“Thank you, Milady, but there’s no need to impose on your hospitality. If we could have a word with Sir William—”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” said Lady Gull. “As you may have heard, my husband suffered a slight stroke just over a year ago.”
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware—”
“Fortunately he has recovered, but his condition demands rest. I make it a practice never to disturb him after dinner.”
“Susan!”
She broke off, turning at the sound of the deep voice echoing from the doorway as Sir William Gull entered the room.
Mark recognized him at once from his portrait hanging in the hospital library. He’d aged since it had been painted: his hair was entirely gray and the effects of the stroke were evident in his slight limp. But the heavy, square face surmounting the short, pudgy body was almost unchanged.
Lady Gull faced him now, her concern obvious as she spoke. “I thought you were already abed. You shouldn’t be down here—”
“I heard your visitors.” Gull squinted at Abberline from beneath his bushy brows. “In fact I’ve been standing in the hall, trying to make head or tail out of this insolent invasion of privacy.”
Short-bodied and short-tempered. Mark reflected. But to his surprise, Abberline was smiling.
“Allow me to explain,” he said. “I am Detective Inspector Abberline. This is Dr. Mark Robinson, from the staff of London Hospital.” He nodded at Lees. “And the other gentleman is—”
“I know him.” Sir William Gull turned to the psychic. “Robert Lees, isn’t it? You’re the spiritualist fellow who used to give spook messages to Her Majesty.”
Lees’ smile concealed his resentment of the description. “That was many years ago, Sir William. I’m flattered you remembered.”
“No flattery intended.” Gull’s voice was gruff. “What brings you here now — more hocus-pocus?”
Before the medium could answer. Abberline intervened. “It’s a matter of some delicacy—”
“Meaning it’s indelicate.” Gull glanced toward his wife. “I’ll deal with these gentlemen myself.”
Lady Gull hesitated. “Are you quite sure you’re up to it?”
“It’s what they’re up to that interests me.” Gull’s gesture was a peremptory dismissal. “Please be good enough to close the door as you leave.”
Lady Gull did not reply, but her look of reproach was eloquent as she turned and swept out of the room, her bell-shaped skirt trailing across the heavy velvet carpet.
Once the door swung shut. Sir William wasted no time. “Now, sir.” His glowering glance was directed at Abberline. “Will you kindly explain why you were badgering my wife?”
“That wasn’t my intention,” Abberline said. He nodded at Lees. “This gentleman can tell you why we’re here.”
Caught by surprise, Lees cleared his throat nervously and began to speak.
Mark too had been surprised by the inspector’s request, and found himself puzzling over it. Sir William Gull obviously disliked the spiritualist and rejected his claims to psychic powers. Surely he wouldn’t believe the account he was hearing now, so why did Abberline want him to recite it?
There had to be a reason; Abberline was nobody’s fool. Perhaps playing the fool was deliberate on his part. Mark recalled how he’d displayed knives to evoke responses from the surgeons at the hospital. Did he have a similar purpose now in letting Lees tell his story?
If so, his efforts were rewarded. When the medium spoke of recognizing Jack the Ripper on the omnibus, Gull started visibly at mention of the name. Listening to Lees’ description of the man, his face flushed angry red. Then, as the psychic told of his intimations of the Ripper’s destination and the power that guided him here, Gull exploded.
“You’re insane! How dare you insinuate that I would harbor such a creature under my own roof?”
Lees quailed beneath Gull’s fury. “You mistake my meaning, sir. I was not implying anything of the sort. I only know that he came here — not his purpose.”
“Have you any proof? Did you see him enter this house?”
“No.” The medium’s voice trembled. “But I sensed he was going to some house in this area when he fled. And today, in Miller’s Court, the address revealed itself to me.”
“Revealed itself!” Gull’s lip curled. “In what manner? Did you hold a séance? Did you summon the spirits to tip tables and rattle their tambourines? Did the ghost of Mary Jane Kelly come a-tiptoe to whisper in your ear?”
“Please!” Lees faltered, darting a sidelong glance at Abberline as he stood impassively across the room. “I beg you to hear me out. All I’m saying is that there must be some connection—”
“None whatsoever!” Gull’s voice rose. “No connection at all!”
“I’m afraid there is.” Abberline spoke with quiet conviction.
Gull faced him now, his eyes challenging. “The man’s a lunatic!” He shook his head. “Surely as a police officer you place no stock in this rubbish about spirit messages?”
“What I believe isn’t important,” Abberline said. “I put my faith in facts.”
“And just what facts are you talking about?”
The inspector met Gull’s stare. “You are the Queen’s physician?”
“Physician in Ordinary, yes.”
“And as such, you have attended members of the royal family.”
“Certainly.”
“Including the Duke of Clarence?”
“On occasion.” Gull frowned impatiently. “But why do you ask? These are matters of public record.”
“Then let us get on to matters that are not. What was the nature of the Duke of Clarence’s illness some years ago?”
Gull shook his head. “I am a physician, sir. As such, I respect the privacy of my patients and will not—”
“I withdraw the question,” Abberline said. “But I’m afraid the matter isn’t as private as you think. It’s well-known that the Duke contracted syphilis.”
Gull swallowed quickly. “Who told you this nonsense?”
“I have it from an unimpeachable source. The same source that informs me of his deteriorating mental condition, and of his involvement in the Cleveland Street affair.”
“That’s a lie!” Gull shouted. “Eddy was never charged—”
“Thanks to you.” Abberline silenced him with a nod. “You’ve protected him all along, you and your friends in high places. Protected him from the press, the public, his only family. They don’t know about his midnight excursions to the East End or what he does there. But you do.”
As Mark watched, Gull’s face went white. And Abberline, noting the effect of his words, continued. “You know how he avoids detection, and where he goes afterward for his pleasures—”
“No!” Gull’s mouth worked convulsively. “I don’t — there are times I’ve tried to follow him, fearing for his safety, but he’s too clever for that. He always managed to elude me—”
“So he could go anywhere?” Abberline spoke softly. “And do — anything he chose?”
“For God’s sake, man!” Gull’s voice sank to a whisper. “What are you suggesting?”
“Only what you must have suggested to yourself. Need I spell it out for you?”
Sir William shook his head quickly. “It’s true,” he murmured. “I did suspect what you’re hinting at. If you only knew what torments I’ve suffered at the thought, until I put my mind at rest!”
“How did you do that?”
“By checking the Court calendar.” The Queen’s physician gained a measure of control as he continued. “Eddy was staying in Yorkshire when Polly Nicholls was killed, and at the Cavalry Barracks in York when Annie Chapman met her death. He was in Scotland at the time of the double murder, and at Sandringham from the third to the tenth of November. He was there to celebrate his father’s birthday on the ninth, the date of Kelly’s death.” Gull paused. “That leaves only the first crime — the Tabram woman, on Bank Holiday.”