Our great-aunt went overboard with giving gifts, of course. And they were not limited to dolls for Linnie, but included game sets, stuffed animals, and an amazing wind-up bird in a golden cage that I remembered quite well. It moved and emitted a warbling sound when the mechanism on the bottom of the case was wound up.
“It sang? Like real birds in the gardens at Sussex Square?” Lily asked, her mouth pinched at one corner as if she didn’t believe me as I described it.
“Really quite simple,” I replied. “Like a wind-up music box.” Her expression was doubtful.
“I’ll show you when we reach the toy shop,” I replied as the driver arrived at our destination.
As he stepped down from the driver’s seat atop the coach, Mr. Hastings handed me a folded piece of paper.
“A man brought this round for you, miss, while you were in the chemist’s shop. Odd man, he was, rolling around on a wood platform. He liked to spook the horses when he rounded the corner off the street.”
I hadn’t told anyone that we would be going to Mr. Brimley’s shop before leaving Sussex Square. However, there was one person who would know to leave a message for me with Mr. Cavendish, and who might also know that I would visit the chemist. He had said that he would find me.
I opened the note written in that way of someone most familiar with writing reports, the words brief, to the point, in a brisk hand. I could almost imagine him writing it in some place where he wouldn’t be noticed, perhaps impatient that he had to write it at all, after telling me in no uncertain terms that he didn’t want me involved.
‘The boot was made by a man named Greene with a shop near St. James’s. I will then call on Morrissey...’
The pencil had stopped there as if he had another thought, but hadn’t written it.
Greene was well known across London for well-made leather boots that were worn by those among the officers in the military. Was it possible that Brodie might be able to learn who had purchased those boots?
As for Morrissey, what might he know or be willing to share now, after the recent murder of Ellie Sutton, who had witnessed that original murder?
Rupert had returned. I could only guess that he might have followed Mr. Cavendish when he had delivered that note. He jumped into the coach and I followed.
To say that Hamley’s was an adventure in itself was a mild understatement.
It was multiple floors of a large building that looked out onto Regent Street, with windowfront displays filled with all manner of toys and entertainments to draw the customer inside.
I asked Mr. Hastings to return in an hour as we arrived and told Rupert tostay. Lily and I then entered the store.
It was late afternoon and there were only a few customers on the main floor. Still, the abundance and variety of toys, games, and at least a half-dozen mechanical miniature trains rolling on tracks set about was impressive.
It was a child’s paradise, along with those who had grown up but still persisted in playing with toys. I knew only too well thehusband of one of my aunt’s acquaintances had the entire final battle of Waterloo in miniature in his library.
It included ships making that historic landing, mounted English soldiers riding to the charge, and a field of French cannon and infantry, along with a miniature Napoleon.
There was a similar battle set up in an alcove of the toy store. This one was set on a seascape, and if my memory of history lessons served me, it was the defeat of the Spanish Armada under the reign of Elizabeth.
Lily was fascinated with it all.
“Good afternoon. How may we serve you?”a voice very near asked.
“Bloody hell! What is that?” she exclaimed, drawing the attention of a nearby customer and clerk.
Thatwas an automaton as I had seen before in a previous inquiry, a movable doll powered by electricity. My particular experience had been a life-size replica of man in full evening attire who nodded, bowed, and then held out his hand.
This one was a golden-haired, blue-eyed doll with a permanently fixed smile as her head was turned toward us and she spoke. It did seem as if Mr. Edison’s invention of recording voices had now made it into the world of toys.
“Good afternoon,” a more human voice greeted us as a man in a suit appeared. “Priscilla is quite fascinating, isn’t she,” he asked. Apparently, that was the doll’s name.
“I can think of another word,” Lily commented, and I thought it best to step into the conversation.
“I am looking for information about a toy locomotive that I’ve come across,” I explained. “I was hoping there might be someone who could tell me about it.”
“That would be Mr. Ambrose Hamley. He’s the store manager and our authority on our mechanical trains,” he replied.
“Is he available?”
