‘How many keys are there to the rear exit?’
‘Two. One is on a bunch I keep on my person.’ Neilson patted a pocket. ‘The other is kept in the safe, here.’
‘Who has access to the safe?’
‘Only myself and Mr MacNulty. I should mention that he has worked for me for the last fifteen years and has my absolute trust.’
‘And at the time Mr Dobree vanished you were outside the Lodge room guarding the door with a sword?’
‘I was.’
‘Where is this sword normally kept?’
‘In the anteroom upstairs; we have a trunk containing materials and books relating to Lodge business.’
‘I saw an exit at the end of this corridor – where does that lead?’
‘To the storerooms, kitchens, cellars, the rear exit into Linfield Walk; and there is a back staircase leading up to the first floor.’
‘It would be helpful if you could conduct me over the premises, so I can understand how the rooms and floors are connected,’ said Frances.
‘That sounds very sensible,’ agreed Fiske.
Neilson assented and before they left the office he removed a ledger from a shelf and opened it to reveal that it was not after all a ledger but a shallow box. A row of six hooks was fastened inside the box and a labelled key hung from each hook. ‘These are the keys of the inner rooms of the premises,’ he explained. He extracted two of the keys and slipped them into his pocket.
‘Who knows where these keys are kept?’ asked Frances.
‘The senior staff, and certain members of the Lodges, that would be the Directors of Ceremonies whose duty it is to see that the room is in order. Mr Chappell of Literati and Mr Pollard of Mulberry.’
‘Would Mr Dobree have known?’
‘I don’t think so,’ frowned Neilson. ‘He was Chaplain of Mulberry; he recited the prayers.’
‘Has he never fulfilled the role of Director of Ceremonies?’
‘Some years ago, yes, he did, but that was long before I lighted on this scheme to keep the keys secure. They used to just hang on a board inside the door, but after an attempted burglary a few months ago, which I am pleased to say Wellington thwarted, I wanted them out of sight. It’s rather good isn’t it? MacNulty had it made for me.’
They returned to the public bar at the rear of which was a winding staircase leading to the upper floors. It was well carpeted, and a man might easily walk up and down without his steps being heard, however, it was clear that anyone creeping down those stairs would also have been in full view of many of the customers. Frances was first shown the attic rooms, one of which stored tools, spare furniture, chinaware and cleaning materials, the other being where two of the male staff lodged. On the second floor were three rather superior sets of apartments, one of which was Mr MacNulty’s residence, the other two being available for the accommodation of gentlemen of business visiting London.
There were three rooms on the first floor, the largest of which was an elegant dining room, with a menu board announcing that it was open in the evenings for dinner. There was, Frances noticed appreciatively, no stale hint of dinners past, but all was fresh and polished, with vases of hothouse flowers gracing pedestals about the perimeter, and tables ready laid with spotless silverware, glassware and napery. Mr Fiske intimated that this was where the Literati and Mulberry Lodges held their festive boards, meals enjoyed by the Lodge members after meetings. The next and far smaller room was provided with a row of hooks along one wall so that the brethren could leave their coats, hats and bags there and attire themselves in their regalia. Mr Neilson opened a large leather-bound trunk with a key he kept on his person, and revealed some items of paraphernalia, leather-bound books, and a handsome full-sized sword in a scabbard.
‘This is the sword used to guard the Lodge,’ he explained.
‘Could you show me where you are when you do this? I know that you do not allow ladies into your ceremonies, but I assume there can be no harm in showing me what occurs outside the Lodge room.’
‘None at all,’ said Neilson. ‘My duty is to be stationed outside the door during the ceremony, guarding the Lodge from malicious or simply curious persons.’
He was about to replace the sword in its trunk, but Frances said, ‘Oh, and please do take that with you.’
Mr Neilson complied, and after relocking the trunk led them to the upper landing again. There was a third door next to that of the Lodge’s anteroom, and here Neilson paused. ‘When Lodge meetings are held there is a chair by the door for my use. I remain outside, with the sword, throughout.’
‘I can see that it would be very hard for anyone to leave through that door without your knowing,’ said Frances.
‘It would, yes. Impossible, I would say.’
‘Is the sword drawn?’
‘Dear me, no, it is purely ceremonial. It rests by my side.’
‘I would so like to see it drawn,’ she asked, in a manner that disarmed all possibility of refusal.
He smiled and complied, but was careful to keep the blade out of dangerous proximity. ‘It is not very sharp.’
Frances gazed at the sword in admiration, although her object was quite different. If it had been recently used there was no sign of it. ‘Would you be able to show me the Lodge room? If I am to discover how Mr Dobree left it, I really must see inside.’
‘By all means,’ said Fiske. ‘We do have lady visitors who ask to view it, not during a meeting of course.’
Mr Neilson permitted himself a slight smile, showing that he had anticipated Frances’ request. ‘I would be delighted for you to see it,’ he said. He sheathed the sword and after replacing it in the anteroom, took one of the small keys from his pocket. He unlocked the Lodge room and they entered.
CHAPTER THREE
Frances was not sure what to expect but saw something that reminded her of pictures she had seen in history books, impressions of how temples of classical antiquity might have looked. The room was oblong, its floor covered with a chequerboard of black and white tiles. On the wall opposite the entrance was another door. There was a single row of seating around the perimeter. To her left was a small desk with two chairs, but on the other three sides of the room she saw a kind of high wooden plinth, displaying a number of objects that she did not recognise but which she felt sure must have Masonic significance. Behind each plinth was a carved wooden armchair, one of which, the one facing the entrance door, was more ornate than the others, and on a low dais.
‘That is the chair occupied by the Master of the Lodge,’ explained Fiske. ‘The others are for the Wardens, and the secretary and treasurer sit at the desk.’
‘Do you recall where Mr Dobree was seated during the ceremony?’
‘I am sorry, I don’t remember. But he took no part in the ceremony, so he would have been either in his seat or standing in front of it throughout. A guest usually sits by the member who invited him, but since Mr Dobree was a guest of the Master that didn’t apply in this case.’
The wall to Frances’ right was the only exterior wall of the room, with four tall narrow windows hung with thick curtains. Frances approached to examine them, but the gap between the back of the row of seats and the wall was too small to accommodate her skirts. She thought it might have been possible for a slender gentleman to squeeze through the space to reach a window, and asked for one to be opened. Mr Neilson obliged. Drawing aside the curtain of the window nearest to the far wall, he turned a bolt, then, grasping two curved metal handles, and with some effort, slid the lower section of the window upwards. All these operations made an appreciable amount of noise, and Frances concluded that it would have been impossible for anyone to carry them out without attracting the notice of those seated in the chairs immediately in front of the windows. She peered out. The paving slabs of Linfield Gardens lay about fifteen feet below, with no means of climbing down or breaking a fall. The idea that a man of more than seventy could leave by that way even under cover of darkness, without alerting others
in the room or suffering injury was one she dismissed at once.
‘Is there no other possible exit from the room other than the doors and windows?’
‘No, none,’ said Neilson. ‘I have worked here for more than twenty years – my father conducted the business before me – and I can assure you that all there is, you can see for yourself.’
The window was closed and fastened again, and Frances crossed to the rear exit door and confirmed that it was locked. ‘Could you let me have the key, Mr Neilson?’ He produced the second of the two small keys and handed it to Frances. She examined the label, a thin wooden rectangle carved with a number and letters, ‘1.L.B.’ ‘Floor one, Lodge, back?’ she queried.
He smiled. ‘That is correct.’
‘Have they always been labelled in this manner?’
‘No. I used to number them, but this seemed like a better idea.’
Frances inserted it in the lock. As the key turned it emitted a metallic creak. ‘Does it always make that noise?’
‘I suppose so. That door is rarely opened.’
‘I have been told that Mr Dobree vanished from this room while the lights were out. If the key had made that noise during that period would you have heard it? Was there any other sound that might have occluded it? Speeches made? Hymns sung?’
‘There was the address,’ said Neilson. ‘Mr Fiske spoke it, and rang a bell.’
‘Was the bell rung continuously?’
‘No, just every so often.’
‘But Mr Dobree would have known when to expect it?’
‘Not necessarily. The address is not spoken in all Lodges, in fact it is not done in Dobree’s own Lodge, Mulberry, and when he was invited here he said how much he was looking forward to hearing it.’
‘But he could have used it to cover the noise of his exit if he had had a key.’
‘I suppose he might. But no key is missing.’
‘Is the other key still in the safe?’
Neilson saw her meaning. ‘I expect so. I had better go and bring it.’ He hurried away.
Frances didn’t seriously think that Lancelot Dobree had come to grief from the combined actions of his brethren, but the sword had started her thinking, and in Mr Neilson’s absence she found herself taking a careful look at the Lodge room as the possible scene of a crime. Several objects had the potential to be used as weapons. There were gavels by the Master’s and Wardens’ chairs, which were probably too light to do a great deal of harm, but she also saw a substantial wooden maul, three large heavy wooden boards, and two rocks, one rough-hewn and one cut smooth, any of which would have been deadly in the wrong hands. All surfaces were carefully cleaned and dusted, and there was no sign of blood anywhere. Mr Fiske, mistaking her examination for curiosity, was kind enough to explain some of the significance of what she saw, and Frances obligingly made notes.
On passing through the back door Frances found herself on a small landing, from which a narrow staircase led down to the ground floor. The stairs, which were uncarpeted wood, were little worn, suggesting that they were not used often, but there was no noticeable dirt. Directly opposite the rear door to the Lodge room was a small window in the external wall. Frances peered out but saw only the alleyway, Linfield Walk, and the open yard space of the house opposite. Any light illuminating the upper landing at night could only have come from the small gas lamp further down the alley and must have struggled to pass through the thick glass of the windowpane. She thought it unlikely that opening the back door of the Lodge after sunset would have admitted much light.
Frances was hoping that when Mr Neilson returned he would reveal that the second key to the rear door of the Lodge room was missing from the safe, together with the second key to the tavern’s exit into the alleyway. It was the simplest explanation. Dobree had somehow managed to purloin both keys, left the Lodge room under cover of darkness and the sound of the address and the bell, slipped down the back staircase and out into the secluded alley, locking both doors behind him. To Frances’ disappointment, however, when Mr Neilson returned he brought with him the second key to the back door of the Lodge, which when it was tried in the lock was if anything creakier than the first.
‘May I see the other rooms now?’ They left the Lodge by the rear door, which Neilson locked behind them, an action that produced another squeak of protest, and descended the stairs. ‘Were there any deliveries expected during the time the Lodge was meeting?’ asked Frances. She reached the ground floor and saw on one side an internal door leading to the storerooms, and on the other the rear outer door, which was secured with a large bolt.
‘No. There had been one shortly before, but all was locked up after that. Deliveries are always supervised, usually by me but sometimes by Mr MacNulty. On the night Mr Dobree disappeared I was checking on the Lodge room prior to the meeting, so MacNulty oversaw the delivery.’
‘And provisions are brought from vehicles in the alleyway through the rear door and from there into the storeroom, kitchen and cellar? Not up the back stairs?’
‘That is correct.’
‘I don’t suppose you noticed just now whether or not the second key to the external door was in the safe?’
‘Yes, it was in the same box as the key to the back of the Lodge room. And I see what you are thinking. No, all the keys of the tavern are accounted for and in their proper places. I checked them myself soon after Dobree went missing. And the back door was bolted from within. Even if he had somehow been able to leave that way, he could not have re-bolted it.’
‘Someone might have found it unbolted and bolted it,’ Frances suggested, hopefully.
‘I have asked all my employees. No one found the door unbolted or noticed anything out of the way.’
Frances looked over the storerooms, which were tidy enough, with small dusty high windows, obviously undisturbed, and far too small for a man to squeeze through. The shelves were fully stocked, and as far as she was able to see there was no space to hide a body. She even explored the cellar, but unless Lancelot Dobree’s corpse was floating in a beer barrel, slowly pickling, something which would surely become noticeable before too long, he was not concealed there. Had this been an incident in a sensational novel, she thought, Mr Neilson would have dispatched Dobree with his sword, cut him up, and removed him from the premises piecemeal, the entire membership of the Lodge conspiring to conceal the crime. It seemed unlikely.
Neilson took them to the lounge bar again and supplied luncheon, gratis. Frances decided not to have the meat pie.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘Have you come to any conclusion?’ asked Mr Fiske eagerly as he made short work of a glass of ale.
Frances, as she sipped her mineral water, saw that he was hoping that her tour of the tavern had somehow resulted in her solving the mystery. She was obliged to confess that she had not. ‘It is easy enough to see how Mr Dobree could not have left the building, but I cannot yet determine how he did, and knowing that could well tell us why. You told me before that you thought he had something on his mind. Were there family troubles that might have demanded his presence?’
‘Not as far as I am aware,’ said Mr Fiske. ‘But he might well have kept personal matters to himself.’
‘I know of nothing of that sort,’ said Neilson.
‘Was there any business reason that might have made him leave so suddenly?’
‘He was a silk mercer, but long retired from trade,’ said Mr Fiske. ‘He is still a very busy man, although nowadays his interests mainly rest with charities. You must have seen him mentioned in the newspapers; making donations, and giving prizes at schools.’
‘I have. Is there anything in that area that might have caused him concern?’
‘I don’t believe so,’ said Neilson.
‘He didn’t reveal where he was due to go that night?’
‘No, but he ordered a meat pie, a bottle of ale and some bread and cheese for the journey, so he wasn’t expecting to dine anywhere.’
Mr Fisk
e looked pensive. ‘He did mention quite recently that he wished to found a school in the name of his late wife. Her loss was a grief from which he never truly recovered.’
‘Whereabouts is this school to be?’
‘In Kensington, I believe, but it is all just a plan at present.’
‘Do you know if he had bought a premises, or was hoping to buy one?’
‘I’m afraid not. Of course his brethren in Mulberry Lodge might know.’
Frances hesitated before asking her next question, and the interlude that followed the arrival at the table of a basket of warm bread rolls, fresh butter and potted cheese allowed her to decide how best to word it. ‘This is a difficult question, but it is one that I am sure the police will ask. Do either of you have any reason to suspect that Mr Dobree was involved in an activity which was against the law, or questionable in any way?’
Fiske and Neilson glanced at each other but it was not a guilty look. Neilson coughed discreetly. ‘You should know, Miss Doughty, that if a brother Mason breaks the law, his brethren do not, as so many people believe, draw ranks and protect him from the consequences. On the contrary, we are duty bound by our obligation to report him to the authorities. Such a man would certainly be expelled from freemasonry. Speaking in my capacity as Tyler to both the Literati and Mulberry Lodges, I can advise you that we have never suspected Dobree of anything illegal or underhand. Neither have we ever had occasion to question his morals. As his friend, I can reiterate that statement.’
Frances took out her notebook. ‘I accept your assurance. Mr Fiske, can you provide me with the names of all the members of the Literati Lodge, and let me know which of them were present on the night Mr Dobree disappeared?’
‘Of course, once I have examined my records. Although not all those who attended that night were actually in the Lodge room when the lights were extinguished.’
‘Oh? Why was that?’
‘The ceremony which was being performed that evening, the one where there is a period of near darkness, was what we call a raising. I should explain. There are degrees in freemasonry – ranks, I suppose you might call them – and brethren only attend those portions of the ceremony appropriate to their degree. A man is first initiated, and that is the First Degree. When he is ready he is passed to the Second Degree. The next stage is raising to the Third Degree. A raising is only attended by the candidate and those who have already achieved that rank, so those of lesser standing would have been outside the room.’
A True and Faithful Brother Page 3
