by David Field
‘Parker will tell you that when he went to the Savoy with Mr. Wilde he had whisky and sodas and iced champagne — that iced champagne in which Mr. Wilde indulged contrary to his doctor’s orders. Parker will furthermore tell you of the shocking acts he was led by Mr. Wilde to perpetrate on that occasion. Mr. Wilde was asked in cross-examination, “Is it not true that there has been a scandal at the Savoy Hotel?” “None whatsoever,” said Mr. Wilde. But about that very extraordinary thing Lord Queensberry has referred in his letter dated 6th July, 1894.
‘It might have been that no one had seen Mr. Wilde turned out into the street, but such kind of gossip could not have arisen without going abroad and being reported in the circles in which Lord Queensberry mixed. The wonder is not that the gossip reached Lord Queensberry, but that, after it was known, this man Wilde should have been tolerated in society in London for the length of time he has. Well, I shall prove that Mr. Wilde brought boys into the Savoy Hotel. The masseur of that establishment — a most respectable man — and other servants will be called to prove the character of Mr. Wilde’s relations with his visitors. Is there any wonder that reports of a scandal at the Savoy should have reached Lord Queensberry, whose son was living a portion of the time at the hotel?
‘Mr. Wilde has not ventured to deny that Parker has dined with him, has been in his company, and has lunched with him at his rooms and at the Savoy. Mr. Wilde, seeing the importance of these facts, has made a clean breast of it. “Oh, yes,” he said, “they were perfectly innocent, nay, more, they were generous actions on my part.” It is remarkable that Mr. Wilde has given no account as to what he was doing in those rooms at the Savoy. Parker will tell you what happened on arriving there. He has since enlisted in the army and bears a good character. Mr. Wilde himself said that Parker is a respectable man. Parker will reluctantly present himself to tell you his story.
‘As to the boy Conway, Conway was not procured by Taylor — he was procured by Mr. Wilde himself. Has there ever been confessed in a court of justice a more audacious story than that confessed to by Mr. Wilde, in relation to Conway? He met the boy, he said, on the beach at Worthing. He knew nothing whatsoever about him, excepting that he assisted in launching the boats. Conway’s real history is that he sold newspapers at Worthing at the kiosk on the pier. What a flippant answer it was that Mr. Wilde gave to the question, “Did you know that Conway sold newspapers?” when he replied, “I did not know that he had previous connexion with literatures”. Perhaps, in that, Mr. Wilde thought he was clever at repartee, and was scoring off counsel whose duty it was to cross-examine him. But here are the facts.
‘After helping Mr. Wilde to get out his boat, an intimacy sprang up between them, and within a day or two Conway was taken by Mr. Wilde to the house he was occupying. If the evidence of Mr. Wilde was true — and I sincerely hope it is not — Conway was introduced to Mrs. Wilde and her two sons, aged nine and ten. Now, it is clear that Mr. Wilde could not take about the boy Conway in the condition he found him in. So what did he do? And it is here that the disgraceful audacity of the man comes in.
‘Mr. Wilde procured the boy a suit of clothes to dress him up like a gentleman’s son, put some public school colours upon his hat, and generally made him look like a lad fit and proper to associate with Mr. Oscar Wilde. The whole thing in its audacity is almost past belief. Why, if the defence had proved the fact, instead of getting it from the mouth of the prosecutor, you would have said it was almost incredible. But why did Mr. Wilde dress up Conway? If Mr. Wilde were really anxious to assist Conway, the very worst thing he could have done was to take the lad out of his proper sphere, to begin by giving him champagne luncheons, taking him to his hotel, and treating him in a manner in which the boy could never in the future expect to live.’
It had become obvious to everyone in the courtroom that Wilde, seated at a table to the rear of his counsel, was engaged in animated conversation with the instructing solicitor who sat next to him. That solicitor, in turn, leaned forward to clutch at Sir Edward Clarke’s sleeve, to speak urgently with him. Clarke picked this moment in Carson’s opening address, while he had paused to take a sip of water, to rise to his feet and address the judge.
‘My Lord, I am receipt of urgent and important instructions from my client, which I need a moment or two to discuss further with him. I see that we are now but twenty minutes short of the dinner adjournment, so if I might seek your Lordship’s indulgence for an early adjournment, during which I can take full instructions that might have a bearing on the outcome of this matter?’
‘Yes, of course,’ the judge replied with a smile. ‘If anything, I would have anticipated this a little sooner, Mr Clarke, but certainly you may have your adjournment. Two o’clock, Mr Bailiff.’
The court rose to a background of excited chatter, and Carson remained standing with a broad smile on his face, then turned and gestured for Jack to join him outside.
Jack found Carson in the main hall downstairs, surrounded by his legal team, who were chattering excitedly.
‘What’s going on?’ Jack demanded of Carson, who grinned wolfishly and placed a heavy hand on Jack’s shoulder.
‘I kept my part of the bargain, Sergeant. There can be no doubt that Wilde is about to abandon his action and will have the unique privilege of paying my fees in this matter. I now call upon you and your colleagues to do your bit — find me Lord Stranmillis.’
Chapter Nineteen
Carson clearly wasn’t the only one anticipating a capitulation by Wilde, Jack quickly discovered as he walked back up the well-worn wooden steps to the public gallery for what he hoped would be the final time. The seats immediately adjacent to the door were crammed with eagerly chattering newspaper reporters, who were obviously hopeful of a swift exit once the outcome of the trial was determined, and anxious to be the first out into the street to file their copy for the evening editions.
As he watched the jury members being led back onto their benches with hopeful smiles, Jack looked hard for any sign of Wilde himself. But he left it until the very last moment, and slunk back into court, taking an obscure seat in a corner, just as the judge was ushered back onto the Bench and looked hopefully down at Sir Edward Clarke. Sir Edward rose slowly, and announced that in view of the evidence that had been led — and which Carson was proposing to lead — he was left with no other option but to concur in a verdict of ‘Not Guilty’ being recorded against Lord Queensberry, in the sense that, whatever might be the truth of the matter, his Lordship had been justified, not only in describing Wilde as having ‘posed’ as a sodomite, but in having brought this behaviour on his part into public knowledge.
The jury were directed to enter a verdict of ‘Not Guilty’, which they did with obvious relish, and when a spattering of tentative applause broke out in the public gallery at this outcome, the judge demanded silence with the assistance of his much-used gavel. Then it was on to the matter of costs, and to no-one’s surprise, but Carson’s visible pleasure, the entire costs in the matter were awarded against Wilde, since he had instituted the proceedings.
Jack caught the next bus down to Whitehall feeling like a man released unexpectedly from a lengthy prison sentence, but he was unsure how to spend the rest of the afternoon. Uncle Percy would barely have reached Crewe, even assuming that he had been able to acquire the necessary paperwork from Chief Superintendent Bray, so there were unlikely to be any wires from him regarding the search he was planning to conduct at the salt works. However, Jack could hardly take the afternoon off so blatantly, particularly since the sudden and early end of the trial would be all over the evening papers. Instead, he could occupy his time writing up his report on the salient points of the trial so far as they would assist ongoing investigations into the extent of Wilde’s little coterie of shirt-lifters.
As Jack walked past the uniformed officers on security duty at the front entrance, one of them called out after him.
‘Sergeant Enright? Chief Superintendent Bray wants you to report to him a
s soon as you get in.’
Jack made his way up two flights of stairs into the wing of the Yard building that contained its most senior operational officers. Bray was bent over some papers as Jack tapped on the door, then stood there deferentially until Bray became aware of his hovering presence and waved him in.
‘How’s the investigation going?’
‘I’m just back from the Bailey, sir,’ Jack advised him, silently congratulating himself on not having sloped off for the rest of the day. ‘Wilde threw in the towel after the dinner break, and he’s now officially a posing sodomite. As for the search for Lord Stranmillis, I’m awaiting a further progress report from Inspector Enright.’
‘I may have been a little precipitate in signing that authorisation this morning,’ Bray grumbled as he handed over a single sheet of paper for Jack to read. ‘They’ve found a body in North Wales which may well be the chappie in question.’
Jack quickly ran his eyes over the telegram that had been dispatched the previous day from a police station in somewhere called ‘Carnarfon’, then frowned. While he was seeking the words with which to politely disagree with a very senior officer, Bray added an explanation.
‘It took a while to land on my desk, until they put two and two together with the reference to the “Oscar Wilde Theatre Group”. Presumable that’s the same Oscar Wilde?’
‘Yes, sir, but I don’t think, from the description, that the man whose body’s been found is Stranmillis. In fact, I think I know who it really is.’
‘And what makes you say that?’ Bray enquired in an irritated tone, having clearly been happily contemplating a swift conclusion to the second matter referred to the Political Branch by Carson.
‘This report describes the body as being that of a young man in his twenties, approximately six feet in height,’ Jack explained. ‘Stranmillis was in his late forties, and only five foot four. But if, as the report states, the man’s clothing contained a label claiming it as the property of Wilde’s company, then I believe that the body will prove to be that of an actor from that company who’s been missing for as long as Stranmillis, and who stole some clothing from its Wardrobe department on his way out.’
‘What’s the man’s name?’ Bray demanded, presenting Jack with a dilemma. He could hardly say ‘My wife’s been investigating that aspect of the case, entirely unofficially and at the personal request of my uncle,’ so he opted for ‘I don’t recall at this precise moment, sir, since I’ve taken to working on certain aspects of the case at home in the evenings, and my notes are there, but I can let you know first thing tomorrow.’
‘Presumably someone at this theatre can identify the man if I get a photograph of the body sent down here?’
Jack experienced a cold shudder at the prospect of advising an aspiring young actress that she no longer had a fiancé. But he smiled appreciatively, and undertook to have the body formally identified as soon as the photograph became available.
‘So assuming that your uncle has left you with the primary task that was assigned to the two of you,’ Bray continued, ‘have you identified any prominent homosexuals among the Cabinet or the royal family?’
‘Not as yet, sir, but I acquired a few more names during the trial, and I’ll be following those up.’
‘Make sure not to be side-tracked by Percy Enright.’ Bray grinned kindly. ‘He’s very good at side-stepping the difficult stuff, then demanding support from his juniors when he gets into difficulties. An excellent officer in some ways, but very impetuous, as you probably know from being related to him.’
‘You’re home early, and you’re smiling,’ Esther commented as Jack closed the front door behind him. ‘Have you been fired or promoted?’
‘Neither,’ Jack smiled. ‘Wilde abandoned his prosecution of Queensberry.’
‘Why would he do that? And get those boots off before you walk down the hall carpet. I’ve spent all morning getting mud off it.’
‘Who knows, but if I’d been him, I’d have done the same, rather than have all these pathetic young boys telling the court how Wilde plied them with money, clothes, wine, meals and so on before taking them to bed.’
Esther grimaced. ‘But presumably that means that you’ve finished your part of this business?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well, weren’t you supposed to be standing by in case the trial resulted in the dropping of some embarrassing names of people in high places? Now that the trial’s over, that surely can’t happen.’
‘No,’ Jack conceded, ‘but there’s now something else to look into that might result in a few names being dropped into the mix.’
‘Such as?’
‘Are you still posing as a seamstress at the theatre?’
Esther’s face set in a disapproving frown as she replied. ‘First of all, I never have to “pose” as a seamstress, since I am one, as your recently repaired suit trousers can testify. Secondly, who do you think was at home all morning cleaning your mud off our hall carpet?’
‘I’ll take that as a “no”.’ Jack grinned, content to have got her briefly energised for what he had to tell her.
‘I go back there perhaps twice a week,’ she advised him, ‘since I’ve done all the major repair work that was originally required, and now only go in to do running repairs as and when they’re needed. Unlike your sister, who seems to have taken to the role as if she wasn’t originally planted there by Uncle Percy. I think she sees herself as established in the profession of her dreams.’
‘That girl in Wilde’s company — Emily something or other?’
‘Emily Baxter. What about her?’
‘She’s still there?’
‘Of course, it’s her big chance to become a fulltime actress, although the woman she’s replacing is due back tomorrow, so she’ll have to revert to being the general dogsbody around the place.’
‘And it was her fiancé who we think may have impersonated Stranmillis on the train at Crewe?’
‘Yes.’
‘And he was put up to it by Patrick Ryan?’
‘So far as I can recall, yes. That was your last question before you tell me what this is all about.’
‘I think he’s been murdered.’ Jack opened up, as Esther sat listening in mounting horror. ‘A body was pulled out of the sea yesterday, somewhere on the coast of Wales. It was a young man approximately six feet tall, and the suit he was wearing belonged to Wilde’s theatre company. I’m having a photograph sent down tomorrow, and hopefully it will be a front view, because according to the brief report I read he had suffered a massive blow to the back of the head. I had a quick look at a wall map in the tea room before I left, and I’d hazard a guess that he was knocked unconscious before being heaved off the ship that he had boarded posing as Lord Stranmillis. So unless your actress’s fiancé has been in touch recently, I think she just got unengaged.’
‘How can you be sure?’ Esther queried, her hand to her mouth.
‘I can’t, obviously,’ Jack conceded, ‘but we need Emily to identify the man from the photograph, and I thought you might oblige.’
Esther went slightly pale, and shook her head. ‘I’m not sure I’d be able to do that, Jack. She’s such a sweet girl, and just about to realise her dream of becoming an actress. She’ll be devastated, and don’t you police officers do that sort of thing all the time?’
‘I wasn’t suggesting that you do it alone,’ Jack reassured her. ‘But it would be nice for you to be there when I show her the photograph, in case she goes all hysterical or something.’
‘You surely don’t propose to do it in the theatre, and expose who I really am?’
‘I don’t think there’s any more need for you to keep your connection with this case secret,’ Jack suggested, ‘and after the disgraceful stuff that came out in court about Wilde’s private life, I don’t think that the play will be running for much longer. Not with an audience, anyway. I suppose Lucy will blame me for that.’
Esther had fallen uncharacteris
tically silent as she contemplated what Jack was asking of her. ‘I’ll do what you ask, but only if the photograph you were talking about isn’t too dreadful. To be told of the loss of a loved one is bad enough, but to be shown a photograph of the body is ten times worse. And I suggest that we take her somewhere public, like a cafe or somewhere. There are plenty in that part of Victoria, and if we’re in a public place she’ll be less likely to go hysterical.’
‘That would be all to the good,’ Jack nodded, ‘since I’ll have some other questions for her that might not go down very well.’
‘Such as?’
‘Such as can she put her hand on her heart and swear that her uncle’s not capable of murder. Because if not, who did it?’
Percy was at the head of the forces of law and order as they made their way down the rough track towards the salt works. He was one of the only two not in police uniform as they headed towards the cottage occupied by Jed Blower and his dog. The other man in civilian clothing was a dog catcher employed by the local authority. He was the first to justify his place in the party as the cottage door opened, and the hound in question hurtled towards them with excited yells, then lowered itself onto its haunches a few feet away from them and growled a warning. The dog catcher — a man called Reilly — reached inside the hessian bag slung over his shoulder and, with a gloved hand, extracted a dead rabbit that he threw at the dog’s feet.
After studying it for a few seconds, the dog crawled forward on its stomach and grabbed the rabbit in its jaws, before holding it tightly between its front paws and crunching it, bones and all, in its powerful jaws. As the newly arrived party watched on anxiously the dog slowly rolled onto its side with a slight whimper, and remained motionless. Then came a yell from the cottage door, and as they looked up they were confronted by the sight of Jed Blower pointing some sort of long-barrelled firearm in their direction.