecting,” Byron said.
***
They reached Henrietta Street and Byron pulled out his lock picks, fully determined to break into the house to find the musical box. But before he could use them, he found that the door was already unlocked.
“Am I forgetting again? Because I distinctly remember Maureen locking it.”
Mira’s chest tightened. “So do I. You don’t think Hoddle came back, do you?”
“I don’t know. Stay behind me.”
The door creaked as they opened it. Every noise they made seemed amplified in the house. It wasn’t until they heard laughter coming from upstairs that either of them relaxed.
“That’s Walker!” Mira said, following the sound. They found Walker, Liza, and Maureen in one of the bedrooms. A steamer trunk was open in the center of the floor and they sat with the contents spread about them.
Walker looked up as they came in and grinned. “We were just wondering how we were going to track you down. I figured when you didn’t come home last night, Mouse, that you’d been out sleuthing.”
“Mrs. Sherard invited me to stay the night at the Royal Crescent. What’s all this?”
“I told them about Admiral Hoddle and the political documents,” Maureen said. “This morning, we thought we’d better do some investigations of our own. He brought this trunk with him when he came to be my guardian, and I always wondered what was in it.” She picked up a pamphlet and held it up.
Byron took it. “A playbill for Pirates of Penzance?”
“He’s an actor!” Liza said. “I haven’t seen any playbills for anything past 1885, so I think he was rather hard up. We think his name is Maurice Suchet, because that’s the only name consistent on each list of players.”
“But if he’s an actor, why is he working with Circe?” Mira asked.
“Liza already answered that question,” Byron said. “If he is a failed actor, the opportunity to be paid for impersonating a naval officer would have had some appeal. And if it is all an act, perhaps Mary is safer than we realized.”
“Mary?” Liza asked.
“She’s been abducted,” Mira said. “We received a ransom note asking for the documents to be delivered in exchange for her release.”
Liza’s mouth fell open. “Abducted?”
“Is that why you’re here?” Maureen asked. “Did you decipher the music?”
Byron lifted the folder. “If we’re correct, the documents are in the musical box.”
The group adjourned to the music room. The air was charged with excitement and anxiety as they huddled around the credenza. Byron gently took hold of the blue horse and twisted the head off.
Maureen gasped. “You’ve broken it!”
“It will reattach,” Byron said. “And now we simply need a key.”
Sure enough, there was a keyhole embedded in the neck of the horse.
“Oh, it’s right here.” Maureen opened the drawer of the credenza and pulled out the wind-up key. They all held their breath as it slotted perfectly into the lock.
Click.
A hidden compartment popped open from the base. Byron did the honors of swinging the door open, revealing a small stack of papers within. He gingerly removed the documents.
“Those have been hiding there all this time?” Maureen said.
Byron nodded. “And now it’s time to find out what all the fuss is about.”
They all took seats around the room as Byron skimmed over the documents. Mira tapped her foot, nervous energy flooding through her.
“It’s not about the Treaty of San Stefano,” he said after several minutes of reading. “It’s about the one that came after—the Treaty of Berlin. These documents list the changes made at the conference and describe how they would lead to widespread war in Europe.”
Mira swallowed. “What sort of changes?”
“Placing Bosnia under Austria-Hungarian occupation, Russia regaining access to the Black Sea region, dividing Bulgaria into three parts, and placing Macedonia back under Ottoman rule. It details how these changes are likely to result in uprisings and strife and if any revolutionaries attack their occupiers it would certainly spark war. This last page has a list of alliances between countries and who would be most likely to be brought into a conflict. And most damaging of all, it lists Circe by name as the force behind these changes.”
“No wonder they wanted the documents,” Liza said.
“What would happen if the government is made aware of this?” Walker asked.
“I’m not certain, but it would be a blow to Circe and that’s enough.” He folded up the documents and tucked them into his coat, turning to Mira. “If Hoddle really is an actor, I think the best course of action is the direct one. We go to Sibyl’s house and ask to speak with him.”
“And what if he turns violent?” Mira asked.
“We’ll just have to think one step ahead of him. Liza, Maureen, would you be so kind as to inform Inspector Rutledge of the situation? If you need to send a telegram in my name, so be it, but we’ll want men watching the docks and the train station in case he escapes.”
Maureen frowned. “Don’t you want the police to come with you?”
“We’ll be able to handle Hoddle well enough on our own, and I don’t want to risk him doing something foolish, like harming Mary, if he gets wind of his impending arrest. Walker, are you up to coming with us?”
“I’d be more than happy to.”
Byron’s mouth ticked up at the side. “I think it’s time we allow Maurice Suchet one last performance as Admiral Hoddle.”