The Sign of the Gallows

by Susanna Calkins

  ‘Odd? How so?’ Lucy asked, glancing at Adam. ‘What kind of ring was it? Can you describe it for me?’

  ‘It had two faces. One had this red-cheeked cherub. The other had this wicked, grinning skull. Strange, I thought at the time. I said to her “Why give you a ring of death to pledge love and troth? It is odd, I tell you.”’

  ‘What did Ellie say?’

  ‘She said that he had the way of a scholar,’ she said, shrugging. ‘His brilliance couldn’t be understood by the likes of us, and other such things. He told her that it meant only death would part their love.’ She shivered. ‘Poor Ellie. She didn’t deserve what happened to her.’

  ‘What did happen?’ Lucy asked.

  Here the excitement dropped from Tabby’s voice. ‘They planned to meet. She told me he said he was going to take her away from all this.’ She paused to take a great bite of turkey, chewing while Lucy and Adam waited. Finally, she swallowed. ‘I can still remember it as if it was yesterday.’ She shivered, then took another bite of the turkey. ‘Ellie and Hammett were standing there together. Over there.’ She pointed to a front corner. ‘She had consented to wear his ring and he had leaned down to embrace her. Mr Emerson walked in and, seeing them, grew enraged. I remember how he shouted, “You’re wearing his ring?” Then—’

  She shut her eyes as Lucy and Adam waited breathlessly, not daring to speak. Taking a deep breath, she continued. ‘He seized a carving knife off the table there and thrust it into Mr de Witte’s back. I’ll never forget the sound Mr de Witte made as he sank to the floor. Then Eleanor began to shriek and scream – horrible, terrifying sounds – and threw herself on top of his dead body.’

  She took a deep swallow of ale. ‘It was not over, though. Mr Emerson stared down at her as she wept. “Come with me,” he said, and she began to scream at him, saying she hated him and never wished to see him again. With that h–he’ – she paused to wipe her eyes – ‘he reached down, grabbed her by her hair, pulled her head back and slit her throat. Just like that.’ Tabby closed her eyes. ‘There was blood everywhere,’ she whispered, pushing away the tin platter.

  ‘No one stopped him? No one did anything?’ Adam asked, his own voice sounding a bit hoarse. ‘How could he murder two people like that? Why did no one try to wrest the knife away from him?’

  ‘I cannot rightly say,’ Tabby said, heaving a great sigh. ‘It’s as I told the court later. I don’t know about everybody else, but I felt like a frozen block of ice. I couldn’t move – I could only take in the horrors before me.’ Guilt was etched into every twitch of her muscles.

  ‘Then Mr Emerson fled?’ Lucy asked, trying to imagine the scene.

  ‘Yes, after he first pulled off the ring that Mr de Witte had given her and stuck it in his pocket. Then, in five steps, he lurched out of the door and into the street. It was only then we returned to our wits and determined to call the constable and a physician.’ A tear appeared in her eye. ‘It was obvious that there was nothing to be done. We just watched their lifeblood flow on to the floor. There.’ She pointed to the floorboards. ‘I had to scrub poor Ellie’s blood from the wood. It took me weeks of cleaning every day. Finally, her brothers relented and paid for a new floor. I think it was hard for them to see the dark stain upon the inn. How her poor brothers lamented! I remember that Hammett’s sister came as well! Laid right down on the floor while her acquaintance looked on—’

  ‘What’s this?’ a stout middle-aged woman cried, setting a heavy pitcher of ale sloshing on to the table. ‘Tabby Bell, how dare you sit and gossip in this way? I’ve a good mind to box your ears!’

  ‘Oh, Mrs Browning!’ Tabby said, her face growing ashen and her body starting to visibly tremble. ‘I was just taking my dinner break and—’

  ‘Gossiping about your betters and spreading lies with strangers!’ Mrs Browning shouted. A few of the tavern’s patrons turned around to see where the noise was coming from, but most did not look up. No one wanted to get involved with a skirmish in a pub. ‘Get back to work before I bring the constable and have you thrown in jail for indolence!’

  ‘Yes, madam,’ Tabby said, picking up the half-full tankard and biting off another chunk of turkey. Without a further glance at Lucy or Adam, she scurried through a door on the side of the room, presumably heading back to the kitchen.

  ‘I am sorry,’ Adam said, turning on his full charm. ‘We did not mean to gossip about your family. We are sorry for your loss – it was your sister-in-law who was murdered so cruelly? Right here, if I understood the girl correctly.’

  ‘Ah, yes, poor Ellie. A silly, flighty girl, too caught up in the poetic words of a scholar. That love would have turned bitter, mark my words. At least she was spared that.’ She blinked back a tear. ‘Her poor brothers – one of whom is my own dear husband. They did not deserve to lose their merry girl. After their parents had died when they were still so young, it was she, with all her smiles and natural joy, who kept them from their melancholy. It was that lightness that drew these scholars – both melancholic sombre sorts in their own way. Too much time reading, not enough time working – how could that be good for a man?’

  ‘Did you know Mr Emerson very well?’

  ‘Philip!’ she spat on the ground. ‘Such a scoundrel did not deserve to live. We thought it was all over after we suffered through the trial. He was caught in London, and so tried there, not returned to Cambridge. He ended up in Newgate where he was found guilty and sentenced to death by hanging.’

  ‘Oh?’ Lucy said, pulling at a thread in her skirt. ‘When was he executed?’

  ‘That’s just it!’ Mrs Browning cried. ‘He never was. The good Lord in all his mystery saw fit to let him escape from Newgate.’

  ‘Escape from Newgate? What do you mean?’

  ‘We heard tell that as the Great Fire of London began to break out last September, someone saw fit to free the most desperate and wicked of God’s creatures, without any thought to the terrible retribution that would be brought upon them.’

  ‘Do you know who did such a terrible thing?’ Lucy asked, trying not to show how excited she felt.

  ‘We heard it was one of the guards, struck by a fit of conscience,’ she said with a sniff. ‘That Philip Emerson had no right to live on this earth. Should have been burned by the fire. Burn him of his sins. Then he might have been forgiven.’ Her voice faded away, and for a moment she stood silent, her hands clenched together. Then, at the clatter of dishes on the other side of the inn, she seemed to recall herself. ‘Are you having another drink? If not, it would be best to get on your way.’

  Adam stood up, leaving some coins on the table. ‘Thank you for the fine service, and for the company of your serving maid earlier. I hope that she will not be further punished because we sought to indulge our passing curiosity into the past. We did not wish to cause harm, and we’ll be leaving shortly.’ Adam turned to Lucy. ‘I’ll be back in a moment. Just need to use the privy. Meet you outside? I think there is a small roof to protect you from the rain.’

  SEVENTEEN

  Lucy pressed against the stone wall of the Two Doves Inn, allowing the small overhanging roof to protect her from the cold rain that had started to fall. As she waited for Adam, she traced some of the knife marks on one of the beer barrels beside the wall. In warmer months, the business likely drifted outside the tavern walls, where people would stand at these barrels to drink and eat. In addition to regular marks made from cutting through meat and bread, there were a few words here and there that had been carved into the wood.

  A tradesman glanced at her as he passed into the tavern, and then stopped. Her eyes locked with his for a moment.

  Was there something familiar about him? she wondered, before looking away.

  He continued on inside. Why would I know anyone in Hoddesdon? she thought. Out of curiosity, she moved closer to one of the open windows so she could watch what was going on inside.

  The man who’d just entered called out to Mrs Browning. ‘Hey there, wife,’ he said
. ‘How do we fare?’

  ‘We fare well. Some people were here asking about the murder. Tabby said they paid her well for a few questions.’

  Mr Browning snorted, an angry sound. ‘You don’t say.’

  ‘Dev, I’m telling you. We should charge every time someone wants to see the murder site.’

  Dev? Lucy froze and stared at the innkeeper, a sudden fear coursing through her. He was definitely one of the two men she’d encountered at the crossroads. The clean-shaven one with the tattoo on his neck. She pushed herself away from the window, her back to the wall. Her heart began to pound.

  ‘I don’t want to make Ellie’s death into a spectacle!’ Dev Browning replied. ‘Who was it? Are they still here? I’m going to knock them around a bit. Teach them not to make a mockery of death.’

  ‘They were just here,’ she heard Mrs Browning say. ‘The man asked me where the privy was. She had a peddler’s pack. A bookseller, I think.’

  ‘A bookseller’s pack? A woman?’ His voice changed.

  Oh no! Lucy clenched her fists. He remembers me. What should I do? I need to get out of here!

  Adam appeared then, coming from behind the inn. Clutching her skirts, she raced towards him, her pack slung over her shoulder. His expression changed when he saw her. ‘Lucy, what’s wrong?’

  ‘Run!’ she shouted. ‘We need to get out of here, now!’

  ‘Give me your pack,’ he instructed.

  She grabbed his free hand. ‘This way!’

  Her hand still firmly clasped around Adam’s, Lucy pulled him down a small passage between two coaching inns so that they were running behind the buildings, weaving between outside hearths and laundered sheets on ropes, old chairs and other sundry items in the backs of the different inns and taverns. Mercifully, the rain had stopped as abruptly as it had begun.

  ‘Lucy! What is going on?’ Adam asked, panting heavily. ‘We need to stop now! Tell me, what happened?’

  ‘That man!’ she managed to gasp. ‘The innkeeper!’

  Adam put his hands on her shoulders, trying to steady her. ‘What is it? Did he hurt you?’ He looked anxiously over her body.

  ‘No, no! Yes!’

  ‘What!’ Adam roared, starting back in the direction of the Two Doves Inn. ‘I’ll kill him!’

  ‘No, no, Adam,’ Lucy cried, catching his arm. ‘He didn’t hurt me today. I meant that he was one of the two men who knocked me down that day on my way to the crossroads. The men who took the pocket and watch from Mr Corbyn’s body.’

  Adam stepped back, rubbing his jaw in disbelief. ‘The innkeeper, Mr Browning? You saw him? You recognized him?’

  ‘Yes, when I was standing in front of the Two Doves Inn, he looked at me as he passed inside. At the time I thought he looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him. I heard Mrs Browning call him “Dev”.’ She crossed her arms. ‘Then she told him that someone had been asking about his sister’s murder. A female bookseller, she said. That she’d seen my pack. I could tell he remembered me then. That’s why I ran.’

  He stepped closer to her. ‘You did right to run. If he was involved in Paul Corbyn’s murder, then you might have been in danger.’

  She looked up at him. ‘What should we do? We need to get out of here. Hoddesdon is not so big. He might still see me.’

  ‘Well, right now, let us head over to St Katharine’s. Father may be waiting for us already. We can discuss it along the way.’

  Lucy and Adam walked slowly to St Katharine’s, still trying to catch their breath after their frantic run. Lucy kept looking around, hoping that Dev was not watching her. After some time, though, she began to feel better, taking in the beauty of the town as they strolled more comfortably along Spital Brook. They began to piece together everything they had just learned.

  ‘So Hammett knew his murderer,’ Lucy said. ‘They were both Cambridge scholars, and it appears that they roomed together for a short spell.’

  ‘Two men in love with the same woman,’ Adam said. ‘A time-honoured tale to be sure.’

  Lucy glanced up at him, and then looked away. She couldn’t read his tone. Disappointed? Resigned, perhaps. She hurried on. ‘Tabby did say that he fled to London after the murder, but was arrested there. I wonder how that happened.’

  ‘It was also interesting what she said about Emerson taking the ring off Ellie’s hand before he left the inn. Surely not petty theft? Spite?’

  ‘That ring is a mystery. Was it the same ring that Hammett was wearing in his portrait? If Emerson took it, how did it come to be around Paul Corbyn’s neck? What could that mean?’ Lucy asked. ‘Provided, of course, that it was the same ring. The jeweller said they often come in pairs.’

  ‘Memento mori,’ Adam mused. ‘The words take on a new meaning if it was used as a betrothal ring.’

  St Katharine’s came into view. The magistrate was nowhere to be seen. ‘Father could be waiting inside,’ Adam said. ‘Besides, it is chilly. Let us go in.’

  A quick glance around showed that the magistrate had not arrived yet. A few other people were praying in scattered pews. ‘Let us sit while we wait,’ Adam said, sliding into one of the back pews and looking around.

  Lucy wondered what he was thinking. If we were in our regular house of worship, Lucy thought, the Hargrave household would have a much more prominent pew towards the front. The back pews were usually allotted to lesser families and tradesmen.

  Adam’s mind was clearly on something far different. ‘So let us think this through,’ he whispered, his mouth close to her ear. ‘Paul Corbyn was found hanged, with a ring around his neck that Hammett de Witte had once owned and given to Ellie Browning as a symbol of their troth. Philip Emerson plucked this ring straight from Ellie’s hand after murdering her, and by all accounts had it on his person when he fled to London.’

  ‘How did it end up around Mr Corbyn’s neck, then?’ Lucy asked. ‘Did Ellie’s brothers – Dev and Pike – kill him at the crossroads? Had they discovered his identity? They must have. Except, why kill the guard and not Philip Emerson?’

  ‘All good questions,’ Adam said. Turning towards her, he reached over and took her hand in his. ‘I do not like that he saw you at the inn. We don’t know for certain that he recognized you, though.’ His tone changed as he caught sight of something over her shoulder. ‘Oh, here’s Father.’

  Lucy withdrew her hand from his swiftly and stood up as the magistrate approached their pew. Adam stood up beside her. If Master Hargrave had noticed their intimate positioning when he entered the church, he gave no sign.

  ‘Did you learn anything, sir?’ Lucy asked, heading back out of the church.

  ‘I spoke to Professor Gordon. He was still serving as master just before the murders occurred. It seems that there had been a set of altercations between the two men prior to the murder that were settled by the university. They will do this when dealing with the affairs of privileged persons, such as Hammett de Witte and Philip Emerson.’

  ‘Earlier skirmishes, Father?’ Adam asked as they walked out of the church. They began to walk back to High Street.

  ‘Yes, it seems that Mr Emerson had been watching the pair for some time, and had threatened Mr de Witte with a knife once before. I read the testimony that had been collected by my friend, when he was still master. Emerson had claimed drunkenness and youthful folly, which is a typical young man’s ploy. The Cambridge authorities threw him in jail for an overnight stay, to cool his heels. After that, Mr Emerson had promised the master that he would stick to his studies. His father was a well-known benefactor of St John’s, his college, and they preferred to keep the matter from spreading. Of course, local gossips likely still knew the tale.’

  ‘He doesn’t seem to have stuck to his studies,’ Lucy said. ‘The serving maid at the Two Doves said Eleanor had asked Philip to read a letter that Hammett had written to her, which may well have triggered his rage. Then, when Ellie accepted Hammett’s ring, he fell into a great fury and killed both of them. He fled, but it seems that h
e was quickly picked up by authorities on his journey back to London.’ She paused. ‘It makes me wonder what happened to him after he was set free from Newgate during the Great Fire,’ Lucy said, finally breaking the silence. ‘Did he stay in London, I wonder? Or forge a new life somewhere else?’

  ‘Probably easier for him if he did,’ Adam said. ‘He may have taken on a new identity, just as Jack Campbell did when he took on the identity and livelihood of Paul Corbyn.’

  ‘What kind of identity could a Cambridge-educated man take on that no one recognize him?’

  ‘It is unlikely that he would have become a lawyer. He couldn’t risk someone from Cambridge recognizing him, unless, of course, he pretended he was from Oxford,’ Adam said, considering the question. ‘There is only so long someone might mask that identity.’

  ‘I wonder if there is any way he might be found?’ Lucy mused. ‘Although he truly could be anywhere.’

  The carriage they had hired pulled up then, with a fine pair of dappled grey horses for the drive home. ‘We should make good time back to London,’ Master Hargrave said, looking at the spirited pair with approval. He looked at Lucy’s bulging sacks. ‘It looks as if you did well with your trades and purchases, Lucy?’

  ‘Yes, I believe Master Aubrey will be pleased I could procure these volumes for Miss de Witte and Professor Wallace at a great price indeed.’

  Adam handed Lucy into the carriage, and when they had settled in, Lucy passed the volumes she had got at the Hoddesdon bookseller to Master Hargrave. ‘Please, sir, feel free to examine these if you would like,’ she said.

  As she handed them over, she glanced out the window. Her breath caught. There, standing outside, was Dev, an odd smile on his face. Their eyes met, and he touched his cap in mock salute. I know who you are, she could almost read on his face.

  With a lurch, the carriage pulled away, and Dev soon moved out of sight.