‘Was it your brother’s wish that you live at Craven Hill?’ asked Frances.
‘You seem to think I am doing this for my own personal profit,’ he snapped. ‘I can assure you that this is not the case. I only take the place of my absent brother, as is my duty. When residing at Craven Hill, which is not my property and never will be, I will also attend to its upkeep and pay a fair rent into my brother’s estate for the good of his sons.’
‘But why can they not live with their mother?’ pleaded Frances. ‘I can understand that when they were boisterous young children it would have been hard for her, but they are older now and must surely appreciate how they must behave in her company.’
‘So much is true,’ Antrobus admitted, ‘but it was Edwin’s wish that they should not reside with their mother, for reasons which must be obvious.’
Frances remained stubborn. ‘It is not obvious to me. Kindly explain. When did he express this wish to you? It is not in the will.’
‘He last spoke of it only a few months before he disappeared. The reasons, Miss Doughty, are very plain, and I am sorry that you are unable to appreciate them. There is bad blood in that family, and I am not talking of their humble beginnings, which anyone with ability and diligence might rise above. I am referring to Harriet’s confused brain, which so far I am pleased to see has not revealed itself in her sons, but all the same, Edwin felt that any prolonged contact with their mother might provoke similar imaginings in the boys. Then there is her cousin, a hardened criminal who was forbidden the house. He used to lurk in the street nearby hoping to find a way in so he could beg or steal. He is currently in prison, I believe, but once he is released there will need to be a man in the house to protect the property.’
Frances saw that it was impossible to reason with her visitor and abandoned the attempt. ‘I understand your concerns, but I do not know why you have come to see me.’
He paused to collect his thoughts. ‘I cannot ask you to simply stop encouraging Harriett in her madness; your profession is your bread, I appreciate that. But you must be warned: you are being drawn into some very dark business. Miss Doughty, would you be prepared to change masters – to be employed by me instead? Only tell me what Wylie is paying you and I will undertake to pay you that sum with an additional ten per cent.’
Frances was about to respond with some asperity that her allegiance could not be bought or sold, or no client would ever trust her, but was prevented by a knock at the door. She had already told the housemaid that she was not to be disturbed when interviewing a client unless it was a matter of importance, so she waited with some interest for the door to be opened.
‘Miss Doughty,’ said the maid, awkwardly, ‘I’m sorry to intrude, but it’s a Mr Wylie, and he says it’s most urgent.’
Lionel Antrobus rose abruptly to his feet. ‘In that case I will take my leave at once. Please consider what I have said.’
‘You will not leave, you will stay where you are,’ said Frances, who could snap out an order when the occasion demanded.
He stared at her in astonishment.
Sarah, who had been sitting stitching a lace edging to a cap while listening carefully to the conversation, quietly put her sewing aside and flexed her fingers.
‘You have not misheard, please sit down.’ Frances turned to the maid. ‘Please ask Mr Wylie to come in.’
‘Have you planned this encounter?’ demanded Antrobus.
‘I have not. I was not expecting to see Mr Wylie today and am most curious as to what he might have to say, as indeed you must also be.’ Antrobus gave a dark frown but made no move either to sit or leave.
Wylie arrived somewhat out of breath and was taken aback to see the other man. ‘Antrobus? What are you doing here? Well, no matter, this is something you will want to hear. I have brought the most extraordinary news. The remains of Edwin Antrobus have been found, and this time there can be no doubt!’
Lionel Antrobus drew a deep breath and sat down. He was clearly shaken by the announcement and took some moments to calm himself. Frances realised that Wylie, who could see only what was good in the news he had brought, had been somewhat insensitive in the way he had informed Lionel Antrobus that his brother was dead, perhaps assuming that because of the other man’s stony exterior there was no trace of fraternal feeling within.
‘Please take a seat Mr Wylie and tell me what has happened.’
Sarah, seeing that there was not, after all, to be a fight, looked more at ease, but she did not take up her sewing and remained keenly observant.
Wylie sat, his face glowing with excitement. ‘I received a message from Miss Pearce telling me that a policeman had come to the house. A very noisy policeman, I am afraid. She was able to persuade him that Mrs Antrobus could not be disturbed and spoke to him herself. He informed her that some remains have been found in a brickyard in Shepherd’s Bush.’
‘What kind of remains and why do they think it might be Edwin’s?’ asked Lionel Antrobus, more quietly than his usual manner, though his hard tone remained.
‘A skeleton, and with it a gentleman’s leather travelling bag of the very kind Mr Antrobus carried. The bag was empty, so we must presume a thief took the contents, but there was a small inner pocket he must have missed. It contained Mr Antrobus’ business cards.’
Lionel Antrobus remained sceptical. ‘That only suggests that the bag might be Edwin’s; it does not necessarily identify the skeleton. However, it is progress of a sort.’
‘Miss Pearce advised me that she interviewed her sister and conveyed to the policeman some information which might assist in finally establishing the identity of the remains.’
‘What information?’ demanded Antrobus.
‘She did not elaborate, only begged me to come here and inform you of the development at once.’
‘What did Harriett have to say? Did you see her?’
‘Briefly, but she was too overcome to speak. Naturally there will be an inquest.’
Antrobus rose to his feet. ‘Was this policeman from Paddington Green?’
‘I believe so, an Inspector Sharrock.’
‘Then I will proceed there at once and find out what he knows.’
‘I went to see Inspector Sharrock at the police station early this morning,’ Frances informed them, ‘but he was not there, as he was engaged on an important matter, which might well have been the discovery of the remains.’
‘It was,’ confirmed Wylie. ‘He told Miss Pearce that he had already been to the tobacconist’s but Mr Antrobus was not at home, and he was on his way back to the station, so he might be there now.’
Frances rose to leave. ‘Then we will all go. Sarah, please secure a cab.’
The two men looked at each other in the unfriendliest manner possible.
‘And it is essential, sirs,’ she told them sternly, ‘that you put aside your differences and address yourselves to your common interest – discovering the truth.’ Frances had found that speaking to grown men as if they were schoolboys tended to produce the best results, and this occasion was no different. Both sulkily agreed.
On her way out, Sarah cracked her knuckles, loudly.
There was a grim absence of conversation in the cab as it rumbled down Westbourne Grove. Frances reflected on the relief that would come with the dismissal of uncertainty, even by way of bad news, a relief that Mr Wylie undoubtedly felt but Lionel Antrobus clearly did not. If Edwin Antrobus could finally be laid to rest then a great many things would change – and not all of them to his brother’s satisfaction.
Sharrock had only recently returned to the station together with Constable Mayberry, who was quickly dispatched to fetch chairs for the visitors, but Lionel Antrobus was too impatient to wait for chairs. ‘Inspector,’ he rapped, ‘I am Edwin Antrobus’ brother and I demand to see the remains at once, together with any other evidence you may have.’