Sidney Chambers and the Perils of the Night

by James Runcie

  Sidney spent the Monday morning of Holy Week giving Hildegard a tour of the college so that she would know where everything was when she practised in Orlando’s rooms.

  He had chosen to enter via St Bene’t’s Church rather than the Porter’s Lodge as he thought it best to start on the site where the college had been founded. He then ushered Hildegard into the formal nineteenth-century elegance of New Court with its prominent chapel. To its right and left there were the library and the hall. This triangular arrangement of buildings reflected the balance between academic, spiritual and social life in the college community.

  Sidney’s careful explanation of this fact was marred, however, by an argument in front of the library. Charlie Crawford, carrying a large roll of copper wiring, had been heading towards G staircase where Adam Cade, the junior bursar, stopped him. It was clear that Dr Cade had some form of protest, either about the nature of the rewiring or its ever-increasing cost, and Charlie was seen to drop the copper and fold his arms. He then made off, in haste, to the Porter’s Lodge where, Sidney felt sure, a complaint would be issued.

  ‘Oh dear,’ he observed. ‘I think that’s best avoided.’

  Hildegard kept peering into the narrow openings that separated the more formal buildings. She remarked that nothing was quite what it seemed: behind the bright spacious courtyards lay dark corners, eerie passages and narrow stairs. ‘It’s like living in a monastery,’ she said.

  ‘I think that was the founders’ idea. A secluded world of scholarship, without distraction.’

  ‘With women offering the greatest danger of distraction, I suppose. What happens when a fellow wants to get married?’ she asked.

  ‘They move out; although they keep their rooms for tutorials. And they still dine in college.’

  ‘It must be lonely for the wives.’

  Adam Cade crossed the court to say hello and Sidney made the necessary introduction, pointing out that Hildegard was staying with Charlie Crawford’s sister.

  ‘Well I hope he doesn’t display the temper at home that I’ve just experienced here.’

  ‘I have not seen it,’ Hildegard assured him. ‘Is something the matter?’

  ‘Something is always the matter with Crawford. That man would start a fight in an empty room. If he stopped complaining and got on with the rewiring it would have been done by now. He’s left stuff all over the place, even though I have told him repeatedly about my need for tidiness and cleanliness so that I can concentrate on my work. I’ve had to ask him to leave it and clear it all up over the weekend. I’m late to deliver a book to my publisher and I can’t lose any more time.’

  ‘He is worried about money, I think.’

  ‘So he’s complained to you as well, Mrs Staunton? That’s not very discreet. I’ve warned him that he needs to be much more meticulous about his overtime sheets. He can’t make rough approximations and charge what he likes. The figures don’t add up and I don’t believe that he has done as much work as he says he has. But then I’m no electrician. College administration can be such a bore. You’re lucky to be able to swan in and out, Canon Chambers. I think it must be fun being a clergyman.’

  ‘I do have my cares as well,’ Sidney replied firmly. ‘But I admit that there are benefits to the priesthood.’

  ‘Not least, the companionship of your charming guest, I should imagine.’

  Sidney thought it time to explain. ‘Mrs Staunton is a pianist and Professor Richards has kindly lent her his rooms in which to practise.’

  ‘I hear he keeps clearing off to Peterhouse. I wish I could do the same.’

  Hildegard was concerned. ‘I hope I will not disturb you.’

  ‘I do not think you will. Professor Richards and I have had many a discussion about the relationship between music and mathematics.’

  ‘It is close,’ Hildegard observed.

  Dr Cade appeared grateful for her interest. ‘We talk about mutual codes, repeated patterns and numerological similarities. But you probably don’t want me to bang on about all that. I look forward to hearing you play.’

  ‘I am sure I am not as able as Professor Richards.’

  ‘That may be the case, although I suspect that you are being modest. If it is true, then I do not doubt that you more than make up for any lesser ability with charm.’ Cade lifted his hat.

  Sidney took Hildegard to the Porter’s Lodge and explained the arrangement with Orlando Richards. Hildegard would practise for two hours every morning and afternoon for the next few days and Sidney would collect her every lunchtime. The head porter, Bill Beagrie, took a dim view of letting a woman have such a free run of the college, particularly one that was German, but once Hildegard had spoken to him his fears were allayed. Sidney assured him that he might even enjoy the sound of preludes and fugues wafting their way from an upper room in the south-easterly corner of New Court.

  Sidney was happy that her piano practice left him time to perform his duties without losing out on the pleasure of lunch and dinner in her company. He felt sure that her presence could ease the penitential pattern of Lent.

  Such hopes, however, were forlorn and short-lived. The following morning, Hildegard’s practice session was interrupted by a scream from Doris Arnold, the bed-maker who had been cleaning the room opposite.

  Inside lay the figure of Adam Cade, junior bursar and Research Fellow of Mathematics, dead in his bath.

  On being informed of this untimely demise, Sidney felt not only immense sorrow for the unexpected loss of so young a life but anxiety about the effect of the news on Hildegard. He prayed that there was nothing suspicious about it. He did not want any investigations to take place while she was staying.

  Dr Michael Robinson pronounced the cause of death as heart failure, which was somewhat strange as Dr Cade had only just celebrated his thirty-fifth birthday. ‘He’s a bit young for that, don’t you think?’ Sidney asked.

  ‘He was very highly strung. And I’m told he tended to work through the night. He had a set routine. Having a bath very early in the morning was his way of taking a break.’

  ‘And there is nothing unusual about his demise?’

  ‘No, Canon Chambers, nothing at all. It is unfortunate that he had the attack and then appears subsequently to have drowned in the bath but this is not, in itself, unusual. Death comes to us all and there are times when people are unlucky. He had a weak heart. He was alone. He could not summon help.’

  ‘You mean that, had he not been in his bath, he might have survived?’

  ‘That is possible.’

  ‘But he was looking so well . . .’ Hildegard observed.

  ‘Sometimes that makes very little difference,’ the doctor replied.

  Hildegard was in no state to continue with her piano practice and Sidney suggested that it might be best if she went back to her lodgings for a lie-down. There, however, she was met by Charlie Crawford.

  He was ranting.

  Professor Todd had insinuated that Dr Cade’s heart attack could have been caused by his inability to work as normal. The stress induced by the rewiring of the college, the costs involved and the difficulties in finding time to fit his academic commitments around his duties had proved fatal. Ceaseless complaint from certain college workers, and Crawford in particular, could only have added to the pressures upon him as junior bursar, and a review of the events leading up to the death was therefore in order.

  ‘They’re going to try to pin the whole thing on me, I can tell. But it was a heart attack, plain and simple. Then the man drowned. I’ve done nothing wrong.’

  ‘They will try and find something,’ his sister warned. ‘I’m sure they’ve been looking for an excuse to get rid of you.’

  ‘The head porter will back me up.’

  ‘That may not be enough.’

  ‘I can ask Sidney,’ Hildegard offered. ‘I am sure he would say something.’

  ‘I don’t think they take much notice of clergymen. All I do know is that Todd’s got it in for me.’


  ‘But why?’

  ‘They’re cooking the books.’

  Hildegard was bemused. ‘I do not understand that phrase.’

  ‘They’ve both got their hands in the college till. They stint on the workers and help themselves to whatever money they can. It’s one law for them and another for the rest of us.’

  ‘Did they know that you thought like this, Mr Crawford?’

  ‘I told them all the time.’

  ‘And what did they say?’

  ‘That if I didn’t like it I could go and work somewhere else.’

  ‘And why didn’t you?’

  ‘Because they owe me so much back pay. If I left I’d never get it unless I went to court. And then God knows what would happen. My old man spent enough time with the law to last the rest of us a lifetime.’

  ‘There’s no need to go into that now,’ his sister counselled.

  ‘They pretend to be fair but there’s only one thing they’re concerned about and that’s themselves,’ Charlie replied.

  The following morning the Master telephoned to ask if Sidney could pop over and discuss Dr Cade’s funeral arrangements. He was sure that Easter would make a difference, but he hoped the event could be kept as low-key as possible. ‘I don’t want the college acquiring a bad reputation. We’ve had enough trouble as it is.’

  ‘I am not sure I can hide a funeral, if that is what you are asking,’ Sidney replied, ‘although I was wondering how much of a family Dr Cade might have. I do not think he was married?’

  ‘No, Sidney. Although he must have relations somewhere.’

  They were interrupted by the irascible figure of Edward Todd who had asked how soon they might be able to seek out a replacement for Dr Cade. He didn’t want to take on the extra burden of teaching before the summer tripos exams. ‘I can farm some of the undergraduates out to other colleges but I need to be sure that they’re not going to any duffers. The Professor of Mathematics at Fitzwilliam leaves a lot to be desired, I must say, and Catz isn’t much better.’

  ‘Was Dr Cade a good tutor?’ Sidney asked.

  ‘One of the best, I’d say,’ Todd acknowledged, ‘although he was almost certainly bound for America. He was not without ambition.’

  ‘That must be a good thing in a mathematician, surely?’

  ‘Better than in a priest,’ the Master observed.

  ‘Of course,’ Sidney replied. ‘I try not to think about aspirations.’

  ‘Nonsense. We all know that you will be a bishop one day.’

  ‘That is unlikely.’

  ‘Provided, of course, that you detach yourself from the world of crime.’

  ‘Surely a wife will help?’ Dr Todd asked.

  Sidney tried to contain the conversation to matters in hand. ‘I don’t have any marriage plans.’

  ‘That’s not what it looks like, if you don’t mind my saying so.’

  Sidney did, indeed, mind him saying so. ‘How things look and how things are can often be very different matters,’ he replied, hoping that he could escape this subject as quickly as possible.

  ‘Your friend is staying with Crawford’s sister, I believe?’ Professor Todd continued before turning to the Master. ‘I am afraid I’ve had to sack him.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ the Master replied, ‘and in the middle of the rewiring. Are you sure that’s wise?’

  ‘On what grounds?’ Sidney asked.

  ‘Dr Cade was already on to him. He had started to charge whatever overtime he felt like and his attitude was surly. We can’t allow trade-union mentality to take over the college when there’s a perfectly good electrical company in town.’

  ‘But Crawford is a member of the staff. Shouldn’t we give him a warning? Isn’t it rather brutal to dismiss him out of hand?’

  ‘We need to get on with things, Master. The college needs to steady itself and concentrate on its academic duties. Everything else is a distraction. Wouldn’t you agree, Sidney?’

  ‘Of course,’ his clerical companion replied, without thinking fully about his answer.

  He was already wondering why Professor Todd should be keen to dismiss Charlie Crawford so soon and whether Dr Cade’s heart attack was all that it seemed.

  Later that day, Hildegard confirmed the news of Charlie Crawford’s dismissal and asked Sidney to intercede. ‘An injustice has been done. He is very upset.’

  Any involvement in the disciplinary proceedings of the college would have to be handled with caution. ‘Being distressed does not necessarily qualify a man for sympathy,’ Sidney replied. ‘Perhaps he is showing remorse.’

  ‘He isn’t showing any at all. In fact he is making terrible accusations.’

  ‘I suppose that is understandable.’

  Leonard Graham entered the room to refill his cup of tea. ‘You think that Charlie Crawford has been wrongfully dismissed?’

  ‘I do. He has even suggested that Dr Cade has been, I think his words were, “bumped off”.’

  Leonard Graham raised a clerical eyebrow. Sidney tried to pin down what Hildegard was saying. ‘Why on earth would he suggest that?’

  ‘He speaks very wildly. I think you should talk to him, Sidney.’

  ‘We can’t have him going all over town making accusations. Sooner or later we’ll have Keating in the college again and who knows where that will lead?’

  ‘Dr Cade was young.’

  ‘And with a weak heart. We have no evidence that there has been any malpractice.’

  ‘Charlie Crawford has been got out of the way.’

  Sidney could not believe that Hildegard was thinking along these lines. She was jumping to a conclusion that he had already begun to fear himself. ‘You are not suggesting that these two incidents are related? Surely they are coincidental?’

  ‘We witnessed an argument.’

  ‘Which would lead anyone to conclude that if Dr Cade was murdered then Charlie Crawford is the most likely culprit. So why would he suggest such a thing?’

  ‘I do not know, Sidney. But I do think that he is a man of principle.’

  ‘I tend to agree with you, but this line of enquiry will do us no good. The last thing we need is to raise the question of one man’s murder and why he died.’

  ‘Oh really?’ Leonard Graham began to wash up his teacup and saucer. ‘I thought that was the point of Easter.’

  Hildegard decided that she would eat with the Crawfords that evening. She knew that Sidney was expected at High Table and that he still had work to do on his sermon. Time spent at her lodgings would also give her the opportunity to ask her landlady a few questions.

  Sidney was grateful for her interest, and recognised that she had a logical mind and a clear, direct way of thinking, but he was concerned that Hildegard took Charlie Crawford’s suggestions so seriously. Any uncertainty would necessitate further probing and yet more distraction from his duties.

  He spoke the college grace at High Table, hoping the familiar repetition would restore his religious sensibility: ‘Benedic, Domine, nobis et donis tuis, quae de tua largitate sumus sumpturi, et concede ut illis salubriter nutriti, tibi debitum obsequium praestare valeamus, per Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen.’

  As he sat down to partake of his beef consommé, he was troubled by Hildegard’s vehemence and by the disregard of the fellows for the working men of the college. They were, it had to be admitted, an odd group of people with which to spend his time, and although they had their eccentricities, he could not believe that any of them was capable of murder.

  He observed them eating their soup in ruminative silence.

  There was Clifford Watts, Professor of History and constitutional historian. He was now an elderly don, but even in his prime he had been so flummoxed by the reduction of staff during wartime that he had needed to ask how to draw the curtains to his room at night, never having done so on his own before. Neil Gardiner, the admissions tutor and Reader in Jurisprudence, kept a private aeroplane for trips to the country. This was a man who, it was rumoured, liked to dress
up as an old lady and get himself helped across the road when the volume of bicyclists was at its height.

  Then there was Marcus Mortimer, the English don, a charming but alcoholic womaniser who took most of his tutorials while lying on the floor. So hopeless was he that Sidney had often been called in to help out his students when they were studying the metaphysical poets, after Mr Mortimer had declared the work of Donne and Herbert to be ‘too Christian’ for his taste.

  Apart from Orlando Richards, there were few dons with whom it was possible to sustain conversation. Edward Todd, the Professor of Mathematics, was particularly bad-tempered and was continually making comments about the college catering. He had recently complained that redcurrant tart without raspberries ought not to be offered, that stewed rhubarb was a weed unfit for human consumption, and that sherry should always accompany turtle soup and that it was a trivial and exasperating economy to withdraw it.

  Sidney was seated next to him at dinner that night and asked what Adam Cade had been working on at the time of his death.

  ‘I am not sure that’s relevant now.’

  ‘Perhaps not, Professor Todd, but if Dr Cade had a work that was close to publication perhaps it could be produced in his memory.’

  ‘I doubt that anyone would understand it.’

  ‘From what you said earlier, I gather that he had a growing reputation. Such a work could add lustre to the mathematical reputation of the college.’

  ‘I am not sure about that. I have a forthcoming publication myself.’

  ‘Would you care to explain what it is about?’

  ‘Percolation theory. Do you know what that is, Canon Chambers?’

  Sidney smiled ruefully. ‘I’d have to hazard a guess. Is it a study of the way in which water passes through or around rock?’

  ‘Not quite. It is a mathematical examination of the behaviour of connected clusters in a random graph. It is an attempt to model the flow of liquid through a porous body.’

  ‘You look for pattern or repeated incidence so that you can predict the flow or spread of the percolation, I imagine?’

  ‘Well, that is how I might describe it in simple terms. One predicts across two- and three-dimensional lattice structures. Two dimensions are clearly more straightforward than three but the aim is to develop a coherent theory of random spatial processes; an attempt to marry geometry with probability.’