Frances had found the task she had carried out for Mr Eckley somewhat distasteful and was relieved when she felt able to report after a few more days of observation that she was satisfied that Isaac Goodwin was not teaching sign language to the pupils of the school. She went to see Eckley in his study, and he listened to what she told him with a serious expression.

‘My conclusion is that you have no grounds for action against Mr Goodwin.’ Frances produced an envelope from her reticule. ‘My invoice. I require settlement in thirty days.’ Frances did not usually provide an invoice quite so promptly but she wanted to end that particular association as soon as possible.

‘But he was seen using signs to the boys?’

‘In conversation only. How else might he speak to his friends?’

‘Hmph! He can read and write.’

Frances was losing all patience with the man. ‘Do you really intend to try and dictate how Mr Goodwin converses with his friends? I do not think you have any legal means of enforcing your wishes.’

Eckley polished his spectacles and gave this some thought. ‘Very well, you may desist from your observations for the moment. I must confess I am disappointed that they are meeting in Pembridge Mews. I had them chased out of there some months ago. I shall write a letter to the boys’ parents to advise that they will be expelled if caught loitering there again. But I do have another commission for you. Is it part of your business to look into people’s antecedents?’

‘Certainly.’

‘Then I wish you to discover the antecedents of Mr Isaac Goodwin. In particular his parentage.’

Frances had been about to make a note of his requirements but stopped, immediately suspicious. ‘This is something I often do for prospective employers, business partners and fathers-in-law. You do not appear to fall into any such category.’

He resumed his spectacles, through which he gave her a hard look. ‘If I engage you to do this it should not matter to you why I ask for the information.’

‘Excuse me, but I think it does.’

Mr Eckley was not a gentleman who was used to having his actions questioned by anyone, least of all a young woman. He pushed out his chest as if to assert his authority. Frances remained unimpressed both by his authority and his chest.

‘I must bid you good day,’ she said, preparing to leave.

‘Oh very well, if you insist,’ he said reluctantly. ‘I assume that you are unfamiliar with the paper I gave to the Milan conference on the teaching of the deaf last September?’

‘I am.’

‘In describing the many advantages of the German system I pointed out that deaf children who only learn to speak with signs are necessarily restricted to the society of other deaf children. When they are of an age to marry they will probably marry within that society. The result of an intermarriage of two deaf persons you may imagine.’ He paused. ‘Surely I do not need to explain?’

‘You do not. But your theory may not be a good one. Dr Goodwin, for example, is the son of two deaf parents and is not himself deaf.’ A thought occurred to her. ‘Did you know that when you presented your paper?’

‘I did not, but it has been pointed out to me several times since,’ he said with marked irritation. ‘My response is that it is true that he is not deaf now, but who knows that he may not become so in future?’

Frances could see why Dr Goodwin might find Mr Eckley’s position on this question somewhat insulting, adding an extra barb to his legal action. ‘And of course Mr Isaac Goodwin is not a blood relation of the doctor but adopted.’

Eckley smiled unpleasantly. ‘So Dr Goodwin would have us all believe.’

‘I am aware that there are rumours and unkind gossip regarding the parentage of Mr Isaac Goodwin, which appears to have emanated from a person who was not in his right mind,’ Frances advised him. ‘I am surprised that you take notice of such things.’

Eckley shrugged. ‘If the rumours are false then Dr Goodwin should thank me for proving that they are so; if true, they will support my theory.’

‘You claim scientific disinterest on the subject?’

‘I do.’

Frances placed her invoice on the desk, put her notebook and pencil in her reticule, snapped it shut and rose to her feet. ‘Mr Eckley, I will have nothing to do with this. It is very apparent to me that your true motive is to discover something dishonourable about Dr Goodwin, which you will then either use in your defence in the coming court case or, worse still, as blackmail to persuade him to drop the action. That would make me an accessory to a crime.’

He opened his mouth with an expression of hurt pride, an angry denial on his lips and then gave a little laugh of embarrassment. ‘You see through me, of course,’ he conceded. ‘I had heard that you are a perceptive young lady. Would you accept my guarantee that if you carried out the work your name would not be mentioned?’

‘No, Mr Eckley. I will accept my fee for what I have done so far and no more. And if I were you I would abandon this mode of attacking Dr Goodwin. Whether you win or lose it will reflect badly upon you.’

Frances gave him no further opportunity to pursue his arguments and left.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The resumed inquest on the bones found in the builders’ rubble provided little that was helpful. The owners and landladies of the demolished houses had been traced and stated that they had never observed anything that had aroused suspicion. All were adamant that they took care to check the contents of the cellar every time there was a delivery of coal, and not only had there not been a sack marked Geo Bates, all had purchased their coal from another supplier. The houses had been vacated in September 1880 and had then been securely locked. No tenants had gone missing during their term of occupation in the previous five years, and those who had departed paid their rent and left in good health.

It had been hoped to conclude the proceedings at the second hearing but Dr Bond, a man in constant demand, had been called away on another case and had not completed his detailed examination of the remains, so the inquest was adjourned for another week.

Later that same day Frances interviewed a new client, Mr Wren, manufacturer of neckerchiefs, handkerchiefs, cravats and cummerbunds. Mr Wren was a highly nervous and very angry man. His eyes flickered about the room as he explained his business, his fingertips constantly rubbed against each other and his shoulders occasionally gave a sudden twitch. It had come to Mr Wren’s notice that a business rival, a Mr Cork, had been placing advertisements in the Chronicle which had not only claimed health-giving benefits for his own products but made veiled suggestions that articles produced by Mr Wren were deleterious to the male economy. He had already instructed his solicitor to send a letter to Mr Cork ordering him to stop the offending advertisements, and publish a retraction, but the disappointing response was that nothing had been done contrary to the law. Frustrated by this, Mr Wren was determined to find something with which to attack his rival and therefore wanted Frances to examine old copies of the Chronicle to see if anything had been done in the past that was actionable. He would do it himself, he said, but it was a tedious undertaking and he did not relish the prospect, neither could he spare his clerk.

Frances did not relish it either, but it was paid work.

Sarah departed soon afterwards to pay a visit to the sender of an obscene letter to Miss Gilbert and Miss John, devoted companions and founders of the Bayswater Ladies Suffrage Society. The sender was not expecting a visit from Sarah, a fact that only added to her pleasurable anticipation. It never ceased to amaze Frances that a person could put a disgusting letter in the post and feel safe that their crime would not find them out. It had taken very little wit to track the miscreant to her home address, and the whole unpleasant episode would quickly be put to rest with a few well-chosen words. Miss Gilbert and Miss John, who declared themselves very shocked at the allegations, saying they had never heard of such a thing, preferred not to prosecute.