Intrigued now, I fought my way through the crowd to catch up with her. Why another woman should want to dress up as a street urchin, I had no idea. The only other female detective I had met in New York City was Mrs. Goodwin, but she was employed by the police and wore a uniform. I was determined to keep this woman in sight until I could find a suitable opportunity to confront her. At least I didn’t have to worry about her fighting temperament.
Then I heard the rumble of an approaching El train over our heads. The young woman suddenly dashed up the steps to a station platform. I went to follow her, but I didn’t have a ticket. She pushed through the barrier and onto the train while I was left fuming and waiting in line at the ticket booth. For the second time in one evening I was furious with myself. If she truly had been another woman detective, then maybe we could have worked together and helped each other on occasion. God knows how hard it is to survive as a woman in a man’s world and how lonely such a profession can be.
My small back alley of a street called Patchin Place was in wintry darkness as I approached it, picking my way along the narrow trough that had been cleared through the snow. As I fished in my pocket for my front door key I realized I dreaded the prospect of an empty house on a cold dismal evening. I’m really not a creature designed for the solitary life at the best of times, and at this moment I longed for nothing more than a roaring fire, hot drink, and good company. I knew where I could find all of the above, but I hesitated to burst in on my neighbors so late in the evening, especially when they were entertaining friends whom I had not yet been invited to meet.
For a long moment propriety battled with longing. Being of a Celtic disposition, of course longing won out. I picked my way across the street and knocked on their door. It was opened by Sid wearing her customary gentleman’s velvet smoking jacket, her Turkish cigarette in its long ebony holder resting gracefully between her fingers. She was the picture of bohemian elegance but she was eyeing me with horrified suspicion.
“What do you want?” she demanded. “Go on. Clear off.”
“Sid, it’s me. Molly,” I said.
A surprised smile spread across her face. “Bless my soul, so it is. What on earth are you doing out this late, dressed in that extraordinary manner? No, don’t tell me. Gus will want to hear it too, and I know our guest will be thunderstruck to meet you.” She was already chuckling as she ushered me into the house and then threw open the drawing room door with a dramatic gesture.
“Prepare to be astonished, Gus,” she said. “And as for you, Elizabeth, here is a street urchin hot on your tail.”
I stepped into the delightful warmth of their drawing room. A big fire was blazing in the hearth. The heavy burgundy velvet drapes shut out the chilly night. A low table held a brandy decanter and steaming mugs as well as a copper bowl of figs, dates, and nuts. My friend Gus was sitting in the high-backed Queen Anne chair on one side of the fire, a beaded black shawl around her slender shoulders, while the person on the other side of the fire was my fellow urchin, whom I had lost on the train station. Her cap was now removed to reveal a fine head of dark hair. She had half risen from her seat and was eyeing me with fear.
Gus recognized me immediately and came toward me, arms open. “Molly, my dearest, pray tell what is going on. Is this some festival we are missing? The night of the street urchins? Surely not the Holy Innocents?” She dragged me toward the fire. “Goodness, your hands are freezing. Sid has just made some toddy for Elizabeth. Sit here while I fetch you some.”
I was firmly pushed into Gus’s seat by the fire and felt my hands and feet tingling back to life. My fellow urchin was eyeing me with interest as Gus returned with a steaming mug and thrust it into my hands. “Take a sip of that and then tell all,” she said.
I sipped and felt a delicious glow spreading down through my body. “Holy mother, that feels good,” I said. “I thought I was about to lose my hands and feet to frostbite. What a ridiculous idea to dress up as a street urchin on a night like this.”
“I came to that same conclusion myself,” the visitor they had addressed as Elizabeth said in a rich, cultured voice. “You must have had a very good reason for doing so.”
“I was following a man into an unsavory area,” I said. “Women who loiter on the sidewalk are liable to be arrested for prostitution. Urchins are invisible and plentiful, especially since every crossing currently has a sweeper or two in attendance, as you’ve just found out.” I smiled at the woman who threw back her head and laughed.
“You saw me, did you? Dismissed by a pint-sized bully. What a humiliation. But he looked a tough little devil and I had no wish to take him on and come home with a split lip for my pains.”
“So you were following a man, Molly,” Sid prompted.
“Yes. I’ve been asked to check on the character and potential vices of a young man. I’m supposed to see if he’ll make a suitable husband.”
“And he was venturing into a disreputable part of the city? Tut, tut.” Sid chuckled.
“Only to visit his tailor as it turned out,” I admitted. “So far his behavior has been exemplary.”
Their guest was looking at me with interest. “Do I take it that you are some kind of detective?”
“I am,” I said.
“A very good one too,” Gus added proudly. “I haven’t introduced you properly, have I? Molly Murphy, this is Elizabeth Cochran Seaman. Molly has solved all sorts of dangerous cases. You’ll find her a fellow adventuress with stories to tell almost as good as your own.”
“Fascinating,” the woman said. “A woman detective. I don’t think I ever met one before.”
“Are you not a detective yourself?” I asked. “What other reason could there be for skulking around dressed as a boy on such a cold, unpleasant night?”
“I’m doing a little investigation of my own,” the woman said, smiling enigmatically. “Into the plight of newsboys.”
Sid came over to perch on the arm of the woman’s chair. “This, my dear Molly, is none other than the famous Nelly Bly.”
“But I thought you just introduced her as Elizabeth,” I said, and flushed at their laughter.
“My sweet, Nelly Bly is her pseudonym,” Sid said. “Surely you must have heard of her. She is very famous.”
“Infamous, rather, wouldn’t you say?” Nelly, or was it Elizabeth, chuckled.
“I’m sorry. The name is familiar but I really don’t know . . . ,” I mumbled.
“You have to remember that Molly has been in America less than two years,” Gus said, coming to put a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Your most infamous exploits were all over by then, and perhaps news of them didn’t travel to Ireland.”
“It may have reached Dublin,” I said, laughing too now, “but not the backwater where I lived. We got the news of Queen Victoria’s death two days late.”
“Well, let me fill you in,” Sid said. “Elizabeth is a newspaper reporter. She specializes in exposing corruption, injustice, that dark underbelly of society that we should know about. She is worse than you at putting herself in harm’s way to achieve it, too.”
“She got herself arrested so that she could report on conditions in a women’s prison,” Gus said, “and she went undercover in an insane asylum.”
“From which they almost wouldn’t let me out,” Elizabeth added.
“And didn’t you cause a ruckus in Mexico?”
Elizabeth laughed out loud again. Truly she had a most infectious laugh. “I did indeed. I reported on the corruption surrounding their elections. I was lucky to have got out of that one alive.”
“So what adventures have you undertaken recently?” I asked. “I’ve read the newspapers diligently since I came here and I don’t think I’ve noticed your name.”
“My dear, I have been playing at being a staid married woman,” she said. “Only just recently it has begun to pall. And when I heard that the city newsboys were talking of forming a union, I thought what a good story it would make and resolved to look at their plight for myself. Hence the disguise.”
Gus looked across at Sid. “Aren’t you pleased that all our friends have so much spunk?”
“They wouldn’t stay our friends for long if they didn’t,” Sid said. “Life is too short to have boring friends. I must say it was delightful to discover that not all of our Vassar classmates had succumbed to matrimony and domestic drudgery.”
“What about that girl who had gone up the Amazon?” Gus exclaimed. “Her description of anacondas made me long to see for myself. Should we take a trip to the Amazon, do you think, Sid dearest?”
The fire and the hot toddy had brought back life to my hands and feet and I was feeling comfortable and drowsy. It occurred to me that conversations like this did not take place in many drawing rooms. Young women were supposed to swoon at the thought of a giant snake, not wish to rush up the Amazon to see one. I gazed at them fondly. Gus’s eye caught mine.
“Molly, where are our manners? You look quite worn out. Have you been overdoing things while we’ve been away? Have you eaten tonight?”
“Yes, thank you,” I said, not wanting to impose.
“And has Daniel the Deceiver been treating you well during our absence?” Sid asked.
“Daniel is still away, as far as I know,” I said. “I’ve not heard a peep from him since before Thanksgiving.”
“Just like a man.” Elizabeth chuckled. “It never crosses their minds to think that we women might be worried and want to hear from them. But why would you want to hear from a deceiver, may I ask?”
“That is all in the past,” I said, feeling my cheeks turning red at the thought of explaining this. “He is a reformed character. But Sid and Gus still insist on using the epithet.”
“Because he still doesn’t treat Molly how she deserves to be treated,” Sid said. “Too self-centered by half.”
“Aren’t all men?” Elizabeth said. “My husband is better than most but if he has a pet project then all else is shut from his mind. I once waited over an hour for him to pick me up from the station, because he was rearranging his stamp collection and had forgotten the time.”
I decided that I should probably go home and let these old friends enjoy one another’s company. I rose to my feet. “If you ladies will excuse me,” I said. “It’s been a long day and I should get out of this ridiculous outfit.”
Gus took my arm. “Molly, do stay and have a late supper with us,” she said. “Sid has found some lovely ripe cheeses and we’ve a bottle of claret we’re dying to try.”
“It does sound tempting,” I said, “but I think I should go home and let old friends reminisce.”
Nelly Bly also got up. “And I should also go and change before there is any talk of supper. I’ve been an urchin long enough today.” She held out her hand. “It was my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Murphy.”
“Molly, please,” I said.
“And I am Elizabeth. I prefer not to use my infamous nom de plume when I am not working.”
Her handshake was firm, almost like a man’s.
Gus held open the door for me. “Tomorrow you must come to dinner, or will you be out sleuthing again?”
“I suppose I must, if I’m to do this job thoroughly,” I said, “although I rather think that the young man will turn out to be just as represented.”
“Lunch then,” Sid said. “We won’t take no for an answer.”
“Thank you.” I smiled at them. “Then I definitely accept.”
“Unless Daniel the Deceiver puts in an appearance,” Sid said dryly, “then we’ll be cast aside again, you mark my words.”
“Absolutely not,” I said. “I am not a puppet on a string. I don’t jump to Daniel’s commands. And if he can’t be bothered to send me one note in over a week, then he can wait until I’m ready to see him.”
“Well said, Molly,” Elizabeth applauded. “Spoken like a Vassar graduate. I take it you didn’t go to that esteemed institution?”
“I went to no institution at all,” I said. “I was educated, to a certain extent, with the daughters of the local landowner, but then my mother died and I had to stay home to raise three young brothers. I’d have dearly loved to further my education, but it just wasn’t possible.”
“There is always time,” Elizabeth said. “These two women possess an impressive library and a wealth of interesting and informed friends.”
“I know,” I said. “I have taken full advantage of both. Now if you’ll excuse me, I look forward to continuing this conversation tomorrow. Now I hear soap and a washcloth calling to remove this grime from my face.”
I left them laughing merrily and closed the front door feeling in much better humor. I crossed Patchin Place and was about to put my key in the front door when I was grabbed violently from behind. My arm was wrenched behind my back as an elbow came around my throat.
“Got you,” a voice hissed in my ear. “Don’t try to struggle or it will be the worse for you. I could snap your neck in a second it I wanted to.”