Later that day, Frances had a slightly difficult interview with Inspector Gostelow of the Kilburn police.
‘I am finding it hard to understand how you came to be in the Life House at all,’ he said. ‘Surely that is not a place for ladies.’
‘It is not,’ said Frances, ‘which is why I have been snooping around it for some days, hoping to be able to enter while no one was looking. I knew I would not be allowed to visit, yet I felt sure there was something to see.’
‘So how did you manage to get in?’
‘It was when the orderly admitted Dr Carmichael and the student. The young man was careless in closing the door and I was able to slip in unnoticed, and saw – well, what I saw. Then I asked the student to send a message to you at once.’
Gostelow frowned. ‘Well, that’s a pretty tale and no mistake! I’ve spoken to Mr Renfrew the orderly and he says the young gentleman had quite a feminine voice.’
‘Really?’ said Frances.
Gostelow shook his head. ‘I don’t know what you’ve been up to, Miss, but if I was your father I would be very worried indeed. Still, we’ll let it go for now, because it does seem that you have found something of interest.’
The door of his office opened and a constable peered in. Frances saw, to her surprise, the edge of a paper poking from his pocket, and recognised it at once as a copy of Miss Dauntless and the Diamond Thief. ‘We’ve got Mr Darscot, sir, shall I bring him in?’
‘Yes, and don’t let me find you carrying reading matter about with you again!’
‘Sorry sir.’ He took the booklet out of his pocket, and Gostelow snatched it from him and put it in his desk drawer. ‘Now go and get him. Miss Daunt – I mean Miss Doughty – you can go now.’
‘If you don’t mind, Inspector, I would like to stay,’ said Frances.
‘Certainly not! This is a police matter!’
‘I have been investigating Mr Palmer’s disappearance for some time and not only did I discover his body, but also the location where he was murdered,’ Frances reminded him. ‘Those are police matters, I believe. I may have some useful observations.’
He shook his head. ‘Inspector Sharrock warned me about you,’ he said.
‘About my habit of solving crimes?’
‘Yes, a most regrettable habit for a young lady. Still, I suppose we ignore it at our peril. Very well, you can stay as long as you sit tight and say nothing. Do you promise?’
‘I will do my best,’ she reassured him.
Darscot was brought in looking as fresh and dapper as ever, but with a wary look in his eye. He was taken aback to see Frances. ‘Why, Miss Doughty – have they got you here too?’
She declined to comment.
Darscot was ushered to a seat facing Gostelow across his desk and despite the unusual circumstances, did his best to retain his air of assurance.
‘Mr Darscot, we are enquiring into the death of Henry Palmer, which we now believe took place on the same night as the unfortunate occurrence concerning Dr Mackenzie.’
‘Oh, I read all about Mr Palmer in the newspapers and as you know, I did go up to the Life House that night. I saw Dr Bonner and viewed Dr Mackenzie’s body, but Palmer was not there.’
‘Can you go over again the events that occurred when you went there?’
‘Well, there is hardly anything to tell. I went because I wanted to see for myself that Mackenzie had indeed passed away, since he owed me a large sum of money, and found that he had – or at least it seemed so at the time.’
‘You entered the chapel?’
‘Yes.’
‘Not the main ward?’
‘Oh no, well there was no reason for me to go there, even if I was allowed in – it’s only doctors there isn’t it?’
‘The thing is, Mr Darscot, we now know that apart from Dr Mackenzie, who was alive but unconscious at the time, the only other persons in the Life House that evening were Dr Bonner, Mr Palmer and yourself. And we now believe that after reporting to Dr Mackenzie’s landlady, Mr Palmer, despite being told he might go home, instead returned to the Life House, no doubt from a sense of duty. We are also convinced that he died there. Both you and he were seen headed up to the Life House at about the same time, you by cab and he on foot. He probably arrived only a few minutes after you did.’
‘Well,’ said Darscot, ‘I wish I could help you, but I cannot. I was admitted to the chapel by Dr Bonner, I viewed the body of Dr Mackenzie, and then I left. I did not see Palmer. He must have arrived afterwards.’
‘How long were you there?’
‘Not many minutes.’
‘You departed by the chapel door?’
‘Yes.’
‘What about Dr Bonner? Where did he go?’
‘I couldn’t say; he was in the chapel when I left.’
Gostelow nodded. If, Frances reflected, Palmer had arrived shortly afterwards, then the only living persons in the Life House when he entered were Dr Mackenzie, who was unconscious, and Dr Bonner. But she did not know for certain exactly when Palmer had arrived, or even if he had arrived alone. The only thing that was certain was that by the following morning Palmer was dead, and his body had been switched with that of Mrs Templeman, whose corpse had been slipped into the canal, and most traces of blood splashing had been removed. She very much doubted that Bonner, afflicted as he was with the gout, could have done all that by himself, and certainly not in the brief period he was apparently alone in the Life House before Hemsley arrived. The only other man who had undoubtedly been on the ward that night was Hemsley. Had he helped his employer conceal a murder?
Gostelow glanced at Frances. ‘Er – Miss Doughty, you have been looking into the Palmer case on behalf of his relatives. I – ah – wonder if you have any observations at this point?’
‘I would like to ask Mr Darscot – when you were in the chapel, did you hear the sound of anyone in the ward? A person moving about, perhaps? A key turning? A bell? A knock on the door?’
‘No, nothing at all.’
‘You didn’t see Mr Palmer that night?’
‘Well, no, and I am not sure I would have recognised him if I did. I really would help you if I could.’ Darscot was lounging in his seat, all smiles, playing with the little cane, the picture of affable innocence.
‘And now I understand you are taking legal action against Dr Mackenzie’s estate for the loan of £500,’ said Frances, who suspected that the young man was more hard-headed about money than he liked to appear.
‘Yes, well I am very sorry for what has happened, but a loan is a loan, you know.’
‘May I see the agreement?’
Darscot laughed and made a great play of delving into his pockets and patting his coat, creating a rustling of paper and a chinking of coins and keys. ‘Of course, I don’t carry it about my person, it is with my legal man.’
‘Perhaps, Mr Darscot,’ said Frances, on a sudden thought, ‘you might like to turn out your pockets?’
He glanced at the Inspector. ‘Am I being accused of anything?’
‘Not yet,’ said Gostelow. ‘Please do as the young lady asks.’
Darscot looked surprised, but obliged. The items he laid on the desk were a pocket book containing some banknotes, a memorandum book, a pencil, some visiting cards in a silver case, a bundle of tailor’s bills, some coins and five keys on a ring. One key was small, but the other four were rather heavier.
Gostelow examined the pocket and memorandum books, but Frances picked up the bunch of keys.
‘What are these the keys to?’ she asked.
‘The small one is for my rooms at the Piccadilly Club,’ said Darscot, ‘and the others are the keys to some of my properties in the country.’
‘I think not,’ said Frances. ‘This is a set of keys to the Life House. Please don’t deny it, it is too easily tested. So on the night of Palmer’s death you could have let yourself into the Life House at the front door using these keys, and could have been on the ward when he was killed. Which means you have been lying to Inspector Gostelow.’
‘What do you say to that, sir?’ asked Gostelow. ‘Maybe you are the man who killed Mr Palmer.’
Darscot paled. ‘No! I haven’t killed anyone! All right, I admit that those are Life House keys. They’re Mackenzie’s. He let me have them as security for the loan.’
‘He would never have done that,’ said Frances. ‘And in any case, these are not Dr Mackenzie’s original keys, but a set that have been recently cut. It is the same locksmith but a slightly different design. A week before Dr Mackenzie died he arrived at the Life House very distressed, without his keys, saying he had left them at his lodgings. And then he didn’t return for several days. You stole his keys, didn’t you? And had them copied.’
‘I borrowed them,’ said Darscot. ‘And I gave them back, so it wasn’t stealing.’
‘Why did you have copies made?’
‘The man owed me money and I wasn’t going to have him hide away from me.’
‘I think,’ said Frances, ‘the Inspector would like to hear the truth about what happened on the night of Palmer’s death.’
‘You are looking at a very serious charge, sir,’ said Gostelow. ‘I would advise it.’
Darscot looked from one to the other, and sighed. ‘I am really very sorry that I have said nothing before, but I have been worried out of my wits. I have done nothing wrong, or at least if there was any wrongdoing it was forced upon me. Inspector, if I was to tell you all, would you agree that I would not suffer any penalties?’
‘That depends on what you have to say,’ said Gostelow. He called in the constable. ‘Mr Darscot is about to make a statement. Write down what he says.’
‘To be truthful,’ said Darscot, ‘it is something of a relief to be able to tell you this. It has weighed upon my mind most terribly. Well, the thing is, as you know I went up to the Life House by cab to see if Dr Mackenzie was really dead or just trying to avoid paying his debts. And I had the keys and let myself in. You can imagine how I felt when I walked in and there were Dr Mackenzie and Dr Bonner standing in the middle of the room, arguing.’
‘Excuse me,’ said Gostelow. ‘But this would have taken place after Mr Palmer had reported that Dr Mackenzie was dead?’
‘Yes, precisely! So I knew then that it was all a trick. I said straight out that Dr Mackenzie had some scheme to avoid paying me and Dr Bonner was very shocked. It seems that Mackenzie had told Bonner some fancy tale that he wanted to disappear because of an entanglement with a woman – I don’t know the details, but it was all lies in any case. Bonner had agreed to help him because he thought it was a matter of honour. When I said it was to escape paying his debts, Bonner was very upset. He said he didn’t want to help him any more. He said Mackenzie had got him to agree to something under false pretences, something that could damage his standing if it was found out. He asked how much the debt was and I told him £500. He wanted to know what Mackenzie had wanted the money for, but Mackenzie wouldn’t tell him. I had no idea myself why he wanted it. Bonner asked Mackenzie why he couldn’t have come to him if he was in money trouble, but Mackenzie wouldn’t say. Whatever the reason, it was obvious that it was something very unsavoury. Then Bonner said something about money missing from the Life House bank account – I didn’t know anything about that, of course, but Mackenzie was very upset and in tears, and admitted that he had taken it but was putting it back. Then Mackenzie said that if he wasn’t so much of a coward he would kill himself, and if Bonner wouldn’t help him he would have to run away.
‘Bonner said he couldn’t do that, he had already sent Palmer with a message that Mackenzie was dead, and he would have to go on with the plan, but Mackenzie said he couldn’t face doing it and just wanted to go away. He was in quite a state by now, and Bonner looked very worried and we both tried to calm him down, but we couldn’t. There was a syringe nearby; I don’t know who had prepared it because it was lying there when I came in. Mackenzie already had one sleeve rolled up as if he had been preparing himself for an injection, and Bonner picked up the syringe and injected him. He said, “I don’t know what you have been up to, but you needn’t think you can run off.” Mackenzie looked alarmed and then he suddenly collapsed. Whether from the injection or fright I don’t know. So we got him onto one of the tables and Bonner took his pulse and found that – well, he thought the man was dead. And I remember saying to him, “Dr Bonner, you’ve just murdered Dr Mackenzie!”’
‘And then we heard a noise behind us, and we looked around and saw Palmer – how long he had been there we didn’t know, but he looked very shocked at what he had seen.
‘Bonner went up to him and tried to placate him, saying that it wasn’t what it looked like and he needed him to keep quiet, but Palmer wouldn’t listen, he said he was going to the police. And he made to go out, but when he turned around Dr Bonner hit him on the back of the head with his walking stick. I think Dr Bonner was very upset, because when Palmer fell down, he hit him again, at least twice more. Of course, we saw that he was dead and when Bonner realised what he had done, he said he was ruined, but then he said that I had to help him, or he would blame it all on me. How it could be my fault I really don’t know, it’s not as if I even know how to give an injection, but Bonner said he was well thought of in Bayswater and had a lot of friends in high places, and if it came to it people would believe him and not me. So I was afraid, then, and said I would help him, but it was only because he threatened me. Of course, I had to do most of the work, but that was only because Dr Bonner was lame. Bonner said we had to hide the body, but we couldn’t put it in the canal because it would be obvious that Palmer had been murdered, and then the police would look into it and ask questions. So I said why not get it buried, and he agreed. Dr Bonner washed the blood off the wall, and I took Palmer into the little side room where they have the coffins and put him in one. I had to get Dr Mackenzie into a coffin as well, it’s a good thing they had that stretcher on wheels.’
‘Why did you put Mrs Templeman’s body in the canal?’ asked Frances.
‘I’d just done what Bonner told me to do,’ said Darscot, ‘and then all of a sudden he said I had to put another body in the coffin with Palmer, as otherwise there would be one body too many and they always keep records of how many there are. But I didn’t know about that and I’d already fastened the lid down, so Bonner said I had to take it up again, and just at that moment we heard the outer door open. It was the other orderly. We only had a moment or two to think what to do, and then I said I’d take the lady’s body and put it in the canal, and Bonner said to do that.’
‘Did you steal Dr Mackenzie’s travelling bag?’ asked Frances.
‘Yes. It wasn’t really stealing was it, the man owed me money, and in any case I thought he was dead. I hoped there might be something of value in it, but there wasn’t. Then when you started asking about Mackenzie, and the bag was being talked about all over Bayswater, I thought I’d better get rid of it, so I threw it in the canal.’
Gostelow looked at Darscot as he might have looked at a piece of refuse that he had just scraped off the sole of his boot. He glanced at Darscot’s card. ‘John Darscot, I am placing you under arrest for the offences of theft and acting as an accessory to murder.’
‘Oh but —’
‘Constable, place him in the cells.’
‘My solicitor will hear of this!’
‘No doubt, and he may even obtain bail, but in the meantime I want you where I can question you further when I have heard what Dr Bonner has to say.’
Darscot was removed.
When Frances left the police station she found Dr Carmichael pacing up and down outside, with a wild look in his eyes. ‘I went to your home and they said you were here. What has happened?’
‘Mr Darscot has been arrested, and the police will be questioning Dr Bonner.’
Carmichael uttered a great gasp of relief. ‘Oh, you don’t know what a great weight that is off my mind!’
‘You are correct,’ said Frances sternly, ‘I don’t, so you had better tell me.’
‘The thing is, I discovered that Darscot was – how shall I say it – a close associate of the person who I suspect had stolen my sister’s journal. I thought it very possible that it had come into his hands, but I dared not confront him directly. I managed by a ruse to enter his rooms at the Piccadilly and searched them, but found nothing. Even if he had had it once, he might have sold it on, but my concern was that he had hidden it and was simply biding his time, and any expression of anxiety on my part would show my weakness and he would take advantage of that. I have every hope of an excellent new post in London and dare do nothing that would jeopardise that. I dared not even mention my suspicions of Darscot to you in case you inadvertently alerted him. I suppose I thought you would have agents who would be able to keep watch and make their own enquiries.’
‘I do,’ said Frances, ‘but without all the necessary facts my hands were tied.’ A thought crossed her mind. ‘That tale you told me about your sister’s letter being given to you in the street. Was that the truth? Or another lie?’
He bowed his head. ‘I am ashamed to say that was not true. I told you that so as to divert attention from Darscot.’
‘Really, Dr Carmichael,’ said Frances in disgust, ‘I can scarcely act for you if you repeatedly tell me lies. You should be ashamed of yourself! I have been making enquiries of every person who frequents Porchester Road for this messenger boy, who you now say is an invention. Come by this afternoon and pay off your account, and we will have done.’
She turned to walk away, but he ran after her. ‘But we have made so much progress in the case!’ he exclaimed. ‘The police will be looking into Darscot’s affairs, and he is safely under lock and key, but you must try and find if he has any secret hiding places or unsavoury associates. Now is the best time to find those documents!’
Frances recalled Darscot’s apparently selfless offers to help Miss Horton with her late brother’s affairs, but ‘selfless’ was not, she thought, an adjective that could apply to Mr Darscot. Perhaps his desire to discover the late Mr Horton’s lodgings had a sinister motive, although it seemed most unlikely that Darscot had entrusted anything of value to a man with such an unhappy brain. She paused. ‘Very well, but you must still pay your account up to date including all my expenses, and a further advance. Do that, and I will continue to trouble myself with this foolish story as if it was the truth.’ She walked away.
Back at her lodgings, Frances wrote to Chas and Barstie asking them if they could discover anything of interest about Darscot, especially his business affairs. She also sent a note to Tom who arrived before long, and asked him to redouble his efforts to discover where Mr Horton lived, employing as many other boys as he saw fit, and also if he knew of any other address for Darscot apart from the Piccadilly. ‘Oh, ‘e’s a fly gent an’ no mistake.’ said Tom, ‘ad me runnin’ notes for ‘im all over the place. Paid well, mind, so I kept the old clapper shut. I’m no buzz-man! Got any sardines?’
‘All the sardines you can eat if you can find out where he lives when he is not at the Piccadilly Club. Mr Darscot has just been arrested, although I suspect he can afford a legal man who will have him freed on bail before too long. If there is anything to learn we must do it quickly.’
‘I’ll run off now, then,’ said Tom, stuffing a sausage into a bread roll and pushing the resultant light repast into his pocket.
Next morning, Mr Rawsthorne called on Frances accompanied by the unpleasant Mr Wheelock. Sarah brought refreshments and settled herself in a chair to observe the proceedings. Both the men were aware that Sarah, once the Doughty family’s maid of all work, had been transformed into a lady’s companion and assistant detective, but neither felt entirely comfortable with the new situation and both chose to ignore her, as if she had been a solid but unexceptional chest of drawers, a thing with neither eyes nor ears. Sarah was used to her invisibility and seemed not to mind, while Frances saw it as an advantage as her visitors might be more forthcoming.
‘I have come,’ said Rawsthorne, ‘to speak to you on behalf of my client, Dr Bonner, who is currently in police custody. I believe you know something of the circumstances.’
‘More than most, I’d say,’ sneered Wheelock.
‘Dr Bonner was sojourning in Brighton for the sake of his health, when most upsettingly he received a visit from the police, who not only questioned him about the death of Mr Palmer, but took him into custody. He is now residing in a cell at Kilburn police station in a state of some mental and physical distress. I understand that you were instrumental in finding the body of Mr Palmer and the location of his demise. And, though I find this hard to credit, you somehow managed to be present when the Kilburn police questioned my client’s accuser, Mr Darscot.’
‘That is the case,’ said Frances.
‘Regular Miss Dauntless and no mistake!’ said Wheelock. Sarah scowled at him.
‘Did you write those stories?’ Frances demanded.
‘Oh, yes, I’m better’n Charles Dickens, me!’ said Wheelock. Frances thought not.
‘I must say, your endeavours never cease to amaze me,’ said Rawsthorne. ‘How I wish your dear father could be here now, to see you so celebrated.’
‘You are too kind,’ said Frances, reflecting that had her father been alive her exploits would probably have induced a fatal case of apoplexy.
‘It is very possible that should Dr Bonner ever come to trial – and I am doing my utmost to ensure that that never happens – you may be called as witness for his defence. I have interviewed Dr Bonner, but he is adamant that he has done nothing wrong. He admits that he agreed to assist his friend, but for entirely honourable reasons. The plan was for Dr Mackenzie to pretend a collapse and then for Dr Bonner to convince Mr Palmer that the doctor was dead. Once Palmer had left, Mackenzie gave himself the injection to aid in the deception, but then Palmer returned unexpectedly. Mr Darscot witnessed what was happening and tried to extort money for his silence, but when Palmer said he would go to the police, Mr Darscot struck him with his cane and killed him.’
‘Have you examined Mr Darscot’s walking cane?’ asked Frances.
‘The police have it now.’
‘And do they think it is capable of breaking a man’s skull?’
‘That is the one difficulty,’ said Mr Rawsthorne. ‘Young Darscot’s walking cane is of the light decorative variety favoured by fashionable young men. Not only is it incapable of inflicting the wounds found on the deceased, it is quite the wrong shape. Dr Bonner’s stick, however, is a far more sturdy object. There are no bloodstains on it, but the police are assuming it has been well cleaned. But Dr Bonner is adamant that he did not strike Palmer with anything.’
‘I have interviewed Dr Bonner on a number of occasions,’ said Frances, ‘and like so many medical men, he is able to dissemble with great ease. I do believe, however, that Dr Mackenzie deceived him as to the true reason for his wanting to leave London. If I were you, I would place a watch on Mr Darscot and ensure that if he is bailed, he does not try to escape.’
‘There’s any number of good detectives about Bayswater who would do that,’ said Wheelock. ‘I shall see about employing one.’
Later that day, Frances attended the Marylebone magistrates’ court to see Mr Darscot, assisted by his solicitor, the sour and surly Mr Marsden, granted bail on all charges. As he was hurried away in a cab, she sent Tom to follow on with instructions to place a watch on wherever he went and then report back.
As she left the court, Frances was approached by Mr Gillan.
‘Well done, Miss Doughty, even for getting that slippery fellow this far. I take it you are aware of his true identity?’
‘I am not,’ said Frances. ‘I had no idea he had another one.’
‘He has several and this is not the first time I have seen him in such a situation, although the last time he was calling himself Dalton, and he was operating in East Marylebone with a series of petty thefts and swindles. He got six months on that occasion.’
‘Do the police know this is the same man?’ demanded Frances.
‘Not yet, but they will do when I have spoken to them in about two minutes from now. An interesting customer, his specialty is being the sociable helpful type, and getting to know unsuspecting people. Next moment he is their new bosom friend, playing on their weaknesses and borrowing money they won’t see again.’
‘What about blackmail?’ asked Frances.
‘He’s never yet been caught out in that, but it suits his style.’
‘And moneylending?’
‘Oh, I can’t see him up to that. He spends money on styling himself up to look the gentleman, but after that it’s all hand to mouth with him.’
‘He told me that he had lent £500 to Dr Mackenzie about a year ago,’ said Frances.
To her discomfiture, Gillan laughed. ‘I doubt he has ever had such a sum in his hands, especially not a year ago when he must just have come out of prison. And even if he had, he wouldn’t have lent it to someone else. No, with that fellow the money all goes in one direction. Now if you’ll excuse me, I am about to have a word in someone’s ear.’