Death at the Workhouse

by Emily Organ

  “I’m not sure, Your Honour.”

  “And Mr Walker?” asked the coroner. “When was he last seen?”

  “He was last seen by fellow inmates in the men’s day room, and then he crossed the yard to fetch some coal from the coal store.”

  “What time was that?”

  “About a quarter after eight, I believe.”

  The police constable who had been summoned by the master then gave his deposition. He described the scene, with Mr Patten lying on his back and Mr Walker lying close by on his left side. Found beside them were a shovel, two extinguished lanterns and an empty pail, which Mr Walker had been seen carrying when he left for the coal store.

  The constable’s deposition was followed by that of the police surgeon, who had examined the bodies at the scene and carried out the autopsies. He confirmed that Mr Patten had died of strangulation, while Mr Walker had died of severe injuries to his head.

  “Which man do you suspect died first?” asked the coroner.

  “I think it must have been Mr Patten, who had been subjected to a sustained strangulation. I’m quite sure Mr Walker would have ensured that he carried out the act until Mr Patten was completely dead.”

  “And you state that Mr Walker sustained injuries himself during the altercation.”

  “Yes. His death was caused by a head injury that didn’t cause immediate death but was quite swift.”

  “So you believe that Mr Walker carried out a murderous act upon Mr Patten before succumbing to his own injuries?”

  “Yes, I believe that to be the case.”

  “And what do you suspect was used as a weapon?”

  “A shovel was found next to Mr Patten’s body, and the injuries to Mr Walker were consistent with being hit by a shovel.”

  The police surgeon went on to give details of the injuries suffered by both men.

  “And what is the estimated time of death?”

  “Both men were quite cold when I examined them, and there was a hard frost last night, which was evident on their clothing. There’s no doubt that they had lain there all night. Cold conditions delay the onset of rigor mortis, so that cannot be relied upon to calculate a time of death in this case. As the settling of frost made it quite evident that the bodies had lain in the yard for some time, I estimate that both deaths occurred no later than midnight, though there is every chance that they occurred much sooner; perhaps shortly after the two men were last seen.”

  The bald, grey-whiskered clerk, Mr Lennox, was called.

  “What do you know of Mr Patten?” asked the coroner.

  “Only what we have in the admissions book,” Mr Lennox replied.

  “Which is what?”

  “His name and last known address, which was a lodging house in Southwark. He was admitted to the workhouse three weeks ago, and had visited as a casual pauper before then.”

  “Have you located any family members or friends?”

  “None. His entry in the admissions book confirms that he had no known friends or family.”

  “Do you know anything else about the man?”

  “He gave his occupation as a labourer.”

  “And what of Mr Walker?”

  “He was admitted to the workhouse seven weeks ago.”

  “And this man has family?”

  “Yes. He has a sister, Your Honour.”

  The judge called the sister, Mrs Holmes, who wore a scruffy bonnet and shawl.

  “Mr Walker was your brother, I believe.”

  “Yeah, ’e were.”

  “When did you last see him?”

  “Afore ’e went inter the work’ouse.”

  “And how was he occupied before being admitted to the workhouse?”

  “’E were a costermonger.”

  “And why did he cease that line of work?”

  “Couldn’t make it pay. ’E was buyin’ apples for more ’an ’e could sell ’em for. ’E said they ’ad summink against ’im down the market and only sold ’im rotten apples. And ’e couldn’t sell rotten apples ter no one! ’E ’ad ’is troubles, but ’e weren’t no murderer! ’E never ’armed no one, Lord’s truth!”

  “How did he end up at the workhouse?”

  “’E kept gettin’ harrested because o’ the drink, an’ then ’e got put in the work’ouse. But ’e never laid a finger on no one!”

  “He was sent to the workhouse for being drunk?” asked the coroner.

  “Yeah.”

  The bespectacled, grey-whiskered inspector was summoned to explain this. He stated his name as Inspector Ferguson of Commercial Street police station, H Division.

  “Is it true that Mr Walker was admitted to the workhouse for being drunk?” the coroner asked him.

  “He was admitted to the workhouse infirmary a number of times because he was unwell, Your Honour.”

  “Unwell from drink?”

  “As I’m not a medical man, sir, I’m unable to elaborate further, but the police doctor had certified that he was ill and sent him to the workhouse infirmary.”

  The coroner frowned. “Is the medical officer for the infirmary present?”

  Dr Kemp stood up and introduced himself.

  “Do you recall treating Mr Walker?” the coroner asked him.

  “Many times, Your Honour,” replied the doctor with a sigh.

  “And what was the nature of his illness?”

  “On each occasion he was under the influence of strong liquor, and in some instances he had sustained a wound that required dressing. He was swiftly discharged again each time, but after countless readmissions I recommended that he be admitted to the workhouse.”

  “And was he treated in the infirmary after his admission?”

  “No. My action had the desired result of keeping him away.”

  This reply was met with light laughter.

  “Are paupers the worse for drink frequently admitted to the workhouse infirmary, Dr Kemp?” asked the coroner.

  “Yes, and the matter has been a bone of contention between myself and the officers at Commercial Street station for a while. Time and again I have been awoken in the early hours of the morning to admit persons with certificates stating that they are ill when they are merely drunk. Police doctors receive a fee for certifying such cases, while I receive no fee at all.”

  “Is what the doctor says correct, Inspector Ferguson?” asked the coroner.

  “As I explained, Your Honour, I’m not a medical man and am merely guided by the advice of our own doctors.”

  The coroner shook his head and looked down at his papers. “There is a risk that we may preoccupy ourselves with matters irrelevant to this inquest. Inspector Ferguson, have you learnt anything of Mr Patten to supplement what the workhouse clerk, Mr Lennox, has already told us?”

  “I spoke to a number of the inmates, who told me that he claimed to have been born near Birmingham. The owner of the lodging house in Southwark, which was his last known address, confirmed that he was a regular visitor there and a considerate one. He had never known him to be in any sort of trouble. Mr Patten mentioned that he had also stayed in the Paddington and Millwall workhouses, when I examined their admissions books I found no further details about him. It appears that he conducted himself well and was not given to drink. He was a well-liked man who found the odd bit of work down at the docks, but not a great deal.”

  “So although the man was a pauper he was of good character?”

  “He was indeed, Your Honour.”

  “With the exception of his using foul language in the workhouse, which led to his punishment of breaking stone, that is. Can you tell us anything more of Mr Walker, Inspector Ferguson?”

  “He was very much given to drink, Your Honour. Although all efforts were made to keep substances away from him at the workhouse, he did manage to get his hands on the stuff from time to time.”

  “And he had been arrested by the constables at your station several times.”

  “Yes, Your Honour.”

  “On how
many occasions?”

  “On six occasions.”

  “For drunkenness in each case?”

  “Yes, Your Honour. He may also have been arrested by constables at other stations, but I haven’t had time to make enquiries with them yet.”

  The coroner conferred with his assistants, then addressed the jury. “You have heard all that you need to hear about these two unfortunate souls. Mr Patten was a man of generally good character, who had been tasked with breaking stone at the workhouse yesterday evening. Shortly after he began his work, Mr Walker, a known drunkard, entered the yard to fetch coal from the coal store. He made his presence known to Mr Patten for reasons we have been unable to establish. It is clear, however, that a disagreement ensued, and this altercation escalated into a physical conflict with fatal consequences for both men. Please take your time as you consider your verdict.”

  Chapter 13

  “Have you ever come across a case before in which two men have fought to the death?” I asked James as we walked down Hoxton Street after the inquest.

  Gas lamps on the path ahead of us illuminated a crowd of people leaving the Britannia Theatre after the pantomime performance.

  “Only once,” said James. “I remember two chaps fatally injuring each other in a fight outside a public house in Marylebone.”

  “Do you consider it a rare occurrence?”

  “I should say so, yes.”

  “There’s something rather odd about the case of Mr Patten and Mr Walker, don’t you think?”

  “Insofar as that it’s unusual, yes.”

  “Too unusual, I’d say.”

  “The facts of the case have been considered by Inspector Ferguson and Mr Welby.”

  “And they have concluded that each man killed the other.”

  “That’s also what the jury surmised.”

  “But no one seems willing to consider that a third person might have been involved.”

  “There is no evidence to suggest such a thing.”

  “But that doesn’t mean the possibility can immediately be ruled out! You know that, James.”

  He laughed. “Oh, Penny. Why must you question everything?”

  “Because I feel that we shouldn’t necessarily accept all that we are told. There was one dissenting voice at that inquest, and it came from Mr Walker’s sister. She strongly believed that he would never murder someone, and she knew him better than anyone else in the room. The two men were found dead in the yard, and the assumption was that one had murdered the other. But who made that assumption?”

  “Everyone. And the fact that they died in quite different ways supports it. If a third man had been involved, surely he would have used the same method for both? After all, he would have been outnumbered, and he’d have had to quickly dispatch both of them before they could do him any harm. Strangulation can take a few minutes, so how could he have done it without Walker trying to stop him?”

  “Perhaps he killed Walker first.”

  “In which case, why didn’t he also kill Patten with the shovel? Why go to the trouble of strangling him?”

  I couldn’t think of an immediate reply to this.

  “And a supposed third man might well have been injured in the attack,” continued James. “The other two would surely have fought back, in which case we’d be looking for another inmate with injuries.”

  “Has Inspector Ferguson searched for another inmate with injuries?”

  “I doubt it, as no one has seriously considered that a third person might have been involved.”

  I sighed. “I think the coroner should have called for an adjournment so that further investigations could take place.”

  “But he judged the case as it appeared. Two men fell into a disagreement, which resulted in fatal consequences. Let’s consider for a moment that a third man murdered them both. What might his motive have been?”

  “Perhaps the three of them argued. Perhaps it was a revenge attack for something one or both of them had said or done. Perhaps one man was murdered because he witnessed the attack on the other. The motive doesn’t have to be obvious or even rational; you’ve said that yourself before now, James. But the intent was there. Someone wanted those men dead.”

  “You’re not content with the explanation that Mr Walker simply succumbed to his injuries?”

  “He died from a fatal head injury, which Mr Patten supposedly inflicted upon him. Could he have throttled Mr Patten while nursing that dreadful injury? Surely such a blow to his head would have incapacitated him.”

  “It’s likely that it would have done so, but not a certainty.”

  “Nothing about this case is a certainty, but I think my theory holds just as much weight as the current theory that the two men killed each other.”

  “Then where is the third man now?”

  “He’s lying low somewhere, pleased that he has managed to get away with it.”

  “And presumably injured. I suppose we could present this theory to Inspector Ferguson; not that he’ll be happy to hear it, given that he considers the case to be closed now.”

  “The case is not closed if there’s a murderer lurking within the walls of that workhouse.”

  “How many inmates does it have in total? About five hundred?”

  “There are various assumptions we can make to decrease the number of suspects,” I said. “We can count the children out, and perhaps also the women. A lady hanging about in the men’s yard would have been easy to spot.”

  “Unless she had disguised herself.”

  “That isn’t impossible, is it? But to begin with we might assume a simpler explanation: that another man carried out the attack. After all, it would have had to be a strong woman to overpower two men. So if the women and children are ruled out, that would probably leave about two hundred men.”

  “At the maximum, I’d say.”

  “It can’t have been a patient in the infirmary as he would have been too weak or infirm to commit the violence. And it can’t have been an elderly man, so perhaps that reduces the suspect list to between one hundred and one hundred and fifty.”

  “That’s still rather a lot of possible culprits, Penny!”

  “But then we need to consider who would have been in the vicinity at the time. Some men may have been in the dormitories while others were in the day room. How many were in close proximity to the stone-breaking yard at the time the attack was carried out?”

  “We would need to question everyone and establish their alibis. Can you imagine asking Inspector Ferguson to do that on a case that is already solved?”

  “But it’s not solved.”

  “He thinks it is. And what if the findings of the inquest were correct? The police could spend all their time interviewing countless inmates only to realise that the details were exactly as described!”

  “So what do you suggest, James? Should we accept the findings of the inquest and assume that no one else was involved?”

  “That’s what everyone else intends to do.”

  “And what if there is still a murderer at large?”

  “If there’s a murderer at large he’ll strike again, Penny.”

  “And you think it acceptable that he be allowed to prowl around the workhouse in search of his next victim?”

  “No, not at all. But I must also consider the amount of police time required to investigate this properly. Although I think there is a possibility that a third person may have been involved, it is still only a theory. We have no evidence. We cannot possibly persuade the police to go around interviewing hundreds of inmates when the coroner’s inquest has already presented its findings.”

  “A little too hastily, I’d say.”

  “Yes, perhaps you’re right. But do you understand what I’m trying to say, Penny? Our hands are tied.”

  “Yes, until the next person dies.”

  Chapter 14

  Silk and satin dresses with velvet designs continue their trend in evening wear. Velvet stripes, spots, leaves and flowers
are proving particularly popular this season, while velvet bodices and lace skirts trimmed with velvet are more in vogue than ever. Tulles and gauzes are lightly draped and decorated with appliquéd flowers.

  Pale china pink is teamed with myrtle green or bronze, though Louis green, a bright shade of emerald, is also making an appearance. Black lace remains popular for evening wear, especially when worn with a contrasting colour.

  In Paris, emu feathers are replacing ostrich feathers in hats. These can be curled into little rings or arranged as a long plume.

  “This piece of writing seems rather lacklustre for you, Miss Green,” my editor commented as he read it through.

  “I can’t say that I enjoy writing about fashion, sir,” I said. “I find it rather tedious.”

  “A good reporter can turn her hand to anything, Miss Green.”

  “I realise that, but it’s difficult when the topic holds no interest at all.”

  “It doesn’t matter what interests you, Miss Green. It’s what interests our readers that sells copies, and any ladies’ column would be incomplete without a few notes on the subject of fashion.”

  “Ladies are interested in other things too, Mr Sherman.”

  “Of course they are, but the purpose of the ladies’ column is to include topics that are not currently featured elsewhere in the newspaper. Ladies can read all about parliament and the money markets if they so wish and then turn to enjoy these lighter topics. I think you’ll find that a few gentlemen may also have a surreptitious read of the ladies’ column.”

  Edgar gave a loud laugh. “You wouldn’t find me reading it, sir!”

  “Why not? It might enlighten you on a matter or two.”

  “Trivial matters, perhaps.”

  “Are you saying that ladies’ interests are trivial?” I asked Edgar.

  “Quite a lot of them are, yes. Many of them are to do with running the home, in which case decor and menus are important. And appearance is also important to a lady, isn’t it? She must run a respectable home and look respectable at the same time.”