Authors: Charles Palliser
‘Gambrill, of course, had either to resign his post or do as Burgoyne ordered and with a family to support he could not afford the grand gesture. Burgoyne would have dismissed Gambrill from his post, but there was no other mason in the town who could be entrusted with the work, and Burgoyne recognized that Gambrill was a conscientious and skilled craftsman.
‘And so Gambrill removed the pulpitum, replacing it with wooden boarding to keep the nave sealed off while the spire was unrepaired.
‘Now Limbrick became the intermediary by whose means Burgoyne and Gambrill entirely avoided having to deal directly with each other. At least, so it was supposed. Much later, when events turned out as they did, some people said that Limbrick had in fact made difficulties between the two men for his own purposes while cleverly appearing to be trying to do the opposite.
‘From this time onwards Burgoyne never again came to watch Gambrill and his men at work in the Cathedral. Instead he renewed his former visits to the building during the hours of darkness and although it was assumed that he went there in order to examine Gambrill’s work without having to meet him, it was noticed that his visits began to last longer and longer and sometimes he returned the great key to Claggett, the head-verger, only at dawn. The old man was often awake all night for he was seriously ill.
‘Burgoyne’s conduct was causing more and more speculation. His housekeeper described later how he stayed awake all night pacing up and down his room or prowling around the Close as if wrestling with some fearful dilemma. Later, when people learnt what at this time was not known, some of the townsfolk claimed that they had seen him many times at night standing on the north side of the Close and looking over the back wall of the gardens into the windows of the houses that fronted the High Street. Some said afterwards that he was looking into Gambrill’s house and debating whether to destroy his happiness and that of his wife and children. Others said that he was a lonely and envious man who resented the domestic content of his enemy. Others suggested yet other motives.
‘All of this came to a head two weeks before the Great Storm. That Sunday Burgoyne was the preacher at the main service in the Cathedral. He ascended to the pulpit looking pale and gaunt, and people in the congregation began to mutter among themselves, for his strange conduct over the past weeks was widely known. But when he started to speak his voice was strong and his words flowed without a break. He began by inveighing against sins of corruption and talked passionately of the damnation that awaited a man who yielded to temptation and persisted in his sinful ways without repentance. And then he said he was speaking of a particular man who was among them at that moment and whom he was indicting for his secret offences – offences whose nature he did not reveal. He seemed so intent upon some hidden meaning that some of his hearers thought he was showing signs of mental alienation. Much of what he said was not understood by those listening but his words were remembered:
There is one among us now who has entered this house of God with sinfulness and pride in his heart, though he wears the outward garb of sanctimony. He alone among this assembly knows what darkness he nourishes in the privy mansions of his being. He alone knows how he has wandered out of his way into the foul and strange path that leads to the sty of pestilential filth.
‘When he stepped down from the pulpit he left the townspeople and his fellow-canons stunned. In the days that followed nobody could talk of anything else. A number of people were suspected of various offences and the atmosphere of the town became quite poisonous with rumour. It was noticed that Gambrill remained silent when the topic was brought up, and this laid him under suspicion – though no more than many others. Freeth, in particular, gave clear evidence by his nervous demeanour that he believed he himself was the man referred to by Burgoyne. And if Dr Sheldrick is correct about his financial improprieties, he had good reason for this fear.
‘The following Sunday a large proportion of the population of the town – squeezed into the Choir and even overflowing out of the door – was present when Burgoyne rose to preach. His words became more precise, though they were still vague enough to puzzle his listeners. Burgoyne said:
Woe unto the man that in the mountainous pride of his ignorance thinketh to hide his shame. Though he be raised up in the sight of men and ween his sin to be hidden when he wrestles foot to foot with his Enemy in the high places and is cast down, yet shall his wickedness be laid bare before the eyes of men. Yea, even in the dark places shall his sins be blazoned forth. The truth shall find him out.
At that moment Gambrill drew attention to himself by his demeanour. He turned pale and was seen to be trembling as Burgoyne announced that the following Lord’s Day he himself would make manifest the sinner in that very place.
‘All eyes turned to Gambrill who, looking as if he had seen his own death, suddenly stood up and forced his way through the crowd to the door. Many of Burgoyne’s hearers, who had trembled to think that he might mean them, were relieved by this conduct. Yet Burgoyne made no charge against him.
‘In the course of the week that followed, a space for the memorial was hollowed out in the wall where the pulpitum had been. The memorial itself arrived from London on the Tuesday, and when Gambrill saw the wagon carrying it come rumbling and clattering into the Close, he told Limbrick that he was horrified as much by its ugliness as by its weight, and said that he feared for the consequences once it was sealed into the wall.
‘Saturday dawned as an unseasonably sultry and oppressive day of low clouds and short angry bursts of fierce rain. Old men shook their heads and forecast a violent storm, and some of them muttered and grumbled over the state of the spire. By the close of work that day, Gambrill – ever the conscientious workman however much he resented what he was being required to do – had made all ready. The heavy slab had been raised to the top of the scaffolding under the crossing-tower ready to be lowered on Monday into its final position on the wall about twelve feet up. Gambrill ordered work to end early on account of the imminent storm, for as the sun set, the clouds seemed to be boiling around it like a witches’ brew.
‘As he often did, Burgoyne came to Claggett’s house at about ten o’clock – just as the wind was rising. The old man was gravely ill by now and his wife and daughters were busy with him, but his young maidservant handed the great key to the Canon. An hour or two later the storm burst over the town in its full rage, launching a bombardment of hailstones as big as thrushes’ eggs and stripping off roof-tiles and sending them flying through the air like leaves, breaking windows, and even knocking over chimney stacks. Amid all the noise and confusion of doors and shutters banging and glass breaking and thunder rumbling, old Claggett lost consciousness and it became clear that he was dying. A surgeon was sent for and a servant was also dispatched to the house of the Precentor who had been a particular friend of the old man. In the excitement of all this, nobody remembered that Burgoyne had not returned with the key.
‘As the tempest reached its height, at about two o’clock in the morning, those who were sleeping – or trying to sleep – in the houses around the Close heard a terrible noise and the whole of the Upper Close shuddered. Several of the canons and under-vergers hurried out to see what was amiss and found that the roof and upper storey of the ancient Bell Tower above the main gate had collapsed. As a frightened little crowd – Freeth, the Precentor and even the old Dean – stood surveying the ruin and offering up thanks that it was unoccupied at night, they heard another crash. This time, to their horror, they realized that it came from the Cathedral. They scanned the building as far as they were able to in the thick darkness and saw that the spire appeared to be intact, but nobody was prepared to venture into the building while the storm still raged. Now it was learnt from Claggett’s servant-girl that Burgoyne had not returned the key. Even so, none of those present offered to go in and look for him.’
Dr Sisterson stood up and crossed to the window which he opened. ‘I can imagine why not. It’s a peaceful night now. But imagine a storm raging.’
I crossed to stand beside him. The lamps were guttering in the Close. Through the fog and in the darkness the bulk of the building was beside us as if we were up against a cliff. ‘How frightening it must have been’, I agreed, ‘to be in the shadow of that vast building and dread that the tallest part of it might come tumbling down.’
Gratifyingly, the Sacrist shivered.
‘Please close that window, Frederick,’ Mrs Sisterson protested, misinterpreting his gesture. ‘It’s freezing and you’ll wake the children.’
My host did as he was bidden and we sat down. I went on: ‘Some of the other canons came to the Deanery to see what was afoot but nobody would venture into the Cathedral. Indeed, some people were frightened even to stay in their houses nearby. Limbrick arrived and strongly advised against entering the Cathedral during the tempest. And so they waited. By the time the first streaks of daylight appeared in the sky over Woodbury Downs, the storm had largely abated. In a state of considerable trepidation the old Dean, Freeth, the Precentor, Limbrick and one of the under-vergers cautiously crept into the Cathedral.
‘Imagine what it must have been like to advance along the vast length of the nave with just the light of two or three lanterns to guide you and with the wind still howling around the spire and the tower to remind you of the possibility that stones and timbers might come crashing down upon you. And beneath the sound of the wind they heard another sound – a noise that made the hair rise on the backs of their necks: a sound like a human voice moaning and muttering in pain and despair.
‘As they approached the crossing, a huge shape loomed up suddenly from the darkness. Their terror was only slightly diminished by the realization that they were looking at the scaffolding which had collapsed and lay in a heap of planks and splintered wood. That was the origin of the loud noise heard from within. Then as they drew closer and raised their lanterns they saw a patch of dark and sticky liquid that had seeped out from beneath the broken timber. They listened and now they realized that the human voice they had believed they had heard was merely an effect of the wind. Otherwise, there was silence. Limbrick told the others that he had a premonition that they would find the body of their colleague beneath the debris. It was also he who pointed out the astonishing fact that there was no sign of the marble slab that had been on the scaffold the night before. He raised his lantern towards the place where it was destined to go and to the amazement of all of them, there it was in its intended position high up on the wall. They stood staring at it in disbelief. It had been neatly inserted into the space prepared for it and the brickwork sealed up around it.
‘Limbrick sent for his workmen and for the next two hours they laboured to clear away the mass of broken wood. It was now realized that Gambrill had not been seen since the storm started. Limbrick hurried to his house and learnt that his master’s wife had not seen him since the previous evening at about nine o’clock. She had assumed that he had stayed out all night dealing with the dangers posed by the storm, and was only now becoming worried by his absence.
‘By the time Limbrick had returned to the Cathedral with this news, the last of the fallen scaffolding was being lifted from the body. It was so badly crushed that it could be recognized as that of Burgoyne only by the canonical garments, the Treasurer’s chain of office and the great key to the west door which Burgoyne had taken from Claggett. Limbrick confided to Freeth – for a close understanding was growing up between the two men – that he feared that Gambrill’s disappearance suggested that he had murdered Burgoyne. Gambrill did not reappear that day and, in fact, was never seen again in the town. By disappearing he convicted himself. The prospect of imminent denunciation had driven him to murder.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Dr Sisterson objected. ‘What was it that Gambrill believed he was going to be denounced for?’
‘Well, Dr Sheldrick has a theory about that. Limbrick suggested to Freeth that a clue might lie in the Treasurer’s Accounts kept by Burgoyne and relating to Gambrill’s work on the fabric. The two men broke into Burgoyne’s study and found the account-books, examined them, and a few days later disclosed that they had discovered, from comparing the accounts with the work actually carried out, that Gambrill had embezzled some of the funds allocated for work on the Cathedral.’
‘That seems straightforward enough,’ Dr Sisterson said.
‘But you said that Dr Sheldrick has a theory about it.’ Mrs Locard put in. ‘So does he not accept that explanation?’
‘He argues that Freeth persuaded Limbrick to help him falsify Burgoyne’s accounts in order to put the blame solely on Gambrill.’
‘Whereas Freeth himself had involved Gambrill in his embezzlement of Foundation funds?’ Dr Sisterson suggested.
‘Precisely. Incidentally, I understand that the correct term is malversation. And that is why he was able to persuade him to kill Burgoyne.’
‘Good heavens!’ he exclaimed. ‘Has he any evidence for that?’
‘Only inferential. It fits the facts and Freeth seems capable of it.’
‘Capable of inciting a man to murder!’ Mrs Locard exclaimed. ‘Surely that is too dark a view of human nature, Dr Courtine.’
I was taken aback. ‘The record shows him to have been greedy and unscrupulous in his use of forgery to steal the Foundation’s property.’
‘Even if he did those things, they fall very far short of murder,’ she said with a smile. ‘And the role which Dr Sheldrick ascribes to the Mason also puzzles me. The proud and conscientious man you described would surely not have stolen from the Cathedral which he loved, however he felt about its canons?’
‘Well, someone murdered Burgoyne,’ I protested.
‘If it was Gambrill,’ Dr Sisterson said, ‘I believe it was nothing to do with money that motivated him. What we do know about him is that he loved the Cathedral and he believed that Burgoyne was bent on destroying it.’