Murder at Mansfield Park

Bertram.
    ‘It is scarcely comprehensible!’ Edmund was saying. ‘To think that that all this time we have been thinking her run away— blaming her for the ignominy of an
infamous elopement—and yet all the while she was lying there in that dreadful state, not half a mile from the house. It is inconceivable—that such an accident could have
happened—’
    ‘My dear Edmund,’ interjected Tom, ‘I fear you are labouring under a misapprehension. You were absent from Mansfield, and cannot be expected to be aware of precise times and
circumstances, but I can assure you that the work on the channel commenced some hours, at least, after Fanny was missed from the house. It is quite impossible that there could have been such
an accident as you have just described.’
    There was a pause, and Mary heard him pace up and down for a few moments before speaking again. She had already drawn a similar conclusion; moreover, she had private reasons of her own for
believing that the corpse she had seen could not have lain above a day or two in the place where it was found.
    ‘And even were that not the case,’ continued Tom, ‘you cannot seriously believe that the injuries we were both witness to, were solely the result of a fall? You saw it, as much
as I did. Surely you must agree that there was a degree of malice—of deliberation —in the reckless damage done to—’ he hesitated a moment. ‘In short, it can only
have been the work of some insane and dangerous criminal. It is of the utmost importance that we arrange at once for a proper investigation.’
    ‘But the constable—’
    ‘—has done every thing in his power, but even were he a young man, which he is not, he has neither the men nor the authority to pursue the rigorous enquiries demanded by such an
extraordinary and shocking case. You must see that—just as you must acknowledge that we have only one course available to us.’
    ‘Which is?’
    ‘To send for a thief-taker from London. Mr Holmes himself as good as begged me to do so—he knows as well as I do, that this is our best, if not our only, hope.’
    ‘A thief-taker?’ gasped Edmund. ‘Good God, Tom, most of those men are little more than criminals themselves! I have read the London newspapers, and I know how they operate.
Bribery, violence, and extortion are only the least of it. Do we really want to open our most private and intimate affairs to such a man? To the public scrutiny such a course of action must
inevitably occasion? I beg you, think again before you take such a perilous and unnecessary step.’
    ‘Unnecessary?’ replied Tom coldly. ‘I am afraid I cannot agree. You, of all people, must want the villain who perpetrated so foul a deed to be brought to justice? And
there is but one way we can hope to achieve that. I have made careful enquiries, and have received a most helpful recommendation from Lord Everingham. His lordship has suffered a number of fires on
his property, and this man was instrumental in the discovery and detention of the culprit.’
    ‘For a handsome reward, no doubt,’ said Edmund, dryly.
    ‘Of course. That is how such men earn their bread. But they are not all base rogues and villains, as you seem to believe. It appears this fellow gave distinguished service as a Bow
Street Runner, before setting up on his own account, and Lord Everingham was willing to vouch not only for his proficiency, but for his complete discretion.’
    ‘But surely we should delay until we have the opportunity to consult my uncle? We should not contemplate such a proceeding without his permission. In our last communication from Keswick
there was some expectation that he might be sufficiently recovered to commence the journey homewards within a few days. Can we not await his arrival?’
    ‘You know full well, Edmund, that my father is not as yet deemed well enough to receive the news of Fanny’s death, coming as it does, so soon upon the shock of her disappearance,
which has already provoked a dangerous relapse,’ replied Tom. ‘And even if he is able to set out from Cumberland as promptly as you hope, he will have to travel in slow stages,
and will not return to Mansfield for at least a fortnight. We cannot afford to wait so long. I am grateful for your advice, Edmund, but in my father’s absence I am master at Mansfield
Park. I have sent for this Charles Maddox, and I expect him later this afternoon. Good day to you.’
    Mary had, by this time, crept to the