After leaving the gallery, they made their way to Scotland Yard to see John Feather.
‘We could be in for another night without sleep,’ said Abigail. ‘First Smithfield, now the National Gallery.’
‘You don’t need to come,’ said Daniel. ‘I’m sure that Mr Millen and I can deal with Simon Anstis, if it is him and he does take the bait.’
Abigail looked at him, affronted.
‘Oh no you don’t. You’re not leaving me out of tonight’s escapade.’
‘As Mr Beckett pointed out, he might come armed with a knife,’ said Daniel.
‘In which case three of us will be better placed to deal with the situation than just two.’ She looked at Daniel. ‘Shall we tell John about the attack on the painting?’
‘I think we have to,’ said Daniel.
‘Despite Mr Beckett not wanting the police involved?’
‘He doesn’t want word about it to get out and create more bad publicity for the gallery. We’ll tell John what we’re planning and ask him to keep it to himself for the moment. But just in case I’m wrong and it is connected with the murders, John needs to know.’
John Feather was in his office at Scotland Yard, packing up to go home when Daniel and Abigail arrived.
‘I wondered if I might see you today,’ said Feather. ‘I got the report from Dr Snow. You were right about the speck in the blood. It was sawdust.’
‘So, the butcher.’
‘Yes. And, as you asked, I went looking for your young butcher while you two were off gallivanting heaven knows where.’
‘We went to Clapham to see Fred Abberline,’ Daniel told him. ‘He’s joining us in the investigation.’
‘You’re still convinced these killings relate back to the original Ripper murders?’
‘I am. And Fred’s given us his notebooks from then to go through. How did you get on with the butcher? Did you find him.’
‘No. His name’s Joe Wallace and he seems to have vanished.’
‘When you say vanished … ?’ asked Abigail.
‘I called at Karl Ramsden’s, then at Higgins’ the butchers in Cable Street where he works, and also at his home. No one’s seen him.’
‘Do you think something’s happened to him?’
‘I don’t know. I think it’s more likely that, if he is our killer, he got scared when he saw you at Smithfield, and when people started asking questions about him, he did a runner.’
‘In my experience, people like that don’t run far, they like to feel safe and secure in a patch they know,’ said Daniel.
‘So you think he’s hiding out somewhere in Whitechapel?’
‘That’s my guess,’ said Daniel.
‘Yes, it makes sense,’ nodded Feather. ‘I’ll get the local force to start poking around. It may stir things up and flush him out into the open. One thing, he doesn’t seem to have his own van.’
‘But all butchers have vans,’ said Daniel. ‘We saw them at Smithfield. It was packed with them.’
‘Maybe, if they’re butchers who’ve got their own shops. Joe Wallace is a jobbing butcher, a casual who picks up work here and there working for other butchers.’
‘So he couldn’t have moved the bodies about,’ mused Abigail thoughtfully.
‘Unless he borrowed a van.’
‘I think that’s unlikely,’ said Daniel. Then he looked at Abigail and exclaimed: ‘The toff!’
‘Yes!’ said Abigail.
‘Who’s the toff?’ asked Feather.
‘Remember we told you we’d met Helena Swanwick, Walter Sickert’s sister?’
‘Who was at Girton with Abigail,’ nodded Feather. ‘I remember.’
‘Well, she told us that Walter had had an affair with the wife of a top London surgeon called Edmund Heppenstall. Sometime after Heppenstall discovered the affair, Mrs Heppenstall vanished. As far as we can make out, Heppenstall says she left him. But there’s been no trace of her. She was originally from Clapham and she came to the West End to get on in her career as a singer. Usually, when people leave, they often go back to their roots to get themselves together. But Catherine Heppenstall just vanished.’
‘We went to see her parents while we were in Clapham and they told us they’d heard nothing from her for over a year,’ added Abigail. ‘Heppenstall wrote to them and told them she was no longer living with him. Her father went to see Mr Heppenstall to ask about her, and Heppentsall told him to leave or he’d set the police on him.’
‘What are you thinking?’
‘Say Heppenstal lost his temper when he found out about her affair with Sickert, and something happened which resulted in his wife’s death. In his mind the person responsible for all this is Walter Sickert.’
‘And you’re thinking that this Heppenstall butchered the two women to try and get Sickert implicated?’
‘He’d have the skill to do what was done to the women,’ said Abigail.
‘So would this butcher, Joe Wallace.’
‘And Heppenstall and Wallace could be working together.’
‘That’s a bit of a leap,’ said Feather doubtfully.
‘When we talked to the prostitutes at Charing Cross Station, they told us about this rich man who used to come and pick Kate Branson up in his carriage,’ said Daniel. ‘She called him the toff. Say Edmund Heppenstall and this toff are one and the same.’
‘Some rich surgeon and a butcher from Whitechapel killing women together just to get some kind of revenge on Walter Sickert?’ Feather shook his head. ‘That’s really clutching at straws.’
‘All I’m saying is it’s another possibility. We’d be able to remove Heppenstall from the list if we could find his wife and talk to her. If she’s alive …’
‘It wouldn’t change things,’ said Feather. ‘He would still feel as resentful against Sickert even if she’d just walked out on him.’
‘Yes, but it would show he hadn’t done something serious like kill her,’ said Abigail. ‘Killing her would make his feelings against Sickert far worse.’
Feather shook his head, unconvinced.
‘It all seems a bit far-fetched, to be frank. Joe Wallace seems a much more likely candidate. Especially as he’s vanished, which is always suspicious. It’s just a question of finding out if he borrowed anyone’s van on the night the murders were done.’
‘But is there any way a search can be made for Catherine Heppenstall? Notices sent out to police forces across the country?’ asked Abigail.
Feather shook his head. ‘I can’t see the chief superintendent agreeing to that. At the moment it’s only your theory that Heppenstall may have bumped off his wife, there’s no evidence to support it. And he’s an eminent surgeon. A notice like that going out will be sure to come to his attention. For the moment, let’s concentrate on trying to bring Joe Wallace in.’
‘All right,’ said Daniel resignedly. ‘There is something else that’s happened. At the National Gallery.’
‘Oh?’ said Feather, intrigued. ‘What?’
‘They had two paintings of Anne-Marie Dresser on display, one by Sickert and one by Degas.’
‘Who’s Degas?’ asked Feather.
‘Edgar Degas,’ said Daniel. ‘A French artist. Very famous.’
‘I didn’t know you knew anything about artists, Daniel,’ commented Feather. ‘I suppose it’s to do with hanging out at the National Gallery.’
‘No, Abigail told me about him,’ admitted Daniel. ‘Anyway, last night someone got into the National Gallery and attacked Sickert’s painting of Anne-Marie with a knife. Slashed it to ribbons.’
‘The National Gallery didn’t tell us about it,’ said Feather, annoyed.
‘No, they want to keep it under wraps for the moment. They’re worried about the impact some knife-wielding maniac might have on their attendance figures.’
‘Yes, I can see that, but we should have been told. It could be connected to the murders.’
‘It could be, but we’ve got a hunch it isn’t. We think it’s a rival artist called Simon Anstis who was – and still is – intensely jealous of Sickert because of his relationship with Anne-Marie,’ said Abigail. ‘He hates Sickert and this picture of a nude Anne-Marie must drive him mad.’
‘We’ll bring him in for questioning,’ said Feather. ‘What’s his address?’
‘No,’ said Daniel. ‘We’ve got another idea.’ He outlined the trap they’d baited for Anstis using the possibility of fingerprints being discovered on the picture frame. ‘So tonight, we’re going to lie in wait for him and hope he turns up.’
Feather looked at them, concerned.
‘If he was armed with a knife last night, what makes you so sure he won’t be armed tonight, if he does call?’
‘If I’m right, all Anstis will have on him will be polish and a cloth.’
‘And if you’re wrong?’
‘We’ll have the assistance of an ex-soldier who works as security for the National Gallery. But it would be useful to have a constable as well, if you can arrange one. The plan is that the constable will take Anstis to the nearest police station, which is the Strand, and tomorrow morning Abigail and I go and see him there and tell him that the National Gallery have decided not to press charges providing he promises not to do such a thing ever again.’
‘So preventing any bad publicity for the gallery.’
‘Exactly.’
Feather took a sheet of notepaper headed Scotland Yard Detective Division and wrote a few words on it before passing it to Daniel.
‘Take this to the Strand,’ he said. ‘It’s my authority for them to assign you a constable.’
Their next port of call was Kensington, and Jane Cobden’s house. A uniformed police constable was on duty outside and, recognising them, he saluted them as they walked to the front door.
Ellen Sickert and Jane Cobden were in the sitting room, as before, and they looked apprehensively at Daniel and Abigail as they entered.
‘You have news?’ asked Ellen.
‘Some, but nothing conclusive, I’m afraid,’ said Daniel. ‘I see your police guard is still in place.’
‘Yes,’ said Jane. ‘Inspector Feather arranged it.’
‘He’s a good man,’ said Daniel.
‘I wrote to Walter to tell him about Mr O’Tool. I haven’t had a reply yet, but post between England and the Continent is always slow.’ She looked enquiringly at them. ‘You say you have some news? Does it point to the person who’s behind the killings?’
‘So far, the evidence points to the killer possibly being a butcher, a young man of about twenty. Inspector Feather and the police are searching for him but they haven’t been able to locate him yet.’
‘Who is this man? Where does he come from? And why is he trying to implicate Walter?’
‘His name’s Joe Wallace. He comes from Whitechapel. We believe he’s the son of one of the victims of the original Ripper.’
Ellen leapt to her feet. ‘This is to do with the rumours that were circulating at the time. That Walter was involved in a conspiracy that led to the deaths of those women.’
‘Yes,’ said Daniel. ‘That’s what we believe.’
‘But why now? After all this time?’
‘We think there’s a possibility that he’s been encouraged in his murderous actions by another man, a rich man, who may have reasons to want revenge on your husband.’
Now it was Jane’s turn to leap to her feet and she turned to her sister accusingly. ‘It’s some angry husband! I told you, Nellie, but you wouldn’t listen. I told you that Walter would never change.’
Ellen Sickert crumpled to the settee.
‘Yes, you did,’ she said sadly. She looked up at Daniel and Abigail, an expression of anguished appeal on her face. ‘Is that what this is about? Walter having an affair with a married woman?’ Her tone bitter, she added: ‘Another of his society sitters?’
‘It’s possible,’ said Abigail carefully. ‘Although, at this stage, it may be just rumour and gossip.’
‘It’s never just rumour and gossip!’ said Jane derisively. ‘Walter is a serial philanderer, but Nellie closed her eyes and ears to his misdeeds.’
‘We’d like to bring Frederick Abberline into the investigation,’ said Daniel.
‘What?!’ said Ellen sharply. ‘Why? Abberline was no friend to Walter. It was his hounding of him that’s led to this current situation.’
‘We never hounded your husband, Mrs Sickert,’ said Daniel politely. ‘We followed information received, as we were supposed to do. We talked to many men at the time. Over a hundred. The fact that no charges of any sort were ever brought against your husband shows that Mr Abberline dismissed the idea of him as the Ripper.’
‘But the fact that no one was ever charged left a cloud hanging over Walter!’
‘That’s why, in this case, we feel it important to catch the murderer and lay any idea that your husband may have been involved to rest. And, in my opinion, there is more chance of doing that if we bring in Mr Abberline. As I’ve said, we feel it’s connected to the original Ripper crimes, and there’s no one who knows more about them than he.’
Ellen Sickert fell silent, then she paced around, wringing her hands in obvious torment. Finally, she said: ‘Very well. Bring him in. But I’ll never forget what that man did to Walter, humiliating him. I’ll make sure you and Miss Fenton are paid for your work, but if there’s no outcome, I’ll be damned if I’m going to pay that man one penny.’
‘Thank you,’ said Daniel. ‘And I promise you that will be the case, if we don’t catch the murderer.’
As they left the house, Abigail said: ‘If we don’t catch the killer, we’ll be out of pocket.’
‘If we don’t catch the killer, we’ll lose more than money,’ said Daniel. ‘After all the publicity with this case, our reputation will be gone. No more Museum Detectives.’