by Emily Organ
“My colleague, Chief Inspector Fenton of Bow Street, has arrested a suspect, but there is quite a bit of evidence to gather yet. If he decides to charge him with your sister’s murder I will let you know as soon as possible.”
“Thank you, Inspector.”
James cleared some space on his desk at Scotland Yard and we began to lay out Anna O’Riley’s papers.
“There are some receipts here that may prove useful,” he said. “She had some boots re-heeled at a place in Panton Street… And she bought a hat from a milliner in Lexington Street.”
“I have some more receipts here,” I said. “She appears to have kept everything of a practical nature, but very little personal information.”
“I’ll keep looking through the receipts,” said James. “Would you be able to look through the letters? From what I can see here, Anna O’Riley’s main correspondent was a lady named Elizabeth Radnor.”
I spent some time reading the letters from Elizabeth Radnor but found them to be fairly conversational and unremarkable.
“What have you found out?” asked James as I folded up the last one.
“Mrs Radnor lives in Wimbledon with her husband and five children. She seems to have been a neighbour of the Davies family at one time. She expresses surprise at Anna’s decision to change her name.”
“Do you think Anna explained why she did so?”
“I don’t think she did. Mrs Radnor was aware that Anna was working as a waitress at Le Croquembouche and commented a few times on how she enjoyed hearing Anna’s interesting news, as her own life in Surrey was rather dull in comparison.”
“Perhaps Anna told her about the wealthy, powerful men she had befriended.”
“Yes, I get the impression that she did.”
“How far do the letters date back?”
“Two years. That seems to have been the time when Anna left Islington and became a waitress.”
“And the mysterious Mrs Adams met her a few months later, at the beginning of 1883. Is there any suggestion that Anna and Elizabeth have met together in the last two years?”
“No. Letters appear to have been exchanged once every month or two, but there has been no mention of any meeting.”
“Anna O’Riley kept her distance from most people, didn’t she? Elizabeth must have been quite important to her if she kept up the correspondence. After all, it was more contact than she had with her own family.”
“I think Anna may have confided in Elizabeth more than she confided in anyone else. Elizabeth’s final letter was received last month, and in it she asks Anna to be careful and to look after herself.”
“Which suggests that she was worried about her,” said James. “Well, there’s only one way to discover more, and that is to visit Elizabeth ourselves.”
Chapter 46
“I received a telegram bearing good news this morning,” said James the next day as we took the train from Waterloo to Wimbledon. “It came from Inspector Raynes and informed me that Jack Shelby has been arrested in Paris.”
“That is excellent news!” I said. “So the Pinkertons finally got their man!”
“They did indeed. It will be interesting to see how willing he is to talk. I replied to Raynes, asking him to remind Mr Russell that we would like to know whether Shelby sold those forgeries to Gallo.”
“That would be of great help to the investigation,” I agreed.
“Last night I read through the rest of the papers we found in Anna O’Riley’s room,” he continued. “I brought a few with me that looked interesting.”
“Most of these are receipts,” I said once he had handed them to me.
“But they are interesting, nonetheless,” said James, “as they allow us to identify her movements during the last few weeks of her life. I spent some time looking up the different shops on a map, and it seems that she spent a good deal of time around Mayfair and Covent Garden.”
“What does that tell us?”
“Not a great deal at the moment, but it might tie in with something we discover later. There are also a few letters from a chap named Augie.”
James handed them to me and I began to read.
5th September 1884
Dearest Clara,
What a pleasure it was to make your acquaintance again after all these years! Must I really address you as Clara from now on? It feels rather peculiar when I have only ever known you as Anna. That said, perhaps it is no different from me using my pen name.
I think it was fate that drew me to Le Croquembouche. Never could I have imagined that I would set eyes on you there! The timing couldn’t have been better, as I have been feeling the recent loss of my dear mother quite keenly. We laid her to rest in the catacombs last week, and I will freely admit that I have since visited the place every day. There she lies in a casket, as if she were still here among us in the land of the living. It would be far easier had she chosen to be buried instead. If she were deep in the ground I feel sure that I would be more accustomed by now to the fact that she is gone forever.
Do write and send me your sympathy. I shall remain at this address for a few days longer.
Your affectionate friend,
Augie
“What a dreary letter,” I commented.
“It’s clear from the other letters that she did not respond,” said James.
“I’m not surprised,” I said. “She appears not to have encountered him for several years, and then he expects a sudden outpouring of sympathy from her. I feel sorry that his mother has died, but there was no need for him to be quite so self-pitying. It’s interesting that he mentions a pen name, however. It suggests that he’s a writer.”
I quickly read the next letter Augie had sent.
21st September 1884
Dearest Clara,
I was disappointed not to receive a reply to my last letter. Perhaps you didn’t receive it. I hope you gave me your correct address and not a false one! Such a deceit would be most harmful to a fellow in my current state of mind. But I shall give my Anna (I simply cannot get used to Clara!) the benefit of the doubt. Are you still employed at Le Croquembouche? I dined there yesterday evening in the hope of seeing you.
I had a dream last night that we were flying a kite together in Highbury Fields once again. Do you remember that afternoon? It always seemed to be summer in Highbury Fields. I yearn for those years when life was simple and each new day was filled with something new. Oh to be young again! Not that we’re old, Anna, but I noticed there were more cares in your face when I saw you last. If anything is troubling you, you can tell an old friend. Please remember that. Perhaps you would consider taking a stroll with me one afternoon to the catacombs where Mother has been laid to rest. She was so fond of you.
Your affectionate friend,
Augie
I gave a shiver. “What an invitation! Imagine being asked to visit Augie’s mother in her catacomb!”
James gave a laugh. “It’s rather morbid, isn’t it?”
“Who is this Augie, I wonder?”
“I’m hoping that Mrs Radnor might know something of him.”
I looked at the address written on his second letter. “It’s a different address from the last one. He appears to have been staying in boarding houses on both occasions.”
“And both are in West Norwood,” said James.
Elizabeth Radnor lived in a large, detached house on a hilly, tree-lined street in Wimbledon. A light dusting of snow had frozen overnight, making our way rather slippery.
“Oh dear, what has happened?” asked Mrs Radnor as the maid led us into the drawing room and announced who we were.
Mrs Radnor was a plump lady with fair hair. She wore a pale blue satin dress with lace at the throat. I could hear children playing somewhere in the house and a pleasant smell of baking wafted up from the kitchen.
James asked her to be seated before breaking the news that Anna O’Riley was deceased. She held her head in her hands for a while, and her shoulders shuddered. James rang the bell
for the maid.
“What’s ’appened, ma’am?” the maid asked, rushing to her mistress’ side.
“I’m all right. Thank you, Katie.”
“Would you like your salts, ma’am?”
“I shall be fine in a moment.” Mrs Radnor sat upright and began to compose herself. “I have just received some sad news, but I shall be quite all right. Please will you fetch us all some tea? Make sure that the sugar bowl is nice and full.”
“We have been reading your letters to Anna O’Riley,” I said once she was more composed. “That’s how we found out about you. She led a secretive life, on the whole, but you appear to have been one of the few people she confided in.”
Mrs Radnor gave a sad smile and clutched her handkerchief tightly in her hand. “I can’t say that she completely confided in me, but she gave me some idea of what her life involved. I grew concerned when she told me she had changed her name to Miss Clara Hamilton. I realise it was because she didn’t want people to know she had once been married, but it seemed most odd to me at the time.
“I’m lucky, I suppose, because I have my husband and my children, and Wimbledon is such a delightful place to live. I don’t need anything else. She could have had all that, but then she lost her husband and her little boy too, and it was just all so awful. That’s when she first wrote to me. I hadn’t heard from her for a while, though we had been good friends when we both lived in Islington. We were neighbours in Compton Terrace.”
“Was she on bad terms with her parents and siblings?”
“I wasn’t aware of them falling out, and they seemed to get along. But she had enjoyed the closeness of her marriage, and the love she felt for her son was all-consuming.” She paused to wipe her eyes. “It must have been devastating for her.”
“What did she tell you about her life, Mrs Radnor?” asked James as the maid brought in a tea tray.
“She told me she made a good income, and that was important to her. After her husband died she had been worried about not having enough money. She had briefly lived with her aunt and uncle after she was widowed, but she had no wish to make it a permanent arrangement. Her parents had both died by then, which was a sad shame. Mr and Mrs Davies were lovely people.
“Anna found herself some work at a restaurant in Westminster, and she liked the people she met there. She told me she enjoyed their company. It was clear from her letters that she was impressed by some of the important men who dined at the place, and she was flattered whenever they showed her any attention.”
“Do you still have the letters she sent you?” James asked.
“Yes, I kept them all.” Mrs Radnor rang for the maid and instructed her to fetch the letters from the desk in the morning room.
“I looked forward to reading her letters, because one day can be very much like all the others when you’re running a household,” she continued. “Sometimes my life can feel rather dull. I wouldn’t change it for the world, but I must say that I liked reading Anna’s stories about the people she had met, the places she had dined and the hotels she had stayed at.
“I asked if I could visit her a few times, but she didn’t agree to a meeting, and I surmised that she wished to keep her work a secret. She preferred to keep me at arm’s length, I suppose. Some would say that it was perhaps inevitable that her profession would lead to immorality, but I was surprised by it, as she had never seemed to be that sort of woman. I couldn’t help thinking that there was more to it than she had shared with me.”
The maid returned with the letters.
“Thank you, Katie.” Mrs Radnor began to leaf through them. “This is an interesting one… particularly this part here: ‘I receive invitations to dine at exclusive restaurants, and I’ve been to parties in all manner of locations. I have seen the insides of many fascinating homes and palaces now, and have made a number of interesting acquaintances. I cannot call them friends, as this is not a way of life in which one makes close friends. But my assumed name allows me to inhabit a world that is so unlike the one I’m from. There is no need for my new acquaintances to know anything about me. All that matters is how I make them feel. I can assume a completely new identity; one that fits with the locations and the parties and the people I encounter. Few of them are interested in me, but they like talking to me because I listen. They enjoy my company, and it matters very little to me that they don’t know who I really am.’”
Mrs Radnor paused as she folded the letter back up. “It’s not a way of life I would choose myself, but it obviously interested her. It took a great deal to hold Anna’s attention, as she grew bored rather easily. I only began to worry when she told me in later letters that she felt fearful.”
“Could you find one of those letters for us?”
“I think so. Let me have a look.”
We waited as Mrs Radnor leafed through the pile. “Here we are. This was the last letter I received from her, dated the thirteenth of October: ‘I no longer work as a waitress, but I have continued my work as a paid companion. I am able to earn a decent wage doing this sort of work; however, if anyone asks me I still tell them I am a waitress. Thank you for reassuring me that you won’t breathe a word of this to anyone else. I have always been able to rely on your confidence, and I am so happy that you continue to be a good friend to me.
“‘Much of my life requires some sort of pretence. I must pretend to the outside world that I still work as a waitress, and I must pretend to my patrons that I find every ounce of their conversation fascinating. I’m happy to be able to send money to my aunt and uncle each month. They were so terribly saddened by Ma’s death. I have made excuses not to see them because I know that they will ask me where the money comes from and what sort of job I have. Although I am quite good at pretending these days, I am hopeless when it comes to the people I care about the most.
“‘There is another reason I pursue this sort of work, and perhaps I will explain it to you some day in the future. Although I am not breaking any laws that I know of, and am freely entering into it, I sometimes worry about the risks I have to take and the possible consequences.’” Mrs Radnor folded up the letter and placed it on the table. “I wish she had been able to explain that more.”
“Anna was working as a spy,” said James.
“Was she?” Mrs Radnor had a dubious expression on her face. “Are you quite sure about that?”
“We know it for certain, and have already spoken to some of her colleagues.”
She gave a sigh. “Well, who would have thought it? I suppose it makes sense when you think about it. Perhaps I can understand now what she really wanted from these men. I think she would have enjoyed the challenge of obtaining important information from them. It was such a dangerous job, though, and I can only suppose that someone found her out. People don’t take too kindly to being deceived, do they?”
“They certainly don’t,” said James.
“Do you have any idea who might have murdered her?” Mrs Radnor asked.
“There are several suspects,” said James. “My colleagues at Bow Street station already have a chap under arrest.”
“Oh, that is good news.”
“But there is a lot of work to be done yet.”
“Did Anna mention anyone she had met by name?” I asked Mrs Radnor.
“I don’t recall many names being mentioned. I think she was keen to keep their identities a secret.”
“Did she elaborate any more on the risks involved or the possible consequences?” I probed.
“No. That was the most she ever said on the subject.”
“Are you aware of anyone in particular she felt threatened by or worried about?” asked James.
“No one I’m aware of. If there was, she didn’t tell me about him.”
“Do you recall Anna being acquainted with a man who called himself Augie?” I asked.
Mrs Radnor shook her head. “No, I’m not familiar with that name.”
“What about Augustus?”
“Oh, of cou
rse. That’s what it’s short for! Yes, there was an Augustus. He and his family lived in the same street as us in Islington.”
“Compton Terrace,” confirmed James.
“Yes, that’s the one.”
“Can you recall his surname?”
Mrs Radnor thought for a while. “I really don’t remember, and I wonder now whether I ever knew it. I don’t believe I did, come to think of it. I only ever knew him as Augustus. He was a little older than Anna and me.”
“What was he like?”
“Quite tall. And pleasant enough, although I think he was rather shy. He seemed to be very fond of Anna.”
“Was the feeling reciprocated?”
“No, I don’t think it was. She was polite to him and would converse with him when the necessity arose. We didn’t like to upset him because he had a bad temper.”
“Did you ever witness an angry outburst?”
“A few times, but it was only ever short-lived.”
“We have already spoken with Anna’s sister,” said James.
“Which one?”
“Margaret. She still lives in Islington.”
“Oh really? I must visit her. I haven’t seen her for many years now. With this awful news in mind, I must go and pay my respects.”
“I’m sure she would appreciate that,” said James. “She told us Anna had once fallen in love with a man who lost his life on a railway track.”
“Oh yes, that was absolutely dreadful!”
“When did that happen?”
“About a year before she married Mr O’Riley. It must have been about seven or eight years ago. His name was Walter Campbell.”
“Was his death an accident?”
“Yes. He had been drinking at the Drayton Park Hotel in Highbury. On his way home he fell off the bridge that crosses the railway line where the track runs beneath Drayton Park.”
“How did he manage to fall off the bridge?”
“People say that he was walking along the wall. It’s the sort of foolish thing men do when they’ve had too much to drink, isn’t it? Then he fell, and a train came and… Perhaps someone could have climbed down and saved him if a train hadn’t got there first. Or perhaps he was already too injured by then. I don’t know. Anna was distraught.”