A Case of Doubtful Death (43 page)

‘I bet it
was
true,’ said Sarah, grimly. ‘Every bit of it. A man who can’t respect his own mother can’t hardly respect anything else, least of all himself.’

‘Oh, how true that is,’ said Cedric.

‘We are usually more polite about a deceased person than one that lives,’ observed Frances. ‘We like to remember their strengths and forget their weaknesses. But perhaps they do things differently in Manchester.’

‘I don’t see how being dead makes a man’s life any better than it was,’ said Sarah. ‘If she said it plain, and meant it, then she was remembering him right. When my grandfather died we all sat down and said he was a mean old grizzler when sober and a worse one when drunk, and then we all cried our eyes out, because we knew it was true.’

‘But Miss ‘Orton said all that
before
‘er brother was dead,’ said Tom.

Frances stared at him. ‘Before? Surely not. Miss Horton came down to London after reading about her brother’s death in the newspapers. So, when she went to his lodgings she already knew he had died.’

‘Oh, well I dint know what she said to
you
. But the man said that she come to see ‘im askin’ about her brother on the Tuesday mornin’ and it was the next day when ‘e ‘eard about the body found in the area.’

‘And did he tell Miss Horton that her brother might be found at the Piccadilly Club?’

‘Well ‘e dint know as ‘ow ‘e was a member, but ‘e knew ‘e’d taken to walkin’ up and down an’ talkin’ to ‘imself outside the door, cos ‘e’d been up on the Monday an’ asked for ‘is rent and not got it.’

‘And Ratty here saw Horton with a woman that Tuesday night,’ said Sarah, ‘and they were affectionate and walking arm-in-arm.’

‘I have to confess,’ said Frances, ‘that when Miss Horton came to see me I did not question her story, but I will check to see when the identity of the dead man was first revealed in the newspapers and compare it with when she said she arrived in London.’ She turned to Cedric. ‘I don’t suppose you still have copies of last week’s newspapers?’

Cedric raised his eyebrows in mock horror.

‘No, I rather thought not, but I do retain them for reference.’ Frances rose. ‘If what I suspect is right, then I must not waste any time, and Tom will have to take a message to Inspector Gostelow.’

‘You see, Pounder?’ said Cedric. ‘A visit from Miss Doughty is always attended by more drama than the popular theatre.’

‘So I see,’ answered the Professor.

‘And a visit from Miss Smith is often attended by severe discomfort if one is a criminal.’

Pounder nodded thoughtfully, but said nothing.

Later that day, Frances received a visit from Inspector Gostelow.

‘Well, I don’t know how you do it, Miss Doughty, but thanks to your quick thinking we managed to catch up with Miss Horton before she left London and I have never seen a woman more relieved to confess all. Seems like it was the old story – after their father died the son was the apple of his mother’s eye and everything went on his education, while the daughter stayed at home. He gets packed off to London to make his fortune, but they lose touch. When mother gets very ill she wants to see her boy again before she goes, but she tells the daughter that her life policy money will all go to the son and she is relying on him to look after his sister. So Miss Horton goes to her brother’s last address and the landlord says he doesn’t know where he lives, but he might be found near the Piccadilly Club. That’s where she sees him, walking up and down outside, off his head with drink. And probably off his head even without the drink. It soon becomes clear to her that her brother is a wastrel who would spend his inheritance as soon as he gets it. Then he tries to borrow money from her. Final straw is, he tells her he has pawned his late father’s gold watch and ring, which were family heirlooms entrusted to him by their mother, and when he staggers against the railing she loses her temper and pushes him over. Regrets it as soon as done, of course, but there you are.’

‘And of course, she wanted to find his rooms to look for the pawn tickets,’ said Frances. ‘But even if her brother had inherited, I am sure that given his unhappy state, Miss Horton could have got control of the legacy, and then she would have cared for him.’

‘Ah yes, but she hadn’t seen him in a year. He was a bit eccentric before, but his brain had got worse since then, and that night she thought he was just drunk.’

‘Poor woman,’ said Frances. ‘I do hope she won’t be hanged.’

‘Oh no, it won’t be hard to play on the tender hearts of the jurymen. She’ll plead the madness of a moment and get manslaughter. I’ve seen many a bad husband, or brother, or father sent off like that, and the woman reckoning that nine or ten years in prison was a fair exchange for their absence.’

‘But she can’t inherit from her mother now.’

‘No, but there’s a cousin who will, and he has said he is willing to give her a home when she comes out of prison, so I expect it will all turn out alright for her.’

Later that day there was an unusual delivery; Joseph arrived with an envelope containing four tickets for a demonstration of the noble art and exact science of self-defence at Westbourne Hall by that unparalleled exponent, Professor Pounder.

‘The tickets are for yourself, of course, and young masters Thomas and Ratty, and the other is for Miss Smith,’ said Joseph, suppressing a smile. ‘The Professor was most particular about
that
.’

‘It seems,’ said Frances to Sarah, showing her the tickets, ‘that you have an admirer.’ She was a little cautious about mentioning this, since young men who had previously expressed a tender interest in Sarah’s substantial charms had quickly regretted it.

‘Stuff and nonsense!’ said Sarah, but, unusually, she did not seem displeased.

‘But we ought to go, it will be very interesting. I understand that the one minute challenge, which is open to all-comers, can be very entertaining and no real harm is done.’ Frances paused, struck by a worrying thought. ‘Sarah, I hope you won’t think of —’

‘Naw – he’s in no danger from me!’ Sarah stuffed her ticket into a pocket. ‘Now, as to admirers, well, I think you ought to look at this.’ She handed Frances a copy of
Miss Dauntless in Danger
.

‘Oh, are these continuing?’ said Frances. She leafed through the pages, which revealed that Miss Dauntless and her companion Sally had moved to commodious apartments in the vicinity of Hyde Park. The enterprising lady detective was portrayed, she thought, in a spirit of rather too extravagant admiration. In one scene of high drama Miss Dauntless, having courageously pursued some criminals through the park, was attacked by a villainous character on the bridge over the Serpentine, and thrown into the water from which she was rescued by a mysterious stranger, who gathered her into his arms and planted a chaste kiss on her lips before disappearing into the night.

‘Well, it
is
only a story,’ Frances protested.

‘That ain’t no story,’ declared Sarah, ‘that’s a love letter!’

Frances didn’t know what to say.

‘You’ve gone quite red in the face,’ said Sarah. ‘I’ll make a pot of tea.’

    
END
    

The subject of this book was inspired by
Buried
Alive
by Jan Bondeson, a fascinating account of the history of the fear of premature burial.

The Reverend Walter Whiter’s
A Dissertation on the Disorder of Death
, published in
1819
(downloadable at
www.archive.org
) is well worth reading for his viewpoint on the signs of death.

For the late nineteenth-century understanding of putrefaction and other signs of death I have turned to contemporary editions of
The
Principles and Practice of Medical Jurisprudence
by Alfred Swaine Taylor, edited by Dr Thomas Stevenson.

A detailed account of a visit to Kensal Green Cemetery is to be found in
The Business of
Pleasure
by Edmund Yates, published in
1879
, and downloadable at
www.archive.org
.

Most of the people mentioned in this book are fictional. All the streets and public buildings mentioned by name are actual locations.

The General Cemetery of All Souls Kensal Green conducted its first funeral in
1833
and still performs burials and cremations daily. It is open to visitors every day. For details of guided tours and the annual open day see
www.kensalgreen.co.uk
. A tour of the catacombs is highly recommended!

The Life House is fictional, but waiting mortuaries did exist although not in the UK. The first waiting mortuary, the Vitae Dubiae Asylum, was built by German physician Christoph Wilhelm Hufeland in Weimar in
1792
.

William Whiteley’s empire with his row of ten shops on Westbourne Grove and new ones being built in Queen’s Road (nowadays Queensway) was already a prominent feature of Bayswater life in
1880
.

Providence Hall in Church Street was one of the locations where inquests were held in Paddington, often presided over by Dr William Hardwicke, the coroner for central Middlesex.

Reverend Benjamin Day was the curate of St Stephen’s Church, Paddington.

The Grand Junction Canal commenced construction in
1793
. In
1929
it became part of the Grand Union Canal.

The Paddington Vestry was a forerunner of the Borough Council. Its sometimes tumultuous meetings are very well documented in the
Bayswater
Chronicle
.

Dr Thomas Stevenson (
1838
-
1908
) was a noted chemist and toxicologist who was often called upon to give evidence at inquests and trials.

In
1877
, some of the management and staff of the Hospital for Diseases of the Throat and Chest, Golden Square resigned after the death of a patient.

In
1880
, the Aberdeen Hospital for Incurables was in Baker Street, Aberdeen.

On
2
September
1880
,
10
-year-old James Henry Robinson drowned while bathing in the Grand Junction Canal near Kensal Green Cemetery. The coroner commented that such accidents were all too common.

On
4
September
1880
, the Balloon Society of Great Britain organised a number of ascents, one of which took place from Kensal Green.

The Monmouth Club opened at
7
Monmouth Road just off Westbourne Grove in
1877
and its activities were criticized in the
Bayswater
Chronicle
from March
1879
. In July
1880
, David Copping, the club’s proprietor, commenced an action for libel against Henry Walker, the proprietor and editor of the
Chronicle
, and publisher George Walters. The case finally came to trial on
22
and
23
October and the defendants were not only acquitted but praised for having performed a public service. The club was closed down.