By Phil Temples

I sat in the elegant sitting room with the esteemed Dr. Thomas Muffet, having been summoned to his Saint Amesbury Street home by his manservant at two thirty in the afternoon. In addition to my full-time job as a clerk, I also hold a constable position. I am charged with apprehending any person or persons accused of a felony, and bringing them to the Justice of the Peace forthwith. I am also charged with investigating suspicious behaviors, as well as cases involving abducted citizens. In this particular matter before me, Dr. Muffet reported that his stepdaughter, Patience, had gone missing.

“Tell me, Doctor, when did you last see the child?”

“When we broke fast, sir. She was here in the study with me, sitting on that footstool, absentmindedly playing with her food. I scolded her—I told her to stop and eat. I reminded her that there were many children in London who, at that very moment, were waking up with empty stomachs and would cherish a nourishing meal. I asked the child if she would prefer instead to go without sustenance for the next forty-eight hours.”

Muffet seemed distraught. Perhaps he blamed himself for verbally lashing out at the girl. I sought to reassure him.

“Good sir, young children are champions at testing our good natures. You mustn’t blame yourself. Now, I assume you’ve checked all the rooms, including the attic and cellar?”

Muffet’s face brightened for a second. He shot a glance at Alfred, the servant. Alfred anticipated Muffet’s request. He exited, presumably to search the other parts of the house.

“How old is she, Doctor?”

“She will be eight years old in a fortnight.”

“I see. And, did Patience—umm—did she seem particularly upset by your scolding her over the food?”

“No, Constable. She stopped playing and began to eat like an obedient young lady.

“Does Patience have any playmates in the immediate vicinity?”

“As much as it pains me to admit it…no, she does not. Mrs. Muffet—God rest her soul—departed us two summers ago. But Patience is exposed to the feminine virtues through my dear sister, Deloris. Deloris visits the household regularly to school the girl.”

“Brilliant. Have you checked to see if, perhaps, Patience found her way to your sister’s domicile?”

“Yes, I have. Doris lives two streets over. Alfred already visited the home to verify this before summoning you.”

The doctor added, “This is just not like the girl. She does not wander, or play outside of the house. I greatly fear for her safety.”

“Now, Doctor, don’t let your mind leap to dark conclusions. It’s far too early to speculate about such things. She’s been gone for only, what? Five hours, now?”

He nodded. “Yes, you’re quite right, my good man.”

“Do you mind if I conduct a cursory examination of the room for a moment?”
I let my eyes roam about the room, perusing the good doctor’s certificates on the wall, and his collection of medical instruments and other artifacts.

His pedigree included a Bachelor’s degree from Gonville Hall, and a Master’s from Trinity. Yet another framed certificate held a Doctor of Medicine award from Basel University. I had heard through civil discourse (over spirits at the local pub) that Muffet’s medical career had not been without some controversy.

What’s this?

Mounted under a large glass enclosure in the far corner of the room were hundreds of arthropods matted onto a light surface, with inscriptions describing species and gender. It was an elaborate display.

“Fascinating, Doctor. Is this a hobby of yours?”

“Why, no—not at all, good sir. It is a continuation of my medical career. The study of arthropods is a highly enlightening scientific endeavor. I am convinced that it will someday shed light upon a great many things about the human physiology, leading to new medicines and cures for all manner of afflictions that ail the body and the mind.”

On a side table, I spied a nearly completed manuscript. The title read Insectorum sive Minimorum Animalium Theatrum.

Muffet saw me looking at it.

“Also known as ‘Theater of Insects,’ Sir. It’s almost ready for publication. It will be my ‘crown jewel’ once it is published.”

“May I?”

I picked up the heavy tome to examine it more closely.

“Hello!”

Stuck to the underside of the cover, I discovered the flattened “remains” of one of Dr. Muffet’s specimens. It was hard to identify what the particular insect or arthropod had been prior to its demise.

“Dear God! Is that one of mine?”

The doctor rushed over to examine the squishy remains. He squinted at it for only a few seconds, before uttering his conclusion.

“This arthropod was not one of my specimens. I do not believe it has been ‘fixed’ in an alcohol solution, nor has …”

Just then, I spotted the faint glint of a spider’s thread illuminated by the rays of the afternoon sun. It was hanging from the ceiling.

“EUREKA!” I exclaimed. “I now know why your stepdaughter is not present. As to her whereabouts, that still remains a mystery.”

“What is this, you say? Please tell me, good sir! Who abducted her?”

“Why, no one, Doctor.”

~

“Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet
Eating her curds and whey,
Along came a spider,
Who sat down beside her
And frightened Miss Muffet away.”