by David Pirie
I am sure Bell was disappointed but he did not show it.
‘Now you may take these, sir,’ she went on, ‘but I’m nae wantin’ to talk to no one else, sir. I’ll say no more to no one.’
Bell looked at her thoughtfully. ‘I agree to that. But I may well come back to see you for there will be other questions I need to ask.
It was not in fact till the next morning that Bell and I finally discovered the semi-derelict graveyard where Agnes Walsh was buried. It was situated off Keir Street only a short distance from Greyfriars Church. The place was grim, with weeds and trees and rubbish from the nearby Cattle Market strewn among the headstones. Not that there were many of these, for most of the graves were barely marked. It took an hour for us to find the tiny cross stuck hastily in one corner by a low wall amidst some sacks and other rubbish. I say a cross, but it was scarcely more than a piece of wood sticking out of the ground with hastily carved initials.
AW
Something about that piece of scratched wood in all that dereliction spoke poignantly enough of human waste, and we stared down at it silently. The Doctor had, in any case, said little since our talk with Kate.
Eventually we found a cab at the end of Keir Street, and once we were in it and had turned south, the Doctor removed a piece of paper from his coat pocket. I stared at the slanted official writing. It was a report by the physician who had examined Agnes Walsh on her death bed.
‘As with your beggar, the doctor thought it was alcoholic poisoning,’ said Bell as he took out that horrible red box I had obtained from Kate, now once again containing the pills.
‘Whatever these contain,’ he continued gravely, ‘and I have no doubt it is lethal, I ought to warn you that we are still on very treacherous ground. Our mysterious man appears to poison prostitutes and itinerants. No wonder he thought that implicating Crawford would prove a wonderful distraction. But the only witness has refused to speak out and, in any case, would never be believed. You can be sure nobody will go on oath to admit Carlisle visited loose women. They have their businesses to protect. As for Lady Sarah, well perhaps it was some patent medicine you saw. Can you be absolutely sure that the box was the same? Think very hard, it may be critical.’
I took the box from him and stared at it. Of course I could not be absolutely certain, but there was something about that plush red upholstered lining which repelled me.
‘Of course,’ I said, weighing my words judiciously, ‘I only caught a glimpse, but even so the similarity seems striking. And is there not something horrible about it?’ Bell nodded and looked at me with his hooded eyes. ‘Has Lady Sarah been sick in such a way?’ I said.
‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘At times, and it was something that puzzled me greatly. Poison would explain a great deal and offer hope for her. We will go there directly.’
I looked somewhat amazed. ‘Of course I will need you, for you saw it and I did not. In any case I am quite sure I have only a day or so left in charge of her case so we need hardly stand on ceremony.’
I was pleased by his tenacity, but I hated to imagine the kind of doctor who would be appointed in Bell’s place, someone who would do Carlisle’s bidding, perhaps even shut her away. In that eventuality, I knew too Elsbeth would insist on returning at once, while Carlisle would do everything in his power to stop me seeing either sister.
Carlisle’s repellent manservant Drummond was surprised to see us. ‘Sir Henry is not in, Doctor Bell,’ he intoned without the trace of any greeting.
‘That is no matter,’ said the Doctor, who had the measure of the man. ‘I merely wish to attend to my patient.’
Drummond could hardly oppose this and stepped back to let us in, but he managed a scowl at me.
I hung back a little, while Bell made his entrance, so Lady Sarah did not see me at first. But I could observe her and was horrified by what I saw. The room was not light, for its blinds were closed, but a few rays of sunlight shone down on that large bed and in it was a figure I barely recognised. The skin was stretched over Lady Sarah’s face, the colour of her hair was faded, even her lips were hardly red. Her breathing at least was normal, and Bell took her pulse and commented it was strong, but even so I knew I would have to convey this change to Elsbeth, who would surely insist on returning.
I stood there, trying to contain my alarm and watched as she spoke, noticing that her voice was weaker. ‘I know my husband is considering a second opinion, Dr Bell.’ She said. ‘I do not at all wish it.’
‘Thank you,’ said the Doctor graciously. ‘It is his right.’
At this, I put on my bravest face and moved forward into her vision. I was touched by the fact that she managed a little smile. ‘Mr Doyle. I am glad you are here.’
I greeted her as warmly as I could, but there seemed no point in delaying. ‘Lady Carlisle,’ I said, trying to be as gentle as possible. ‘Do you recall when we met here last? You had some medicine. I think you were going to ask me about it, but you changed your mind.’ She did not reply, but she stared at me. ‘Do you know what I describe? It was a little red box. I wonder if you still have it.’
She shook her head, biting her lip.
‘Well, perhaps you can tell us what was in it?’ I stumbled on.
‘A patent remedy, I believe. It is unimportant.’ The anxiety she was showing utterly belied her words.
‘But who gave it to you?’ I asked.
She was trembling now, quite obviously frightened. ‘As I say, I think it contained a patent remedy. It is of no consequence.’
Out of the corner of my eye I saw the Doctor was about to stop me, but I knew I had achieved nothing. ‘Was this remedy given to you by your husband?’ I pressed on.
She was almost in tears. ‘I … I do not wish to be questioned in this way.’
Bell glared at me but I could not leave it there. ‘I think it was,’ I continued. ‘The pills have made you worse, you have taken only tiny amounts, but pretend to take more. You are even starting to suspect your husband is trying to poison you, is that not true?’
She was crying now, little sobs. I suppose my tone was bullying, yet I was so sure I was right. I felt the firm grip of the Doctor’s arm on me. ‘We must stop there, Doyle.’ His voice made it clear I had gone too far.
Lady Sarah continued to sob. ‘Please go away. Go away. I do not know what you talk of.’ And she turned from us. There was no more we could do. Bell merely told her he would visit her next day, and to forget what we had said, but I do not think it brought much reassurance.
I suppose, once we left the house, I expected a rebuke, but the Doctor merely reiterated that time was short. It was obvious he had no wish to talk and not another word passed between us until he looked up from some new chemistry apparatus in his downstairs room. He had placed one of the pills in a glass phial, mixing it with a compound of his own election. Now he stared as it changed colour.
‘Yes,’ he said, as much to himself as to me. ‘This is arsenic. But some of these have traces of other poisons including strychnine. Whoever he is, this man is generous with his favours.’ He turned and stared at me, taking in my presence properly. ‘Well, we must find Inspector Beecher, Doyle.’
The interview with Beecher was conducted in North Bank Street where he had been discussing the security arrangements of the Scottish bank. This appeared to be something he enjoyed and he was not at all pleased to see us. Indeed, rather than use one of the bank’s ample offices, he insisted on walking hastily down to the street and talking to us there.
‘The key to the matter will lie in Agnes Walsh’s grave,’ said Bell at the end of his account, ignoring the fact that Beecher’s lips were curled in obvious disapproval. ‘I want you to apply for an emergency exhumation.’
At this Beecher almost laughed out loud. ‘An emergency exhumation?’ he said, his mutton whiskers quivering with such scorn you would have thought the Doctor was asking him to dig up the castle mound. ‘For a known prostitute? And little enough evidence.’
Bell wa
s very still, refusing to be drawn. ‘You are quite aware of how I work,’ he said almost inaudibly. ‘You have seen my results.’
‘This is just speculation,’ said Beecher. ‘It would need an order from the procurator fiscal.’
‘And he will give it,’ said Bell, ‘if you say allegations of a very serious kind have been made.’
Now a gleam came into Beecher’s eye, and I am sure he did not care if we noticed, for he had seen his opportunity.
‘Doctor,’ he said, ‘you have helped me out once this year. But I need hardly point out that most of your speculations since have been wild in the extreme. I can try and obtain this but, if you are wrong, your association with the police would be at an end. I should not be calling you again.’
‘So be it,’ said the Doctor indifferently. And, strange to relate, it was only in this moment that I saw how high the stakes had risen. Blinded by my own personal involvement, I had not realised that for Bell this was far from being an ordinary case. The very idea that he was willing to risk the work he loved in order to pursue this man was a revelation to me. For the first time I saw how much the quest meant to him.
He turned away now as Beecher moved back to the bank, and there was anger in his eyes. ‘Stuffed-up pen-pusher,’ he exclaimed. ‘Knows little, understands less.’ But his expression changed as he saw someone pushing themselves through the crowd towards us. ‘Ah,’ said the Doctor, ‘I always thought that Carlisle’s footman was a very resourceful young fellow. He has tracked us down here and I have no doubt we are about to pay the price for our earlier visit.’
Sure enough it was Carlisle’s footman who had been dispatched with an urgent message for the Doctor. ‘Well,’ he said, opening it as the man moved away. ‘You are honoured, Doyle. He has summoned us both for an interview. The fact that you are included tells us the state of his temper. I think we might as well go there and take our medicine.’
Even without Bell’s warning, there was something ominously polite in the way Drummond greeted us at Carlisle’s door. Unlike the last time, when we had taken him by surprise, now he was smiling unctuously.
Carlisle was seated at his desk as we entered, but was obviously fully prepared for the interview. He shook hands with Bell, refusing even to look at me.
‘I am glad you have called,’ he said in a businesslike tone, directly engaging the Doctor’s eye. ‘Doyle is here because he expressly disobeyed my wishes by coming today. I therefore wished to make the position absolutely clear to both of you, which is that from this point on neither of you will be welcome in this house on any pretext whatsoever. Dr Gillespie will be taking over my wife’s case.’
Of course it would be Gillespie. That fawning, slippery figure would not lift a finger to help Lady Sarah but would do everything in his power to accommodate Carlisle. I dreaded to think what that could mean.
‘That is your right, Sir Henry,’ said Bell without emotion. ‘But I have something else to discuss with you. Did you ever know a woman called Agnes Walsh?’
The man did not start or react at all. He was far too good a performer for that, but I was sure there was guilt in the way his expression changed so rapidly to blankness like some experienced rider who quickly pulls his horse around a pothole. ‘Not that I can remember,’ he said indifferently. ‘Why?’
‘I have reason to believe,’ said the Doctor studying his face, ‘that you visited her from time to time in the old town.’
Carlisle did not like that reference to the old town. ‘Yes, I sometimes visit the old town. What of it?’ he said, pursing his lips in irritation. ‘My work as a member of parliament takes me all over the city. But I do not recall the woman.’
Since I knew this to be a blatant lie I fear I could not let it go. ‘I have seen you myself. At an establishment called Madame Rose’s.’
Now he did react. His expression was seriously angry and somehow it goaded me on. ‘Which is why your wife is suffering from syphilis.’
I suppose I knew as soon as I said it that it was foolish. Far better to have let him give full vent to his rage. Now he merely turned back to Bell, refusing to talk to me. ‘Dr Bell,’ he said quietly, ‘this is an outrage.’
Bell kept his eyes fixed on him. ‘It seems likely the diagnosis is correct.’
‘Then,’ said Carlisle, ‘I have all the more need of Gillespie, who will tell me the truth. I suspected my wife had strayed and he will have to act. Now I would like you to leave.’
Bell’s tone softened a little, as it always did when he was moving for the jugular. ‘I am sorry Sir Henry.’ He spoke almost sweetly. ‘You see, you do not quite grasp the seriousness of the situation. You have been witnessed at the establishment in question, you are almost certainly the one who was infected by this disease and you passed it on to your wife.’
This really did get to him. His teeth clenched momentarily and there was fury in his face. How I wished all those students who laughed at his stupid self-serving jokes in Bennett’s Bar could see their man now. ‘You can prove none of these vile accusations,’ he said. ‘No court in the land would accept such women as witnesses any more than I would.’
I do not know how Bell would have handled this. Perhaps he would have reminded Carlisle gently of his reputation, and indeed this might have been a highly profitable approach. But I was determined that the main charge should be aired. ‘It is even more serious than that.’ I said. ‘There is evidence that you administered poison to a woman who is still living and could identify you.’
‘Now listen to me.’ Carlisle’s eyes were blazing and he moved over to his bell-pull and rang for Drummond. ‘You can prove none of these disgusting inventions. But I intend to pursue your malicious behaviour with the proper authorities.’ He was regaining composure now, for he was doing what he enjoyed best, contemplating his power. ‘I will destroy you, Doyle. And you are not immune, Dr Bell, whatever you may think.’
The door opened and I expected to see Drummond there, but to my amazement Lady Sarah herself tottered on the threshold. She could stand up, but she had to lean against the frame of the door and trembled a little, having been drawn by the sound of the loud argument.
‘Henry?’ she said, befuddled. ‘I heard voices. Are they here still?’
‘The doctors are leaving now,’ he said. ‘You must go back to your room. If you heard any of this nonsense, you can ignore it. But I fear your sister may well be involved and she will not return to this house again.’
That got through to her and it probably triggered my own angry response. For, if Elsbeth was to be shut out, what hope did this frail figure have once we too had left? ‘Not before we have told her the truth,’ I said, moving quickly to her side. ‘Lady Sarah your condition is a venereal disease passed on from your husband to you. He contracted it from a woman called Agnes Walsh.’
I know she took this in. Indeed she stared at me and then at her husband. But now the hateful Drummond was there behind her.
‘Drummond!’ said Carlisle savagely. ‘Show these people out at once.’ He turned to his wife but his expression was hardly more encouraging. ‘We have wasted enough time with these quacks, my dear. Another doctor will make the diagnosis. And we will get to the bottom of everything, I promise you.’
There was nothing I could do to help her. Drummond was herding us out and two burly footmen had appeared to help him. I am sure the man would have loved the excuse to manhandle me out of the place, so I kept my dignity.
But I did manage to look back as we went out of the door, and was appalled by what I saw. Carlisle had taken his wife’s arm in a way that suggested absolute ownership and his expression was by no means kindly. Over his shoulder she cast a swift glance at me and tears were rolling down her cheek. It was obvious that she at least knew the truth of what had been said.
I had been spared the Doctor’s rebuke, when we last visited Carlisle’s house, but I was not to be spared it now. He was as angry with me as he had ever been.
‘It was folly to say that t
o her,’ he said with some intensity as we walked down the street, for of course no cab had been summoned.
‘It was the truth,’ I replied, refusing to be intimidated by anyone, even him.
‘Oh yes,’ he said grimly. ‘And we happen to live in a society which suppresses such truths! Once they are out, people look for victims. Lacking any support for your case, that is precisely what you have made her.’
Returning home in a black mood, I stared disconsolately at my medical books, wondering if I would ever need them again. Carlisle, I knew, was quite certainly in a position to see me expelled. I attempted to pen a letter to Elsbeth, for above all I wanted to see her, yet it was only sensible and fair to know exactly how things stood before I did. At last I decided I would find some consolation in my father’s old study. There was a lamp burning in it as I walked down the corridor and entered.
I stopped in shock. The room was transformed, immaculately neat and tidy. All the paintings and pipes and photographic plates were gone. Medical papers filled the shelves, there was a couch I am sure I had never seen before and a framed degree that had nothing to do with our family.
A figure turned from where he was hanging something in the corner. It was Bryan Waller, smiling at me as smugly as ever. ‘Well now,’ he said, ‘does that not look better? It makes a very fine consulting room. You may sit in sometimes if you wish.’
I could not bear to look at him and a few minutes later I was remonstrating bitterly with my mother in the kitchen. ‘Arthur,’ she said in her most conciliatory tone. ‘I understand, but the fact is the doctor needs a room.’
‘Of course,’ I spoke with vehemence. ‘After all, he has paid for it. Money and respectability, an excellent way to cover all the lies and hypocrisy.’
This really hurt her, I could see as much. ‘What has happened to you?’ she said with tears in her eyes. ‘You tell me nothing of your life, but to hear you speak with so little generosity! Your father will be back.’
