“No need to concern ourselves with that,” Abberline told him. “We’ve already eliminated her from our list, since the nature of her wounds differs from those of the other victims.”
Eliminated? Mark suppressed surprise. He didn’t tell me that. But it was becoming increasingly evident the inspector knew more than he chose to reveal. When he did so it was for a definite purpose — as was the case tonight, when he’d broken Gull.
And Sir William was broken, no doubt about that. He faced Abberline now without defiance, his voice subdued.
“Thank you for giving me this comfort,” he said. “Perhaps I can find some measure of peace, now that I know Eddy is completely innocent. The poor lad has endured enough at the hands of muckraking journalists without suffering any added burden. My loyalty to the Crown impels me to ask your silence—”
“You’ll have it,” Abberline broke in. “On one condition.”
“And what is that?”
The inspector glanced at Robert James Lees as he replied. “There are others besides the Duke of Clarence whose reputations are involved in this affair. Mr. Lees, for example. It was his account which brought us here tonight — an account you disparaged, together with his integrity. I must ask you now to tell the truth. Who was the man that visited you the other day?”
For a moment Gull stood with lowered head. Then he sighed heavily. “Very well, if you insist. His name is John Netley.”
“The coachman who drives Eddy when he switches carriages midway on his trips to Whitechapel?” Abberline nodded.
Gull looked up, startled. “Then you already know—?”
“Only that this is the method Eddy used to elude your pursuit. But I want you to tell me Netley’s purpose in coming here.”
“Because I summoned him,” Gull said. “It was only recently that I learned of his part in these escapades. Needless to say, I made it quite clear to him that the game was up, and that he faced dire consequences unless he put an end to assisting Eddy. He gave me his word.”
Abberline nodded again. “And you have ours, as to keeping silence.”
“Thank you, Inspector.” Gull turned, moving toward the door, and Mark noticed that his limp was more pronounced. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
Opening the door, he escorted them down the hall. They left silently, and nothing was said until after they started down Brook Street in the direction of the hack stand on Grosvenor Square. The rain had ceased but there were no passersby on the glistening pavement.
It was Lees who spoke first. “Thank you for coming to the defense of my reputation, Inspector. I’m sorry I was wrong about the Ripper living on the premises, but one thing I’m still positive of — he’s been in that house! Sir William was lying.”
Abberline halted under the street-lamp and Mark followed his startled stare.
“How do you know?”
Lees’ eyes gleamed somberly in the gaslight. “Because John Netley’s a coachman. And the man who visited Gull the other day — Jack the Ripper — is a doctor.”
~ THIRTY-SIX ~
Italy, A.D. 1815. Gaetano Mammone, a brigand who became a captain in the Army, found refreshment in drinking his captives’ blood. At times he would decapitate a victim, scoop out the brains from the skull, and use it as a goblet. Herding prisoners into a barn, he nailed their hands to the walls, doused the straw with oil, locked the doors, and set the barn on fire.
Shortly before eleven that evening, Mark returned to the hospital. Since Trebor had left he was a free agent this week with no set hours or duties to perform, and today’s events had drained him of any desire to volunteer his services.
It was on Abberline’s request that he came — a request casually delivered when they parted after the carriage had dropped Lees off.
“I wonder if you would do me a favor?” he’d asked. “Does the hospital keep some sort of file on the comings and goings of staff physicians?”
“Of course. All duty hours are recorded.”
“In that case, perhaps you could make an inquiry. I’d do it myself, but if word got out that I was asking questions he might get the wind up.”
“He?”
“Dr. Hume.”
“Hume?” At the sound of the name, Mark started. “Do you actually believe—”
“I believe nothing,” Abberline said. “Not until I can establish his whereabouts on certain dates.”
Mark nodded quickly then. “I know which dates you mean. Let me see what I can do.”
“While you’re at it, you might also find out if he was off-duty on the afternoon of the ninth.”
“You’re saying the man Lees saw on the omnibus could have been Dr. Hume?”
Abberline shrugged. “Lees told us it wasn’t John Netley.”
“Can you take his word for that?”
“I do, but it has no bearing on psychic powers. The man he saw had a mustache. Some time ago Netley’s name cropped up in my investigations and I made it a point to locate a copy of his coachman’s license, with his photograph attached. Netley wears a full beard.”
“Then you knew Gull lied to us. Why didn’t you challenge him?”
“Not without further evidence. If I find it necessary to see Gull again I intend to come armed with adequate proof. That’s why I’d like you to get me word about Hume’s schedule, if you can.”
“I’ll do my best,” Mark promised.
But now, at the hospital’s reception desk, he met with swift disappointment.
“Sorry, Dr. Robinson,” the night orderly clerk said. “We’re not allowed to give out such information. You’d first have to get permission from Chief of Staff.”
“I see.” Concealing his disappointment, Mark started to move away when the clerk called after him.
“You can ask Dr. Hume himself if you like. He’s due in for the night shift in another hour.”
“Thank you.”
For nothing, Mark told himself. It was hardly possible for him to confront Jeremy Hume with his questions. And if what he suspected was true—
“Mark!”
At the sound of Eva’s voice he turned and saw her emerging from the left-hand corridor, dressed in street clothes. She wore no hat this evening, and the gaslight haloed her auburn curls as she approached. “Are you on duty tonight?” she asked.
“No, I just stopped by. And you?”
“Through for the day, thank goodness.” Eva smiled wearily. “And homeward bound.”
“Might I escort you?”
She nodded. “If you like. But it’s only a few blocks.”
“I know.” He fell into step beside her and they left the lobby together.
Once on the street, Mark took her arm. “You still owe me a dinner engagement,” he said. “Perhaps we could stop somewhere for a bite to eat?”
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather go straight home.”
“Not even a cup of tea?”
“I’ve a kettle waiting, thank you. And right now all I really want is a chance to take my shoes off.” She glanced at him as they crossed the street. “You seem tired too. Was it a trying day?”
Quickly Mark told her of the inquest, his subsequent journey to Scotland Yard with Abberline, and their confrontation with George Hutchinson there.
“Do you feel he was being truthful with you?” Eva asked.