They Hanged My Saintly Billy (20 page)

P.S.
Remaining
sober
with
you
was
easy
enough,
because
you
are
a dear
good
creature
and
keep
no
spirits
in
your
house.
Here
drink is
always
at
my
elbow.

On
Sunday,
August
12th,
Dr
Day
called
at
Castle
Terrace
and found
Walter
and
William
Palmer
together.
Walter
was
so
intoxicated
that
Dr
Day
deferred
his
visit
until
the
afternoon,
hoping that
he
would
by
then
be
in
a
quieter
state.
Dr
Palmer
undertook
to
do
his
best
in
the
matter,
but
that
afternoon,
when
Dr
Day called,
he
opened
the
door
himself
and
said:
'Pray,
leave
this
to me.
Walter's
no
better
and
so
very
noisy
and
unmanageable,
it's no
use
your
seeing
him,
I'm
afraid.'

On
Monday,
Dr
Palmer
attended
the
Wolverhampton
Races; meanwhile
Dr
Day
saw
Walter
and
prescribed
some
pills.
When he
called
on
the
Tuesday,
Walter
said,
grinning:
'Doctor,
those pills
of
yours
were
twisters!
But
I
threw
them
up,
and
now
I'm off
to
Wolverhampton.
You
needn't
look
in
for
another
day
or two.
I'm
well
again.'

He
set
out
for
Wolverhampton
with
Walkenden,
stopping
at The
Fountain
Inn
on
his
arrival.
Here
he
felt
so
weak
that
he
had to
lie
down
and
never
reached
the
racecourse.
Walter
drank
all that
day,
and
continued
all
night
after
his
return
to
Castle
Terrace. When
Dr
Day
called
on
the
Wednesday,
August
14th,
he
was told
by
Walkenden:
'Your
patient
is
at
the
Wolverhampton Races,
Doctor.'
Walkenden
has
since
confessed
that
this
was
untrue;
but
swears
Walter
himself
sent
the
message.
At
any
rate, Walter
lay
upstairs
drinking,
and
did
not
leave
the
house.

Dr
Palmer
was
to
have
attended
the
Ludlow
Races
that
Thursday;
but
changed
his
mind
and
instead
went
to
Stafford
where
he spent
the
day
with
"Walter,
having
asked
Jeremiah
Smith
to
keep in
touch
with
him.
At
1.32
p.m.,
Mr
Smith
dispatched
a
telegraphic
message:
'Lurley
has
a
good
chance
for
the
Ludlow Stakes.'
It
arrived
just
as
Walter
was
dying,
after
an
apoplectic stroke.
Ten
minutes
later
Dr
Palmer
summoned
the
Boots
at
the Grand
Junction
Hotel,
and
offered
him
sixpence
if
he
would
take a
telegraphic
message
to
Stafford
railway
station,
for
delivery
in London.
This
was
addressed
to
his
friend,
Mr
Webb,
and
ran: 'Lay
£50
on
Lurley
for
the
Ludlow
Stakes,
whatever
the
price.
If
Lurley
won,
Dr
Palmer
stood
to
make
five
hundred
pounds.
At a
quarter
past
four,
he
sent
another
telegraphic
message
by
the same
Boots
to
the
Clerk
of
the
Course,
at
Ludlow:
'Pray,
Mr Frail,
inform
me
who
won
the
Ludlow
Stakes.'

In
the
event,
Lurley
did
not
catch
the
Judge's
eye,
nor
did Morning
Star's
winning
of
the
Welter
Cup
by
twenty
lengths at
that
meeting
compensate
for
the
disappointment.
Dr
Palmer received
word
of
Lurley's
failure
as
stoically
as
usual.
On
the Thursday,
he
went
by
train
to
Liverpool
and
broke
the
news
of Walter's
death
to
Agnes
Palmer.
Overcome
by
grief,
she
asked why
nobody
had
written
or
telegraphed
to
say
that
he
was
ill. Dr
Palmer
at
once
answered
that,
on
asking
Walter's
leave
to write,
he
had
been
told:
'No,
Billy,
I'm
not
so
bad
as
all
that. I'll
write
myself
tomorrow
from
Wolverhampton;
I
don't
want Agnes
worried
unnecessarily.
You
shan't
say
a
word.'

Agnes
Palmer
then
proposed
to
return
with
Dr
Palmer
for
a last
look
at
her
husband;
but
he
said,
very
truly,
that
this
was
no longer
advisable.
The
body
had
begun
to
decompose
very
rapidly in
the
hot
August
weather,
and
was
now
closed
tightl
y
in
a
leaden shell.
She
therefore
nursed
her
grief
until
the
Monday,
when
the funeral
took
place
at
Rugeley;
there,
with
her
brothers-in-law William,
George
and
Thomas,
and
her
sister-in-law
Sarah,
she followed
Walter
to
his
grave
in
St
Augustine's
churchyard.

That
evening
Dr
Waddell
met
Walkenden,
very
drunk,
emerging
from
the
refreshment
room
on
Stafford
railway
station. 'Hulloa,
old
cock!'
cried
Walkenden.
'How's
the
hens?'

Dr
Waddell,
noticing
the
mourning
band
around
Walkenden's hat,
answered
civilly:
'Good
evening,
Tom!
May
I
ask
in
return whom
you
have
had
the
pleasure
of
putting
underground?'

'Poor
Watty!'
says
Walkenden.

'Poor
whom
?
'
asks
Dr
Waddell.