by David Pirie
Bell was at my side now. ‘I have the list,’ he said quietly. ‘And if the rest is quite done, I think we are probably best served by leaving matters there. Our friend is becoming bolder.’
The bookkeeper was now hovering angrily nearby, increasingly dubious of our authority. If he had had the slightest support from his cohorts, I am sure he would have challenged us by force if necessary, but their thoughts were still on the money. He glared angrily enough as we left and I was glad Bell had made up the story of the policemen outside for, though he was not completely convinced, it was enough to stop him following. There was, I am sure, nothing in the world any of those priggish tyrants feared as much as the ignominy of being arrested by a group of uniformed policemen.
Soon we were quite clear, and the Doctor was in high spirits as we moved briskly through the rain. ‘Well, Doyle, I think you may discharge your men and let them go home to bed. Indeed it would seem you have already done so, which is excellent for they have performed sterling work this evening.’
‘Just so long,’ I said, ‘as the gentlemen of the League do not find out our true identities, for then surely they might take some kind of action.’
‘My dear Doyle,’ said Bell, clearly amused and caring not one jot for the wild weather. ‘Why do you suppose they conducted their affairs in such secrecy and with such a ludicrous show of pious rectitude? For the same reason we found it so easy to panic them. My act of 1871 was a fiction, but they knew quite well in their hearts that the full exposure of their terms would have made them infamous, even a laughing stock. No, they will scurry back to their boroughs and we may rejoice to be rid of them.’
I never saw the Morlands more happy than they were that night. Bell was given a hero’s welcome, and Morland had all the glow of a man from whom a terrible weight has been lifted.
Sally could not at first quite believe he was free of what had been such a foolish debt. I think she half expected the horrible tall man to come knocking on the door. But Bell assured her even that vicious bookkeeper could not try to collect money without any documentation proving that it had been lent. We let her see the loan paper with her husband’s signature on it. And there was great rejoicing in that house as it was flung on the fire.
Once Bell had established that there was no mention of Harriet Lowther in any of the League’s records, he showed Morland the card he had found in her bag and asked him if he had ever seen anything similar.
‘Yes indeed,’ said Morland. ‘I had one just like it and wrote to the address. Subsequently a meeting was arranged in a tavern.’
‘But where did you obtain the card?’ said Bell eagerly.
Morland struggled to recall but Sally had no difficulty. ‘I know,’ she said, ‘for I was there and I often wished you had never taken it. It was when we were visiting Macandrew’s diving bell at the Royal Polytechnic Exhibition.’
Bell determined at once that we should make a visit there the following Sunday. ‘For,’ he said as I showed him out, ‘I intend to keep you occupied, Doyle, and I also want to know why Harriet Lowther had it. It is not as if her name is on the League’s books. What or who was her connection to those people?’
After he had gone I looked back into the drawing room once more to say goodnight. The children were by now peacefully sleepy as they snuggled into their parents on the hearth, while Martin and Sally sat framed by the firelight in a wonderful tableau, holding each other with a breathless kind of joy.
I had been so taken up by the events of the evening that, as Bell had no doubt intended, my mind had been freed of my own problems. I had even been quite elated. But now, as I watched the family unseen, a terrible pang assailed me.
And one could whistle
And one could sing
And one could play on the violin
Such joy there was at my wedding
On Christmas day in the morning
The tune seemed a good one for the happy couple, if not for me. I made no sound to disturb them but turned to walk up the stairs, pledging silently that at least my darkness would never harm these people. I would rather die than be a source of harm to Sally Morland or those she loved.
THE NIGHT CALLS
I had visited the Royal Polytechnic Exhibition before, as well as its rival the National Gallery of Popular Science in Adelaide Street, and had been duly impressed by their scientific wonders, which could be sampled for the cost of a shilling.
I had a special fondness for the Gallery’s great steam gun, an apparatus that fired seventy balls against a target in four seconds, but overall the Polytechnic seemed to be the more spectacular of the two. For, among its crowning attractions, was the diving bell and tank which had caused quite a sensation, especially among the young. Little wonder that the Morland children had been so excited to visit the home of Colin Macandrew, for he was already famous as one of the bell’s designers.
That Sunday afternoon the Polytechnic was filled with people as Bell and I entered the great hall, lit up everywhere by its glowing filaments. That blaze of light contributed greatly to the sense of the marvellous, as did the water troughs on either side of the entrance which were charged with electricity. People would trail their hands in the water and laugh with amazement as they felt the strange tingling it produced.
Bell studied the effect with interest before we began our enquiries about the League. There had indeed, it transpired, been a small stand, not far from the main exhibition, where the League’s cards could be picked up by anyone who passed. We reached the place quickly enough, but the table was quite empty and a helpful official, standing nearby, told us he had removed all the cards because a message had arrived to say that the League was no more. In other circumstances the news might have been gratifying, but it hardly helped the Doctor’s mood. For it was obvious now that Harriet Lowther could, like any other Londoner, have passed by here, taking one of the cards, and then perhaps forgotten all about it. If this was indeed the case, the card revealed absolutely nothing about her or her murder and we were on a fool’s errand.
After a few minutes we moved on and eventually came to the main exhibit, the tank and diving bell. Here I almost laughed, for the Doctor stared at that great splendid construction with such blank indifference that it might have been some dreary article in a newspaper. However, I already knew from the Morlands that today Macandrew himself was likely to be present, for the Polytechnic always promoted itself as a genuine scientific laboratory. And I caught sight of him almost immediately, stepping out of his huge bell. In his hand was some magnifying tool he had been using to inspect its condition.
As we approached, he recognised me and also seemed delighted when I introduced him to the Doctor. ‘Why, of course I have heard of you,’ he said, shaking Bell’s hand almost too vigorously. ‘Your work on the human eye precedes you, sir. I presume you have come to the capital to take your research further.’
The Doctor was cordial enough, but I could see his mind was on other things. ‘No, I am quite capable of finding all the specimens I want in Edinburgh,’ he said, and at this point Macandrew was called away for the bell was about to be lowered.
I am sure the Doctor would now have walked on but, fortunately as it turned out, I insisted on staying to watch. The sound of the motor which powered the hoist reverberated through the hall, and the cable around the bell tautened and slowly lifted that great orb as it swung away over our heads towards the tank. The sight of it suspended in the air above us was extraordinary and I turned to the Doctor to say as much. But he was not even watching. There was no point in remonstrating with him so I moved away to get a better view and, in that moment, my eye fell on the small enclosure where Macandrew stood, surrounded by a considerable quantity of scientific equipment.
Several of the pieces were heavy and cumbersome so it was natural that labourers were employed to carry them back and forth. And one of them was at that moment carrying a large box towards a door. As he reached it, he put it down and turned in my direction. The sight of th
at small gargoyle-like face awoke an immediate memory of fear in me. I saw, too, the red mark on his neck. There could be no doubt it was the same man who was in the opium den. I must have flinched and, when I looked back, the man was gone. But Bell happened to notice my reaction and came over to me. As soon as I told him the reason, he was transformed. ‘Show me exactly where you saw the man,’ he said, gripping my arm.
I led him to the spot and we moved through the door. Beyond it was a staircase which gave on to the street but it was empty.
‘No matter,’ said the Doctor, ‘I am far more interested to know what he was doing here than where he is going.’ And for the next few minutes Bell questioned me mercilessly on all the details of the man’s appearance and how he might be described. After that he watched other workers carrying scientific equipment, and studied Macandrew as he answered the public’s questions about his diving bell. And then, when the audience was all but over, the Doctor made a point of speaking again to Macandrew and this time his manner was exceedingly flattering.
‘It has been fascinating,’ said the Doctor. ‘You must be very proud of your achievements.’
Macandrew beamed at this and I wondered how he would react if he had actually witnessed Bell’s cursory glance at the wonders of oceanic exploration, a glance lasting at my estimate about five seconds. ‘Well, Dr Bell,’ replied Macandrew with obvious pleasure, ‘as you of all people will be aware it is always satisfying to convey knowledge as well as accumulate it.’
Having prepared his ground, the Doctor now continued. ‘But the truth is I have some other business here beyond mere pleasure and enlightenment. I am engaged in a forensic investigation. A woman has been murdered whose name was Harriet Lowther.’
He watched Macandrew closely, but Harriet Lowther’s name clearly meant nothing at all to him, indeed he looked quite surprised by this development. ‘Is that so?’ he replied. ‘I can well imagine the police would be grateful for your help, but how can I be of service?’
‘Oh,’ said Bell casually, ‘there are a number of odd avenues we are exploring. At this stage, who can tell where they will lead? But perhaps you can help us to identify a working man who I believe assists you with these displays? He was here until just after you began, when he carried out some materials. A large man with a red mark on his neck. A rope burn I would think.’
Macandrew thought for a moment. ‘That sounds like Hanbury, Charles Hanbury. Powerfully built? I can’t claim to know him well but he has made himself very useful. Sometimes he helps me here if I am short-handed. I hope he is in no trouble, for I could ill afford to lose him.’
‘None so far as we know,’ said Bell. ‘Do you use him as a porter?’
‘Oh no,’ said Macandrew, ‘Hanbury has a small boatyard down the river at Landell’s Wharf. Charlie was a seaman and he is quite a wonder in bringing me materials I might need. The Thames is my laboratory, Dr Bell, and I have need of a man who knows it as he does. That is all I can tell you. Except …’ And he looked at me with a smile. ‘Well, it is true I have one regret as far as Hanbury is concerned and young Doyle knows all about it, for it involves a friend.’
I was taken aback, not merely by his somewhat patronising tone but also by the way he smiled so secretively at me, even though I had no idea what he could possibly mean. My frown made him smile all the more. ‘I will explain,’ he said, ‘though this is in confidence. Hanbury’s yard is only a short distance from one of the most notorious dives of its kind in London, a place called Sing’s. You will find scarcely a sailor from the East who does not know the place, for it is a centre for opium worshippers. But I believe many gentlemen have occasionally chased the dragon there as part of an evening’s entertainment. Out of a scientific interest, I got Charlie to point it out and visited once myself though I did not care for it all. But on that occasion I was stupid enough to introduce a mutual friend to its delights, which is something I now regret. His name, as Doyle will now realise, is Martin Morland.’
Of course I reacted now and he saw my reaction. ‘Oh yes, Doyle,’ he said. ‘And he confided to me your recent adventure. It is just as well and I think we can be hopeful he never returns to the place.’
I nodded politely but also somewhat curtly, for I will admit I disliked the fact that this man was so complacent in his admission of a circumstance which had cost my friends the Morlands so dearly. But Bell was obviously extraordinarily interested. ‘So does Charles Hanbury have a connection to the den?’ he asked.
‘Why, the man has a finger in so many pies on that part of the river, it is entirely possible,’ said Macandrew. ‘But it is run by a Chinaman. A pretty rum customer too.’
‘Thank you,’ said Bell. ‘You have been candid and helpful.’
‘Well, if I can be of any further assistance, I would be delighted,’ Macandrew said. ‘And will you not come around to my laboratory while you are here, Dr Bell? Doyle knows where it is.’ It was petty, I admit, but I could not help noticing that, while Macandrew always respectfully awarded Bell the title ‘Doctor’, he took no such trouble to prefix it to my name
‘I would enjoy that greatly,’ said Bell. ‘Oh, there is one more thing. Do you know anything about this?’ And he took out the card of the League.
Macandrew squinted at it. ‘Why, I have seen this before, yes,’ he said. ‘Hanbury showed it to me.’
‘Why was that?’ said Bell with a casualness that did not deceive me for a second.
‘Oh, he is always looking for opportunities. He came across those cards here some time ago and took a pile of them, for he said he knew so many needy people he could find a hundred customers for the League down by the docks. He asked me if I thought the League would give him something in return for his trouble. I told him they might. In fact he was quite put out to hear they are no more.’
‘Of course he would be,’ said Bell cordially, ‘if he has gone to that trouble. Once again my heartiest thanks, Mr Macandrew. We would indeed be delighted to call upon you at some point.’ And with that we left him.
I have often written that the Doctor could be silent when he was contemplating a problem. That was his norm, but he had other modes. Quite often he liked to trawl through possibilities and there were even occasions, generally, I admit of a simpler kind, when he was positively bubbling with observations. I could see, as we left the hall, that this was one of them.
‘I tell you, Doyle,’ he said excitedly, pushing the door ahead of us open with his cane, ‘there are cases when a mountain of suggestive evidence leads to not one single opening, not one useful avenue! And others where the tiniest nothing will suddenly sprout into a great oak tree of suggestive fact! Fortunately this appears to be the latter species. An hour ago, we were in a fog with only that card as a guide. By chance, it is true, it helped us come to the aid of your friend Morland, but by then I was already sure the late and unlamented League had no direct bearing on this business. And now, by following that card, just consider what we have been able to establish.’
We had reached the streets and we were searching for a cab as the Doctor brandished his cane to itemise the points of advance. ‘Firstly, we make a link between Macandrew and one of the rogues you encountered that night. Second and best of all, the card offers a clear and possible connection between that same rogue and the murdered woman, a link which, given the character of the man, may prove very valuable.’
We entered a muddy hansom, which Bell directed to Landell’s Wharf. ‘But,’ I said, anxious to make the most of the fact that he was sharing his deductions with me, ‘your victim Harriet Lowther could still have had the card in her bag from the exhibition stand. Think of the crowds that passed it.’
‘I will admit,’ said Bell, losing none of his animation. ‘That is possible. But probability is against it. For we have no evidence that Harriet Lowther ever ventured near the Polytechnic. That shilling’s admission would have been a lot for her to afford, especially if she was in financial difficulties. However, we do know for sure that every day s
he wandered all around the area where Hanbury’s boatyard stands. It was her business to do so, for she sold her pastries to the people working in the surrounding streets. And we also know that Hanbury, a man who never missed an opportunity, expressly declared the intention of handing out these cards to people in his locality who might be in need of a loan. Would not Harriet Lowther, who was in financial difficulties, be likely to fit the description? And Macandrew also told us something else. That Hanbury liked to have a finger in every pie on that part of the waterfront. No, in the circumstances I think we can be fairly safe in the supposition that Hanbury gave Harriet Lowther a card because he knew her and, moreover, knew she was in need of money. At this point the card itself ceases to interest me, and the association between Hanbury and Lowther must command all our thought and attention.’ And with that, he lapsed into a satisfied silence.
It was still early afternoon when the cab turned into the less oppressive end of Shad Thames, which was yet to take on its nighttime dangers. Children played merrily with a rag-like object, men stood and drank outside the ale houses, a woman with washing wrestled with a water pump. The hansom set us down at Landell’s Wharf and we could see at once that it was only a short walk from here to Harriet Lowther’s rooming house. Indeed, given her occupation, taking pastries along the river, it was probably a journey she would make every day. Soon enough, with the help of a friendly shopkeeper, we were able to identify Hanbury’s tiny boatyard which had a dark, shed-like dwelling attached to it.
I have no idea if Bell intended to interview the man, and I would not have relished the prospect, but in any case the place was locked and silent, with almost nothing to see other than a few timbers lying in the yard. Even so, the Doctor stopped for a long inspection, perhaps pondering how little evidence there was of honest trade in the place; certainly no boats.
