‘No record and no grave,’ said Magrath, miserably.
‘No proof, in other words. If this is yet another lie I shall be very displeased.’
‘I wish it was not true but it is.’ After further thought, and with an air of extreme reluctance, he rose and rang for the maid. They waited in silence until Doris arrived and was sent to fetch the senior attendant without delay.
‘Mr Fullwood will tell you all you need to know, as he was present at the death,’ said Magrath.
‘When did it take place?’
‘I don’t recall the exact day. Dromgoole had been here for just over two months.’
‘The date on which, according to your file, he was transferred from here, in other words some weeks before Mr Antrobus disappeared.’ It seemed that that line of enquiry was now over, assuming that Frances could now trust what Dr Magrath said, although she was a long way from doing so.
Fullwood arrived and Magrath waved him to a seat. ‘Mr Fullwood, it seems that Miss Doughty has lived up to her formidable reputation and discovered our deception concerning Mr Dromgoole. Much as I know it will pain us both, I feel that we have no alternative but to tell her the entire truth.’
Fullwood looked uncomfortable. ‘We’ve done nothing against the law,’ he muttered defensively.
Frances doubted that very much, since Dromgoole’s death, assuming that he was indeed dead, had never been reported or registered. No one who worked in an institution where most of the residents were of advanced age could fail to know the obligation to report a death to the Registrar, an omission that was at the very least a punishable misdemeanour. She decided to wait for Mr Fullwood’s story before she voiced an opinion.
‘He was always a difficult patient,’ Fullwood began. ‘I saw from the start that he would need watching, since he was so much younger than the others and with no bodily infirmities.’
‘But he was never violent,’ Magrath interrupted. ‘He made no attempt to attack any of the other patients or the attendants.’
‘No, he didn’t. He made threats against the other doctors, the ones who’d had him committed, but it was never to do them actual hurt. He said he knew things against them and he would write to the Chronicle, and The Times and the Lancet and the Royal College of Physicians, and when he did they’d be sorry for what they’d done to him. I rather thought he didn’t know anything and it was all wild fanciful talk – one man was supposed to be charging his patients twice over, one had been negligent and yet another was romancing a married lady – I thought it best not take note of any names. We didn’t allow him to send letters, but I don’t think he wrote any. After he had been here a few weeks his mood changed, and he stopped talking about the other doctors, and he cried and said he was a prisoner and couldn’t breathe properly. He said he would like to go for a walk and I thought —’ he paused.
‘We both thought,’ said Magrath, charitably, ‘that as long as it was quiet and there were not too many people about it would be safe to allow it. We didn’t want to risk him bumping into one of the other doctors he knew or having him get lost in a crowd or confused by the noise.’
Fullwood nodded. ‘So it was in the evening, fine and warm, as I recall. As soon as we agreed to take him out he became very calm. I should have been suspicious then, but I suppose I was just relieved that he seemed happier. I was careful to keep away from the main thoroughfares, and we walked for a while and he talked almost normally about his family and his life.’
‘Did he mention Mr Antrobus?’ asked Frances.
‘Not that I remember.’
‘Go on.’
‘Well the conversation was quite interesting and he seemed calm and cheerful, so we walked a little further than I had planned, and I was just about to suggest we return when he said he would like to go and see the canal as he always enjoyed watching the barges. He said it reminded him of when he was a boy and he felt at peace there. I warned him about the smell, but he said he was a doctor and had smelt worse, which I suppose was true. Then he saw a pile of bricks on the canal path, and he suddenly picked up two or three of them and put them in his pockets. He said he was going to drown himself. I told him he needed to come back with me, and I went to take hold of him, but all of a sudden he pulled out a knife. We found out later he’d stolen it from the kitchen. He said if I called out for help it would be the worse for me. I thought I could talk him out of it, and I started to get closer to try and get the knife off him, which I knew I could do, as I didn’t think he really meant me any harm, but then —’ Fullwood gulped, ‘it all happened so fast. Just as I got close, he – he just drew the blade across his throat. Right across. Just the once. Very deep. He must have been very determined. I went to catch him but he toppled over and into the canal. He didn’t try to save himself, he just sank.’
‘Did you try to save him?’
‘No – I couldn’t reach him, and in any case I could see it was hopeless, and if I had gone into the canal there would have been two of us dead and not one.’
‘How was he dressed?’
‘A suit of clothes as might any man wear.’
‘And what did you do? Did you advise Dr Magrath of what had occurred?’
Fullwood glanced at Magrath who nodded. ‘Yes, I did.’
Frances turned to Magrath. ‘So now the matter was placed under your responsibility.’
‘It was,’ agreed Magrath, unhappily. He took up the story. ‘I decided to wait and see if the body was found. I told the other attendants that Dromgoole had gone to live with relatives for a week or two. But we heard nothing. Then I said that he had been moved to another asylum that was more suitable for his needs. As time passed I suppose we thought that he would never be found or if he were, wouldn’t be recognised. There was nothing in his possession that might have identified him. Since then the other attendants who would have remembered him have either left or retired. Fullwood and I are the only ones here who know what happened.’
‘And you told no one of the death? You didn’t register it?’ asked Frances.
‘Well, he was alive the last I saw of him,’ said Fullwood.
‘But only moments away from death,’ Frances pointed out. ‘I do not think the Registrar would be convinced by your argument. And what of Mr Malcolm Dromgoole? He has a right to know.’
Magrath looked guilty as well he might. ‘He was not informed.’
‘The body that was found when the canal was drained last year – do you believe that is Mr Dromgoole?’
‘It could hardly be anyone else.’
‘But you said nothing.’
‘No.’
Frances hardened her voice. ‘And as a consequence of your silence Mrs Antrobus and her friends suffered substantial expenditure in legal fees, not to mention time and trouble, and underwent great personal distress in order to try and establish that the remains were those of Mr Antrobus.’
Magrath gave a little grimace. ‘I am very sorry about that, but once we were in the situation we could not see any way out.’
‘The way out was to tell the truth.’
‘Yes, yes I see that now. I will write to Mr Malcolm Dromgoole immediately to tell him what has happened and hope that he will understand. And of course I will register the death without any further delay and take the consequences.’
He looked so contrite that Frances decided to trust him. ‘I will examine the newspapers with great interest to see the matter reported. There is one other thing you can assist me with. I want to try and trace any correspondence and diaries Mr Dromgoole may have left behind in his house, and also I wish to write to his cousin in case he had any letters from him.’
Dr Magrath, more obliging now that he had nothing further to hide, supplied the Dundee address of Mr Malcolm Dromgoole. ‘As to anything found in the house, the only things we retained for our patient were personal effects such as clothing and toilet articles. I don’t believe there was anything of value; he lived a very simple life. People do keep so very much about them and we cannot retain our patients’ effects or our house would be bursting with them. I think there might have been a few books and papers and if so his solicitor would have sent them to his cousin.’