NURSE CARTRIGHT HAD RECEIVED a commendation from Chief Inspector Dobbs before being escorted home. Her role as a decoy had been a dangerous one, but she had volunteered to take it on without hesitation. With Sergeant Ross always her shadow and guard, she had approached three possible suspects at intervals and in different streets, and quickly established they could not be identified as the man called Jarvis Oxberry, of whom a very good description had been obtained. Farce entered the realms of danger when one of these men said he couldn’t afford a woman, but that he could offer her fourpence if she’d show him what she kept in her corset. She told him to keep his fourpence and went on her way, Sergeant Ross keeping her in sight all the while.
Regarding the fourth man, she knew she could rely on Sergeant Ross to understand this man was very much a possible in that she called him a handsome gent. Those were the key words, and she’d spoken them clearly enough for Ross to hear. Ross’s drunken bawling of the sailor’s song had been to let her know the man was on her tail after she had resumed her walk.
Dobbs, who had been in company with the Chief Superintendent during the discreet police infiltration of Whitechapel, not only expressed hearty admiration of Nurse Cartright, but subsequently suggested to Sergeant Ross that she was hardly a woman who should be encouraged to merely play whist.
The Chief Superintendent was present at the interview with the man called Jarvis Oxberry. It took place at Scotland Yard. Dobbs and his team regarded the suspect with a great deal of interest. Jarvis Oxberry, now recovered from his bruising encounter with Sergeant Ross, showed a calm demeanour. A good-looking man with a quite distinguished air, he appeared to be in his early forties, his handsome countenance marred only by a little scar on his left temple. Dobbs put the first question.
‘You gave your name as Jarvis Oxberry at the Whitechapel police station,’ he said. ‘Is that correct, sir?’
‘Of course.’
‘You didn’t give your address.’
‘I don’t concern myself with trivial questions.’
‘We believe you to be residing in Tanner Street, the Borough, as a lodger of a Mr and Mrs Pritchard.’
‘Who the devil are they?’
‘We can get them here to identify you as their lodger, sir.’
‘Do as you like. I’ve been accused of certain crimes. You can’t prove I’m responsible.’
‘You were arrested, Mr Oxberry, at a moment when you were attempting the murder of a woman.’
Jarvis Oxberry looked contemptuous.
‘You can’t prove that,’ he said. ‘I didn’t lay a finger on her. An attempt at murder is only an assumption of yours.’
‘You were seen to follow her—’
‘Seen? Through the fog?’
‘It wasn’t thick at ground level last night,’ said Dobbs, ‘and you were seen to run at her with a knife in your hand.’
‘What knife?’
‘This one.’ Dobbs unwrapped the wicked-looking weapon.
‘I’ve never seen it before, except in the hand of a man who claimed to be a police officer. I only know that after I was physically assaulted, he showed the knife to me.’
‘You dropped it when you fell,’ said Dobbs.
‘That’s what you say.’
‘Mr Oxberry,’ said the Chief Superintendent, ‘are you denying you followed the lady and ran at her?’
‘I followed her, yes, she had stolen a shilling from me. I didn’t need a knife to prevail on her to give the coin back.’
‘She – um – acquired the coin by picking your pocket, did she?’ asked Dobbs.
‘It was in my coat pocket. I occasionally keep a coin or two there.’
‘I can’t recollect that the lady is known for picking pockets,’ said Dobbs.
‘Well, you know now,’ said Oxberry.
‘Why were you in Whitechapel, sir?’ asked Inspector Davis.
‘What nosy people you are, but if you must know I’ve an interest in certain types of crime, and I’ve recently indulged that interest by making the rounds of the area notorious for being associated with Jack the Ripper. May I go now?’
‘I’m afraid not, sir,’ said Dobbs, fiddling with his watch chain. ‘There’s the murder of Maureen Flanagan to be considered. Miss Flanagan also lodged with Mr and Mrs Pritchard. We suggest the crime took place in your bedroom.’
‘That suggestion is pitiful. The woman was unknown to me.’
‘Was she? Could she have been when she lodged on the same floor of the house as you?’
‘Being aware of another lodger isn’t the same as knowing her,’ said Jarvis Oxberry dismissively.
‘There are bloodstains on the flooring planks beneath the linoleum in your bedroom, Mr Oxberry,’ said Dobbs, looking cheerful at being able to deliver that piece of information.
A little flicker disturbed Oxberry’s lashes, but he said, quite calmly, ‘There may be. I know nothing of them.’
‘They’re undergoing expert examination,’ said Dobbs. ‘Further, there are ashes in the fire and the pan. What did you burn there, sir?’
‘I’ve lit no fires. Nor can you prove I did.’
‘What d’you do for a living?’ asked Dobbs.
‘Very little. I mainly exist on my savings and what I earn as a part-time shop assistant.’
‘In the men’s outfitters in the Strand?’ said Sergeant Ross.
‘That’s correct. ‘I’m committed to a quiet and respectable life.’
The Chief Superintendent said, ‘How respectable is it, sir, to indulge a morbid interest in the devilish crimes of Jack the Ripper?’
‘I consider that a childish question,’ said Oxberry.
Dobbs studied the man’s features more intently, and surprised himself with a sudden feeling that they weren’t completely unfamiliar. It wasn’t a strong feeling, it was merely a vague stirring in his mind.
However, he said, ‘Mr Oxberry, have we met before, would you say?’
‘Never.’ The answer was incisive.
‘You surrendered your wallet at Whitechapel police station,’ said Dobbs. ‘It contained twenty-seven pounds, and nothing else, nothing to prove you are Jarvis Oxberry. I suggest you’re hiding your real identity.’
‘You can suggest what you like, but the fact is your accusations that I’m responsible for certain crimes are based on no proof, and my own suggestion is that you let me go.’
‘You’re being held very definitely in respect of your attack on a woman, Mr Oxberry,’ said the Chief Superintendent. ‘We’ll resume interviewing you in the morning, and if you wish to have your solicitor present, you may do so. Overnight, you’ll be detained in a cell.’
‘You’re making a serious mistake,’ said Jarvis Oxberry, ‘but I should at least like a cup of tea before I retire. No sugar, thank you.’
He was taken down and given a cup of tea, but not before the Chief Inspector had made another study of his features, a searching one.
‘Charlie,’ said the Chief Superintendent before leaving, ‘he’s going to be difficult to break.’
‘We’ll get him for the attempted murder of Nurse Cartright,’ said Dobbs, ‘and for the murder of Maureen Flanagan.’
‘I think we’ll succeed with the attempted murder,’ said the Chief Superintendent, ‘but we can do with more than circumstantial evidence in respect of Maureen Flanagan. See you in the morning.’
Dobbs spoke to Sergeant Ross a minute later.
‘About our guest, Archie Binns.’
‘Yes, guv?’
‘We won’t release him yet, not until we’ve cracked Oxberry. Archie won’t mind, as long as we keep feeding him. Oh, and search those ashes for buttons first thing in the morning.’
‘We need buttons, guv, Oxberry’s as tough as Gottfried.’
‘Don’t I know it. For instance, in respect of the buttons, who’s going to be able to say a burned set belonged to one of Flanagan’s blouses? Still, make the search. Goodnight. Compliments to Nurse Cartright.’
Mrs Daphne Dobbs was still up when her husband at last arrived home.
‘Daffie, what’s kept you out of bed?’
‘Oh, just the fact of being a dutiful wife, Charlie. Would you like a hot toddy or d’you want to go straight up?’
‘Let’s have a hot toddy.’
‘Has the man confessed?’ asked Daphne. Charlie had telephoned to let her know he’d be exceptionally late on account of a suspect being charged. The Metropolitan Police had paid for the installation of a telephone last year.
‘No, he’s denying everything, and we’re carrying the heavy burden of no real proof, sod it,’ said Charlie.
‘I’ll overlook that,’ said Daphne, and the two of them transferred themselves to the kitchen, where she set about preparing the hot bedtime toddies. When they were ready, she and Charlie sat at the kitchen table to enjoy them. Charlie was thoughtful. ‘Penny for them,’ said Daphne.
‘I had a funny feeling that I’d seen this bloke Oxberry somewhere before,’ said Charlie. ‘Not recently, sometime in the past.’
‘In a police prison cell, perhaps?’ suggested Daphne.
‘You could be right on target,’ said Charlie. ‘You’re a bright girl, Daphne.’
‘Well, I was very bright once, when I married you instead of your rival, my charming floorwalker,’ smiled Daphne.
‘I’ve got fond memories of my lucky day,’ said Charlie. ‘I wonder now, has Oxberry got a police record?’