He gave her a rueful glance. ‘You have a good memory.’
‘So – where is Mr Dromgoole, and what is the reason for the ridiculous masquerade at our earlier meeting?’
There was a long silence, a refuge of time, which Magrath employed pacing in a circle, making an earnest inspection of the carpet. ‘Miss Doughty,’ he said looking up at last, ‘please believe me that I acted with the best of intentions, and I do not think – at least I hope – that I have done nothing against the law.’
Frances’ expression suggested that this was something of which she had yet to be convinced. ‘Please go on,’ she said, coldly.
‘You will appreciate that in an establishment such as this, our patients are either very aged or in frail health, but when he was admitted, Mr Dromgoole was neither.’
‘Then why was he here?’ Frances looked at her notes. ‘Is this something to do with the asylum company’s purchase of the house in Kildare Terrace from his cousin, Mr Malcolm Dromgoole, because it appears to me that there has been a very underhand arrangement.’
‘Oh no, please believe me, it was all fully legal. Our solicitor Mr Rawsthorne drew up the papers. That house is now, as I expect you know, a female sanatorium.’
‘But was it a condition of the purchase that the asylum cared for Mr Dromgoole?’
‘It was.’ Magrath drew up a chair and sat to face her. ‘Mr Dromgoole was originally placed in the public asylum by his medical friends. His cousin was most distressed by this, and having acquired legal control over his estate, he hoped that he might be able to rent the house in Kildare Terrace to pay for him to be better accommodated, but the property was very dilapidated and there were no funds for its repair. Even if he had been able to sell it as it was, the amount raised would have been swallowed up in a few years and Mr Dromgoole would then have had to be returned to the public asylum. So we came to an agreement. The ownership of the house would be transferred to the General Asylum Company gratis and in return the company agreed to accommodate Mr Dromgoole.
‘Unfortunately this proved to be more difficult than we had anticipated. As I have already mentioned, an establishment such as ours would not be tolerated in this neighbourhood unless the public was assured that our residents pose no threat to their safety. But Mr Dromgoole was erratic, not of great age and far from feeble. He made more than one attempt to escape, saying that he would take vengeance on the men who had destroyed him. We were therefore obliged to transfer him to a place where he could be more securely housed. I had not expected anyone to call asking for him but his attendant Mr Fullwood and I had already agreed that if that was ever to occur, a harmless deception would be required.’
‘Harmless,’ repeated Frances in a tone that left Dr Magrath in no doubt as to her opinion on that point. ‘I see. And what did his cousin have to say about Mr Dromgoole being moved from here?’
Dr Magrath faltered.
‘You failed to mention it to him, I take it?’
‘Er – yes – I am afraid so.’
‘Deliberately.’
Magrath could only nod.
‘What did you intend to do had Mr Dromgoole’s cousin come to visit? You could not have deceived him, surely? Harmlessly or otherwise.’
‘We thought a visit from him unlikely as he lives in Dundee and does not travel. But had he done so we would undoubtedly have had sufficient advance notice to return Mr Dromgoole here for a brief period. But I do not feel that we have strayed from the essence of the original agreement, as we promised to provide suitable care and accommodation and that is what we have done, albeit in a different location. It was unforeseen circumstances which demanded that Mr Dromgoole was an unsuitable resident for this house.’ Magrath, having explained everything to his satisfaction, was relieved enough to venture a smile again.
Frances was not convinced that Dr Magrath did believe he had complied with the agreement or he would have been open with her from the beginning. Underneath his disarming manner there was something else he was concealing, though whether this had anything to do with her enquiries she did not know.
‘When was Mr Dromgoole moved?’’ she asked.
‘He was here for about two months.’
Frances looked at her notes. ‘He was admitted on 5 July 1877, and if that is correct he left before Mr Antrobus’ disappearance and has been securely confined ever since.’
‘Yes, so he could not have been in any way responsible for whatever happened to Mr Antrobus.’
‘Even so, Mr Dromgoole may have information which I would find useful, so I would like you to tell me where he is.’
Magrath was startled. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I want to speak to him, which is what I had hoped to do when I came here first.’
‘But, his mind has quite gone. You will learn nothing from him.’
‘That is as maybe, but I will judge that.’
He hesitated.
‘Please let me have the address, and I will travel there today.’ Frances sat with her pencil poised over her notebook in anticipation.
After a brief pause, Magrath leaned back in his chair and folded his arms firmly across his chest. ‘I am sorry, but that information is confidential.’
‘Is it?’
‘I am afraid so. There is a very strict limit on what I can reveal to someone who is not a blood relative of the patient.’
Frances had met with worse opposition and was not perturbed. ‘You put me to a great deal of trouble, Dr Magrath. I want the information and I will have it, one way or another.’
‘It would be detrimental to the health of Mr Dromgoole to undergo questioning, and you have no power to force me to open a confidential file.’
‘As to the first, you must forgive me if I do not believe you, and I have more power than you think.’
He remained obstinate. ‘I doubt it.’
‘Very well, I will write to Mr Malcolm Dromgoole and obtain an order from him for you to open the file. He will no doubt be extremely interested to hear of the change in arrangements. I do not at present have his address, and I am sure that you will refuse to supply it, but I would not be any kind of a detective if I could not have that information in my hands before the end of the day.’
Magrath tried to conceal his alarm but failed.
‘Or you could save us both time and trouble and let me know now where Mr Dromgoole is currently located.’
He hesitated. ‘I shouldn’t, of course.’
‘I think you should.’ Frances poised her pencil once more.
‘It will be a long journey,’ he objected.
‘Then I had better start at once. So, if you please, the name of the asylum, its addresss and the name of the supervisor.’
Magrath stared at her with growing discomfort.
‘I also intend to speak to Mr Rawsthorne, as he will need to check that the agreement he drew up is still being complied with. I should mention that Mr Rawsthorne is an old friend of my family and has been a great help to me in many of my cases.’
Magrath threw up his hands. ‘Oh, you may safely leave that with me!’ he exclaimed.
‘Why does that assurance not inspire me with confidence?’ said Frances dryly. ‘Now then, the information.’ She waited. ‘Unless of course the story of Mr Dromgoole being moved is just another lie.’ Another wait. ‘Yes?’
He groaned. ‘I really – I am so sorry. I am afraid that you cannot see Mr Dromgoole – in fact no one can. He is dead.’
There was a long silence during which Frances favoured Dr Magrath with a look that had made many a stronger man quail. ‘Where is the record of his death?’ she asked. ‘Where is his grave? Forgive me for doubting you but I think I have good reason.’