The Murderer's Apprentice

by The Murderer's Apprentice (retail) (epub)

  ‘I would like to,’ I confessed.

  ‘Will you eat some of that soup, then, before we start out?’ asked Bessie. ‘And there’s half the apple pie left.’

  So the matter was decided. But a surprise was in store. We were getting ourselves ready to leave the house and brave the weather. The fog had lifted very slightly, but still remained a severe obstacle to both vision and sound. Then, outside in the street, we heard the creak of wheels and the clip-clop of hooves. It was a closed cab, and it drew up before the front door. Shortly afterwards, the brass horseshoe that formed the doorknocker was sharply rapped. Bessie went to answer it and returned with a stunned expression and holding out a white envelope to me, in silence.

  It took a lot to silence Bessie. I took the envelope and opened it.

  My dear Mrs Ross,

  My daughter and I fully understand you may not feel able to pay the arranged visit this afternoon, due to the weather. However, I have taken the liberty of inquiring of Miss Eldon if she has your address. [I had given Ruby my address, in case she needed to send me a note.] I am sending this letter with José, my butler, who will bring it to you by cab. If you still feel able to come, as arranged, José will bring you back with him in the cab. A similar arrangement will, of course, take you back home again.

  The note ended with a formal expression of regard and was signed Léon Bernard.

  ‘Are we going, then?’ asked Bessie. ‘In that cab?’

  ‘Yes, or at least I am,’ I told her. ‘You can stay here.’

  Bessie’s plain features set mulishly. ‘If I have to follow that cab on foot, I’m going along with you!’

  She was quite capable of doing that. I went out to find José and tell him we would accompany him.

  I did not think José was French; in fact I was sure he was not. If I had to guess, I would say Spanish or Portuguese. But the Bernard household was an unusual one. If Bernard felt he could trust someone, he could make a decision that might seem capricious or strange to a chance observer. I knew this because he had decided he could trust me, and taken me to meet his daughter. Somewhere, in his no doubt colourful past, Bernard had encountered José and his wife, decided they were trustworthy and engaged them as household staff. Where he had found them was a mystery. They had probably worked for him for years. I suspected they had followed him from France to England. Before that? There was a lot about Léon Bernard I didn’t know, and probably never would.

  When we reached the street in which both the Queen Catherine and Bernard’s house stood, we all descended from the cab and José paid off the cabbie. I told José I would go up and fetch Miss Eldon downstairs. He nodded silently.

  ‘I did not know whether you would come, dear Mrs Ross!’ confided Miss Eldon. She had jumped to her feet as soon as I entered the room and had obviously been waiting for me in a fever of uncertainty. ‘But I hoped you would. I was sure you would do your utmost to keep to the arrangement. I beg you will forgive me passing your home address to Mr Bernard.’ She peered up at me anxiously. ‘I thought, as he is a banker, he would be a man of discretion. I did not like to think of you trying to make your way here through such a terrible fog.’

  ‘I certainly appreciate Mr Bernard sending his butler in a cab to bring me. It is very cold and unhealthy out, Miss Eldon, and although it is only a step across the street from here I hope you won’t catch a chill.’

  ‘Oh, no, no!’ insisted my friend. ‘I really am quite warm.’ I could not say the same of the room in which she’d received me. The fire burned as usual in the grate but it couldn’t adequately heat the large attic space, with its high steepled ceiling and dark rafters. Ruby Eldon probably counted herself lucky to have a roof over her head, and indeed she was, in her straitened circumstances. But she was like a bird in a treetop, buffeted by the elements and clinging on to its branch.

  One could not but think of a bird when looking at her. She had dressed carefully to make this important visit; and was the picture of fashion of thirty years earlier. We made our way to the foot of the winding, creaking staircase to find Bessie waiting there with Louisa Tompkins.

  ‘He’s outside,’ said Bessie grimly. ‘That butler, or whatever he is. He’s waiting for us.’

  ‘Tompkins and I want to hear all about it afterwards,’ warned Louisa. ‘Don’t forget! I want a full description of the furniture, the china, everything!’

  Bernard had taken time from his banking business to be there to receive us. He was waiting in the parlour in which I’d met him the first time. He was not alone this time. Rose was with him. He received Miss Eldon with a grace approaching gallantry. Ruby Eldon, for her part, fluttered like a young girl, clearly completely bowled over.

  Rose had also dressed with care for this occasion. She wore a silk gown with lace trimmings. We all curtsied, bowed and nodded as if at a court reception.

  I wondered if the whole visit was to be spent in this room. But Rose led the way upstairs to her private sitting room. There we found a table spread with a lace cloth and the tea things set out upon it. The silver teapot stood on a little samovar. The china was fragile and not English to my eye. There were several pretty dishes set out with little cakes and biscuits.

  Bernard himself did not join us at the table, but retired to a chair in the corner, to keep a watchful eye in case Rose needed help. Bessie had taken her previous chair downstairs in the hall and was no doubt bursting with desire to know what was happening.

  As it was, after some initial shyness on Rose’s part, and some more fluttering on Ruby Eldon’s, we all got on famously.

  When we’d drunk our tea and partaken of the delicacies provided I saw Bernard, from the corner of my eye, reach out and tug a bell pull. Shortly after that, the door opened and both José and his wife appeared. It was the first time I’d seen the wife. Like José, she was olive-complexioned, sturdily built, and impassive. Between them, the servants removed the tea things. This included taking off the lace tablecloth, folding down the tea table, which was constructed on the gate-leg principle, and then moving the table itself to stand against a far wall.

  This was likely to be the most difficult part of the visit because it all turned on communication.

  I leaned forward and indicated Miss Eldon to Rose. ‘I have been telling this lady about your sketchbooks.’ As I spoke, I mimed opening a large book, and then made movements with my hand as though I sketched. Rose nodded. ‘Miss Eldon would like very much to see some of them, I think.’

  ‘Oh, yes!’ said Ruby Eldon, nodding in her turn, and smiling.

  Rose blushed again, but stood up readily enough and brought over two large sketchbooks of her work. She opened the first of them and placed it carefully on an easel. Ruby Eldon and I stood up and went to watch as Rose slowly turned the pages.

  ‘How wonderful!’ cried Miss Eldon. ‘You really are very talented, my dear Miss Bernard!’ She took a deep breath and added in French, ‘You have a good eye!’ She pointed at her own eye as she did.

  Rose drew a deep breath I recognised as preceding an attempt at speech on her part, and managed, ‘Mer-ci!’

  This book was the one Rose had shown me on my first visit. Miss Eldon was clearly enchanted at seeing herself depicted, and the one showing her clinging to the umbrella had her clapping her hands in delight and laughing.

  At that, Rose laughed too. It was an odd sound, coming from deep within her throat, but it was very affecting. Something made me turn my head, and look across the room towards her father, sitting quietly in his chair and almost forgotten by all of us. He caught my glance and stood up, gave a brief bow, and left the room. I realised he was deeply moved and did not want me to see his emotion.

  We had finished looking at the first book. Rose replaced it with the second and we began to look at a new set of drawings. These I had not seen before. Some were more street scenes, but then came a group of strange sketches that seemed to have been made during the night, when the street was lit only by a couple of gas lamps and a swinging lant
ern over the door of the tavern.

  I looked at Rose questioningly. She shook her head slightly, pointing through the open door into the adjoining bedroom. Then she put her hand to her cheek, tilting her head to mime someone sleeping, before taking it away while shaking her head. She spread her hands in a characteristically French manner.

  I understood. She did not always sleep well. When that happened, she got up, went to her window and watched the street as she did during the day. These were sombre drawings with none of the humour of the scenes in the first book. The inhabitants of the night were sad, haunting figures. A dishevelled, drunken man stumbled from the door of the tavern. A homeless person, so wrapped in rags and oddments of clothing it was impossible to tell whether male or female, huddled for shelter in a doorway from driving rain. A young woman in tawdry finery wandered along the street, seeking custom. A child, a little girl no more than twelve years of age, followed behind. She wore a hat with a feather in it. It looked incongruous on her. I realised with despair that this child, too, was on offer. The tragic little soul was serving out a sordid apprenticeship in an ancient occupation.

  I glanced at Rose, wondering if she understood the scene she had so vividly captured. She looked sad. The scenes she saw from her window had taught her about life and its horrors. She did not need to go out into the world herself to discover them.

  Miss Eldon, beside me, said quietly, ‘Oh, my dear, oh, no.’

  Rose turned the page quickly. This time I gasped and Ruby Eldon exclaimed, ‘Why! What is that?’

  This was by far the most unexpected and strangest of all the scenes. The other images had been caught with a few quick, strong strokes. The images in this picture had a soft, almost imprecise line to them and seemed to be seen through a window in need of cleaning. Then I realised that this scene was not only at night; but the air outside was thickened with fog. Despite the fuzzy nature of the subjects, I saw a giant of a figure stooped over a wheeled invalid chair, pushing it aldng the street. The wheelchair contained a shrouded form, completely covered with a blanket of some sort. I had seen this giant before, and Ben had also seen him when he’d called on Lady Temple. I looked at Ruby Eldon whose face was set in serious lines.

  ‘Yes, Mrs Ross,’ she said to me. ‘That is certainly Michael, Lady Temple’s footman.’

  I turned to Rose, who was beginning to look anxious. She realised something had happened as a result of showing us this sketch, but she could not know what. She was sensitive to atmosphere and touched my arm hesitantly, raising her eyebrows in question.

  With a mix of gestures and pantomime I asked Rose if I might have this sketch, or rather borrow it. ‘I will bring it back!’ I promised.

  Rose understood what I wanted and willingly detached the sketch from the book, rolled it into a tube and handed it to me.

  At that moment, two things happened. The closed cab in which Bessie and I had travelled across the city arrived in the street below and drew up before the front of the house. At the same time, there was a sound from the door of the room. I turned to see Bernard re-enter. He had come to indicate our visit was at an end.

  ‘Mr Bernard,’ I said. ‘I hope you will not be displeased but mademoiselle Rose has kindly allowed me to borrow one of her sketches. I would like to show it to my husband.’

  Bernard raised his eyebrows and crossed the room. I handed him the rolled tube of paper. He unrolled it, frowned at the subject and looked at me in question.

  ‘I think,’ I said, ‘it could be of interest to my husband in a matter he is investigating.’

  Bernard was not happy about this. After a moment, during, which I really feared he was going to forbid my removing the sketch from the house, he asked, ‘This is really important?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Bernard, I believe it is.’

  ‘I do not want my daughter to be involved in a police matter. She could not cope with that.’

  ‘She will not be involved. The sketch would be of great interest to my husband. But it is not something that would be admissible as evidence. I am sure of that. He would like to see it, that is all. Then I will return it.’

  Bernard was silent and I waited anxiously. Then he said, ‘Very well, but I am placing great confidence in you, Mrs Ross, and relying on what you have said. My daughter cannot be interviewed by any police officer, even your husband.’

  It was Ruby Eldon who spoke up. ‘If anyone were to be asked anything by Mr Ross, it would be me, Mr Bernard. I am the one who has identified the figure in that drawing. Miss Rose obviously has no idea who he is. But I recognise him and, if necessary, will tell Inspector Ross so.’

  Bernard still hesitated.

  ‘I do understand, Mr Bernard,’ I said to him. ‘This is what you have always feared if you let the outside world into your house, or your daughter into the outside world. That something may occur you cannot control. But the world cannot be kept out completely forever.’

  ‘I see it cannot!’ said Bernard sharply. ‘I have trusted you enough to let you into my home. I do not think you repay my trust as you ought.’

  ‘Mademoiselle Rose will not be inconvenienced, I assure you.’

  There was a movement behind me, and a voice I recognised as that of Rose spoke. ‘Papa?’ She split the word into halves as she had done with merci. Pa-pa.

  We all turned to look at her. She moved forward, put her hand on her father’s sleeve and nodded.

  Bernard smiled at her. Then he turned to me, rerolling the sketch into a tube as he did. He handed it to me. ‘The sketch belongs to my daughter and she has made the decision. Do not betray my, or her, confidence in you, Mrs Ross.’

  ‘No, sir, I shall not.’

  We took our farewells of Rose. Bernard escorted us both downstairs, where Bessie jumped up from her chair. José was waiting.

  ‘José will escort you home, Mrs Ross.’ Bernard hesitated. ‘My daughter has been happy this afternoon. Perhaps we can arrange for you to call again with Miss Eldon?’

  ‘I should be delighted to come again!’ said Ruby Eldon brightly. ‘It has been a great pleasure to make the acquaintance of Miss Rose. She really is extremely talented.’

  Bernard smiled at her. ‘Yes, she is, is she not? Allow me to escort you across the road to your… lodgings, Miss Eldon.’

  As José handed me up into the cab, I said to him, ‘I would like, please, for the driver to take me to Scotland Yard.’

  José looked startled and glanced across to his employer for direction. Bernard nodded.

  Bessie scrambled up into the cab with me, José gave the new direction to the cabbie and joined us, and away we rolled. As we left, I turned my head to look back. I was just in time to see Miss Eldon arrive at the door of the Queen Catherine on Bernard’s arm; to be welcomed by Louisa Tompkins making a curtsy deep enough to receive royalty.

  * * *

  Bessie was delighted to be going to the Yard because she hoped to see Constable Biddle whose absence, since I had banned him from our kitchen, had caused her great distress. When we arrived, I told José he and the cab could go. It clattered away with the butler in it.

  ‘Cor, this is a day, this is!’ said Bessie happily, as we entered the building.

  ‘Not very interesting for you, Bessie, you had to wait in the hall.’

  ‘Oh, they gave me a cup of tea,’ said Bessie. ‘The wife of that butler brought it up to me. Her name is Adela. It was a funny old cup of tea, a bit weak for my liking and tasted different. But it was nice of her. There was a bit of chocolate cake, too, so I did all right.’

  Ben was surprised to see me and, I fancy, slightly alarmed.

  ‘What have you done?’ he asked.

  ‘I have been very helpful, I think,’ I told him. I produced the sketch. ‘There, now!’ I explained how I had come by it. ‘Rose Bernard has a keen eye and I am sure this is as accurate as can be.’

  I did not know quite I’d expected him to say. In fact, at first he said nothing at all. Then he looked up and said seriously, ‘Lizzie,
you will never cease to amaze me! I think we must take this sketch along for Mr Dunn’s opinion.’

  ‘Mr Dunn doesn’t like me interfering in police business,’ I warned him.

  ‘No, he doesn’t, but he’s used to it,’ was my husband’s reply. ‘He won’t be surprised.’

  So it was that I found myself in the presence of Superintendent Dunn. Bessie had tracked down Constable Biddle and retired with him to some secluded corner to waste police time.

  ‘Mrs Ross!’ said Dunn, when he had studied the sketch. ‘I can only say this is a remarkable discovery. Thank you for bringing it to us.’

  ‘I thought you’d be interested,’ I said meekly.

  Dunn gave me a suspicious glance. ‘Yes, interested, I am indeed. Whether we can make good use of it is, of course, another matter. I’ll have to discuss that with your husband.’

  Ben took the hint. ‘I’ll put you and Bessie in a cab to take you home,’ he said.

  ‘And how is Constable Biddle’s cold?’ I asked Bessie as we made a slow progress homeward by cab.

  ‘Ever so much better,’ she assured me. ‘It’s nearly gone completely, only a sniff or two. Can he call on me again? I really don’t think he’s catching.’

  It was my private opinion that Biddle was indeed not particularly catching; but he was Bessie’s choice.

  ‘Well, yes, tell him he may call again.’

  Bessie’s smile spread from ear to ear.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Inspector Ben Ross

  When I had seen Lizzie into a cab and returned to Dunn, I found him seated at his desk studying the sketch made by Rose Bernard.