Care of children was at least one skill that Mina was not expected to acquire or demonstrate. It was acknowledged without comment that this was something she would never need for herself, neither was she asked to entertain her sister’s offspring. Enid worried that scoliosis could be transmitted through the air, and even if it could not be, feared that the children could be unnerved by their aunt’s twisted body, and their spines frightened into a sudden collapse.
While they waited for the dinner bell, Mina took the opportunity of her mother’s distraction to talk to Richard. He was not lounging in the parlour, and she found him at the window of his bedroom. He was trying unsuccessfully to encourage cigar smoke to fly away out into the street, while the passing breeze clearly had other ideas.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll get Rose to air the room,’ he said, as Mina entered. She paused in the doorway and he took the unspoken hint and pinched out the little cigar. ‘I’m hiding from Mother,’ he said. ‘All she talks about is grandchildren. Aren’t three enough for her?’
Mina sank into the armchair beside the bed and adjusted a cushion for her comfort. ‘Richard, I was wondering if you had seen the pictures taken at the cemetery? The ones you did the sketches for. You haven’t mentioned them.’
He propped himself languidly against the wall. ‘No, I’ve not seen them. They aren’t amongst the ones ready for collection by customers. I think Beckler has been working on them.’
‘Aren’t they to be made into a display? I am surprised they haven’t been put in the window as an advertisement. I thought you said that was the reason for taking them.’
‘I think it was. But Beckler has written to the families first to see if they want the pictures, so he can offer them the choice of buying them before they get displayed. A few people have come in. Mind you, Beckler was a bit out of sorts this morning. Some fellow came in waving one of the letters at him and gave him no end of a wigging. Said he took pictures of his family’s grave without asking his permission. Some people are never happy.’
‘How is the mystical Lady Brighthelm doing?’
Richard controlled his enthusiasm for that subject without difficulty. ‘She seems to have attracted some interest. But you know what Brighton is like. A novelty of any kind always brings the crowds. Did you know it was Miss Hartop who gave Beckler the idea of photographing the graves? She happened to mention one day that she wished she had a nice portrait of her mother to put on her grave so that everyone could see how beautiful she had been, and that was what made him think of it. So she can be useful. Somewhere in that awful run of tattle a few things do emerge.’
‘And you say she brings business in, too,’ said Mina. ‘It only wants a few well-connected customers to add to the roster, and fashion will do the rest. I imagine she is a good source of information on the notables of the town.’
‘It’s hard to stop her talking,’ said Richard, glumly. ‘She goes on at such a rate I don’t think she knows what she is saying half the time, all about the rich men her father knows, their daughters who are her bosom friends, and the handsome young men of good breeding she is convinced want to court her. And Beckler listens to her. I think he makes notes.’
‘Mother and I were looking through the pictures we have of Father yesterday. I only wish there were more of them. I don’t recall that Father was ever photographed by Mr Simpson, was he?’
‘No, I don’t think he was.’ Richard gave up on the cigar, put the stub in his pocket, and went to perch on the edge of the bed.
‘I am sure you are right,’ said Mina. ‘He was so unwell when we came here. I remembered the other day that when you first went to work for Mr Beckler, one of the tasks he set you was to make a list of the names of all persons photographed by Mr Simpson who had not collected their pictures, pictures he still has in his shop.’
‘Yes, and a tedious trial that was, too. But there was no picture of Father there. I would have mentioned it if there had been.’
‘There might have been pictures of people whose families we know,’ said Mina, lightly, ‘like the Peasgoods and the Honeyacres.’ She was interested to know if any of the persons whose graves had been photographed were on the list, thus supplying Mr Beckler with material for his ghost portraits, but she thought it wise not to mention her true motives.
‘I suppose so,’ said Richard vaguely. ‘There might have been. It was a very long list. Anyone might be on it.’
‘Could you take a look at the list for me? Or better still, I could borrow it and see for myself. That will save you the trouble. Our friends might be very interested to know if there are some family photographs there that they have no copies of.’
‘I haven’t got it anymore, Beckler has it. He’s been working on it, and the old pictures, too. But you don’t need to see it. I think he’s having some advertisements printed and he is making a note of people to send them to. So they will all be told about the pictures in any case.’
‘Well, that is a good thing,’ said Mina, carefully concealing her disappointment. She knew that she was coming close to the edge of what she might say without making Richard suspicious. The last thing she wanted was him making a careless remark to his employer and alerting him to the fact that she was making enquiries. ‘Richard — has he given any kind of explanation for the ghost portrait of Father? Why and how it appeared? Or any ghost portrait for that matter? I have heard that other people can take them too.’
‘Oh yes, well, he’s very clever with that sort of thing,’ Richard assured her. ‘I was thinking about it a lot, and I couldn’t help but say to him what a strange business it was, and he explained it all.’
‘He did?’
‘Yes. He said that the spirits are around us all the time, only we can’t always see them. Except for some people, like mediums. But that makes me glad I’m not a medium. I mean, it must be a terrible bother having all those spirits floating about and giving you messages all the time. They always seem to want something. And if they do, they never say it clearly like “give five guineas to Aunt Jemima”. No, it’s always such a riddle that no one can make it out.’ He started musing absently, then shook his head. ‘No, I shouldn’t like that at all.’
‘But about ghost photographs?’ Mina reminded him, pointedly.
‘Oh, yes, those. Well, Beckler says that cameras and eyes work differently. He couldn’t exactly explain how, because even the best scientists can’t, although he was sure that they would one day. But that means that cameras can see things our eyes can’t. Except for mediums’ eyes, that is. They have a special kind of eyes. They can see the things that cameras can.’ He paused with a little frown. ‘I wonder if mediums can take photographs?’
‘With their eyes?’ queried Mina.
Richard shrugged. ‘You never know. Perhaps they have all these photographs in their heads.’
‘They should try staring at pieces of paper,’ said Mina, teasingly. ‘Maybe pictures will appear.’
‘That’s a good idea! Anyhow, Beckler said that the reason that spirit pictures have only just started to be seen on photographs is that cameras a few years ago weren’t as good as the ones we have now, and there are better chemicals and things like that. I don’t know if you know this, but once you have the picture on the glass, you have to put it in a lot of chemicals, or it just goes all dark. Ghosts especially — they go dark very quickly, so even if they are on the glass you won’t see them. Beckler used to use something else — I forget the name, hypo something or other — to put on the glass, but now he uses cyanide. I know, it’s quite a nasty poison, but it’s so strong that it makes the ghosts stay in the picture. You can see them clear as anything. So the ghosts were always there but even if the cameras could see them, we couldn’t make them stay long enough for us to see them. And now we can.’ Richard thought over his argument as if searching for inconsistencies, and finding none, gave a satisfied nod.
‘Well, that is very helpful for today’s photographers,’ said Mina. ‘I wonder why Mr Mayall doesn’t
take spirit pictures. He is supposed to be the best photographer in Brighton. He uses cyanide just like anyone else.’
‘Oh, he is all well and good for pictures of royals looking very stiff and serious,’ said Richard, dismissively, ‘but Beckler is the coming man, with new ideas.’
‘Did he say why the picture of Father was so very clear while the one of Miss Hartop’s mother was not?’
‘No. I mean, I didn’t ask him. But that is a good question. Shall I ask him for you?’
‘No, I beg you, not on my account,’ said Mina quickly.
Richard hesitated as if about to impart something of importance and leaned towards Mina confidingly. ‘But here is a very interesting thing he told me. I think it might be a big secret and the world does not know it yet. He said that when someone takes a photograph of a person, someone alive, that is, the picture has some of that person in it. I didn’t quite understand it, but I think it was to do with sunlight. Or maybe it’s that vital force Mr Hope was talking about. Or they could be the same thing. The sunlight is reflected from the person as if the person is a mirror. I mean, we can’t see it, but the camera can, and it goes into the camera, and it makes the picture on the glass plate. But it takes a part of the person with it and puts it on the glass. But the black and white on the glass is the wrong way round, so to turn it the right way about the glass and some paper are put in the sun, and then the light makes the photograph. But when it does that it isn’t just making a picture, like a drawing. It’s actually putting some of the person into the picture. Isn’t that interesting?’
Mina was briefly at a loss for words. ‘I — have never heard of or even imagined such a thing,’ she said at last.
Richard gave a triumphant grin. ‘Well, there you are. I know you are very clever and all that, but you don’t know everything!’
Mina was full of questions, but she felt sure that she was unlikely to learn anything more from Richard.
There was a solemn farewell dinner for the family, and the following morning the Inskips and their nursemaid returned to London. Mina’s mother decided that she was too ill for company. She retired despondently to her bed, tended upon by Rose, who ensured that she had enough scandalous reading matter to keep her occupied. Louisa Scarletti often denied reading the popular newspapers since the contents were too shocking, which meant that when she wished to peruse them, she was obliged to do so in private.
Having established that she was not required, Mina decided to pay a visit to the newspaper reading rooms before her mother changed her mind and demanded her presence. Since the individuals mentioned on Richard’s list were all prominent Brighton people and their tombstones had supplied the years of their deaths, she hoped to find notices of their demise, and even some obituaries. The Brighton Gazette was a weekly publication, so it was not too arduous for her to examine the death notices for the years in question.
The issues for each year were bound into heavy books with covers like tombstones, and Mina had to ask the assistant to carry each one to the table and lift it onto a reading stand. Her diminutive size meant she was unable to sit at the table to read, as it was impossible for her to see the upper half of the pages unless she was on her feet. It would be a long day.
Mina decided to begin with the most mysterious of the names, Mr Mulgrew who had died in 1863, and found, by good fortune, Miss Porterson-White who had expired just after Christmas 1862. In the following January there was a short obituary concerning her death from the natural decay of old age, and details of her history and rumours of her great wealth. She had resided in Brighton for the last ten years of her life and had been a common sight on the sea front in a bath chair, attended by her servants.
She finally discovered Mr Mulgrew in the autumn of 1863 but was very little the wiser. All she found was a single-line announcement, no obituary, and no inquest. The death is announced of Mr Robert Mulgrew the theological scholar, at the age of 78.
In February 1866 Mina found, The death is announced of Mr Frederick Soules the manufacturing chemist, aged 58, who passed away after suffering a severe attack of pneumonia. He is survived by a widow and two sons.
The death of Mr Veale had excited considerably more attention. Mina’s back was already aching, but she knew that it was about to ache very much more.
Brighton Gazette, May 1868
Coroner’s Inquest
On Thursday last, D. Black Esq., the Coroner for Brighton held an inquest at the Sussex County Hospital on the body of Bertram Veale, confectioner, aged 43. From the evidence of two witnesses, William Harper and James Best, it appeared that on the evening of the 10th of this month the deceased was walking home from a tavern when he tripped and fell, resulting in a heavy blow to the head. He was removed to the hospital where he died without regaining consciousness three days later. The evidence of the surgeon Mr Preston, who attended the patient and later conducted the post-mortem examination, was that Mr Veale had been in a state of inebriation when he fell, and death was due to a swelling of the brain occasioned by the fall. The injury had been on the front of the skull, suggesting that the deceased had fallen forward and been too far under the influence of alcoholic liquor to save himself. The coroner summed up and the Jury returned a verdict of ‘accidental death’. At this, the widow, Mrs Martha Veale stood up and objected very strongly. She denied that her husband had been addicted to drinking and claimed that his death was no accident but murder. She became very distressed and had to be assisted from the court.
There followed a series of letters in the Gazette from Mrs Veale, who from their tone had strong personal reasons for wanting to deny that her late husband was addicted to drink. This was followed by a letter from Mr Preston, who stated that his examination had been most thorough and had taken into account the general state of health of the deceased as well as the injury. He fully understood the reasons why the widow wished to preserve the good reputation of her late husband; however, the evidence was all too clear. He had discovered changes in the liver of the deceased which strongly suggested that he had been in the habit of drinking to excess for some years. This finding had been supported by friends of the deceased who had frequently observed him in a drunken state.
Mrs Veale wrote to the Gazette once more, stating that her husband had been the best of men, and she had never seen him take drink except in very small amounts for medicinal purposes. She had recently visited a noted clairvoyant and medium who had confirmed what she had said in court. A full account of the consultation had been handed to the police, who she was sure would soon arrest her husband’s murderers.
Mina continued her search through the papers, and found that Harper and Best had later been brought before the police court charged with theft, having abstracted money from the pockets of their unconscious friend, Bertram Veale, but there was no suggestion that they might have been concerned in his death.
This was interesting enough, but she soon found that it was the Samprey family that promised far more.
Brighton Gazette, May 1867
Coroner’s Inquest
The inquest was held on Monday evening at the Town Hall, before D. Black, Esq., the Borough Coroner, on the body of Hector Samprey Jnr, aged 33, whose body was discovered on the seashore near to the fish market on Saturday night. Mr William Woodruffe, boatman in the Coast Guard service stated that on Saturday evening at about ten o’clock he was on duty near the fish market when he heard the report of a firearm a short distance from him. Witness saw a man running from the scene, but it was too dark for him to make an identification. After making a search he went to the east end of the groyne and saw the body of a man lying on the edge of the water. He sent to the Town Hall for the police and the body was removed to the dead house. He made a thorough search of the seashore as soon as it was light, but no weapon was found.
Mr Taaffe, surgeon, stated that he was called to look at the body of the deceased on Saturday night. There was a large wound in the chest. The bullet had penetrated the heart, which would have
proved instantly fatal. Charring of the skin showed that the weapon had been discharged close to the deceased, most probably by someone standing facing him. He believed that the weapon would have been a pistol of a kind easily concealed in a pocket.
The deceased’s father, Hector Samprey senior was brought to the court to give evidence. He was conveyed by bath chair and attended by his younger sons Mortimer and Charles Samprey, who were visibly distressed and did their best to care for their frail parent. Mr Samprey, his voice painfully weak, stated that his eldest son had fallen in with some bad men whose trade was dealing in stolen valuables. There was, he insisted, no evidence to suggest that his son had been involved in their crimes. Here, the poor gentleman’s composure almost failed him, as he attempted to convey the impression that his son had been no more than a convivial companion with these desperate individuals, in their enjoyment of beer. Nothing was said out of sympathy, but onlookers glanced at each other, as if to say that they knew better. One of these dubious associates was a man called Barnes who had a reputation for violence and was known to own a gun. Hector junior had recently promised his father that he would have nothing more to do with these unsavoury persons, or indeed, places where beer was sold and consumed. His father had been overjoyed by this, and agreed to take him into the family firm, in the hope that he would join his brothers in partnership. Charles Samprey confirmed that Hector junior had told him, his father and his brother Mortimer that he was going to lead a better life. On the night of his death Hector junior planned to meet Barnes and tell him that he wanted nothing more to do with him and his companions. Charles had begged his older brother to be careful, and even offered to accompany him, but Hector junior had been confident that he could manage the situation and it would be better if he did so alone. Mr Dyer, another boatman, stated that only two days previously he had seen young Hector Samprey and Barnes walking together on the seashore, and they appeared to have been arguing. Barnes had shaken his fist in a threatening manner.
The Cyanide Ghost (Mina Scarletti Mystery Book 6) Page 14
