‘What was that name?’ demanded Miss Eustace. ‘And do you have a message for anyone here present?’
‘I was once known as Sir Mortimer Portland,’ said the form, sonorously, ‘and I was the master of Great Portland Hall. I hid a great treasure there, in gold and jewels, which should by rights belong to my heir, Lady Finsbury. The place where it is to be found I will communicate to the lady privately very soon.’
‘Let the lady step forward and say that she knows you for her dear relative,’ said Miss Eustace.
‘Well, here’s a pretty thing and no mistake,’ came a man’s voice from the front row, speaking very loudly. ‘Fancy that, to be so personated! It’s a disgrace!’
‘Be quiet, sir!’ urged Professor Gaskin. ‘You must let Lady Finsbury speak!’
‘I won’t be quiet!’ said the new voice. ‘I will have my say!’ There was the sound of a chair moving back.
‘Sit down at once, or you will be removed!’ snapped Mrs Gaskin, who had forgotten who was in charge of the proceedings.
There was a great deal of annoyed muttering about the interruption, and Mina seized the opportunity and quickly told Richard and Dr Hamid to turn up the lights.
As the yellow glow of the gas lamps flowed through the hall, it could be seen that Rolly Rollason, for it was he who had called out, had got to his feet, but he was no longer Rolly. Under cover of darkness he had donned the elaborate wig, false nose and monocle of his portrait, and was holding the rose he had removed from his buttonhole. ‘You, sir,’ he said, pointing the rose at the startled spirit, ‘are an impostor! I am Sir Mortimer Portland, and I am very much alive, so you can’t be my ghost.’
The spirit, which in the glimmer of gaslight resembled nothing more than a man draped in a grubby grey shawl, hesitated. Miss Eustace did not move. During the commotion she had slumped forward so that her head rested almost on her knees, and in that uncomfortable position, her face hidden from view, she remained, to all appearances unconscious.
Professor Gaskin rose up with a cry. ‘Oh, please dim the lights! Do so at once or Miss Eustace will surely die!’
‘Turn up the lights?’ exclaimed Richard, deliberately mishearing, ‘All hands to the lights! Let’s have more light, here!’
‘More light! The professor wants more light!’ called Dr Hamid. Several men in grey suits bustled forward, and all around the hall more lamps jumped into flame.
‘No! No!’ cried the professor, burying his hands in his hair, and clawing at it in desperation; but he was being ignored, for what was visible was very hard to deny. Mrs Gaskin looked unsure whether she should scream or faint. Neither was a strong item in her repertoire, and instead she looked about for someone to insult.
‘This is a trick!’ she growled at Lady Finsbury, but the lady faced her with some swift and pointed words that should never have left a lady’s lips, and Mrs Gaskin retreated, too shocked to speak.
It was the great final scene in the melodrama, and Nellie played it as only she could. She stepped forward, then looked first at one Sir Mortimer and then at the other, as if making up her mind which was the true one. Since Rolly was a full nine inches taller than his impersonator the choice ought not to have taken as long as it did, but Nellie knew how to create and build rapt anticipation in her audience. Finally with an emotional gesture she flew, sobbing wildly, to Rolly and laid her head on his chest. ‘Uncle! Dearest uncle!’ she cried, ‘I thought you were dead!’
Rolly gave a great smirk to the audience and wrapped his arms about his head. ‘I ain’t dead, though! Ain’t I?’
There was a burst of laughter.
‘No, it was just a nasty cold in the head, that’s all,’ he went on, giving his ‘niece’ a fond hug. ‘You must have had a dream and imagined it. And there’s no treasure, I’m sorry to say. Never was any.’
‘Then who is this?’ exclaimed Nellie, turning to the other Sir Mortimer, who had dropped the rose and was backing away, lifting the shawl to try and cover his face.
It was Mr Jordan who strode forward, and before the figure could protest, he whipped away shawl, wig, false nose and monocle, to reveal the shiny pate of Mr Bradley.
There were gasps of recognition from the audience.
Mina, suddenly realising why the picture in the newspaper of Miss Eustace’s husband did not resemble Mr Clee, came forward, while Mr Jordan stood by Mr Bradley preventing his escape, and Richard called on everyone for silence, which was not an easy thing to achieve.
‘My friends,’ said Mina, as soon as the hubbub had subsided sufficiently that she could be heard. ‘Not only are these two persons frauds and deceivers, they are also husband and wife and have been practising their wiles for some years. Both have served a prison term, and the proof of that is in my hand.’ She raised the newspaper; although there was no chance that anyone could see the illustration, the distinctive page made it very clear as to which paper it was.
‘That is a lie!’ exploded Mr Bradley. ‘And that newspaper is a rag from the gutter! This person is an unbeliever! An imp! A demon! A monster! Why, just look at her, she has the stamp of the fiend himself in her form!’
Louisa Scarletti marched forward and slapped him hard across the face. ‘How dare you! She is my daughter!’ She burst into tears and hugged Mina, then inevitably appeared to feel faint, and was rescued by Mrs Bettinson and taken back to her seat where Dr Hamid tended to her.
The next person to emerge from the throng was Mr Phipps, who addressed the audience with a packet of papers in his hand. ‘Lady Finsbury, Sir Mortimer, ladies and gentlemen,’ he began. ‘I can confirm that Miss Scarletti has spoken the truth. Here are some legal documents, received by me only an hour ago. They are proof that Mr Bradley and Miss Eustace are indeed husband and wife, and also the parents of two children, who they foisted on to an unsuspecting lady under false pretences and from whom they have been stealing ever since. They have been plying their fraudulent trade for some years and have both served terms in prison.’
Two men in grey suits appeared on either side of the discomfited spirit healer, and took him firmly by the arms.
‘You may or may not know this,’ said Mina, to Mr Bradley, ‘but you are under arrest.’
Mr Bradley, all defiance vanished like the ghost he had pretended to be, was taken away, to the loud hisses and imprecations of his former acolytes, and with missiles of compressed paper bouncing off his head.
The Gaskins stared after him in grotesque dismay, exchanged horrified glances, and then, very quickly and quietly, left the hall.
There was a sudden movement near Mina. Miss Eustace had decided to give up the pretence that she was asleep and use the distraction caused by her husband’s arrest to make her escape. She was free of her bonds in an instant, and that feat alone brought a gasp from the audience as they realised how adept she was at such tricks. Only Mina’s slight form lay between her and a free route to the door, and she tried to push the trifling obstacle aside, but Mina dropped the newspaper and seized Miss Eustace by both wrists. For a moment or two they struggled, as the medium tried to break free and amazement spread over Miss Eustace’s face as she found herself being immobilised by a tiny, seemingly frail woman who was very much stronger than she looked. Mina knew she could only hold on for a short while before her wrenched shoulder and lesser weight allowed her quarry to prevail, but help was at hand.
‘I’ll take her, thank you,’ said Mrs Bettinson, striding up to grab Miss Eustace from behind, pinning her arms to her sides. ‘Now then, Miss Cheat, Miss Hoodwink, let’s see if you can melt yourself out of this!’
As Miss Eustace was hauled firmly away to join her husband at the police station, Richard came to stand by Mina. ‘What a wonder you are!’ he said. ‘And the best of it, no one will be asking for their money back!’
Twenty-Six
Mr Phipps later advised Mina that he had turned over all his documents to the police, who now had ample material with which to mount a search of Miss Eustace’s apartments. The very n
ext day the couple attracted a different audience from the one they had recently entertained, when they appeared before the Brighton magistrates. The case was adjourned for the accumulation of new evidence, but it was thought to be certain that they would in due course be committed to take their trial at the next assizes. The couple had asked for bail, but Mr Phipps had argued strongly against this and won.
Mr and Mrs Clee also appeared before the Brighton magistrates, where they were bound over to keep the peace, ordered to pay costs and released. During the entire proceedings they neither looked at nor spoke to one another. On leaving the court they went their separate ways, but Mr Clee was immediately rearrested and charged with conspiring with the Bradleys to commit fraud. The new Mrs Clee announced her intention of applying for a legal separation from her spouse, something he did not seem averse to, although he was less delighted by her demand for a regular allowance.
Professor Gaskin and his wife were briefly taken into police custody, and for a time they were strongly suspected of having abetted Miss Eustace in her deceit, but it was eventually accepted that they had been little more than unwitting dupes. They regained their freedom, though not their reputations, and agreed with a singular determination to give evidence for the prosecution.
Over the course of the next week, and at the resumed hearing, new facts were made public.
Mr Clee, it was discovered, was Miss Eustace’s brother, and an accomplished stage magician, card sharp and occasional spirit medium. He had been attending Brill’s Baths and learning all he could about the citizens of Brighton, while Mr Bradley had been doing much the same at Dr Hamid’s.
When Dr Hamid’s friend Dr Chenai was questioned he admitted that while relaxing after an Indian steam bath he had spoken to Mr Bradley and made some incautious comments that had formed the basis of Miss Eustace’s supposed communications from Eliza. While Eliza had never told him of the exact position of the pain in her back, he had learned all he needed to know from his examination. There were a dozen other examples of gossip being passed on in this way, all of which had later been recorded in Miss Eustace’s extensive notebooks. There were also articles taken from the newspapers about important Brighton figures: their families, illnesses, accidents, deaths and legacies; even information that had been copied from tombstones.
The committal hearing ended as Mr Phipps had anticipated. While awaiting the trial of Mr and Mrs Bradley, the Gaskins, who were not seen in public after the arrest of their protégée, gave up their apartments in Brighton and returned to London, where Mrs Gaskin founded a girls’ school and Professor Gaskin devoted himself to studying the chemistry of radiant matter.
As the summer blossomed and the sun broiled the town and its people to a turn, fashions moved on, and the spirit mediums and mystic healers departed. Even Madame Proserpina no longer told fortunes for sixpence on the West Pier, and it was a curious coincidence that she had vanished on the very same day that Miss Eustace had been taken into custody.
Mina was hopeful that there would be no more work for her to do, but Dr Hamid was not so sure. ‘Those who want to believe will never be shaken,’ he said. ‘It enhances their idea of themselves, and in some individuals it will be central to it. Their belief is everything to them; it can become them. If they abandon it then they will be nothing. Even those who have seen the truth about Miss Eustace and her associates may yet believe that another medium will be the true article, forget how they have been made fools of, and take up the next arrival with just as much enthusiasm.’
‘Well, we know all their tricks now, and if they try us again we will be ready for them,’ said Mina, confidently.
Dr Hamid looked apprehensive, but whether this was at the prospect of the mediums returning to Brighton or Mina commandeering his assistance to deal with them, he didn’t say.
There was a new arrival in town, which brought pleasure and meaning to Louisa Scarletti’s life. Enid descended upon her mother with the twins and a nursemaid, saying that she planned to stay for several months. She had received a letter from Mr Inskip saying that the property negotiations in distant Roumania were taking longer than he had anticipated and he might well be absent for another six months; indeed, if the snow on the mountain passes next December was as deep as it had been last winter, he might not be able to come home until the spring. Enid, enduring her husband’s absence with a fortitude that approached joy, embraced the pleasures of Brighton like a starving person faced with a laden table, while encouraging her mother in a new pastime that she took to with alacrity – spoiling her grandchildren.
There was more good news for the Scarletti family when Mina’s brother Edward arrived, bringing with him the delightful Miss Hooper who had at long last consented to become his bride.
Richard was no longer in the theatrical business. It was not so much that mediums were out of fashion, for what Miss Foxton had to offer the eager eye would never be out of fashion, but he had not, as he had hoped, found it to be profitable. Such money as had come in from sales of tickets for private shows or remuneration from the New Oxford Theatre of Varieties had somehow found its way into Mrs Conroy’s emporium where it had been transformed as if by a conjuring trick into Paris gowns, and lace gloves fit for a queen.
It was with some hesitation that Richard had suggested to Nellie that the business should be given up, and to his surprise she readily agreed, and they parted as friends. Soon afterwards, there was an elegant society wedding, when Nellie Gilden, in her real name of Hetty Gold, became Mrs John Jordan. The event was only marred by one unhappy incident, when the bride, admiring her new husband’s favourite timepiece, accidentally dropped it on the ground and stepped on it.
Only one thing still puzzled Mina: her mother’s continued insistence that at a private séance conducted by Miss Eustace, she had seen and conversed with her dear deceased Henry, and even clasped him in her arms. No man, she declared, could ever personate him, and she derided the very idea that she could have been mistaken. Mina, recalling that the claim had first been made in front of Mrs Bettinson and Miss Whinstone, could not help but wonder if the entire story had been made up to impress her mother’s friends and even make them a little jealous.
‘Mother,’ said Mina, one day in frustration, as they were alone apart from a beribboned baby bouncing on the proud grandmother’s knee, its twin having been removed by the nursemaid for feeding, ‘I must know the truth of this. When you were at the private séance hosted by Miss Eustace, did you truly see Father, as solid and real a figure as you see me now? Or was it just a story to tease and amuse? No one would think the worse of you if it was the latter. Come now, surely you can tell me, and I promise not to breathe a word of what you say.’
Louisa waved a teething ring in front of the baby’s chubby fingers. ‘Oh Mina, how can you ask such a thing?’ she said. ‘Would I tell a lie?’
‘Of course you would not,’ said Mina.
‘Well then, that is settled.’ She gave a wistful smile. ‘Dear Henry, I think of him every day, I miss him every moment. No woman could have had a better husband. Yes, Mina, I saw your father as clear as can be. I saw him as I see him always, as I see him even now: in my mind’s eye.’
End
About the Author
LINDA STRATMANN is a former chemist’s dispenser and civil servant who now writes full-time. She lives in
Walthamstow, London.
Also by the Author
Chloroform: The Quest for Oblivion
Cruel Deeds and Dreadful Calamities: The Illustrated Police News 1864–1938
Essex Murders
Gloucestershire Murders
Greater London Murders: 33 True Stories of Revenge, Jealousy, Greed & Lust
Kent Murders
Middlesex Murders
More Essex Murders
Notorious Blasted Rascal: Colonel Charteris and the Servant Girl’s Revenge
The Crooks Who Conned Millions: True Stories of Fraudsters and Charlatans
The Marquess of Queens
berry: Wilde’s Nemesis
Whiteley’s Folly: The Life and Death of a Salesman
Cover images:
Top image: ©iStock
Bottom image: Medium Eusapia Palladino, 1890. ©GettyImages
Copyright
First published in 2015
The Mystery Press is an imprint of The History Press
The Mill, Brimscombe Port
Stroud, Gloucestershire, GL5 2QG
www.thehistorypress.co.uk
This ebook edition first published in 2015
All rights reserved
© Linda Stratmann, 2015
The right of Linda Stratmann to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
EPUB ISBN 978 0 7509 6575 0
Original typesetting by The History Press
Ebook compilation by RefineCatch Limited, Bungay, Suffolk
Mr Scarletti's Ghost Page 31