‘And his father believed him?’
‘Yes, he did; after all, it was what he had wanted — prayed for.’ Clover shook his head. ‘My uncle was never able to see Hector for the villain he truly was. He had vain hopes of redemption right up to the moment of Hector’s death. None of the family dared tell him otherwise for fear of a relapse.’
‘But one of Hector’s brothers lied in court as well?’
‘Neither Charles nor Mortimer believed that Hector intended to reform, but they would never have said what they really thought in front of their father. It would have upset him too much.’
‘I take it,’ said Mina, after some thought, ‘that the real reason for your concern in this matter is not to exonerate Barnes, who must be roasting in eternal flame as we speak, but with regard to Miss Jemson?’
Mr Clover’s blush deepened. ‘I admit I was impressed by her. I wanted to help her. I asked Mortimer and Charles if they could do something for her, but they both refused. She had defended Barnes, who they were sure was guilty, and that was enough for them. When I sought her out after the trial, she was hard to find, but eventually I found her in the Elm Grove workhouse. She had to go there or starve, since because of her association with Barnes no one would offer her work. She had nothing to her name, not even her own clothes. The workhouse uniform, the blue and white gown which was all she had to wear, announced to the world where she came from. It’s a harsh place. She had been set to work picking oakum, but even in her poor condition she still had some measure of dignity. She was just nineteen, Miss Scarletti. That man had been the terror of her life for two years. She had had two children by him, both of whom had died.
‘But she still said that she had told the truth and had not been mistaken. Whoever had murdered Hector, it was not Barnes. I decided to find her some respectable work. I knew of a rented house looking for a general maid, and I bought her new garments — her old rags had been burnt — and had her looking presentable. She knows how to clean and is not afraid of hard work and long hours. She calls herself Jenny Jones now. But she lives in terror that her old life will find her out. She has been branded as a disreputable woman who lied in court. If I could prove that she told the truth, she would have a happier future.’
‘That is very charitable of you,’ said Mina.
Mr Clover gave a faint smile, then abruptly rose from his seat and walked about the room. Rose stared at him suspiciously as he turned impulsively to face Mina. ‘I have learned something even more shocking. I have told no one else of this, but I will tell you as I see you need to be convinced. Hector once told Barnes that he was responsible for the accident in which his father was injured, and his mother killed. He had loosened one of the carriage wheels.’
‘Why ever did he do that?’
‘He intended to kill his father. He hadn’t known that his mother would join his father on the journey. It was decided on an impulse. He didn’t have a chance to dissuade her.’
‘Did the coachman not check over the carriage before setting out?’
‘So he claimed. But who could prove otherwise? He would hardly admit to negligence. After that happened, Hector was so afraid of being found out and arrested that he went away for a time. He only came back when he thought he was out of danger. His father killed the proverbial fatted calf, of course.’
‘And do you believe that if you were able to interview the shade of your cousin, he would reveal the true identity of his murderer, and exonerate Miss Jemson?’
‘I do,’ said Mr Clover.
‘What of his brothers, Mortimer and Charles — do they not share your views?’
‘No. They were sure that the spirit picture was a fraud. I went to the shop to make enquiries about it, and that was when I learned of Lady Brighthelm. She knew all about the murder of my cousin, even though I didn’t give her my name. She told me that the spirit of my dead cousin had secrets to reveal. I told Mortimer and Charles about Miss Brighthelm, but they treated her with derision. They both believed that justice had been done, but I wasn’t about to give up. I was going back to see her again when that awful thing happened. So now I fear I shall never know the truth,’ he finished miserably.
‘Mr Clover, when you consulted Lady Brighthelm, you didn’t happen to notice what sweetmeats she preferred?’
He was evidently surprised by this question. ‘Well — she — er — liked chocolates.’
‘Did you notice which kind?’
‘Yes. Now I think about it, she had a box of them. Violet creams. Veale’s does them. Why?’
‘Did you ever give or send her any?’
‘No.’
‘Did you mention her preference to anyone?’
‘I — don’t know. I might have mentioned it when I was talking to my cousins. They thought she was a figure of fun. Mortimer said she must be a secret drinker, or something worse. I said that as far as I knew, her worst vice was chocolate. I might have said Veales, I can’t remember now. Charles said that all mediums are liars who make up stories for money. Is that what you think?’
‘I know many mediums who are sincere about what they do and accept no reward. I know others who are criminals.’
‘Lady Brighthelm never asked for a reward. Do you think her genuine?’
‘I cannot judge.’
‘There are many in Brighton who say that you are a medium.’
‘I am not and have never claimed to be. Anyone who suggests that I am is mistaken.’
‘I was hoping…’
‘Yes?’
‘I suppose I was hoping that you might be able to help Clarissa.’
‘I’m not sure what you mean. How might I help Miss Samprey?’
‘I think she may be a sensitive and would benefit from development.’
‘If she is, it could prove to be a burden she would rather she did not have. My advice to you, Mr Clover, is to leave well alone.’
‘But I can’t!’ he cried. ‘I must know the truth!’
Mina, too, would have liked to know the truth. And the thought did occur to her that if Jenny Jemson had given honest and accurate testimony, then the killer of Hector Samprey might still be free.
When Mina returned home, a letter from young Mr Phipps was waiting for her, which, combined with what she had recently discovered was very informative.
Dear Miss Scarletti,
Further to our recent conversation, I have some news which you may find interesting.
I recall informing you that my grandfather, Aloysius Phipps, who founded this firm, had never had a photograph taken, since he was distrustful of the process and also wished to avoid any record of his appearance due to the cast in his eye about which he was extremely sensitive. This led to him commissioning the portrait in oils which you have seen.
I mentioned this recently to my great aunt Flora. She is the younger sister of my grandmother, the late Mrs Charlotte Phipps. She had a slightly different recollection of the matter. According to Aunt Flora, my grandfather had once been persuaded to have a photographic portrait made. It was about two years before his death in 1856, when glass plate photography, which is the thing nowadays was just starting to become popular. She couldn’t recall the name of the photographer but felt sure that it was a Brighton man. She does remember, however, that when my grandfather came back from seeing the pictures, he was very annoyed and said that they were not at all good. He never showed them to her, or indeed anyone else as far as she is aware. He had paid for the work but ordered the photographer to destroy all trace of it. I assume that means both the glass negatives and the prints.
I showed my aunt the picture of the grave with what appears to be my grandfather’s spirit standing beside it, and she agreed that it was him to the life. Not only that, but she was heartily amused by it. When I asked for an explanation, she said that he had always been very sceptical of the claims of spiritualists. He did not believe that the dead paid visits to the living but maintained that after death they slept until the day of judgement to be ra
ised, as the Bible has said. This had greatly upset my grandmother, who was a passionate devotee of the medium Daniel Dunglas Home, who first came to England in 1855. Apparently, they used to have quite heated debates on the subject. My grandfather would denounce Home as a conjuror and charlatan, and my grandmother did all she could to change his mind but without effect.
After his death, my grandmother attended a number of séances to contact him, as she wanted to reassure herself that not only was he happy in the spirit world but that he now acknowledged that she had been correct all along. It appears that there were mediums who were able to provide her with messages that satisfied her that they came from my grandfather and that he accepted the reality of the spirit world. I asked my aunt what she thought of the photograph; did she think it was a message from my grandfather? She could not say; she only hoped that he and her sister were now together in harmony.
Sincerely,
R Phipps
There was no means of knowing whether Mr Simpson had been the photographer in question and if he had been, whether he had, as promised, destroyed all evidence that Mr Aloysius Phipps had ever been photographed. The records of past customers and the list that Richard had once made of images and plates acquired from the estate of the late Mr Simpson were materials which Mr Beckler was holding very close to his chest.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Mina was not especially interested in mingling with fashionable crowds of visitors on the West Pier, but their noisy chatter and colourful jostling helped to conceal her real intention, which was another conversation with private detective Mr Stevenson. What her mother might have made of a second meeting with a gentleman who was a stranger to her, she did not know. Mina thought that for safety such occasions should be made to appear as chance encounters and not planned assignations. She realised that she did not know if Mr Stevenson was married or single and had no intention of asking him.
Mina did not venture far along the walking deck. The sun was high, and she decided to find a seat at one of the ornamental shelters. She had brought her little wedge-shaped cushion and made herself comfortable, opened her notebook and waited. A few minutes later she heard the approach of a gentleman, who sat down within speaking distance.
‘It is a fine morning,’ said Mr Stevenson.
‘So it is,’ said Mina. She glanced about, but no one was near enough to overhear them. The shelters were octagonal, so the seating under the canopy formed separate sections, which was very convenient. ‘I have had a recent conversation with Mr Septimus Clover, in which he imparted some very interesting information,’ she went on.
Mr Stevenson listened intently to her account. ‘Do I have the impression that Mr Clover has an attachment to Miss Jemson which goes further than a mere friendly concern for her wellbeing?’ he asked.
‘That could well be the case. He was clearly impressed by her. But what the future may hold, I cannot say. However, what occupies my mind is the suggestion that it was one of Barnes’s criminal associates who murdered Hector Samprey and not Barnes himself. Barnes’s conviction has never really been questioned, and Miss Jemson’s testimony was not believed. She was thought to have been coerced. But Mr Clover’s determination to rehabilitate her is stirring up suspicion. If Lady Brighthelm was offering him an opportunity to converse with Hector’s spirit, whether or not she knew the truth of the matter, that could be a reason for the attack on her.’
‘You mean it was not another medium who wished to dispose of a rival?’ said Mr Stevenson, but he was smiling. ‘Yes, I know of Mr Hope’s insinuations, and I can see why you would like this matter resolved. But if you wish me to investigate on your behalf, I am afraid I cannot do so.’
‘Why not?’
‘There is a limit to the types of cases I undertake. I watch the actions of erring husbands and wives. I observe those thought to be cheating in business. I find evidence of blackmail, fraud and theft. What I do not do is confront dangerous criminals who are armed with guns which they are unafraid to use.’
‘I can understand that,’ said Mina, regretfully. ‘And I doubt very much that it would assist me to inform the police, especially in a case which they must regard as resolved. Miss Jemson has no more to offer beyond her original testimony. I cannot point to another culprit. I assume the members of Barnes’s gang were all known to the police?’
‘Not all. A few were merely violent cutthroats. Some are in prison. Others, like Hector Samprey, made a show of respectability and may still walk free and unsuspected amongst us.’
‘That is what I had feared.’
‘If we hope to resolve the question, we will need either a confession or an informant, and there should be verifiable facts, not mere suspicion. Either way, the source should be living. The courts will not countenance the evidence of a ghost.’
‘I understand.’
‘Mr Hope may be making insinuations against you, but he has no evidence, and he cannot be explicit for fear of prosecution. He may tire of the theme in time and turn to other matters.’
‘If you could be alert to any further action he might take against me, I would be grateful,’ said Mina.
‘I think we are agreed to a free exchange of information,’ said Mr Stevenson. ‘Oh, and one other thing, for what it is worth. There are conflicting accounts of Hector Samprey’s intentions, but I am convinced that Mr Clover told you the truth. The Samprey brothers believed that Hector had lied to his father, but they dared not say anything to him about it in view of the old man’s health. They came to me and asked if I would follow their brother and secretly witness any meetings he might have with his criminal associates. Naturally, I declined.’
‘Perhaps they went to another detective.’
‘If they had done, he would have witnessed the murder, but no one has come forward. In fact, now I think about it, their appeal to me took place only the day before the murder, so if they had found another man willing to undertake such a risky commission, it would have been too late.’
Mina received another letter from Edward.
Dear Mina,
I hope you and the family are well. London is very hot, and my dear Agatha has been spending much of her time at Mrs Gostelow’s cottage where the air is so much better. She is cultivating a herb garden, which I am told is quite enchanting. I am to be invited to view it very shortly, although I am not sure why it is believed that such an activity could possibly occupy an entire afternoon. She has made some flavoured waters which she is very anxious for me to try.
Now, as you know, I do not wish Mother to be advised that we in any way consider the supposed spirit photograph of Father to be a fraud, as it brings her so much happiness to look upon it. However, the matter has continued to weigh upon my mind, as I am convinced it has also done on yours. I mentioned in my last letter that I had spoken to some knowledgeable acquaintances, and they asked me very pointedly about other pictures of Father, which might have somehow — possibly by accident — managed to be superimposed on the recent one. There is a London gentleman called Hudson who has been doing something similar very recently and has created a great deal of excitement, although I believe it is mainly amongst those who are already devotees of spiritualism and needed no further convincing. I was shown one of Hudson’s supposed spirit photographs, and I have to say if ghosts really do look like persons wrapped in linen shrouds with their faces concealed, then he has made a very fine job of it.
I chanced to mention the matter to Greville as he was Father’s oldest friend, as well as his business partner, and he asked to see our picture. When I showed it to him, he stared at it for quite a while then said that it was slightly familiar to him and he would make some enquiries. This morning he brought me a family album of his. There are a number of pictures of a picnic which took place many years ago, possibly in the summer of 1855 or 1856. They show a family group in which the members were either sitting or standing in a London park. I at once recognised Greville and his wife, and there were his brother and sister and their s
pouses. And Father was in the picture, standing to one side. As soon as I saw it, I recalled the event. You were there too, and Richard and Enid. But we children were not pictured. I think we had been taken aside to be amused with ball games or some such, and there was little chance of us standing still long enough for a photograph, as things were then. Mother wasn’t there; either she had a cold or was looking after Marianne who had a cold, I can’t quite recall.
When I compared the picture of Father in Greville’s picture with the one at the betrothal, they were similar but not identical. The clothing was the same, and his hair and beard were the same, and he was standing, but not in the same pose, and he was facing the other way. I looked through the whole album, as you can imagine. There were no pictures of Father at other events, although I did find several others of the picnic. I think the photographer must have been experimenting with different views of the scene and maybe also the light. Some pictures had not come out well, as they were too dark, or someone had moved, and the face was a blur, or a hat was in the way, so the only one properly mounted was the one I have mentioned. But Father was in several of them, usually sitting. Greville said that he had never had copies made of the pictures, neither has he lent them to anyone.
I would have suggested having a copy made for Mother, but there would always be the risk that she might draw the same conclusion as we have, that there is something underhand being done if we could only discover what it is.
Affect’ly
Edward
Mina gave considerable thought to Edward’s letter. She had no doubt of the accuracy of his observations. Neither was there any doubt in her mind of the honesty of Mr Greville’s reply. There had been occasional summer picnics when she was a child, but she had never seen any photographs of them. Nevertheless, this was evidence that photographs of her father had been taken at a time when his hair, beard and clothing were the same as those in the betrothal picture. Supposing there had been others? Supposing he had liked the results and arranged for another more formal sitting? The family had occasionally visited Brighton before coming to live there. Had her father been photographed by Mr Simpson during such a visit?
The Cyanide Ghost (Mina Scarletti Mystery Book 6) Page 23
