Ratty nodded. ‘Yes, ’e did that ’n then the boys did it too. It was like —’ he thought hard. ‘Like he wuz askin’ ’em to be quiet and they wuz saying “yes”.’
‘But what about, I wonder? And then there was the sign like this —’ she did the clawing movement at her shoulders. ‘That means a monkey or, more likely, a scamp or scallywag. Perhaps someone has misbehaved.’
Ratty shook his head. ‘It weren’t like that, it were like this.’ He did the movement but this time Frances saw that the clawed fingers were not at his shoulders but met at his chest and were drawn outwards. ‘Is that diff’rent?’
‘It looks different,’ she agreed. Frances puzzled about it not only because she wanted to know what the gesture meant, but also because she had a feeling that she ought to know what it meant because she had seen it before.
There was a surge of excitement as Dr Bond arrived, which signalled the fact that he had finally concluded his examination of the skeleton that had been deposited in the cellar of Queens Road, and it was hoped that the inquest on the remains could be concluded.
Mr Marsden arrived together with Lionel Antrobus, and on seeing Frances he uttered some words to his client with a sour twist of his mouth. Antrobus’ expression was unreadable.
‘I wanter go now,’ said Ratty, when he saw Inspector Sharrock appear. ‘Don’ like coppers and don’ like him!’ he was out of the door before Frances could say another word.
The inquest on the unnamed skeleton resumed, and Dr Bond was called.
‘Since the last hearing I have examined additional pieces of bone, pieces of a human fibula, recovered from the site where the earlier remains were found. They are compatible with the conclusion that they are part of the same skeleton. None of the human bones have been duplicated. At the last hearing, and based on the condition of the right tibia, I was of the opinion that the deceased would have made a good recovery from the fracture. The new remains have led me to revise that opinion.’
There was a stir of interest in the court.
‘The injury to the fibula was very substantial. I think that the deceased must have twisted the leg and either struck or collided with some hard uneven surface. The bone was shattered into several fragments, some of which would undoubtedly have protruded through the flesh. The process of healing would have been a long one. The fracture was not skilfully set and the bones have not knitted well. There is evidence of a subsequent infection. The deceased would have walked with a noticeable limp. I have also, on the basis of the new evidence and further examination of the tibia, concluded that the injury was suffered less than five years before death. I cannot be more accurate than that.’
‘Have you any suggestions to offer concerning the identity of the deceased?’
‘I am afraid not.’
Dr Bond stood down, and Lionel Antrobus was called forward to state very emphatically that his brother had walked with an entirely normal gait.
There was no further evidence and the jury could only conclude that the identity of the remains was unproven and the cause of death was in all probability a broken neck, but whether by accident or design it was impossible to say.
Frances and Sarah discussed the outcome of the inquest over a simple luncheon of ham and stewed peas, with bread and butter and tea.
‘The limping man, whoever he may be, is very probably the same individual seen in Bristol with Mr Antrobus,’ Frances concluded. ‘He travelled on the Paddington train, and he could have met with an accident or been robbed and killed soon after he arrived. But precisely where that occurred and how and why his remains came to be at Queens Road no one can say. Why was Mr Antrobus’ bag found with him? Did he steal it? Or did Mr Antrobus, wishing to disappear, kill his companion and leave his bag by the body in the hope that when it was found it would be thought to be him?’
‘But how would he know when, or even if, the body would be found?’ asked Sarah, reasonably. ‘Seems to me that it was just chance.’
‘Suppose the man was not killed where he was found. His body had been left in another place where it had been reduced to a skeleton and then put in the lodging house quite recently. The interior of the sack was not stained by decomposition, so the body was already dry bones. Whoever moved it might have been frustrated that the body had not been found and, knowing about the work that was to be done on the properties, put it there so the workmen would find it.’
‘Why not just leave it in plain view?’
Frances could not answer that. She sipped her tea. ‘Perhaps I am looking at this the wrong way about. The body was hidden somewhere where it has lain undiscovered for long enough for it to become a skeleton, probably several years. It was then, quite recently, moved to a new location. Perhaps whoever hid it didn’t want it found, and it was in danger of being found if it remained where it was.’
‘That house wasn’t going to be shut up forever, though. Not with the way Mr Whiteley goes about his business. They must’ve known it was going to be found sooner or later.’
‘That is true. So maybe it is not when it was found that was important but where. The police have been looking into possible connections with the lodging house, which of course is a perfectly correct course of action, but perhaps the one thing we might be certain of is that the individual and the person who hid the body have no connection with the house at all, and the bones were placed there because it was conveniently unoccupied, in order to draw attention away from the original location. The fact that the house was standing empty would have been well known to anyone who passed it by.’
She put her teacup down and inspected the pot, which was empty, and sighed.
‘Well, one thing’s for sure, it wasn’t Mr Antrobus,’ said Sarah. Frances had been distracted by the puzzle over the bones but reflected that the fact that they were not the remains of the man for whom she was searching did not necessarily mean his identity was not her concern. Putting a name to the skeleton could lead her directly to Mr Antrobus.
The best clue as to what had happened to the missing man was probably the signet ring, and Frances remained hopeful that the person who pawned it would be found.
Frances and Sarah were busy during the next few days, and their other work was bearing fruit. The new suitor of Miss Digby, who had so coldly spurned young Mr Candy, was shown to be quite genuinely the cousin of a baronet. Ratty had followed him to a gentleman’s club, which turned out to be one of the many establishments patronised by Chas and Barstie where they made valuable business associations. The gentleman was known to several of the members, and he had been seen in the company of his noble, if impoverished, cousin. He was handsome, amiable, courteous, single and excellent company. He was also a habitual gambler who had squandered his inheritance and was in desperate need of money. Recently he had assured his creditors that his situation was about to change, and he would soon be able to pay his debts.
Frances called on Mr Digby and imparted the news. He revealed that having given his conditional approval to the match the first thing his prospective son-in-law had done was to borrow five hundred pounds. He wondered if his daughter might reconsider Mr Candy. Frances could not advise him.
There was better news for Mr Candy, as all the men who had made claims against the charity for injured workmen had been shown to be genuine and deserving cases. He appeared satisfied with the information and said that Frances could be sure of getting more assignments from him in future. He made no mention of Miss Digby, and Frances did not raise the subject.
Frances had also managed to resolve the troubles of the respectable Mr and Mrs Reville, neither of whom, it turned out, had been faithless. After studying her father’s medical volumes she had had a quiet interview with Mr Reville’s widowed mother, who had finally confessed that her husband had not, as she had always maintained, died of a weak heart but from an unspeakable disease which had led to his decline into insanity, a condition which she feared might have been passed to her son. Mr Reville was deeply shocked at this news, delighted that his wife had not been untrue and resigned to the fact that his later years would probably mirror those of his father. The divorce proceedings were abandoned and the family was reunited, Mrs Reville vowing loyally to nurse her stricken husband to the end.