If this deduction is correct, the assailant would have half an hour to attack and rob her and arrange the unconscious women in the corner where she was found to convey the suggestion that she was asleep. How carefully he carried out this idea is demonstrated by the placing of the open book in her lap. This move was so effective that the platelayers apparently noticed nothing wrong when they travelled with her from Polegate.’
The next day, Friday 16th January, the same paper was berating the police for not giving them the story earlier, which would have allowed them to help by publicising the hunt for the attacker. Under the bold headline ‘Where the police fail’, the paper stated:
‘Nurse Shore was murderously attacked in a train from London to Hastings last Monday evening, and up to last night her assailant was still at large. The two facts emphasise the need for more effective police organisation for detecting train crimes – the list of which is punctuated with “unsolved mysteries” – and especially for a much prompter adoption of publicity, through the Press, in order that the cooperation of the public be enlisted to the greatest possible extent and with the least possible delay.
The public learned of this crime from The Daily Mail on Wednesday. It was committed on Monday evening. Meantime the Press had been kept in the dark. Only on Wednesday was the description of the suspected man circulated. By that time Miss Shore’s assailant had got a long start.
Do the police realise that express trains on non-stop runs afford an opportunity for criminal violence only equalled by the facility with which a clever criminal can leave a train at a wayside station on a dark winter evening unobserved? If they do they must also be asked to realise that all their efforts to cope with such crime may be wasted while officialdom hesitates to bring the facts and the wanted man’s description under the searchlight of public print.’
The paper’s ‘own correspondent’ was also carrying out his own interviews with witnesses who thought they might have encountered the man who had left the train at Lewes: or ‘the man in the brown suit’, as the paper called him. On the day the inquest opened, the Daily Mail reported that Scotland Yard detectives were following up ‘many clues’. One of particular interest was the appearance of a bloodstained one pound note, which had been used at the Royal Oak Hotel in Station Road in Lewes – just five minutes’ walk from the railway station – on the evening following the assault. According to the paper, it had been tendered by a man fitting the description of the man in the brown suit who had left the train at Lewes. The writer reminded readers that Mabel Rogers had said that her friend had had three one pound notes with her on her journey, and that this money was missing, together with her jewellery. ‘The note is said to bear a brown stain resembling a blood mark’ the paper reported. Even more promisingly, ‘It is thought that a fingerprint may be on the blood stain.’
The man who had used the note in the Royal Oak was described by the landlady of the hotel as ‘wearing a brown overcoat – it looked like a new one – a white cashmere muffler and a light grey cap. He seemed to answer the description of the wanted man.’ The man had come into the hotel’s bar between 7 and 8pm on the Tuesday evening and ordered a beer, paying with a one pound Treasury note. When she cashed up the money later that night, the landlady found the note folded in two, and stuck together. ‘I opened it,’ she said, ‘and there was a small brown stain on it which was sticky.’ Since the note had been paid into the Lewes branch of the London and Provincial Bank on the Thursday, the police were left to try to trace its onward journey in order to follow up this lead.
But that was not all the Daily Mail’s reporter had found out in Lewes. He had another witness who thought he had seen the wanted man; and a new person claiming to have been the first into the carriage to see Florence when the train stopped at Bexhill.
Edward Harvey was a hairdresser, whose business, like the Royal Oak Hotel, was situated in Station Road, Lewes. He had had a customer on the Monday afternoon, 12th January, at about a quarter to five – ten minutes after the Victoria to Hastings train had made its stop at the town. ‘The man asked me for a haircut and shave,’ Harvey told the newspaper. ‘His hair was well groomed and not very long, and only about one man in 200 would want his hair cut when it was that length.’
This man was described as being smart, slim and athletic looking, with a pale, thin face and pointed chin. ‘He was wearing a brown jacket and a cap,’ the hairdresser said. ‘He had no overcoat, and I thought that strange. He told me he was waiting for a train to East Grinstead.’ There was in fact a train for East Grinstead that left Lewes for London at five thirty, so logistically this was a plausible story. It is not clear though why anyone would think that having already short hair trimmed shorter should be an effective disguise for a wanted man; or why the man would draw attention to himself in this way, if he was a fugitive preparing to flee the scene of the crime.
Meanwhile, the Mail’s reporter had a third new lead for his story, and a very exciting one: an eyewitness on the platform at Bexhill. Mr J D Smith – John Smith – who gave his address as Lauriston Road, Brighton, claimed that he had discovered Florence in the compartment whilst he was looking for a seat on the train.
‘The door of the compartment was open, and anyone could see at once that something was wrong’, he told the reporter. ‘I asked the woman where she was going and where was her ticket. Of course she did not answer. She was all huddled up – in a semi-lying position. Her left hand was waving up and down and her eyes were blinking. Her face was partly turned towards the opposite side of the carriage and the blood was running down the right side of her face. Beside her on the seat was an attaché case upside down and some of the contents were partly out. I saw a small bottle like a smelling salts bottle, and another bottle with a red top.’
This is a very curious story. John Smith was not called to be a witness at the inquest into Florence’s death. Neither of the guards, George Walters and Henry Duck, who would each describe later, under oath, how they had been called to the carriage by the platelayers at the Bexhill stop, mentioned any other passenger getting in to the compartment. Nor did any of the three platelayers mention a man on the platform at Bexhill, or in the carriage. In fact, George Cloutt specifically testified at the inquest that, having called a porter’s attention to the problem in Florence’s compartment, he stayed by the carriage door to prevent anyone else getting in. Yet Smith’s account of Florence’s position, the blood on the side of her face, her semi-consciousness, and her rifled attaché case, are accurate, and precede these details being made public at the inquest in February. Maybe Smith was on the platform and looked in to the carriage while the guards were tending to Florence and organising the movement of the train to Hastings to meet the ambulance there. Perhaps the notion that he was the first to find her, he spoke to her, and he saw the blood running down her face, was just embroidery for the reporter’s benefit. Certainly, he does not appear to have attracted the attention of the police or the Coroner for his extraordinary claims.
The next day’s coverage in the Mail returned to the issue of murder on the railways and the failings of the police. Under the heading ‘Unsolved Crimes’, it listed three cases:
‘1897 – unsolved murder of Miss Camp in a London and South Western train between Putney and Wandsworth.
1903 – unsolved mystery of Miss Money’s death in the Merstham Tunnel.
1914 – Willie Starchfield strangled in a tunnel on North London line.’
More reassuringly for the police, if not the travelling public, the list continued with some of the railway murders that the police had cleared up:
‘1864 – murder of Mr Briggs on North London Railway at Hackney by a German named Muller, who was arrested in New York and hanged for the crime.
1881 – murder of Mr P.J. Gold in a London to Brighton train, for which the notorious Lefroy was hanged
1900 – little boy murdered in North London train at Dalston by his mother Louisa Massett
1910 – shooting and r
obbery of Mr J.F. Nisbet in a train near Newcastle, man named Dickman convicted.’
Throughout the inquest, investigations into the latest atrocity on the railway were continuing. Mabel Rogers, Tuesday’s paper claimed, was to be asked to go to Dover to identify a man detained by police there as he was about to board a steamer to Ostend. Whether she made the trip to the coast is not reported; but no arrest was made relating to Florence’s murder as a result.
The bloodstained one pound note also proved to be a dead end for the police. It was eventually traced after being paid into another bank in Lewes; but it was discovered to have recently been through the hands of a butcher. The blood on it was not, after all, human blood.
By the beginning of March 1920, the case was going cold. The man who got off the train at Lewes had not been found, whatever vague sightings might have been logged. The bloodstained pound note was a red herring. And no murder weapon had been found, despite extensive searches by three police forces up and down the line between London and Lewes. The third and final inquest hearing would take place on 2nd March, when it would hear again from the man in charge of the train, Henry Duck; and the famous pathologist Dr Bernard Spilsbury, who had carried out the post-mortem examination on Florence’s body. In the meantime, the police could only pursue their increasingly frustrating enquiries.
Chapter 25
‘The hand of justice’
Dr Bernard Spilsbury, pathologist to the Home Office, was renowned as a smart dresser. He was photographed at the height of his fame wearing a high Edwardian collar and tie beneath his white laboratory coat. He had a high forehead, with short hair combed neatly back, a bony nose, thin lips in a slightly down-turned mouth, and a prominent chin. For appearances in the criminal courts, he usually wore a flower in his button-hole. Whether he did so for inquest hearings is not known. At the resumed inquest into Florence’s death at Hastings, Dr Spilsbury was due to report on his findings at the post-mortem examination: but he had to wait while the inquest heard from a new witness, the train guard Henry Duck.
Duck had been in charge of the train from Victoria and he confirmed under oath the key details of the journey. The train had stopped nowhere before arriving at Lewes, two minutes late. It had slowed down to pass through Gatwick and Three Bridges, but only to around 30 miles per hour – not slow enough to allow a passenger to disembark onto the railway. At Lewes, because of the length of the train, two and a half carriages had stopped beyond the platform. It was, Duck said, ‘A dark and dirty night’, and there were no lamps at the station. So he had walked along the length of the platform towards the rear of the train using his own hand-held lamp.
‘When you walked down did you see anybody get out of the train?’ the Coroner asked.
‘Yes,’ Duck confirmed, ‘a man got out of the second compartment from my van.’
‘What did he do?’
‘Got out on the footboard, shut the door, stretched along to the next compartment and swung off.’
‘Was your light towards his face?’
‘My light was directed to him but I did not see his face.’
‘After he got down what did he do?’
‘Turned round and walked up to the platform. His back was towards the engine when he got down.’
‘Did he pass you?’
Yes, sir. He got down just as I got to him.’
‘Did you see his face then?’
‘Just momentary.’
‘Did you speak to him?’
‘I said “Didn’t they tell you at Victoria to get into the front portion of the train?”’
‘Did he answer you?’
‘No.’
‘Did he appear to be in a hurry?’
‘No, not specially.’
‘Can you say how he was dressed?’
‘He had a dark, drab mackintosh coat on and I think he wore a cap, but I am not certain.’
‘Had he a stick or umbrella?’
‘He had both hands in his overcoat pocket when he walked away, and I don’t think he had either a stick or an umbrella.’
‘Do you know his build?’
‘I should describe him as of athletic build.’
‘What age man?’
‘About 26 or 30 I should think. I only saw him for a moment and could not say definitely.’
‘It is pretty usual for people to get out like that? There was nothing to call special attention to him?’
‘Nothing at all.’
‘He had to drop a considerable distance to the metals, how much would it be?’
‘About four feet.’
‘For all you know he may have got out at Lewes and got on to the other section of the train?’
‘He might have done.’
‘Trains run from Lewes to all parts of the South Coast?’
‘All round. There would be a good many trains about that time, being market day too.’
‘As far as you know you have not seen this man since?’
‘Not so far as I know.’
‘A man was put up for identification but you could not identify him?’
‘No, I was not able to swear to him.’
‘You have heard Miss Rogers’ description of the man. Has it struck you that your description does not match hers?’
‘Yes.’
‘The man you saw got out of the carriage in which the deceased lady was afterwards found?’
‘Yes.’
‘The train was not there many minutes?’
‘About five minutes.’
‘Did you look along the carriage and see that the doors were all shut?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Were the windows all shut?’
‘I did not notice that they were.’
‘You saw the man shut the door as he got out?’
‘Yes.’
In spite of the best efforts of the Coroner and the witness, they were no further forward. Mabel Rogers had seen a man get on at Victoria in the last minutes before the train left; he was alone in the compartment with Florence as the train pulled away. Henry Duck had seen a man get out of the same compartment at the first stop the train made – but he gave a different description of the man. The train travelled on to Polegate Junction, where the platelayers got into the compartment. And at Bexhill, they called Duck’s attention to the lady in the compartment with them.
‘Did you get out of the train at Bexhill at once?’ the Coroner asked.
‘Yes, sir’, Duck replied.
‘Was your attention called to something then?’
‘Yes.’
‘By whom?’
‘A man said to me, “Have you seen that woman back there? She is in a deplorable state”. He was standing on the platform.’
‘You looked into the carriage?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Did you see the deceased lady?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Alone in the carriage?’
‘Yes, sir. She was sitting with her face to the engine in the offside corner as described by the platelayers.’
‘You got into the carriage?’
‘Yes.’
‘Could you then see that this poor lady had been badly hurt?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Tell us what you know.’
‘Her head was badly damaged.’
‘Did you speak to her?
‘I said “However did you come by these injuries?” but she made no reply. She appeared to hear because she turned her eyes round.’
‘There was a suit case on the seat by her?’
‘Yes.’
‘Was it open?’
‘The lid was down but not fastened. I saw another case on the floor.’
‘And a book?’
‘A magazine in her lap.’
‘And her glasses?’
‘They were on the floor.’
‘Did you examine the carriage?’
‘I made a hurried examination.’
‘Was there any sign of a str
uggle?’
‘None at all.’
‘Was there blood on the floor?’
‘I noticed it at Hastings but not at Bexhill.’
Duck went on to explain that he had decided to convey Florence to the nearest hospital, in Hastings, on the train. A telephone message from Bexhill ensured that an ambulance would be waiting there to take her to the hospital. Once she had been taken to the ambulance, he had the opportunity to examine the compartment more closely.
‘I saw some blood but there was no sign of a struggle.’
‘What was the communication?’
‘A chain running through a tube and it was intact.’
‘It would be difficult if a struggle was going on for anybody to pull that cord?’
‘Yes.’
‘Was there any communication by the cord?’
‘None whatever, except between the driver and myself.’
The Coroner’s frustration was evident. He checked again whether Duck could add to his description of the man who got off the train at Lewes, and the guard said he thought he was about five feet eight inches tall. Duck confirmed that he had not noticed Florence Shore or Mabel Rogers getting on at Victoria; and that it was not unusual for people to get out of the train at Lewes by walking along the footboard. All in all, Duck’s evidence suggested that nothing at all untoward had happened in his train until the discovery of a badly-injured woman, alone in a carriage with no signs of struggle, at Bexhill.
Finally, it was time for the medical witnesses, and the most brutal evidence for Mabel to hear. There was no way to avoid it. The details of what had been done to Florence, the injuries that had resulted, and her protracted dying, had to be rehearsed at the inquest so that a proper verdict could be reached. The Home Office pathologist, Dr Spilsbury, was called first.
Spilsbury had first seen Florence’s body on the Sunday, two days after her death, with the other local medical men. He had carried out a full post-mortem examination and autopsy. He told the inquest that Florence had been five feet three inches in height, and well nourished. Then he listed the external injuries he had found, with the emotionless precision required of a medical report.
The Nightingale Shore Murder Page 22