‘A suit case, a large dispatch box and a small bag hanging on her arm.’
‘Did you put the larger case under the seat?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then did she get into the carriage?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you put the other case beside her on the seat?’
‘Yes.’
‘The seat was facing the engine and it was the first seat on the right hand side? Right hand side down the line?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did she have anything else with her?’
‘Yes, an umbrella.’
‘Did you get into the compartment as well?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you sit there and talk to her for a little while?’
‘I am not sure whether I sat or stood, but I got in.’
‘About how long were you there?’
‘About ten minutes past three we got in.’
‘After you got in did a man get in?’
‘Yes.’
‘How long had he been in?’
‘About three minutes before the train started.’
‘Then I suppose you stopped there until the train was just about to start?’
‘I got out almost immediately after the man got in. He closed the door and I opened it and got out. I stood looking into the window.’
‘When the train started, there was nobody else in the compartment but Miss Shore and the man?’
‘No.’
‘Your friend was in her usual state of health?’
‘She was very well.’
‘Was the window closed when the train started?’
‘No.’
Having established the sequence of events at the start of the journey, the Coroner turned to Mabel’s part in the events that followed the attack, taking her through the most painful and difficult part of her testimony.
‘In consequence of a message that came to Carnforth Lodge you came down here?’
‘Yes. I did not get it directly as I was at the Theatre. I caught the 11.20 train but found I could only get as far as Tonbridge and motored on.’
‘You stayed there the night, I suppose?’
‘No, I motored on.’
‘What time did you get here?’
‘About 3 o’clock.’
‘Did you see the deceased when you arrived?’
‘Yes.’
‘I suppose she was in bed?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you stay in the Hospital until she died?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did she regain consciousness during that time?’
‘No.’
‘When did she die?’
‘On Friday at five minutes to eight.’
‘Was the man who got into the carriage a stranger to you?’
‘Yes.’
‘And to the deceased?’
‘Yes.’
‘As far as you know, you had never seen him before?’
‘No.’
‘So far as you know the deceased had never seen him?’
‘No.’
At this point, the Coroner decided to close the proceedings for the day. He invited questions from the jury, but the Foreman assured him they had none. Setting the next hearing for 3 o’clock on 4th February at the Hastings Town Hall, the Coroner reminded the jury that it was important they all attend. A post-mortem had been carried out, he said, by Dr Bernard Spilsbury, and ‘several local gentlemen’ had been present. He hoped the jury would be satisfied if Dr Spilsbury and just one local medical gentleman were called. Wicks, the jury Foreman, offered no objection. He again expressed the jurors’ sympathy to the deceased’s friends, and called the assault ‘a cowardly and dastardly act.’
The Coroner offered the jury the chance to inspect the railway carriage in which Florence had been attacked, if they felt they needed to see it. Again Wicks declined on behalf of his fellow jurors, saying they did not think this was necessary. Capel Rutherford, the railway company solicitor, stepped in to ask if the carriage – which had been kept at Hastings station with its door sealed – could now be moved. But the Coroner was not ready to release the scene of the crime, however inconvenient it was for the Company. He told the solicitor, ‘I think you had better leave it for the moment. You will have notice from the police.’
With that, the first inquest hearing was over. Mabel could leave the hospital for the last time to attend the next morning’s Requiem Mass for her friend before the funeral cortege left for London. When the inquest reconvened, it would hear details of the journey, the man who got off at the first stop, Lewes, and what the railway workers found when they joined Florence in her compartment at Polegate Junction.
Chapter 21
‘With sorrowing love’
At a quarter to eight the next morning, a Requiem Mass for Florence was celebrated at Christ Church, St Leonards. As well as Mabel, the congregation included Alderman R W Mitchell JP and Councillor W Meads, representing the town, and Mr W G Kemsley, Secretary of the East Sussex Hospital. Some VAD nurses were present, and Commandant Moyse and Quartermaster Green represented the British Red Cross. Florence’s aunt, the 74 year old Baroness Farina from Tonbridge, was not present. There were wreaths on the coffin from the Matron and Staff of the Queen Alexandra’s Imperial Military Nursing Service, and the Matron and Nursing Staff of the East Sussex Hospital. After the service, the coffin was transferred to a motor hearse, for the journey back to London.
Mabel Rogers travelled back to London by train, and made her way to St. Saviour’s Church in Ealing for her friend’s funeral. The hearse carrying Florence’s coffin arrived shortly before two o’clock in the afternoon. It was taken into the church and placed on a catafalque in front of the high altar, with a Union Jack for a pall, and three lighted candles on either side. More wreaths were brought to the church from St Faith’s Nursing Home in Ealing, where Florence’s father had died nine years earlier, having been collected there. They were laid at the foot of the catafalque and along the altar rails. Mabel’s wreath bore the simple message: ‘With sorrowing love to my dear, kind friend.’ Other wreaths came from Commander Orme-Webb of the Royal Navy; the Matron and members of the QAIMNS; and the London Centre of the College of Nurses of the British Committee of the French Red Cross ‘In remembrance of work done in France’. The nurses of Carnforth Lodge, where Florence had been living, sent a wreath of arum lilies and white hyacinths ‘In loving remembrance’; others came from St Faith’s Nursing Home and from individual friends.
Every seat in the church was occupied for the funeral service, and many people stood in the aisles. The mourners inside the church included representatives from the British and French Red Cross, the London School of Nursing, the YMCA, the QAs and St Faith’s Nursing Home. As well as Mabel Rogers, several members of Florence’s family were present – her cousin Harrington Offley Shore from her father’s side of the family, now an ordained priest; and Clarence Hobkirk, her cousin from her mother’s side, a Brigadier General in the Army. The service was conducted by the Reverend A C Bucknall, the vicar of St Saviour’s. The choir sang ‘Praise to the Holiest in the Height’, and ‘Now the labourer’s task is o’er.’ And as Florence’s coffin was carried from the church, the organ played ‘O Rest in the Lord.’
Outside, large crowds lined the streets for some distance from the church during the funeral service; foot and mounted police had to clear a passage for the procession which took the coffin to the City of Westminster cemetery in Hanwell for interment. The hearse containing the flag-draped coffin was followed by five other cars of mourners, and hundreds of people waited at the cemetery to witness the interment. The cortege passed through the massive wrought iron gates of the cemetery, and Florence’s coffin was lowered into a family grave, amongst the trees between the entrance gates and the chapel, alongside her sister.
Florence’s brother Offley and his wife Caroline, now living in California, and could not attend the funeral. Offley wrote back to the QAs from his home
, the San Ysidro Ranch in Santa Barbara, to thank them for the letter of condolence he had received:
‘Dear Miss Smith
I just want to tell you how much my wife and I appreciate your very kind & charmingly expressed letter of condolence on my sister’s death: and to see that the people under whom, and with whom, she was serving appreciated her sterling worth.
We were endeavouring to get her to come out here and enjoy some rest in this near [unreadable] climate, after a long life of ceaseless devotion to her profession, when this happened.
She was a good soldier, and I am glad the end came suddenly.
With kind regard, very sincerely, Offley Shore.’
After Florence’s funeral, Mabel returned to Carnforth Lodge and her post as Superintendent of the Hammersmith and Fulham DNA. The shock of the attack, the midnight journey to Hastings, the four long days spent at Florence’s bedside, and the roles of first witness at the inquest and chief mourner for her friend of nearly 26 years, must all have taken their toll on her. But she still had final duties to perform. On 27th January, she wrote to thank the Matron in Chief and members of the QAs for the wreath sent to Florence’s funeral, and ‘much sympathy shown at her tragic death.’ And shortly afterwards, she took the lead in raising funds to create a memorial to her friend. But her actions were not universally appreciated: Mabel’s role in the aftermath of Florence’s death was the subject of angry letters between Florence’s brother Offley Shore and her cousin Clarence Hobkirk.
Offley had never liked Mabel. He believed that she had deliberately tried to isolate Florence from her family. His wife Caroline, according to her own letters, had tried to mediate in the matter:
‘Aunt Mellie and I will feel it [Florence’s death] most deeply and miss her and so will her great friend who wrote a most piteous letter to Offley – and alas, Offley feels as did Urith and Aunt Caroline – that Miss Rogers – Flo’s friend – alienated her from her family. I suppose she did, but I begged Offley not to try – in seeing more of his sister – to separate the two friends at their age – Florence was 56 – and of a most determined and pugnacious disposition – in fact these traits made her great character and worth – and I think I brought about a very much happier relationship between her and Aunt C. and also Offley – who never let go of her or lost sight of her – in spite of all her determination to lose herself among the people she worked for and cared for – and at least I flatter myself this was so.’
In spite of Caroline’s efforts, Offley’s dislike of Mabel, and his anger at her role following Florence’s death, was not tempered. On 27th February, he wrote to his cousin, Clarence Hobkirk, who was co-trustee of Florence’s estate, and administering it in London. After suggesting how Florence’s jewellery, clothing, letters and other belongings should be dispersed among the family, Offley says:
‘Re Miss Rogers’ suggested gift to the Hastings Hospital. I think £20 would be suitable but I do consider it an impertinence for Miss R. to have suggested it. I have no use for the woman, never had, and neither had Urith. Since Florence was so much attached to her, it is fortunate perhaps that she was on the spot to look after Flo. But I do not wish to be beholden to Miss R. or to have anything to do with her. I have formally thanked her for her last services to my sister. So has Lina [his wife, Caroline].’
This was followed by another letter on 3rd March:
‘I told you in my last of Urith’s and my abhorrence of that vulgarious [sic] woman’s influence over Flo and how she monopolised her to our exclusion. I now enclose you Miss Roger’s last in which, to my mind, the assured proprietorship stands out fairly clearly. She appears to forget that F. was my sister who I at least had known for 52 years.
However, I have merely told the woman that you are my sister’s executor at home & that information as to the disposal of such things as she may have at Carnforth Lodge will come through you.
What the devil she means by assuming that I should let her know if I were coming home, or hinting that (she thought) I ought to come home on such an occasion – I don’t know. But I think the vulgariance [sic] has got a bit above herself! & wants putting in her place. (You will see that I am not a Democrat).
Urith and Flo would, I think, have worked out a combined establishment somewhere if it had not been for F.’s attachment to Miss Rogers, whom Urith, at the time, did not wish to have constantly in the house.’
By May, the tone of his letters was even more furious:
‘My dear Clarence – I enclose that poisonous woman’s last to me. You really might think that she was Florence’s mother-in-law – the way she calmly appropriates her and exploits poor F’s “adventures” for her own advantage. I had thought of writing to the female and telling her what I think of her – but being of the mud and muddy she would never understand, and I think I shall leave her alone in silence.’
‘Of the mud and muddy’ is an interesting phrase: as there is nothing to suggest that there was any basis for a racial slur against Mabel, it may simply indicate Offley’s view that Mabel was socially far inferior to the Shore family. A poem by Percy Shelley called ‘England in 1819’ starts with the lines:
An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king,—
Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who flow
Through public scorn,—mud from a muddy spring,—
If Offley knew this poem, maybe he considered Mabel to be ‘the dregs of their dull race’.
The letter continues:
‘She should however send F.’s S.A. war medal and the silver she mentions in her letter to you (or as you may direct). I think a reminder to the effect that all personal property goes to the casualty’s next of kin, or to the Executor, might be useful. She has no manner of rights in keeping anything (unless she can prove that F. gave her certain things). The whole tone of the article in the Nursing magazine makes me furious! Evidently F. had no family or relations, and made her home at Carnforth Lodge!!! Ye Gods!
Whether F. ever gave those F. Nightingale letters to Miss Rogers or not I know nothing of but I should doubt it. You may bet your bottom dollar, if I were going to take a hand in any kind of memorial to F. Miss R. & her crowd wouldn’t play any kind of a part in it.
If that backboneless and [unreadable] cousin of mine: the Rev. Harrington O.S. had asserted himself at the funeral & subsequently, Miss R. would now be taking a very low seat & a silent one.’
Why Offley should be so angry with Mabel is difficult to fathom. Clearly he resented the implication that Mabel was closer to Florence than her family was; but then, Florence and Mabel had lived together in the Nurses Home for many years, while Offley and Caroline had been living abroad and only occasionally visiting England. Offley blamed Mabel for separating Florence from her family. Yet when Offley and his wife were in London, Florence came down from Sunderland to spend time with them; and when she had leave from the QAs during the War, Caroline’s letters show that Florence often spent it with her sister-in-law. The possibility that Mabel was keeping, and using, items that had belonged to Florence seemed to be a major concern for Offley, although in another letter to Clarence, he suggests that some of his sister’s belongings are sold or destroyed. Only specific items and letters are identified to be passed on to family members.
Whatever the reason for this bitter feud between family and friend, it could hardly have distracted any of the parties from the most shocking and important question at the time: who had killed Florence?
Chapter 22
The man who got off at Lewes
From the beginning of the investigation, the police had a prime suspect. After all, they had a variation of a ‘locked room’ mystery on their hands: two people had been in the compartment when the train left Victoria; one was found alone and fatally injured when the next set of passengers entered the carriage at Polegate Junction. The question was less who had committed the crime, but what his name was, and when and how he had got away from the scene. The Sussex police, the London, Brighton and South Coast Rail
way police, and Scotland Yard, which was also taking an interest, all focused their attention on the man who had joined Florence in her compartment at Victoria.
Mabel Rogers was the only person, apart from Florence, to have seen the man in daylight. She had only had a few moments to observe him, as he had joined the train shortly before departure time, just before Mabel herself got out of the carriage to wave her friend off. Mabel thought he was aged about 28 or 30, of medium height and slight build, clean-shaven, and respectable looking. His hair was medium brown. He had been wearing a brown tweed suit, ‘of rather mixed and light material’, with no overcoat – though he might have had one over his arm. He appeared to have no luggage, and no stick or umbrella – perhaps oddly, for a train heading for the coast, with its first stop scheduled for late on a January afternoon.
Since the prime suspect was not in the carriage when the platelayers joined it at Polegate, the police believed that he must have got off the train at its first stop, Lewes, at around half past four. He could not, they believed, have abandoned his journey any earlier. Although the train had slowed down passing through Gatwick and Three Bridges, it was still travelling at 30 miles per hour, too fast to allow anyone to leap out and close the door and raise the window behind them. The guard on the train, Henry Duck, had seen a man alight from the back of the train at Lewes. In fact, his manner of leaving the train had caught the guard’s attention.
The platform at Lewes station was short, and the Eastbourne and Hastings train – not yet divided to serve both destinations – was twelve carriages long, with the engine and guard’s van. The usual practice was for the front of the train to stop at the platform, then, if any passengers from the back of the train wanted to alight, they would tell the guard, and the train would move up to bring the final two carriages alongside the platform. The passenger leaving the train that Monday afternoon did not wait for this to happen. Instead, he opened the compartment door and stepped out onto the footboard, closing the door behind him before stretching along to the next compartment and then dropping around four feet down to the ground. He turned towards the front of the train and climbed up the ramp onto the platform. As the man walked past him, the guard spoke to him, asking ‘Didn’t they tell you at Victoria to get into the front portion of the train?’ He received no reply.
The Nightingale Shore Murder Page 19