‘He had no spring in his heels when I saw him,’ grunted Goodwin.

‘He had injured himself attempting a prison escape, and his old profession was closed to him. When he came out of prison in 1877 he accosted Mrs Antrobus and offered to murder her husband, believing, despite her assurances to the contrary, that on his death she would become rich and he would live off her.’

Goodwin gave her a curious stare. ‘Did he now?’ He seemed about to say more but closed his mouth firmly.

‘I think he followed Mr Antrobus to Bristol. Perhaps he hoped to find an opportunity to kill him there but failed, and the two were seen at the railway station together on their way back to Paddington. He was later seen in possession of Mr Antrobus’ bag and signet ring.’

‘So the body has not yet been found?’

‘No, and it may never be.’

‘Neither man was seen alighting from the train?’

‘I believe not. Of course Paddington is such a very busy station.’ She prepared to depart. ‘I will let you know if I discover anything further. The case has become of greater importance to me now, in view of the fact that I will soon become related to the family.’

‘Related?’ he exclaimed. ‘How so?’

‘My uncle, Mr Cornelius Martin, a widower, is due to announce his engagement to Miss Pearce. It has all been a little sudden, but I am happy for them both.’

Dr Goodwin appeared anything but happy.

Frances faced him across his desk, placed her hands upon its surface and leaned forward to speak in a firm and earnest manner. ‘I don’t know what it is that you know, but I beg of you to reveal it either to me or to the police. I think that you are concealing something, not from a sense of guilt but out of a desire to protect a reputation. But think of this: murder has been done, and who knows but it might be done again? Imagine the guilt you will feel should a life be lost and you know that you could have saved it by speaking out. The choice is yours to protect either a reputation or a life.’

He was silent, but she had said enough and left him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

On Sunday afternoon, after the cool quiet of church followed by a simple luncheon, there was a family tea party at Craven Hill to celebrate the betrothal of Miss Charlotte Pearce and Mr Cornelius Martin. The happy couple were joined by Harriett Antrobus, Frances and Sarah in Mrs Antrobus’ private parlour, and Cornelius had thoughtfully engaged a tidy little maid to fetch and carry so his affianced lady should not have to trouble herself.

There was quiet conversation over the wooden cups and plates, and Cornelius revealed that he had spoken to Mr Lionel Antrobus who had agreed to his renting the upper part of the house after the wedding. Only immediate family would attend the ceremony, and Harriett had consented to be matron of honour. Shyly, Charlotte asked Frances if she would be bridesmaid and hoped that Sarah would be one of the witnesses. After receiving their warm agreement there was much talk of gowns, Cornelius maintaining a cheerful silent smile, despite the inevitable expense that must follow.

The maid, who had been well instructed, moved about as if afraid to make any noise at all. Charlotte was just about to ring for the girl to freshen the teapot when she appeared at the door. ‘If you please, Miss, I’m very sorry to intrude, but there’s two policemen say they want to talk to you very urgent. I tried to put them off, but —’

Cornelius rose. ‘I will deal with this,’ he said, but before he could do so, Inspector Sharrock walked in.

‘Oh,’ gasped the maid, ‘I am sorry —’

Sharrock looked about him at the company and the tea table. ‘Well this is very nice.’

‘Inspector, your visit is most inconvenient,’ Cornelius protested. ‘This is a family celebration. Can you not return another day?’

‘Please can everyone moderate their voices,’ asked Mrs Antrobus faintly, holding her hands over her ears.

‘Yes, let us be calm and do as Harriett asks,’ agreed Charlotte. ‘Elsie, bring more hot water, please.’

‘I don’t think so,’ said Sharrock, barring the maid’s way. ‘Elsie, you be a good girl and sit quiet in that corner. My business isn’t with you, but I want you to stay here.’

Frances saw that he would not be deflected. The maid, who was retreating to a chair looking very frightened, had, she noted, announced the arrival of two policemen, yet only Sharrock had entered the parlour, and Frances wondered what the other one was doing. ‘Might I at least request that your business be completed swiftly so we may continue our celebration?’ she said. My uncle and Miss Pearce have just announced their betrothal.’

Sharrock did not share the joy of the company. He had not been offered a seat, but nevertheless he sat down. ‘I am investigating the murder of Mr Jonathan Eckley and have made a list of all persons who might have had a motive to kill such a highly respected gentleman. You know of his quarrel with Dr Goodwin, however I am satisfied that the doctor has an alibi for the time of death. I have also interviewed all the teachers recently dismissed from the school by Mr Eckley, which was very interesting since they were all deaf. Funny business that. However, I have been able to eliminate all of them from my enquiries. Mr Isaac Goodwin is also not under suspicion for that crime. Recently I was supplied with some documents relating to work carried out for Mr Eckley by a private detective.’

Cornelius glanced questioningly at Frances, and Sharrock smiled wryly. ‘No, on this occasion it was not Miss Doughty, but another, less illustrious member of that profession. Amongst those documents was a list of names: the persons he had interviewed on the subject of Isaac Goodwin, whose parentage he had been engaged to discover.’

‘Then you will know that the detective came here and spoke to us,’ said Harriett. ‘He said that he was interviewing all former patients of Dr Goodwin and their families.’

‘Indeed, and his account of that interview shows that while you believed your mother was once a patient of Dr Goodwin, you had no information to impart regarding Mr Isaac.’

‘Yes, that is so.’

Sharrock pulled a notebook from his pocket and thumbed through the pages. ‘Following that interview, however, Miss Pearce paid a visit to Dr Goodwin. Is that not the case?’

All eyes turned to Charlotte. ‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘I thought he should be warned about the enquiries, as it seemed to me that someone was attempting to defame him, and it has always been my belief that he is an honourable man.’

‘During your conversation with Dr Goodwin, he mentioned to you that he knew who was employing the detective, in fact he told you that it was Mr Eckley.’

‘Yes, he did.’

‘But having warned the good doctor about the detective, and discovered that he already knew about him, I would have thought that you had done all that was required.’

‘Inspector, where is this leading?’ Cornelius demanded.

‘All will be clear in a moment, Sir,’ said Sharrock. ‘The thing is that shortly after Miss Pearce called on Dr Goodwin, a lady who had taken care to wear a thick veil called on Mr Eckley and demanded a private interview. Now the maid who admitted her did not of course see her face, but the case being curious she took note of the lady’s dress and height, and it was distinctive enough that she felt sure that she would be able to recognise her again.’ He consulted his notes. ‘Woven braid used to mend the cuffs of the gown and an unusual padded bag. I am in very little doubt that the lady in question was Miss Pearce.’

Charlotte took a deep breath. ‘I do not deny it. I went to beg Mr Eckley not to continue his pursuit of a good and innocent man.’

‘That was very kind and brave of you my dear,’ soothed Cornelius, patting her hand.

‘If the ladies would be good enough to let me know where they were on the night of the murder of Mr Eckley?’ asked Sharrock. ‘That would be a week ago last Wednesday? About eight o’clock?’