‘Empty houses have always been a temptation for boys, and there is so much building going on in Bayswater. We warn them of the dangers, of course, but they will seek adventure.’
‘You do understand that Isaac has committed a crime in concealing the body?’
Goodwin nodded ruefully. ‘I know, I know, and I think it would be wise if he confessed. I shall ask him to do so, and I will be happy to pay any fine that may result. I only hope the boys will not incur too much blame.’
‘The boys are just children, and a court might be lenient, in fact it is possible that the police might decline to take any action against them.’
‘I hope so.’
‘So it only remains to discover who the man was. We have one clue. A ring was found in the cellar by the charlady. That ring was the property of Mr Edwin Antrobus, and it never left his finger.’
Goodwin looked shocked. ‘No, no, he wasn’t – I mean he can’t have been —’ he stopped.
Frances raised an eyebrow. ‘The visitor wasn’t Edwin Antrobus? How do you know?’
‘Isaac described him to me,’ explained Goodwin weakly.
‘Yes?’
‘He – he walked with a limp. Edwin Antrobus did not.’
‘You did not see the man for yourself?’
‘No.’
‘I am not convinced.’
‘Well – not on that occasion. He might have been the same man who was here once before. He was unknown to me. He had a business proposition that I declined. He must have returned.’
‘Describe him.’
‘Respectably dressed. Between thirty and forty. He limped. I can recall nothing more.’
‘Did he carry a leather travelling bag?’
‘I can’t be sure.’
‘You don’t recall whether or not he was wearing a ring?’
‘No.’
‘Did he give a name?’
‘He did but I really can’t recall it.’
‘And what was the nature of the proposition?’
An expression of pain suffused the doctor’s face. ‘He was a scoundrel. He had heard all those old rumours about me and thought he could use them for gain.’
‘He tried to blackmail you?’
‘Yes. I told him to leave. There is nothing that can be proved against me because there is nothing to prove.’
‘But a man in your position cannot afford even rumour, however ill founded. Did this concern your meetings with Mrs Antrobus?’
‘He had somehow learned of those innocent meetings and made a wholly false assumption. I put him right on the matter.’
‘Is that the reason you stopped meeting Mrs Antrobus? Even as a friend? To avoid misunderstandings?’
Goodwin dropped his gaze to his desk, avoiding Frances’ eyes. ‘Yes, it is.’
‘There is more. I need to know it.’
He swallowed uncomfortably on a dry throat and went to get a glass of water. ‘Does nothing escape you? Well, you are correct. He accused me of a crime of which I am wholly innocent, a crime which I would not even have thought of committing, let alone actually committed.’
‘What crime is this?’
‘He supposed that I was love with Mrs Antrobus and that I had killed her husband so as to marry her. He could not have been further from the truth. I do not love the lady and have never aspired to marry. Isaac and my pupils are all the family I could possibly wish for. It seemed wise, however, to protect the lady’s reputation by conducting no further meetings with her.’
‘Did Isaac know about these threats?’
‘No, how could he have done? I certainly didn’t tell him.’
‘Can you recall the date of that visit?’
‘I am sorry, no.’
Frances rose to leave. The question of who the visitor was and how he had come by Edwin Antrobus’ ring was still a mystery but one she did not believe Dr Goodwin could help her solve. ‘I will leave it to your conscience as to whether you tell the police what has occurred, but I am confident you will do the right thing.’
‘You may rely on me for that. It has weighed heavily on my mind ever since Isaac confessed the truth, and I too believe he will not incur too great a penalty.’
She left him to his thoughts.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
On the following morning Sarah at last discovered the Antrobus’ former charlady, by a method she was almost ashamed to relate. Realising that the servant might have recommended a relative or friend to the position when she decided to give up the work, Sarah had spoken to the woman currently employed at Craven Hill and found that she was none other than a neighbour of Mrs Fisher, the previous incumbent. Sarah called on Mrs Fisher and, after an interesting discussion involving beer, decided to bring her to Frances to tell her story.
Mrs Fisher had worked for Edwin Antrobus’ uncle Mr Henderson up to the time of his death and thereafter for his heir. She had been in the house at the time of the unfortunate accident with the pistol, and it was a tale she was determined to tell to anyone who would listen and probably a great many others who preferred not.
‘I shall never forget that day!’ she declared, breathing beery fumes across the parlour table. ‘The family was there for dinner, Mr Henderson and his old aunts, three of them, all long gone now, and Mr Edwin Antrobus and his intended and her family. Mr Henderson always had such lovely evenings. He used to play the piano after dinner while Mr Antrobus sang. He had a beautiful voice, very sweet and light, like a songbird. Good enough for the stage. If I got the chance I used to creep up into the hall to listen. That night I was just coming up from the kitchen, hoping to hear some music, when there was this terrible loud bang from upstairs and a big commotion.
‘Mr Edwin, he come rushing out of the drawing room and goes running up the stairs, and two of the old ladies came out, but they stayed down in the hallway; they didn’t dare go up.
‘Then after a few minutes Mr Edwin came down and he was very upset and said there had been a terrible accident and Mr Henderson was dead and there was nothing anyone could do.’ She heaved a sorrowful sigh and hiccupped loudly, wiping her face with her shawl.
‘There were rumours that Mr Henderson had taken his own life,’ prompted Frances, ‘and the inquest only held that it was an accident in order to spare the feelings of the family.’
‘I don’t know about no inquest. But he used to have a bad head sometimes, migraine he called it, and there weren’t nothing that could take it away. So perhaps he couldn’t stand no more of it and decided to blow his head off.’ She shrugged. ‘Or he might have been cleaning the gun and didn’t see it was loaded.’
‘Would a man go and clean his gun after dinner with guests in the house? Had he done such a thing before?’
‘No, he used to clean it before he went out shooting and after he came back.’
‘And of course, it was through his death that Mr Antrobus inherited his fortune.’
Mrs Fisher winced and rubbed her stomach. ‘Poor man. He said he would have given it all away just to get that terrible sight out his head. But he never could.’
‘Were he and Mrs Antrobus a contented couple?’
‘Contented enough. You know about her ears, of course?’
‘Yes.’
‘She used to play the piano like Mr Henderson, only very quiet, but Mr Edwin never sang for her. I don’t think he ever sang again after his uncle died. You know, my brother has the same thing as Mrs Antrobus. He was in the ironworks ten years, and all that banging and clanging of the hammers did for him. He can’t even bear to hear birds singing now, and he used to like to listen to the birds,’ she added wistfully.
‘Did you ever see any reason to suppose that Mr Antrobus would desert his wife, or did he have any enemies who might have harmed him?’
‘No.’