The Children of Silence (34 page)

Frances and Sarah discussed the outcome of the inquest over a simple luncheon of ham and stewed peas, with bread and butter and tea.

‘The limping man, whoever he may be, is very probably the same individual seen in Bristol with Mr Antrobus,’ Frances concluded. ‘He travelled on the Paddington train, and he could have met with an accident or been robbed and killed soon after he arrived. But precisely where that occurred and how and why his remains came to be at Queens Road no one can say. Why was Mr Antrobus’ bag found with him? Did he steal it? Or did Mr Antrobus, wishing to disappear, kill his companion and leave his bag by the body in the hope that when it was found it would be thought to be him?’

‘But how would he know when, or even if, the body would be found?’ asked Sarah, reasonably. ‘Seems to me that it was just chance.’

‘Suppose the man was not killed where he was found. His body had been left in another place where it had been reduced to a skeleton and then put in the lodging house quite recently. The interior of the sack was not stained by decomposition, so the body was already dry bones. Whoever moved it might have been frustrated that the body had not been found and, knowing about the work that was to be done on the properties, put it there so the workmen would find it.’

‘Why not just leave it in plain view?’

Frances could not answer that. She sipped her tea. ‘Perhaps I am looking at this the wrong way about. The body was hidden somewhere where it has lain undiscovered for long enough for it to become a skeleton, probably several years. It was then, quite recently, moved to a new location. Perhaps whoever hid it didn’t want it found, and it was in danger of being found if it remained where it was.’

‘That house wasn’t going to be shut up forever, though. Not with the way Mr Whiteley goes about his business. They must’ve known it was going to be found sooner or later.’

‘That is true. So maybe it is not
when
it was found that was important but
where
. The police have been looking into possible connections with the lodging house, which of course is a perfectly correct course of action, but perhaps the one thing we might be certain of is that the individual and the person who hid the body have no connection with the house at all, and the bones were placed there because it was conveniently unoccupied, in order to draw attention away from the original location. The fact that the house was standing empty would have been well known to anyone who passed it by.’

She put her teacup down and inspected the pot, which was empty, and sighed.

‘Well, one thing’s for sure, it wasn’t Mr Antrobus,’ said Sarah. Frances had been distracted by the puzzle over the bones but reflected that the fact that they were not the remains of the man for whom she was searching did not necessarily mean his identity was not her concern. Putting a name to the skeleton could lead her directly to Mr Antrobus.

The best clue as to what had happened to the missing man was probably the signet ring, and Frances remained hopeful that the person who pawned it would be found.

Frances and Sarah were busy during the next few days, and their other work was bearing fruit. The new suitor of Miss Digby, who had so coldly spurned young Mr Candy, was shown to be quite genuinely the cousin of a baronet. Ratty had followed him to a gentleman’s club, which turned out to be one of the many establishments patronised by Chas and Barstie where they made valuable business associations. The gentleman was known to several of the members, and he had been seen in the company of his noble, if impoverished, cousin. He was handsome, amiable, courteous, single and excellent company. He was also a habitual gambler who had squandered his inheritance and was in desperate need of money. Recently he had assured his creditors that his situation was about to change, and he would soon be able to pay his debts.

Frances called on Mr Digby and imparted the news. He revealed that having given his conditional approval to the match the first thing his prospective son-in-law had done was to borrow five hundred pounds. He wondered if his daughter might reconsider Mr Candy. Frances could not advise him.

There was better news for Mr Candy, as all the men who had made claims against the charity for injured workmen had been shown to be genuine and deserving cases. He appeared satisfied with the information and said that Frances could be sure of getting more assignments from him in future. He made no mention of Miss Digby, and Frances did not raise the subject.

Frances had also managed to resolve the troubles of the respectable Mr and Mrs Reville, neither of whom, it turned out, had been faithless. After studying her father’s medical volumes she had had a quiet interview with Mr Reville’s widowed mother, who had finally confessed that her husband had not, as she had always maintained, died of a weak heart but from an unspeakable disease which had led to his decline into insanity, a condition which she feared might have been passed to her son. Mr Reville was deeply shocked at this news, delighted that his wife had not been untrue and resigned to the fact that his later years would probably mirror those of his father. The divorce proceedings were abandoned and the family was reunited, Mrs Reville vowing loyally to nurse her stricken husband to the end.

Frances and Sarah were at home the following Saturday when an unexpected visitor was announced, a Mrs Eves, a lady of some sixty years, who arrived clutching a copy of that morning’s
Chronicle
. She was plainly dressed in an aged gown that looked as if it had long been doing duty for both summer and winter, and a bonnet of that indeterminate shade which made it hard to imagine what colour it had been when new. She brought with her a stale aroma of dusty carpets and kitchens scoured with old lemons.

At the door of the apartment she stopped, looking almost ashamed. ‘Miss Doughty, I’m sorry to trouble you like this, and if you think I am being a silly old woman and send me home I would understand, really I would.’

‘Come in,’ said Frances, welcomingly. ‘How may I help you?’

Mrs Eves crept over the threshold, and looked about her, approvingly. ‘You are very comfortable here.’

‘Thank you,’ smiled Frances, and she offered her a chair.

The visitor sat, both hands still clasping the rolled up paper. ‘Do you charge for advice? I can’t spare much.’

‘Tell me what you need and I will let you know. There is no charge for a simple conversation.’

‘Only – I was thinking of talking to the police, but I don’t want them round my place searching and upsetting my lodgers or I’d go out of business. I don’t think you’d do such a thing, would you?’

Frances and Sarah had once entered a house without being invited in and battered a door down, but the circumstances had been different. ‘I promise not to do so unless I believe that a life may be in danger.’

‘Oh, no, nothing like that, at least, I shouldn’t think so.’ Mrs Eves twisted the paper in her fists. Frances waited. ‘The thing is, I read in the paper today about the inquest on the bones and the man with a limp.’

‘Do you think you might know who he is?’

‘I could be wrong, of course, there’s lots of men with bad legs. Soldiers, and men who fall off horses, or rickety, or just born crooked.’

Frances could see she needed some encouragement. ‘Mrs Eves, if you tell me what you know, I promise I will make no charge at all for a consultation.’

Her face brightened. ‘Oh, that’s very kind, dear. Well, the thing is I take in lodgers in a house in Moscow Road. I usually have four gentlemen, all hardworking and respectable, and they pay their rent on time and give no trouble at all. But about three or four years ago, there was a man who went away without paying his rent, and I never had any word from him. I didn’t think that anything had happened to him, I just thought he had decided to cheat me of my rent money.’

‘So you didn’t report him as missing,’ guessed Frances. Mrs Eves nodded. ‘And did he walk with a limp?’

‘Yes he did. He told me he had broken his leg in an accident with a carriage.’

‘Do you recall when you last saw him?’

Mrs Eves dug into a pocket and produced a small and very worn book. ‘It’s all here in my rent book. He came to stay on 3 October 1877 and the last rent I had off him was 14 November. A week after that he was gone.’

‘What name did he give?’

‘John Roberts’

‘You had no proof that it was his real name?’

‘No, not like actual papers or anything, but I never ask as long as they give me a week’s money in advance.’

‘Can you describe him to me? His age? His height? How was he dressed? Did he have a travelling bag?’

‘Well, as to age, it’s always so hard to tell with gentlemen, what with all their whiskers, but he wasn’t above forty, I would say. And not specially tall or very short neither. And he wasn’t dressed like a labouring man, more like a clerk. When he came he had no bag, just a few things wrapped in paper, but after about a week or two he got himself a nice leather bag, what must have cost a lot. I remember mentioning it and he said business had been good.’

‘Did he wear any jewellery?’

‘Yes, he’d got himself a nice ring, as well. That’s why I didn’t expect him to run off, when he had that ring, it showed he had some means, didn’t it?’

‘Did he get the ring at the same time as the bag or was he wearing it when he first arrived?’

She pulled a face. ‘I can’t rightly remember. I know the first time I noticed it was after he had got the bag.’

‘Can you describe the ring?’

‘Gent’s signet ring with a stone. I didn’t look close.’

Frances went to get the portrait of Edwin Antrobus that Mr Wylie had supplied and showed it to Mrs Eves. ‘Is this he?’

She looked at the portrait for a long while. ‘I’m not sure. It was a long while back. I’m not so good on faces.’

‘Did he ever complain of toothache? Did he visit a dentist and have a tooth out?’

‘Not as far as I know. But all my gentlemen have a key and they come and go as they please.’

‘Well Mrs Eves, I think you may have some very valuable information, and I suggest you take it to the police at once.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I am, and you may even find there is a reward involved.’

Mrs Eves cheered up at the prospect of money, as people usually did. ‘All right, I’ll go and tell them now.’