Frances closed her notebook and looked at him keenly. ‘In the last year of her life Mrs Pearce was unable to walk more than a few steps unassisted and could not have made the journey to her husband’s tomb alone. And you were observed talking to the lady, not passing her writing.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘I am saying that you are lying to me.’
He looked uncomfortable, even a little afraid.
‘I would like the truth now, please,’ Frances went on, as if that was the simplest request in the world and not, as she so often found, the hardest.
He took a deep breath and placed his hands firmly palm down on the desk, a gesture of new resolve. ‘I apologise. You are correct and I ought to be ashamed of myself, but sometimes it is necessary to tell a harmless lie for the greater good. Very well. You shall have the truth. The lady in question was Mrs Harriett Antrobus, and we met in secret in a quiet place because she wished to talk about her difficulties without her husband or anyone else being present. He was not, I am sorry to say, sympathetic to her hardships, and she wished to speak freely and openly to someone who understood them. Since she is a married lady I attempted to deceive you just now in order to protect her reputation.’
‘How often and how many times did you meet there?’
‘Not very frequently, perhaps five or six times.’
‘How many times after Mr Antrobus disappeared?’
‘There was one occasion, which I have already mentioned, when I called at the house as a mark of sympathy. Mrs Antrobus was a patient, nothing more.’ He rubbed his eyes. ‘I am very weary, Miss Doughty, is that all?’
Frances rose to leave, although she could not help feeling that Dr Goodwin had not told her everything. Recalling the expression Cedric had used to the sergeant at Paddington Green, she approached the desk and leaned forward confidentially. ‘I know your secret.’
It was there, the sudden loss of colour from the cheeks, the look of terror behind his eyes. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ he gasped. ‘I did not harm Mr Eckley, the police have found the cabdriver who was conveying me at the time he was killed. I did not conduct an intrigue with either Mrs Pearce or Mrs Antrobus. Isaac is not my natural son, in fact I have no natural children.’ He recovered his composure. ‘Please leave me now.’
‘Very well,’ said Frances, more pleasantly. She made to go, but at the door she turned to face him. ‘Oh, by the bye, I have read your booklet on the subject of sign language, it is a fascinating art.’
‘Yes, indeed it is,’ he agreed, looking relieved that the subject of the conversation had changed.
‘Some of the signs illustrated are very elegant, and one might almost guess what they are as they mime their subject so well. But I was wondering if you could tell me what this one is? I observed it recently.’ She made the sign placing her fingers and thumbs together then drawing her hands apart in a curve.
‘Silence.’
‘Ah, of course, it indicates a closed mouth. I see it now. And what of this one?’ She mimed the motion with clawed hands at her shoulders.
Dr Goodwin looked astonished.
‘Perhaps I am not performing it correctly. It looks like the action of a monkey, but I can’t see why that would be.’
‘Ah, yes, indeed, it can depict a monkey, but so many signs have more than one meaning – this one might also be taken to mean a scamp or a scallywag.’ He frowned. ‘Where did you see this conversation?’
‘I am not at liberty to say.’
When she left him he looked puzzled and very worried.
The following morning’s post brought a letter from Matthew Ryan, the Bristol detective, which was so startling that Frances entirely forgot her breakfast, and when Sarah saw it she almost forgot hers too.
Dear Miss Doughty
I have some new information for you, but I don’t know what use you can put it to since the informant came to me under a veil of anonymity, refused to give me her name and is most reluctant to appear in court. The best I could do was to suggest that I should put a notice in the newspaper if I wished to speak to her again.
The lady concerned saw the advertisement I placed very recently for any further information relating to the disappearance of Mr Edwin Antrobus. She confessed that in the past, whenever Mr Antrobus was in Bristol on business, he was in the habit of paying her a visit. The lady was at the time married to a sea captain who was often from home. She did not come forward in 1877 for reasons that must be obvious. She has, however, recently been widowed and therefore felt able to reveal what she knows, if with some reservations.
The last time she saw Mr Antrobus is an occasion she remembers well. She had gone to the railway station to meet her sister, who was visiting with her new baby, an event which was eagerly anticipated and which she made a note of in her diary. It was 13 October 1877. She had just arrived at the station when she saw Mr Antrobus, although she did not think it appropriate to greet him. He presented his ticket to the Inspector and passed onto the platform, and she is quite sure it was the platform from which the Paddington train departed. He was not alone but in the company of another man. They were talking, and while not actually quarrelling, they did not appear to be on good terms. The only description she can offer as to the identity of the other man was that he walked with a very pronounced limp.
I am continuing my investigations and will write again if I have anything further to report.
Matthew Ryan
For a few moments Frances was puzzled. The clerk at the George Railway Hotel had not mentioned Edwin Antrobus’ mysterious companion walking with a limp. Was this the same man or another? She checked through Mr Ryan’s original report and saw that the clerk had seen the men standing talking to each other but had not seen them walk away, so had not had the opportunity to note any unusual gait.
There was only one limping man known to Edwin Antrobus and that was Mr Luckhurst. Had he followed his partner to Bristol and had an altercation with him there? Frances could hardly think he had not been questioned about his movements during the week between his partner’s departure and last journey, but a train ride from Paddington to Bristol and back was not a lengthy expedition thanks to Mr Brunel’s wonderful railway. Frances was also obliged to consider what credence could now be attached to Mr Luckhurst’s important evidence at the inquest if he had in some way been involved in Edwin Antrobus’ disappearance. Had he lied to ensure that the remains found in the brickyard were not identified as Edwin Antrobus? And if so, why?
Mr Wylie had lied too, apparently to assist Harriett Antrobus’ case, but Frances was obliged to wonder if she had been duped into thinking there was no more sinister motive.
Another possibility was that the skeleton found in the brickyard was that of the limping man last seen with Edwin Antrobus. The witness questioned by Matthew Ryan had stated that the two men had not been on good terms. Supposing they had quarrelled and Edwin Antrobus had murdered his companion and then been obliged to disappear? A man who devoted his life to the wellbeing of his sons might have chosen to leave them fatherless in preference to their suffering the disgrace of their father being hanged for murder. Frances looked at the inquest report but all she could glean was that the dead man had once suffered a leg injury that had healed, which from the description was probably insufficient to produce a noticeable limp.