CASSIE CAME TO, on her bed. Her eyes opened and she blinked. A man with a kind face smiled down at her.
‘There’s a good girl,’ he said.
Cassie made a face.
‘I feel a bit sick,’ she said.
I expect you do.’ Dr Sadler had examined her. She’d suffered nothing worse than chloroform, although probably two or three applications, and some fright, no doubt. He went to the door, opened it and said, ‘You can come in now, but don’t smother her.’ The family swarmed in. An inspector and a sergeant of the CID looked enquiringly at Dr Sadler. ‘Not yet,’ he said, ‘give her another five minutes.’
‘Right,’ said Detective-Inspector Grant of Scotland Yard. They’d got the man. The cabbie had driven police from Rodney Road to the factory site, and Mr Gerald Francis Ponsonby was now under lock and key, awaiting interrogation.
‘Cassie, Cassie love,’ breathed Annie, appalled for her young sister.
‘Safe and sound now, Cassie,’ said the shaken Gaffer, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking her hand.
Cassie looked dreamy.
‘I feel a bit sick,’ she murmured.
‘’Ere, what ’appened to yer?’ asked Charlie, and Cassie stared vaguely at him.
‘Charlie, leave ’er be,’ said Nellie, who’d shed a few tears.
‘She’ll tell us in a bit,’ said Annie. They’d all had distracted minds from the moment the police told them Cassie had been missing for hours, and that a search was being made. Dr Sadler, having mixed a sedative, allowed Annie to give it to the girl. Cassie sat up, her dad’s arm around her, and drank the sedative in the dreamy hope it would stop making her feel sick.
‘That’s a good girl,’ said Dr Sadler again.
Cassie blinked and looked around. The Gaffer let her lie back.
‘’E said ’e was goin’ to take a photo of me,’ she murmured.
‘What?’ said the Gaffer, having a hard job to keep his blood off the boil.
‘Who said that, Cassie?’ asked Annie.
‘Mister Po’s’by,’ said Cassie.
‘’Oo’s ’e?’ asked Charlie.
‘’E gives me peppermints,’ said Cassie.
Annie looked at her dad, and her dad looked tight-faced and grim.
‘I think the police can talk to her now,’ said Dr Sadler, and called the CID officers in. Freddy had gone home to acquaint his own family of events, and Rosie had been taken by the cabbie to rejoin her father. Boots was at Rodney Road police station, making a long statement. He had phoned home again and this time had spoken to Emily.
Inspector Grant, exercising a kind paternal approach, was able to get quite a coherent story from the relaxing Cassie. On her way to Freddy’s house she had met Mr Ponsonby, who had promised to take a photograph of her. He said what a busy day he was having, but if she would like to be photographed now, he could spare the time. Cassie asked him if he was going to do it in his lodgings.
He said oh, no, in his studio. Cassie, who had her cat with her, said she couldn’t spare a lot of time herself, because she was going to Freddy’s house. Mr Ponsonby said it would hardly take any time at all, and Cassie asked if he could take the photo with her holding Tabby. Mr Ponsonby said yes, come with me.
She went with him. It seemed a bit of a long way and she kept saying she’d be late meeting Freddy. Then they came to that place where there’d been a fire and where it was haunted, and she said she didn’t want to go in there. Mr Ponsonby said no, of course not, have a peppermint. He always had peppermints. Tabby jumped out of her arms then and ran into that place through a gap in the gates, and she asked Mr Ponsonby to get him for her. He said he would, but have a peppermint first, and he offered her the bag. There was only one in it, and as she put her hand in the bag, something was pushed against her face, and she couldn’t remember any more, except she did dream it happened again.
Dr Sadler thought it must have happened several times, considering how long she was in the place. The man had been playing with the girl’s life, before absenting himself. And why had he absented himself? The CID officers knew he’d been caught coming back, with the bottle of chloroform still on his person, but were anxious to get the girl’s story before fully interrogating the man.
‘Cassie,’ said Inspector Grant, ‘thank you very much, you’re a brave young lady.’
‘I don’t feel so sick now,’ said Cassie. She thought, ‘Fancy ’im puttin’ that bit of stuff over me face, I don’t like ’im any more. Does Freddy know?’
‘Freddy ’elped to find you, lovey,’ said the Gaffer.
‘Well,’ said Cassie dreamily, ‘I’m ’is mate, ’e told me so.’
The CID officers left then and returned to Rodney Road police station. The cabbie was still there, so were Boots and Rosie. And so was a uniformed constable, with the news that two bodies had been discovered under the floorboards of a room below the one containing the truckle bed and a camera. Two other constables were still at the place. The bodies were of young females, but had not been touched. Inspector Grant received the news in the grimly painful fashion of a police officer who hated what it meant. However, he allowed Boots to go, thanking him for all he had done.
‘I suppose you’ll find all other evidence you need at his lodgings,’ said Boots.
‘I’m damn’ sure we will, Mr Adams. Thanks again.’
Boots joined Rosie and the cabbie, and they left the station.
‘Can I drive you ’ome, guv?’ asked the cabbie.
‘You’ve had a long day,’ said Boots.
‘So ’ave you, guv, so ’as your Rosie here. Mind, we’ve done some chattin’, ain’t we, Rosie?’
‘Oh, I’m very well-versed at chatting,’ said Rosie, ‘I caught it ages ago from Daddy and my Uncle Sammy. But mustn’t he be an awful man, the one who took Cassie?’
‘Worse than that, Rosie,’ said the cabbie.
‘Look,’ said Boots, ‘I know it’s asking one more favour, but could you stop at Freddy’s house on the way, just for five minutes?’
‘Don’t mention it, guv. ’Op in, you an’ Rosie.’
While Rosie talked to the rest of the Brown family in the kitchen, Boots talked with Mr Brown in the parlour. He gave him the full story. Mr Brown looked sick at the ugliness of mankind.
‘So there it is, Jim,’ said Boots, ‘the police have nailed the son of Satan. There’s no point now in keeping it from the family. They already know what Freddy’s told them. Now you can tell them the rest, to save them having to find out from the newspapers tomorrow. And at least, it’s all cleared up.’
‘Not the best piece of news, though, for a weddin’ day,’ said Mr Brown.
‘It won’t spoil this wedding,’ said Boots, ‘it’s special. Sammy, the engine driver, has met his match. Get Rosie for me, would you, Jim? We need to be on our way now.’
Jim fetched the girl. Susie appeared too.
‘Bless you and Freddy, Boots,’ she said.
‘It’s been Freddy’s day,’ said Boots. ‘It’s yours tomorrow, Susie. By the way, here’s something I almost forgot.’ He took an item wrapped in tissue paper from the inside pocket of his jacket. ‘Emily said she’d arranged to let you have something borrowed to go with something blue.’
Susie unwrapped the tissue, disclosing a pink garter.
‘Lovely,’ she said, ‘thank Em’ly, won’t you?’
‘Pretty, that is,’ said Mr Brown.
‘Well, we’ll all expect to see how it looks on Susie,’ said Boots.
‘Daddy, you’re cheeky,’ said Rosie. Boots gave her a wink and they said goodbye and left. The cabbie drove them to their home in Red Post Hill. Rosie said farewell to him, then dashed in to give Emily, Chinese Lady and Chinese Lady’s husband a first-hand account of the happenings.
‘What’s the damage?’ asked Boots of the cabbie. ‘All of it.’
‘Listen, guv, what kind of a bloke would I be to make a charge?’
‘Fairly daft not to, I’d say. It’s your living.’
‘Look, I tell yer what. You place five bob in me mitt an’ we’ll call that fair an’ square, eh?’
Boots placed five shillings in his hand, and added a pound note.
‘That’s the least I can do,’ he said.
‘Don’t want it, guv. It’s been—’
‘There’s a wedding in our family tomorrow,’ said Boots, ‘so have a drink on us.’
‘Guv, it’s been a privilege meetin’ you and yer daughter. You got a sweet girl there. Any time you need a taxi from East Dulwich, I ’ope I’ll be the one to oblige yer. Gus Allbury, that’s me.’
‘Many thanks, Gus. Couldn’t have done without you today. Good night.’ Boots shook hands with the cabbie, watched the taxi depart, stood for a moment thinking of young Cassie and how close she’d been to death, then turned on his heel and entered the house. There he was greeted by Emily, who wrapped her arms around him.
Charlie answered a knock on the door. Will was on the step.
‘Oh, ’ello,’ said Charlie.
Annie, coming down the stairs, checked for a moment.
‘I thought I’d come and see how Cassie is,’ said Will.
Annie came quickly down to the passage and to the door.
‘Oh, it’s nice you thought of us,’ she said, ‘and Cassie specially. Come in. She’s sleepin’ now. She’s all right, she won’t ever remember much because that evil man chloroformed her. Will, come on in, we’re just makin’ a pot of tea and you’ll ’ave a cup, won’t you?’
Will joined the family for a cup of tea around the kitchen table, and everyone talked at once. The Gaffer said next time he took his children out, he’d take them all and leave no-one behind. Only Cassie had been keen on being with Freddy. Couple of real mates, they were, he said, and while he was saying it, Annie was talking about how kind the doctor had been, Nellie was going on about the police being ever so nice, and Charlie was muttering that a certain bloke ought to have his head bashed in. The Gaffer said if it hadn’t been for Freddy keeping on and on in his search for Cassie, she might not have been found. Will said Freddy was now a hero, even to his sister Sally. But he said nothing about the news that Boots had brought concerning the discovery of the bodies of two young girls. The shock of Cassie’s abduction was enough for them to cope with tonight. Tomorrow would be soon enough for them to learn about all that was grisly.
Annie felt deep relief at the doctor’s assurance Cassie hadn’t been harmed in any way, even though she’d obviously been kept unconscious for hours. She also felt very glad that Will had called. He stayed quite a while, and helped to cheer things up no end. She decided he was really a very nice young man, not a bit loud or brash, and not at all a cocky corporal. He was a lot quieter in his manner than she imagined most soldiers were, but he had a nice sense of humour.
She saw him to the front door when he left.
‘Thanks ever so much for comin’,’ she said.
‘Well, I couldn’t not pop round to see how everyone was,’ said Will, and did what he’d told himself he shouldn’t do. He kissed her, and at the same time tried to detect if she wore scent. He didn’t think so.
‘That’s done it,’ said Annie, when he released her lips.
‘Done what?’ asked Will.
‘You’re goin’ to get talked to tomorrow,’ said Annie.
‘Seriously?’ said Will.
‘Well, it’s not goin’ to make you laugh, I can tell you that,’ said Annie.
Under interrogation, Mr Ponsonby was querulous and petulant, but patchily informative. One of the first things Inspector Graves found out was that the reason why the man had absented himself related to his need to develop his plates. He needed to know if the photographs were satisfactory, or if he needed to take them again.
‘So you kept her alive, did you, in case of that?’ said the inspector.
‘Of course, of course. What is the use of photographs of someone who is dead?’
He had developed the plates quickly, in his lodgings, shutting out the light by drawing the thick curtains he himself had installed. The photographs were very good. Charming, in fact, charming. Such a pretty face, and such pretty legs. Inspector Grant felt an urge to throttle him. Ponsonby, of course, had drawn back the unconscious girl’s clothes. The CID officer controlled himself, and by asking questions in a sympathetic and understanding way, or so it seemed, he finally induced a full confession.
Mr Ponsonby had always thought young girls enchanting because of their purity. But it was difficult to photograph them in the way he wanted to, not without them getting upset and threatening to tell their parents. So he stole a bottle of chloroform from a hospital where he had once worked as assistant to the lady almoner. He used a chloroform pad to effect a robbery at a jeweller’s shop, and to delude the hospital authorities and the police into thinking that was why he had taken the bottle. He did not like the police, he said, they were interfering busybodies, disturbing to a gentleman like him.
It was a pity, of course, but it had been necessary to let the girls ascend early to heaven after photographing them.
‘How many girls?’ asked the inspector in a conversational way.
‘Only a few,’ said Mr Ponsonby. ‘Dear me, it’s been terribly difficult arranging to photograph any girl. One can’t be too careful, parents are unfriendly people. One simply has to win a girl’s confidence before inviting her to sit for me.’
Sit for him? You nasty old sod, thought Inspector Grant.
‘You gave them peppermints, Mr Ponsonby?’
‘Ah, everyone had to have a peppermint.’
‘From out of a bag like this?’ said the inspector, producing the white bag Boots had found. It smelled of peppermint.
‘Of course, yes. Dear me, dear me.’ Mr Ponsonby was very petulant. ‘How silly of me to leave it there.’ He rubbed his bruised jaw. ‘I wish to complain about the interfering busybody who struck me.’
‘Complaint noted,’ said the inspector. ‘How many girls, how many did you say?’
‘A few, just a few. Three.’ Mr Ponsonby explained how he had come to know them and subsequently invited them to be photographed. The first was in Bermondsey, where he used a scrap yard’s shed. No-one else seemed to be using it, and he had a key that opened the gates. He had found it one day, it had been left in the lock. The girl had been so pure, so delightful, with the prettiest legs. Unfortunately, she recovered very quickly from the second dose of chloroform and he had had to quieten her.
‘Strangulation is very quietening,’ said Inspector Grant.
‘I trust that is not a criticism,’ said Mr Ponsonby in some irritation. ‘It was quick and merciful, yes, indeed.’ He went on to say he had been just as quick and merciful with two other girls, after finding a most convenient place in which to photograph them. After finding it, he had picked the padlock and replaced it with another. Yes, he agreed with the inspector’s suggestion that he had buried the girls under floorboards. It was convenient to do so, and a kindness to the girls. One simply could not leave them lying about.
‘You have the photographs in your lodgings?’ said Inspector Grant.
‘Of course, of course, where else? One must have the pleasure of looking at them.’ He hoped he would be allowed to keep them, together with those he had taken of the charming girl Cassie. He could think of nothing more to add, and therefore would like to be allowed to go home to his lodgings.
‘I note your request, Mr Ponsonby. After developing the plates at your lodgings, you returned to the factory to help the girl Cassie ascend early to heaven?’
‘Much the best thing,’ said Mr Ponsonby. ‘Really, I can’t see why you need to ask. It’s late, and I must get back to my lodgings.’
‘We’ll see you do. We’ll go with you, and perhaps you’ll show us these photographs,’ said the inspector.
‘Oh, very well,’ said Mr Ponsonby in new irritation. ‘What a day, what a day.’
As the CID officers suspected, most of the photographs showed the terribly unfortunate girls unconscious and with their clothes drawn back. Much to his sense of outrage, Mr Ponsonby was arrested for murder.
Cassie slept soundly.