‘Nothing at all. Edwin and I are half-brothers and while we respected each other we were not close. We did not meet often and when we did our conversation was more of a business than a social nature. But you will want to know his character. Even Harriett will not have him as other than honest and well meaning. I do not think he would have deserted her – he was too honourable for that – although had he done so I would have found it hard to blame him. He would not, however, have voluntarily left his sons without a father. I believe that he must have met with an accident or was taken ill or was the victim of a crime. Either he has died or, if alive, is unable, rather than unwilling, to communicate with his family.’

Frances sensed that despite his protestations Lionel Antrobus did care about his brother’s fate, if only because he believed that it was his duty to protect a younger relative.

‘From his portrait there is little to distinguish him in appearance from many another gentleman of his age and class. Can you think of any way that he might be identified?’

‘He always carried business cards, and there was a signet ring that once belonged to his uncle and which he never removed. But cards may be lost or damaged and rings stolen.’

‘When did you last see him?’

‘About a week before he went to Bristol.’

‘What did you talk about?’

‘Tobacco, mainly.’

‘He did not mention Mrs Antrobus? Or his will?’

‘No. He said his sons were doing well at school and he hoped in time to create positions in the business for them.’

‘When did you discover that he was missing?’

‘That would have been two or three days after he was expected home. Harriett wrote to ask if I had seen him. I replied that I had not. I assumed at the time that he had been detained on business. It also occurred to me that he might simply be taking the opportunity of spending some additional time from home.’

‘Was it unusual for him to take additional time?’ asked Frances, wondering if there was some compelling half-life the missing man might have led.

‘He was occasionally away for longer than he had planned, but when he was delayed he would write and say so. You may read into that what you wish. I have no further information. When I heard nothing more from Harriett I assumed that Edwin had returned.’

‘When did you realise that the matter was a serious one?’

‘Some days later I received a letter from his partner, Mr Luckhurst, who said that nothing had been heard from Edwin and his friend Mr Wylie was making enquiries in Bristol on Harriett’s behalf. He agreed to send me a telegram as soon as anything was known, but after a week I decided to go to Bristol myself. I spoke to all Edwin’s known associates there and the hotel but learned nothing. I went to the house and examined all of Edwin’s papers, such as they were, but they furnished no clue as to his whereabouts.’

Frances studied her notes. ‘What of the lady to whom your brother left three hundred pounds? Mrs Davison?’

‘Edwin’s maternal aunt, a respectable widow who lives in Kent near the school. She has a pleasant villa and the boys reside with her during their holidays. I visited the school and spoke to the boys, also their headmaster who knows Edwin by sight, and they have assured me that he has not been there. I also spoke to Mrs Davison but she has not seen or heard from my brother.’

‘I have read the report of Mr Ryan the detective employed by Mr Wylie. The hotel where your brother stayed was the George Railway Hotel, the one he always used when in Bristol, and there was no evidence that he had transferred to another. Mr Ryan placed notices in the newspapers in case your brother had taken a room in a lodging house or an apartment, but with no response. None of his friends or associates said they had given him accommodation. Mr Ryan also made enquiries at the telegraph offices but it does not appear that your brother sent any messages. Either he remained in Bristol at some unknown location or returned to London or travelled elsewhere.’

‘This I already know,’ replied Antrobus, although he appeared impressed with the thoroughness of her approach. He gave a regretful shake of the head. ‘It is hard to see what more can be done. The police have all the facts, and I have kept Mr Ryan on a permanent salary to continue his enquiries. Copies of Edwin’s portrait have appeared in the newspapers.’

‘But until now the investigation has centred on Bristol where he was last seen. Perhaps the answer lies nearer to home. It is this aspect of the enquiry in which I am engaged.’

‘Then I wish you success,’ he said dryly. ‘Oh I do not underestimate you Miss Doughty. I am given to understand that men do so at their peril, nevertheless I do not see what you can possibly achieve.’

‘In your opinion,’ Frances continued, ‘who of all your brother’s acquaintances in London knew him the best?’

‘Luckhurst, since they worked so closely together.’

‘No one else?’

‘No.’

‘What is your opinion of Mr Wylie?’

‘In what respect?’

‘In every respect.’

He placed his hands squarely on the desk as a judge might have done before pronouncing sentence. ‘Do you mean is it my belief that he wishes to prove my brother is deceased in order to overturn the will and have Harriett come into Edwin’s fortune, and then marry her so that he might acquire it for himself?’

‘That is a possible sequence of events,’ Frances admitted. ‘Or he might genuinely esteem and wish to protect her and will offer to marry her in due course, even if she fails to overturn the will.’

‘I could never make him out,’ mused Antrobus. ‘He is effective enough as a man of business, but he is also, or at least appears to be, weak. Whether that is the case or merely a means of disarming suspicion, I do not know. He has never been married, or as far as I am aware wished to be; still I know nothing against his character.’

‘He pays Mrs Antrobus’ legal fees,’ Frances observed, to see how he would respond.

‘He does, and I can hardly imagine that my sister-in-law can, in her current position, be such a prize as to be worth his investment. I doubt very much that she has told him all her history. I am certain that she has not told it to you. She comes from tainted stock. Her father may have been honest but she has a cousin who has served several terms in prison for theft. If Wylie secures her,’ he added with a note of undisguised satisfaction in his voice, ‘he may live to regret it.’

Frances took her leave fearing that she had uncovered only the smallest part of the hatreds and prejudices that existed in the Antrobus family, which bubbled more violently and poisonously than the Paddington basin in summer.

CHAPTER FIVE

Kildare Terrace, where Dr Dromgoole had once lived, was a quiet leafy residential street running south from St Stephen’s church and terminating in some pleasant gardens, where wooden benches nestled amongst flowering shrubs under the shade of mature trees. Mr William Whiteley, who, whatever his faults, had been instrumental in converting Westbourne Grove from a place where businesses rarely flourished to the Oxford Street of West London had lived at No. 2 for some years.

The weather continued fine, and Frances decided to walk there from Portobello Road. Not long ago her father’s parsimony had obliged her to walk almost everywhere whether wet or dry, and by and large she had enjoyed it. She had never felt the need to protect her complexion from the sun as did so many young women who equated pale cheeks with beauty, neither had she worn the kind of gowns that might take damage from a little dust or mud and could not be made good with a stiff brush.

From a distance the sanatorium looked like any other house, apart from the small brass plate beside the door. When examined more closely the sign was smart enough to be recent and read ‘Bayswater Female Sanatorium, supervisor Dr T. Caldecott, all enquiries to Mrs Caldecott’. The house itself, however, was in need of substantial repair to the external brickwork, and the window frames were past any hope that might be afforded by a simple coat of paint.