‘Is he in prison now?’
‘It is very probable.’ Her voice broke a little, and Charlotte gave a soft whimper of distress and came to sit by her.
‘I am sorry to upset you, but —’
Mrs Antrobus made a weak gesture of acceptance. ‘No, please, do go on. It is necessary to ask these questions, I know.’
‘Where was your cousin at the time your husband disappeared?’
‘In prison. That is why I knew he could have had nothing to do with it. He was tried at the Old Bailey for a robbery a year or so earlier and received a sentence of three years.’
‘Has he been seen in this vicinity since his release?’
‘If he has I have not been told of it.’
Frances could only feel sympathy for the dejected woman, suffering for the misdeeds of another, no part of which could be laid at her door. ‘If he should try to call on you again, please let me know. If he is up to no good the police should be informed.’
‘Of course. I am sorry for him, since he was not able to make something better of his life, but even though he is related to me by blood, I know it is best that I avoid his company.’
It was not a promising line of enquiry but Frances recorded the details in her notebook. Barfield, like Dromgoole, while not the actual culprit, might yet have some information that could prove useful. ‘I think it would be wise to await the outcome of the inquest before I take any further action.’
‘Yes, I agree, I would not have you undertake unnecessary work. Of course, even if the bones are shown to be Edwin’s, the cause of his death could well remain a mystery.’
This was very true, and Frances could only hope that she would not be asked to look into it.
‘How long does it take for a body to rot down to dry bones?’ asked Sarah, carving slices off a piece of ham for their supper, while Frances endangered her appetite by studying the subject of decomposition in a medical book.
‘That is a hard question and one with no simple answer. Bodies may be buried or left in the open or lie in water, the weather may be hot or cold and the person may be fat or thin, young or old. Then there is the action of insects and vermin. There are so many things to consider. If the remains were simply gathered up with other debris during demolition then carried to the brickyard and tipped onto the ground, that disturbance has destroyed so much that is valuable. We cannot know how much of the other material belongs to it, neither do we know whether the man died in Queens Road or somewhere else.’
Sarah brought bread and pickles to the table. ‘When did those big hoardings go up? There’s been enough about it in the newspapers.’
Frances laid the book aside. ‘It was the autumn of last year. The houses had been standing empty for a while beforehand. Then the work started and has been stopping and starting again for months during all the disputes with the vestry.’
‘I bet they weren’t empty all that time,’ said Sarah, darkly. ‘Thieves’ dens most like. Somewhere quiet and private to meet and divide up the swag. They might have quarrelled and then one of them got stabbed and left to rot.’ She lifted the muslin draping a plate to inspect the remains of yesterday’s tea party, of which there was very little since Cornelius had insisted that Charlotte be provided with a parcel of cake to take home.
‘That would explain why we have another body and no one else reported as missing,’ suggested Frances. ‘I think Mrs Antrobus may be disappointed once more. But that does lead me to another thought. Even though her disreputable cousin was in prison at the time of Mr Antrobus’ disappearance, he could have had associates who were freed before him. If he wanted to revenge himself against the man who had forbidden him the house, he might have told his friends that Mr Antrobus carried large sums of money or other valuables on his person and so encouraged them to rob and murder him.’
‘How can you find out who these friends are?’ asked Sarah reasonably.
‘If information exists then it can be found. It’s just a matter of knowing where to look and who to ask. And in this instance, I know just who to ask.’ Despite her earlier resolve to take no action pending the result of the inquest, Frances’ curiosity got the better of her, and once supper was done she wrote a letter.
While the case of the missing Mr Antrobus had recently occupied most of Frances’ time she could not ignore other clients or turn away new ones. There was one exception. A lady of great wealth, but little judgement, had written to plead with her to do all she could to prove the innocence of a prisoner who was shortly due to expiate his crimes on the scaffold. The lady offered a sum of money so substantial that it amounted to a bribe and hinted that if Frances was to admit that she had made a number of errors in her statements to the police, all might still be well. Frances, well aware that she might be making an enemy by so doing, wrote to decline the commission.
One new client for whom she had made an appointment was Mr Jonathan Eckley, headmaster of the Bayswater School for the Deaf, the very establishment that Dr Goodwin was in the process of suing. Frances had not discussed the legal wrangle with Dr Goodwin as it had no relevance to her search for Edwin Antrobus, but she was naturally curious about the unusual conflict.
Mr Eckley was a slender gentleman of about forty dressed in the dark attire most suitable to his profession, with gold-rimmed spectacles sitting on a sharp nose. He wore a handsome silver watch on a pretty chain that he seemed very proud of, as he liked to consult it at every opportunity, and Frances wondered if it was a treasured heirloom or a gift from a grateful parent. His manner, while formal and precise, was cordial, and when he spoke he was in the habit of making very large movements with his lips as if to emphasise every word.
As Frances took her seat, he closed the watch with a brisk snap and dropped it in his pocket. His card was on the table before her and he leaned forward and pushed it closer with his fingertips, to ensure that she missed not one word printed thereon. ‘It is very important, Miss Doughty,’ he began, in a voice more suitable to a public meeting than a parlour, ‘that I communicate to you a full appreciation of the expertise I bring to my profession, and then you may judge the position in which I find myself.’
Frances thanked him and studied the card, which supplied no more material than was on the sign outside the school. Nevertheless she left it where she might easily refer to it.
‘It has been my pleasure, indeed my honour,’ he went on, ‘to be engaged in the instruction of the deaf for some years. I studied with the Society for Training Teachers of the Deaf, and while I am not a surgeon, and have only a layman’s knowledge of the structure of the ear, I believe that I am as much a specialist in my field as any doctor in his.’
Frances felt sure that ‘any doctor’ was a reference to Dr Goodwin, but she let that pass.
‘You will notice, Miss Doughty,’ he said, reaching out and tapping the card with an insistent fingertip, ‘that the school is referred to as a school for the deaf and not as it was previously called, a school for the deaf and dumb. That is because,’ he paused for emphasis, ‘we undertake to teach the children to speak.’
Frances smiled and nodded. ‘Oh, yes, the signs, I have some familiarity with those.’
‘No, I do not refer to the signs,’ he said with a hard frown. ‘We use the German system. The children learn to read lips and articulate words. Only that system can enable the deaf to become full members of society. When I was appointed headmaster two years ago, the school was offering a combined system, both the oral method and signs, as it was then believed that the two could be used together with advantage. We employed deaf teachers to transmit the signs and additional classes in lip reading and articulation were given by hearing teachers. Dr Goodwin was then a consultant, and his son was working at the school as a general servant and caretaker. The boy is quite deaf and, I believe, not of the highest intelligence. He was, however, proficient in signs and aspired to become an assistant to the teaching staff.’
‘But clearly there have been changes. What brought this abo
ut?’
‘Progress,’ he exclaimed proudly. ‘There must always be progress. We must be prepared, even though it pains us, to throw out the old methods that have served us well and adopt new ones that will serve us better. And I am not talking of some whim of fashion but the results of years of dedicated work by knowledgeable men.’ He tapped the card again. ‘Last September matters were finally resolved by a conference which took place in Milan. Many learned papers were presented which showed not only that the German method was by far the best one but that all the difficulties previously associated with it were due to a single cause, the teaching of signs at the same time. I attended that conference and my course became very clear. I presented my case to the school governors and they were in complete agreement. Henceforth the teaching of signs was banned and we now educate the children solely on the “pure oral” system as it is called. Dr Goodwin, who has always been a great advocate of signs, made strong objections, but he was overruled. He resigned as consultant, although if the truth be known, had he remained he would have been told that his advice was no longer required. His son continued in his usual capacity – he knew his work and could undertake it without speech – but under strict instructions that he was no longer to communicate with the children by the use of signs.’
Frances could predict where the conversation was going. ‘I assume he did not comply?’
‘That is correct. I was obliged to dismiss him. I was sorry to do it, but it was necessary. He is a pleasant boy and was a great favourite with the pupils, but for their own good, he was asked to leave. He was not the only one, as you might imagine. Many of the teachers, in particular those who were deaf, were only able to teach signs, and they too were dismissed and replaced by hearing teachers trained in the German method.’
Frances thought that it was hard that a school for the education of the deaf should have treated its deaf teachers in such a way, but decided not to comment. ‘Dr Goodwin is currently suing the school – is this because of his son?’
‘Yes, but it goes far deeper than that. He still adheres to the old methods and believes that by airing the matter in court he will achieve publicity for his point of view.’
Frances could see that she was in danger of being made an instrument of an acrimonious professional dispute, something for which she had little inclination. ‘This is all very interesting but I cannot see how you wish to employ my services.’
‘It has come to my notice,’ announced Eckley, ‘although I do not have the proof I need, that Mr Isaac Goodwin has been meeting privately with some of the pupils of the school and giving them instruction in signs. This may even include recently arrived pupils who have only ever been taught by the German method. Moreover I believe he is encouraged in this by Dr Goodwin. Very recently I saw one of the younger boys actually conversing with the older ones using signs when they thought I was not looking! This undermines all my teaching.’ He looked very hurt, and Frances almost felt sorry for him.
‘I have ordered them to stop. I said it makes them look like monkeys, but they just seemed to find that amusing and continued to defy me. Ultimately I was obliged to make them stop by tying their hands together. Sometimes one must be cruel to be kind.’
Frances felt less sympathetic. ‘What would you like me to do?’
‘I need proof – proof that these damaging classes are taking place, proof that it is Mr Isaac Goodwin conducting them, the place he is using and that Dr Goodwin is complicit. The children are not going to Dr Goodwin’s house for classes; that I have been able to establish. Neither are they taking place at the homes of any of the children. Their parents are naturally anxious that their children should learn to speak and would never permit such a thing. It is a secretive hole in the corner affair, and my pupils refuse to admit that it is even happening.’
‘Do you intend to take any legal action?’ asked Frances, ‘because I do not believe that there is a crime being committed.’
Eckley sighed. ‘I have no wish to punish anyone; I am only thinking of the good of the children. All I want is to put a stop to a no doubt well-meaning activity that is harming their education. Once I have the information I require I will take out an injunction requiring Mr Isaac Goodwin to desist from teaching. I believe I have every right to do so. He is quite unqualified to teach the deaf whereas I’ – he tapped the card again – ‘have undertaken years of study. I am sure my point of view will prevail.’
‘Do you believe that the injunction, if granted, would strengthen your defence against Dr Goodwin’s action?’
‘Indubitably.’ The speed of his response confirmed what Frances had suspected, that this effect had been uppermost in his thoughts.
Frances was in two minds about how to proceed. She had no expertise with which to judge the argument either for or against the two methods of teaching, and it was not in any case her business to do so but to carry out the wishes of her client. Eckley was probably unaware that she had already had an amicable meeting with Dr Goodwin, and she wondered if there was a less confrontational way of proceeding.
‘Supposing,’ she ventured, ‘I was able to obtain for you written confirmation that these classes have been taking place together with a promise that they will be discontinued. Would that serve your purpose?’
Eckley considered the proposition. ‘I suppose it would,’ he said reluctantly. ‘I have not approached Dr Goodwin myself as I have been advised I must not do so in view of the pending action.’
‘It is possible that an injunction might be seen by Dr Goodwin’s representatives as unwarranted interference, even harassment, and actually harm your case.’ She had no idea if this was so, but it was an argument that might succeed.
He gave the question some thought. ‘Perhaps, if you were to act as intermediary, a gentle appeal from a female might prove more persuasive than a demand from a man of law.’
Frances was not sure whether this was a compliment; however, her concerns were allayed and she agreed to act for Mr Eckley. She was able without difficulty to secure an appointment to see Dr Goodwin later the same day.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Dr Goodwin seemed less happy than at their first meeting and Frances could not tell whether some circumstance unknown to her had caused this or whether it was simply the fact that she had called on him for a second interview. Her visits did sometimes have that effect. He welcomed her wearily but politely and spent a few moments standing at his desk ordering his papers as if that would also order his mind.
Frances waited for a brief while, then decided to interrupt his concentration. ‘Dr Goodwin, I am here not on behalf of Mrs Antrobus but Mr Eckley.’
‘Dear me, what can he want?’ exclaimed Goodwin, his head jerking up in surprise. ‘I can well understand his not calling here himself. He does not have the stomach to face me with his arguments.’
‘He has informed me that your son was dismissed from his employment at the school because he was instructed not to communicate with the pupils using signs and disobeyed the instruction. Is that the case?’
Goodwin sank back into his chair. ‘That is a harsh way to put it, but I suppose so, yes. And it is a terrible state of things, a thoroughly misguided proceeding. Eckley denigrates the signs as nothing more than pantomime; well, little does he know it but he is presiding at a charade. The school, supposedly an exponent of the pernicious “pure oral” system, is actually a hotbed of sign language, since that is the best and most convenient way for the children to converse. I have witnessed these German system classes and,’ an expression of great satisfaction lit up his face, ‘when the teacher’s back is turned the children sign to ask each other what was said and those who are best at lip-reading pass it on.’ He chuckled at the thought. ‘Now don’t mistake me, I have nothing against the practice of lip-reading and encourage the children to acquire it, but signs,’ he beat a hand upon the desk for emphasis, ‘should be their principal means of learning.’
‘I understand that your son’s dismissal is the subject of
your action against the school.’
‘It is. I suppose Eckley has told you that I have taken the proceedings mainly in order to voice my opinions of his methods in court. In that, at least, I do admit that he is correct. Isaac has no need to return to work for the school. He is now employed as my assistant and does very well. Has Eckley engaged you to plead with me to abandon my action? If so, you must disappoint him.’
‘It is another matter. Mr Eckley believes that your son is conducting private classes in signs for the pupils of his school.’
Dr Goodwin laughed. ‘Does he now? Well if Isaac is doing so, and I don’t know that he is, I can only applaud his endeavour.’
‘As you may imagine,’ Frances went on, ‘Mr Eckley is very displeased and would like the classes to stop. In fact he was intending to obtain an injunction to require that they stop. I have managed to persuade him that he might do just as well with a written assurance.’
‘Which would of course be ammunition in his defence against my case,’ observed Goodwin with a frown. ‘Well, if the man wants a fight he shall have one, but I will not allow him to attack me through my son. Really, he can have no shame.’
The Children of Silence Page 12
