‘There was a man who tried to get into the house, a ragged looking man, who he turned away. I was told you’d chased him off.’
She laughed. ‘Oh yes, he had a cheek all right! I sent him packing more than once. Caught him trying to get in at a window and so I hit him with my broom, and off he went sliding down the drainpipe and jumped over the back wall like a rabbit. Lizzie told me he was Mrs Antrobus’ cousin, but I didn’t believe it. He was just saying that so she’d let him in.’
‘But she thought he was? Why was that?’
‘Can’t remember now, something about Mrs Antrobus being unhappy at having such a bad man in the family.’
‘Did he ever get in to steal anything?’
‘Not that I know of.’
‘When did you last see Mr Antrobus?’
‘Oh, I didn’t see him much at all because he was out at his business when I was there.’
‘You don’t know if he was wearing his signet ring when he left for Bristol?’
She shrugged and hiccupped again. ‘You haven’t got a bit of peppermint about you?’
‘So,’ said Frances to Sarah after Mrs Fisher had gone and the room had been sprinkled with lavender water. ‘The man who said he was Mrs Antrobus’ cousin Robert Barfield and tried but failed to get into the house, didn’t limp. Indeed everything I have heard about Mr Barfield suggests that he was very agile. But who was the limping man? And do we have several limping men or just the one?’ Frances opened her notebook and made a list.
‘We first encounter a limping man in late September 1877 when he lodged in Redan Place. He is shabbily dressed, suffers from toothache and has no bag or ring. We next find a limping man on 3 October lodging with Mrs Eves, rather better dressed, no bag, probably no ring and no toothache.’
‘The same man only with a bit of money?’ suggested Sarah.
‘Very possibly. On the 13th of October 1877 a limping man is seen with Mr Edwin Antrobus at Bristol station. Soon afterwards Mrs Eves’ lodger is carrying a bag very like the one Mr Antrobus had and wears a signet ring.’
‘Then he’s the man on the train.’
‘I think so. He then goes missing in November.’
‘When did the man fall down into the cellar?’
‘I don’t know the exact date, but there is nothing to suggest that Mrs Eves’ lodger cannot be the same man who tried to blackmail Dr Goodwin and the man whose bones were later deposited in Mr Whiteley’s property in Queens Road. But he was not Mr Antrobus. Dr Goodwin is very certain that the man who tried to blackmail him was not Mr Antrobus, and it is clear from Dr Bond’s recent examination of the remains that the limp was not feigned.’
‘We still don’t know for sure if Mr Antrobus was wearing his ring when he went away,’ said Sarah. ‘If it was too tight he might have taken it somewhere to get it made bigger, and then it got stolen. If that man had it how did he get it?’
Frances looked at her notes. ‘You spoke to the parlourmaid Lizzie before the ring was found, so she was never asked about it. Perhaps we should see her again. She might remember something.’
Lizzie was about to enjoy a rare half-day holiday but was persuaded by Sarah to spare a short hour that afternoon as long as it involved a visit to a teashop. Frances met her there and found the maid dressed in some style, in a gown most probably given to her by her new mistress, cast off as unfashionable and made over with care. Her bonnet, which had started out quite plain, had been be-ribboned almost to the point of coquettishness. Many people were shocked at such displays, and newspapers often published letters of complaint, deploring the fact that it was becoming impossible nowadays to tell the difference between a lady and a servant.
Lizzie cheerfully ordered a pot of tea, with sponge cake, scones and strawberry tarts, and there was no question but Frances would be paying for the treat.
‘I spoke to Mrs Fisher today,’ said Frances as a cream tea sufficient for four people was brought to the table. ‘She told me a very amusing story of how she chased off a ragged man from Mr Antrobus’ house with a broom.’
Lizzie laughed, helped herself to a tartlet and spooned a thick layer of cream and jam on a scone. ‘Oh, she wasn’t a person to stand any nonsense!’
‘I believe the man tried to get past you too, claiming that he was Mrs Antrobus’ cousin, but you were too clever for him.’
‘That’s right, well cousin or not, I wouldn’t let such a man into the house. He was up to no good, I’m sure of it.’ She bit into the scone and wiped a blob of cream from the tip of her nose with a practised gesture.
‘Did you think he was Mrs Antrobus’ cousin?’
‘He might have been. I know she did have a bad man in her family because I heard her talking to her sister about it. She’d read something in the newspapers that had upset her. I think he was in prison.’ There was a brief lull in the conversation as Lizzie’s scone disappeared in less time than Frances had thought possible. The girl scarcely paused for breath before busily attacking the tartlet. ‘I don’t want you to think I’m in the habit of listening at keyholes,’ she went on, her voice muffled by pastry. ‘That wasn’t at all how it was. I only went in because Miss Pearce wanted to have a birthday tea for her sister and cook had sent me to ask what was wanted. They had the newspaper open in front of them, and Mrs Antrobus was crying.’ Lizzie licked her lips and took a second tartlet. ‘Mmmm. Strawberries. That was her favourite.’
‘Not in February, surely?’ said Frances, recalling that this was the month in which Barfield had last been incarcerated. ‘A rare commodity at that time of year.’ She appropriated a slice of sponge cake and a scone before Lizzie could finish the plateful.
‘No, it was in the summer. Mrs Antrobus’ birthday is June or July, I think.’
‘Do you remember if this conversation occurred before or after the ragged man came to the house?’
‘It would have been afterwards, because I remember thinking at the time that it was him they must have been talking about.’
‘It wasn’t just before Mr Antrobus went missing?’ Frances wondered if the newspaper report might have stated that Barfield was to be released early, an understandable source of alarm, but on reflection realised that had that been the case Mrs Antrobus would have known he was free at the time her husband disappeared, which clearly she had not.
‘No, it was a long while before that. A year or more.’
The summer of 1876, thought Frances, but that seemed unlikely as Barfield had already been in prison for several months then. The previous year, perhaps – maybe he had served a short sentence for a minor offence.
‘Do you remember Mr Antrobus wearing a signet ring, the one he inherited from his uncle?’
‘Oh yes, I remember that very well.’
‘I don’t suppose – and of course I will quite understand if you can’t recall – if you happened to notice if he was wearing it when he went to Bristol that last time?’
Lizzie smiled, poured her third cup of tea and took the last piece of sponge cake. ‘That’s easy! He wasn’t wearing it.’
‘Really?’ exclaimed Frances in astonishment. ‘How can you be so sure?’
‘Because I helped him take it off. Poor man, it was so tight and his finger was all sore. He said he thought he would have to have it cut off – the ring, I mean, not the finger – and he didn’t want to do that because it was a memento of his uncle. So I said I knew a trick my grandma showed me, and if he had a nice bit of soap I might be able to help. And I did. He was ever so grateful.’
‘What did he do with the ring? Did he put it in his pocket, perhaps? Or hang it from his watch chain?’
‘No. He put it in the trinket box in his dressing room. He had all sorts of little studs and pins and things in there. He said when he came back from Bristol he would take it to a jeweller and get it made bigger.’