‘Let’s see, how does it start?’ She looked up at Adam. ‘What’s that Latin word for question again?’
‘Quaestio,’ Adam replied. Then after she paused, he spelled it out for her. They watched as she wrote down each letter in a long vertical column, and then added the remaining unused letters of the alphabet below. Biting her lip in concentration, she began to work it out. Within a few minutes she was staring at it in awe. ‘Another riddle!’ She held it out to them. ‘What man walks free who should be hanged?’
‘Clearly, the answer to that riddle was Philip Emerson,’ Adam replied. ‘This is very odd indeed.’
‘It seemed very much like the riddles exchanged between Professor Wallace and Miss de Witte,’ Lucy mused. ‘I wonder if it might be the same hand. As we both noted, she seemed pleased to get this message. I think she did recognize the sender.’
‘You’re suggesting that Neville Wallace sent this message to Miss de Witte?’ Adam asked. ‘Why would he send her a riddle of this nature?’
‘He knew of her quest to kill her brother’s murderer,’ Duncan surmised. ‘He was reminding her of her conviction. Perhaps he overheard Lucy speaking with his wife. Or perhaps Mrs Wallace informed him of their discussion. Either way, it is not hard to see that he might have learned of the morning plan to have Miss de Witte identify Mr Emerson. Perhaps he even partnered with Miss de Witte to kill Emerson in the first place.’
Lucy rubbed her brow. ‘Why would he do that?’
‘Love? Obligation? A sense of duty? Who knows? Think about it,’ Duncan said. ‘Miss de Witte did seem genuinely surprised to hear about the coded letters that the innkeepers swore she’d exchanged with them. Perhaps he was the one who sent the message to Pike and Dev, to direct them through the plan, not Miss de Witte.’
‘You’ve known Professor Wallace for some time,’ Lucy said, turning back to Adam. ‘Does he have such a calculating nature?’
Adam considered her question. ‘Certainly, Father and I have known Professor Wallace for a few years, and his reputation as a mathematician has not been surpassed. Still, Father would also be the first to say that even the most affable and educated demeanour can mask the hardest and most murderous of hearts. You’ve known that to be true as well, Lucy.’
‘That is so. However, why send the message to Philip Emerson? Why warn him that Miss de Witte was on to him? Would Professor Wallace have wanted Miss de Witte to be killed?’
‘I cannot see why,’ Adam mused. ‘Still it cannot be a coincidence that both Philip Emerson and Miss de Witte received such messages on the same morning. It’s almost as if someone wanted them to act violently towards each other. That’s a riddle in itself.’ He straightened his back. ‘We must cease this speculation. Let us speak with Professor Wallace. Get to the bottom of this peculiar thing.’
Duncan nodded. ‘Let me just speak with Hank. Have him maintain a keen eye on Mr Emerson. We must not allow him to flee again.’
TWENTY-FIVE
The Wallace household was quieter than it had been on Lucy’s last few visits. This time when they were led into the drawing room by the servant, she found Professor and Mrs Wallace seated on chairs at either end of the long room. Mrs Wallace was seated before a large embroidery frame, while Professor Wallace had a small book in his lap. The brocade curtains were still open, revealing a bleak overcast sky that matched the dark mood of the room. Without the laughter and animated voices of the scholars, and without the steady flow of wine, the room had little of the crackling vitality she’d witnessed before, and now simply seemed devoid of any energy or life at all.
Mrs Wallace rose when they were announced, while Professor Wallace set his book aside with a sigh. ‘Three visits in three days, Lucy?’ He walked over and shook both men’s hands. ‘What brings you here? I must say, Lucy, I’m a bit relieved that you do not have your pack. While I do view myself as a scholar of high intellect, you have provided me with several weeks of thought to digest, and I would be quite ashamed to say that I cannot keep up.’
Lucy smiled slightly. ‘That is not why we are here, Professor Wallace.’
‘Ah, more questions about ciphers? Find a new message, did you?’
‘What makes you say that?’ Duncan asked, stepping forward slightly.
At the constable’s soldierly bearing, Professor Wallace stepped back and his grin faded. ‘N–no reason,’ he stammered. ‘I just thought, given Mr Hargrave and Lucy’s interest, they might have more questions. Similar to what they asked me before.’
‘Pray, tell what has happened?’ Mrs Wallace asked, twisting her fingers in her skirts. ‘I can see on your faces that there is something serious to discuss.’
‘We should like to speak to your husband for a moment,’ Duncan said.
‘Oh, they must be here about our guest Roland Newman, dear,’ Mrs Wallace said, leaving her embroidery frame to come and sit beside him. ‘Did you see him at the Hare and Pony? Was Miss de Witte able to identify him?’
‘Yes,’ Lucy said, glancing at Duncan. She didn’t want to say too much. ‘She did. She was able to confirm that Mr Emerson had been passing himself off as the scholar Roland Newman.’
‘Newman,’ Professor Wallace scoffed. ‘Not a lot of imagination with that name, eh? How do you think he came up with it? “I’m planning to create a new identity for myself, so I won’t be hanged for murder, and the best name I can come up with is ‘New-man’.” I thought he was a more original thinker than that.’ He looked disgusted. ‘Just shows how willing to mock and trick us that man was.’ He wiped his brow. ‘My God! I’ve even recommended him for his grasp of musical theory to some of the finer families in town. I’ve spoken his praises, detailing his disciplined mind and form. What a blow to my reputation this shall be.’
‘Such treacherous behaviour indeed,’ Mrs Wallace said, her face growing flushed. ‘He’s made a mockery of us! I still cannot believe that we invited that murderer into our home. Such indignations should not be suffered!’
‘Is he back in jail, then, Constable?’ Professor Wallace asked. ‘I imagine he’ll be hanged soon – is that not so?’
‘He is under guard, although he is currently being treated by Doctor Larimer. Miss de Witte, too, although her condition is far more serious and it is not certain if she will survive,’ Duncan replied.
‘Good heavens!’ Mrs Wallace exclaimed. ‘What on earth happened?’
At Duncan’s nod, Lucy quickly recounted all that had occurred earlier that day. The Wallaces listened intently, occasionally making shocked sounds and emitting soft gasps. Only when Lucy described how the two had stabbed each other did Mrs Wallace clutch her chest. ‘You must be jesting!’
‘I’m afraid I am not,’ Lucy replied, before continuing her story. Professor Wallace, she noticed, kept his face buried in his hands.
When she finally stopped relating the outlandish events, Mrs Wallace put her hand on Lucy’s. ‘What a strange ordeal,’ she said, patting her hand. ‘I’m so relieved that you were not injured in any way.’
‘Thank you,’ Lucy replied. When she glanced at Professor Wallace, she could see he was trembling. ‘Sir, are you unwell? Shall I have the servant fetch some ale? Or perhaps some sherry?’
Mrs Wallace stared at her husband and gave a brittle laugh. ‘You seem upset, dear,’ she said.
‘The idea that we invited that murderer into our home. Bestowed upon him our hospitality, provided him with drink and victuals and good company. To have been the scurrilous ruffian who murdered the brother of a dear acquaintance! Such an indignity shall not be easily borne, nor forgotten.’
‘You’re claiming that you did not know Mr Newman’s true identity?’ Duncan asked, his earlier friendliness slipping away.
Professor Wallace gulped. ‘Of course not!’
‘You never saw him when he was still Emerson?’ Adam asked. ‘You did not attend his trial?’
There was a clear change in the room. Professor Wallace looked decidedly uneasy. ‘No, I don’t recall doing
so.’
Mrs Wallace darted him a quick look before casting her eyes down. ‘I believe you did go to the trial, Neville.’ she said quietly. ‘How could you not recall? I remember perfectly. Miss de Witte, your pupil, needed someone she could rely on, as she had no other relative or friend who might dispatch such a duty. Of course, I know no one took such care with her as you.’
Professor Wallace coughed. ‘I suppose, yes, I was there.’ The red spread painfully across his cheeks, coming out in a chequered pattern beneath the greying brown of his beard. ‘I do not remember Mr Emerson in such detail. I swear I did not recognize Mr Newman as Mr Emerson. Perhaps he changed his hair or his clothes or air!’ At the continued silence, he pounded his fist on the arm of the chair. ‘Damn it all! One simply would not expect to see a convicted murderer show up at one’s door, speaking so elegantly on the mathematical origins of musical composition.’ He rubbed his jaw with vigour. ‘I know that makes me an unobservant fool, but so be it. I did not recognize him, and I’m sorry I did not. He’d not have walked free for so long, nor cause the damage that he has done, had I recognized him for who he was.’
‘I see,’ Adam said. ‘You told us last week of the cipher that Miss de Witte created. Are you still sending her secret messages?’
‘No!’ he sputtered. He grasped his wife’s elbow. ‘Dear, you know that I am not. Such an accusation is simply unfounded.’
‘Is it? Can you explain this?’ Mrs Wallace opened the sideboard and removed a small silver box. Inside there were several messages. She held them out, her fingers trembling. At a glance, Lucy could see they were all written in cipher. ‘Why must you continue to b–betray our marriage in this way?’
Her husband stared at them in horror. ‘Where did you get those?’
‘Several times now a messenger has brought me notes, thinking that I was the correct recipient.’ Mrs Wallace pressed her hand to her stomach as if enduring a physical blow. ‘After I intercepted the first, I came to realize that your betrayal has continued, even though I forgave you when I believed that you had broken it off.’
‘What? No, that is not so! I did end it, over a year ago.’
‘She’s had my husband under a spell,’ Mrs Wallace said, beginning to sob quietly. ‘How shameful this is!’ Lucy came over and grasped her hand. Mrs Wallace gave her a grateful look. ‘I am not strong like you, dear Lucy,’ she murmured. ‘I wish I could find a livelihood of my own, instead of being at the mercy of my husband’s wishes and foibles.’
‘Joanna!’ her husband cried, sounding half strangled. ‘Truly, I erred, I did! But I have not been with Miss de Witte in so very long. I have fully restored the sanctity of our marriage.’
‘Miss de Witte received a message from you this morning,’ Duncan declared, watching him carefully. ‘Miss Campion and I were on hand when she received it. It seems you have still been communicating with her. Your wife told Lucy of her suspicions that this may be the case.’
‘What? No!’
Duncan continued, ‘This suggests that you may have been aware of her interactions with Dev and Pike Browning, the innkeepers at the Two Doves Inn in Hoddesdon. Perhaps you wanted to help her in some way?’
‘What? No!’ Professor Wallace exclaimed. ‘I never knew them! I may have seen them at the trial but I swear I never spoke with them.’
‘Were you not in Hoddesdon at the Two Doves Inn with Miss de Witte?’
Tears welled up in Mrs Wallace’s eyes. ‘You went to an inn in Hoddesdon with her?’
‘Yes, he did,’ Duncan interrupted before Professor Wallace could speak. ‘I was informed that a man accompanied Miss de Witte to the inn soon after her brother’s murder. The description they provided clearly matched your own. Do you deny travelling with Miss de Witte to Hoddesdon?’
Professor Wallace’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I do n–not deny going with her,’ he whispered, looking desperately at his wife. Mrs Wallace stared stonily ahead.
‘I do not love her, my dear! You must understand that,’ Professor Wallace pleaded.
‘That may actually be the truth,’ Adam commented. ‘You grew tired of your involvement with Miss de Witte. You wanted to see it ended!’
‘Yes! Adam, you must believe me! While I was besotted with Lucretia’s mind, I did not seek a relationship with her. She would still send me messages, but I swear I stopped communicating with her.’
‘I see,’ Duncan said, exchanging a look with the others. ‘You are no longer in love with her. The relationship with her is a burden.’
‘Precisely,’ Professor Wallace said. He stood up. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I should very much like to have a private conversation with my wife.’
‘She has kept you wrapped around her finger for months!’ Mrs Wallace burst out. ‘I hid that from them, out of shame as well as wifely devotion. I cannot hide anything more. I heard you call that messenger around this morning. I know you sent Miss de Witte a note!’
‘What? No!’ Professor Wallace tried to deny.
The constable stood up then. ‘I have heard enough. Professor Wallace, I am arresting you as an accomplice in the murder of Jack Campbell and the attempted murders of Philip Emerson and Lucretia de Witte.’
Mrs Wallace gave a small shriek and fell into a dead faint. Professor Wallace tried to lunge towards his wife before being restrained by Duncan and Adam. ‘Joanna!’ he cried hoarsely. ‘You must believe me! None of this is true!’
‘I will tend to her,’ Lucy said to the other men, as she touched the recumbent woman’s forehead. ‘You take Professor Wallace into the jail. I will look after Mrs Wallace and make sure she is comfortable. That was a dreadful blow indeed.’
After Lucy called for a restorative, Mrs Wallace was soon sitting up again. Lucy had sent the servant away, finding her anxious puttering and cooing more distracting than soothing. ‘I shall have you send for a physician, should she not improve,’ Lucy promised the servant, before closing Mrs Wallace’s bedchamber door.
‘You’ve had a terrible shock,’ Lucy said, trying to soothe her. ‘Several of them.’
‘Whatever shall I do?’ Mrs Wallace cried. ‘All of this is so terrible. I never wished Miss de Witte ill, you know, even though I despise how she adored and seduced my husband. Thank the heavens we have no children to see the shame that has been brought upon my marriage. Still, I will pray for Mr Emerson and Miss de Witte. Certainly, I hope they can both recover.’
Lucy nodded. She was not sure she could be so gracious in a similar situation.
‘I am so very confused,’ Mrs Wallace said, standing up and opening both shutters in the window. ‘I need some air.’ A rush of cold air swept over and Lucy breathed in deeply. The deathly stillness of the room had oppressed her more than she realized. Mrs Wallace pressed her hand to her own face, and Lucy stood beside her. ‘Lucy, what is it that they think my husband did?’
‘Both Miss de Witte and Mr Emerson received a cipher this morning, inciting them to injure the other,’ Lucy explained. ‘You said yourself you saw your husband send the message to Miss de Witte.’
‘Can it be so?’ Mrs Wallace put her hand to her forehead. ‘Neville was entranced by her, since the day they met. I place much of the blame on Lucretia. I have no doubt that she manipulated my husband, delighted in doing so. I believe that she may well have manipulated those men who killed the Newgate guard. She’s the one who has held murder in her heart this past year.’ She began to weep softly then, burying her head in her hands.
Lucy touched the woman’s arm. ‘Mrs Wallace, did you tell your husband what we discussed last evening? About asking Miss de Witte to identify Mr Newman as Mr Emerson? Did he know she would be going to the Hare and Pony, where Mr Emerson had taken up residence?’
‘Yes, I told him so,’ Mrs Wallace said, slumping back. ‘What does that mean?’
‘It means your husband may have incited both Miss de Witte and Mr Emerson to murder,’ Lucy replied. ‘Moreover, it may not have been the first time he managed such a thing.’
‘But he s–sent the note to Mr Emerson as well, knowing that he might kill her—’
‘I know, it’s odd.’ She patted Mrs Wallace’s hand. ‘Perhaps it was his strange way of ending the infidelity with Miss de Witte once and for all.’
Mrs Wallace brushed away a tear. ‘I have been injured but will not be so again.’
TWENTY-SIX
In the darkened room, Miss de Witte groaned again, and Lucy reached over to wipe her brow. She’d been at Dr Larimer’s for several hours already, having offered to keep an eye on the woman in case her condition worsened during the night. Dr Sheridan had returned to his own home, and Dr Larimer was finally resting from the day’s travails. There might be an important deathbed confession as well, Lucy had thought. It was not the first time she’d sat vigil at the bedside of someone who might be dying, and those final tragic utterances often contained secrets. Nonsense, too, but sometimes important things could be learned.
Master Aubrey had given her permission for the vigil on the promise that she would write up a whole true account of the surprising tale. Besides, they had tried to locate a relative and it seemed that Miss de Witte had no other friends or family members who could be bothered. At least Miss de Witte’s servant Mavis had promised to stop by in the morning to see how her mistress was faring.
At Mrs Hotchkiss’s cough, Lucy looked up from the tract she’d been writing. The housekeeper had a tray with two steaming mugs and a bowl of soup. ‘The wormwood is for her, if she can take it. The soup and hot mead are for you,’ Mrs Hotchkiss said. For a moment, Lucy was reminded of the bond they’d shared earlier that year, as another patient was nursed back to health.
‘I hate to wake her,’ Lucy whispered, staring down at the pale face gleaming in the candlelight. ‘I don’t know if she has indeed incited men to murder, but she was certainly pitiful today.’
The Sign of the Gallows Page 22
