Petronella Saves Nearly Everyone by Dene Low Page A

was chattering with Cyril. It turned out that they were schoolmates. I hoped Georgie did not feel that Cyril's visit gave him an excuse to grace us with his presence on a continual basis.
    "Here now," said Jane, slipping her arm through mine as we walked back to the house. "That inspector obviously has an overinflated sense of his own worth. He will find to his sorrow that he should have listened more carefully to you and your uncle."
    James joined us. "What pomposity. I'm afraid that inspector reminds me all too much of certain people I know in government."
    I smiled at my friends, my heart eased by their comments, even as it palpitated quickly at having James so near. "We do have some rather interesting clues that he took no notice of, do we not?" I asked.
    Back in my drawing room, the remaining horde soon set to feasting upon the crumpets, tea cakes, and tea that I had asked Moriarty to supply. While James, Jane, and I ate—and Uncle snacked surreptitiously—we sat at the far end of the table and examined our collection of clues.
    Besides serving us lunch, Moriarty had also been good enough to acquire several glass jars with stout lids, which we arranged on the table. In the jars we placed the beetle, the remaining butterfly, and strips of bark from the logs, to which were attached chrysalises. We rather hoped that more butterflies might hatch. The beetle could obviously see the butterfly in the container next to it because it kept throwing itself against the side of its bottle, just as Uncle had thrown himself against the glass cases in Professor Lepworthy's office.
    Next to the bottles we also laid the Colombian
peso
and the bent tiara and a scrap of paper on which was written the word
ruby.
Altogether we had accumulated a fair number of
interesting items, but I failed to see how they could lead us to the dame and generalissimo.
    From her Italian leather handbag, Jane produced a small pad of paper and a pencil. "Perhaps we should make a list of what we know about the case."
    "Tip-top idea, old flesh and blood," said James. "We should put them into categories—one category per page. First two, of course, should be Dame Carruthers and the generalissimo."
    Getting into the spirit of things, I said, "Another page could be the man who gave Ralph the message."
    "And another could be the wagon. Transportation is important, in spite of what the inspector thinks," added Uncle Augustus.
    When we had finished adding items to our lists, we surveyed the pages laid out on the table in front of the bottles.
    "Have you noticed how the majority of the clues are related to Colombia and Panama?" I said. "It would seem other than Dame Carruthers, everything hinges on those two countries."
    "Although Dame Carruthers does appear to be important as leverage to get the twenty thousand pounds," said Jane.
    James smacked his forehead with his palm, nearly propelling his hirsute splendor into oblivion. "Of course! It's staring us in the face, and we never saw it."
    "It?" I hissed, trying not to attract the attention of my relations or Georgie Grimsley, who, I deduced from the way he kept smirking at me, was flirting outrageously with Crimea in order to pay me back for ignoring him. Poor girl. Georgie Grimsley's attentions were a heavy price to pay for interfering uninvited in international relations.
    "Yes, what do you mean?" asked Uncle Augustus. "Are you privy to some information from the Home Office that pertains to this case? Can you tell us?"
    "Perhaps I can. It's really no secret," said James thoughtfully.
    "
It?
" hissed Jane and I in unison. I was suddenly in sympathy with Miss Spackering, my former governess, for insisting on clarity regarding pronoun referents.
    "The kidnapping is a diversion. At least I think it is." James grinned at our shocked and outraged expressions. "Although we know the Colombians are probably happy to have Generalissimo Reyes-Cardoza in their clutches, there is more at stake now than capturing a rebel