“Then why was he here?” Lestrade wondered.
Joanna shrugged. “All we can say for certain is that he was here and Alistair Ainsworth circled Waterloo Station on the map.”
“Are you connecting the two?” Dunn asked at once.
“I have not excluded that possibility, nor should you. Keep in mind that Ainsworth may have known of Rot, in that both occupied the house that Verner had been taken to.” Joanna stepped away from the corpse and gestured to Lestrade. “You may wish to carefully reexamine the corpse’s clothes to see if there are hidden clues that could help us in this regard.”
Lestrade emptied each of Rot’s pockets one by one, turning them inside out. All the search uncovered was a soiled handkerchief, a half-crown coin, and a broken toothpick enmeshed in lint. The buckle on his belt had no secret compartment.
“Nothing,” Lestrade announced.
“Perhaps the postmortem examination will be more revealing,” said I.
“He may have swallowed a note or some item he wished to conceal,” I replied. “Thus, the contents of his esophagus and stomach will be carefully scrutinized.”
“Also please determine if his shoes show any traces of chloroform,” Joanna requested.
“But certainly any aroma that may have been on his shoes would have disappeared by now,” Dunn argued mildly. “As I recall, the odor of chloroform is quite evanescent.”
“Ah, but the chemists at St. Bart’s may well have a test that can detect the barest traces of chloroform,” Joanna rebutted. “And chloroform on Rot’s shoes would place him in Verner’s office and connects him beyond any doubt to the disappearance of Alistair Ainsworth.”
The four of us carefully inspected the train car, searching under the seats and in the compartments above for items the master spy might have discarded. Nothing of value was discovered. Dunn remembered a case in which an important clue on a train was hidden beneath the ashes at the bottom of an ashtray. Thus, each of the ashtrays was emptied and inspected, but to no avail.
The two constables returned to inform us that a transport for the corpse would arrive shortly and that the authorities at St. Bart’s had been notified and instructed on how the body was to be kept. To make certain the instructions were adhered to, Lestrade directed the constables to accompany the corpse to the morgue and stand guard over it until the postmortem examination was under way. After a final glance around the car, he ordered the corpse to be re-covered and the shades on all windows drawn. We waited for the commands to be followed before departing.
The large crowd that had earlier gathered outside the train had been dispersed, and uniformed constables were stationed to assure it remained so. It was now near noon and the station appeared filled with passengers, arriving and leaving, all of whom seemed to be talking at once. The loud hum of combined conversations drowned out any attempt for us to speak further about the strange events surrounding this most unusual case. But in an instant, everything went silent.
Down the platform and approaching us was a small funeral procession. It consisted of an expensive, polished casket being pushed along on wheels by porters on each side of the carriage. At the front was the funeral director, dressed entirely in black, with a most solemn expression on his face. To the rear was a rather tall woman, likewise attired in black, with a matching veil that hid her face. As the cortège neared us, I took note of the small bell atop the casket, to which was attached a cord that dropped into the casket itself. This arrangement was instigated by the widespread fear of being buried alive, for a few such cases had been publicized during last year’s cholera epidemic. The ringing of the bell would alert all that the person within was alive.
But Joanna’s attention was fixed on the veiled woman at the rear of the procession. I saw nothing unusual about the woman or the polished coffin, with its brass fittings, that she accompanied. I doffed my hat out of respect for the departed, as did the others around me, including the officers from Scotland Yard.
Joanna quickly turned to Lestrade and said, “Please stop the procession, Inspector.”
Lestrade gazed at her oddly before asking, “For what purpose?”
“To prevent Alistair Ainsworth from slipping away under our very noses.”
In an instant Lestrade spun around and moved the onlookers in front of him aside. He dashed over to the funeral director and brought the cortège to a halt. Interested onlookers moved in for a closer view and to possibly overhear any conversation that might explain the odd interruption.
“Is there something amiss?” asked the funeral director.
“Perhaps,” Lestrade replied. “I should like you to answer all questions asked by my associate.”
“Of course, sir.”
Joanna stepped forward, but her gaze was focused on a narrow rubber tube that exited the casket an inch beneath the edge of its lid. Like the bell, this apparatus was based on fear of being buried alive. It provided a supply of fresh air should the presumed-dead individual within the casket suddenly awaken.
Joanna asked the funeral director, “When did the departed die? And please be exact.”
“Just over three days ago.”
“And the destination of the remains?”
“To Shoreham.”
“Did you yourself place the body in the casket?”
“No, madam. His family performed the task, and it was done in total privacy.”
“Most unusual.”
“Quite,” the director agreed. “But I was informed it was a strict family custom that only close relatives were allowed to touch the deceased.”
“And I take it they secured the lid in total privacy as well?”
“That too was insisted upon, madam.”
Joanna leaned forward and brought the rubber tube exiting the casket to her nose. She quickly dropped the tubing in disgust. “Open the casket at once!”
“But, madam, I—”
“It is a sham funeral!”
The woman at the rear of the procession suddenly bolted.
“Stop him!” Joanna cried out.
“Who?” Lestrade shouted back.
“The mourner dressed as a woman!”
The tall mourner fled into the gathered crowd to seek concealment, but his head was clearly above those around him. Thus we could follow him as he shoved onlookers aside and trampled over the ones who remained in his way. He appeared to take a circuitous route before suddenly veering off and dashing into the ladies’ water closet where he was met with a chorus of screams and shrieks. But these sounds were soon muted by gunshots and the noise of shattering glass.
“Outside!” Joanna called out above the commotion. “He is escaping through the window!”
Uniformed constables and Lieutenant Dunn sprinted for the entrance to the station while Joanna raced into the ladies’ water closet, with Lestrade, my father, and I only a step behind her. Pale, frightened women were huddled together off to the side, well away from the shattered glass window. On the floor near the window was a torn black dress, and atop it a wig and dark veil.
“With his head start, we will never catch him,” Lestrade said disheartedly.
“I should have discovered him earlier,” Joanna grumbled. “The clues were there, staring at me and waiting to be discerned.”
“Pray tell, what were these signs that the rest of us overlooked?” asked Lestrade.
“First, the mourner’s body size,” Joanna elucidated. “Did you not notice the tall height and broad shoulders, which would be most unusual in a woman? Then there was the thick veil that hid the face completely. The vast majority of mourning veils will hide a woman’s tearstained cheeks, but not her most prominent features, as this one did. You could see nothing behind it, which would effectively conceal any masculine characteristics. And the final clue was the noxious odor emanating from the rubber tube that originated from within the casket. The deceased had only been dead for three days and it requires eight to ten days for putrefaction to occur. Thus, the malodor could not have co
me from the corpse.”
“So what then caused the awful smell?” Lestrade asked.
“Oh, there are a number of ways to accomplish that,” Joanna replied.
“But it still could have been a woman,” Lestrade insisted. “There are ladies who are tall and broad shouldered, and the mourner may have used the dress, wig, and veil to disguise her true identity.”
“All true,” Joanna agreed. “Except when he bolted, I noticed that his shoes and heels were those seen only on men. A woman would never wear them.”
We hurried out of the ladies’ water closet and returned to the casket, which Lestrade ordered to be opened at once. The gathering of onlookers, which had increased to twice its original size, was urged to step away, but few did. Most stood on their tiptoes for a better view.
When the last screw was removed and the lid opened, a terrible stench arose from within the casket. Lying atop sacks of sand was a long-dead cat, with its insides gutted. The lid was hurriedly closed.
“A trial run.” I stated the obvious.
“A dress rehearsal in full regalia to iron out any flaws in their plan,” said Joanna. “If there were defects, better to find them now rather than later, when a drugged Alistair Ainsworth would be inside the casket.”
“But why the dead cat?” asked Lestrade.
“That was a nice touch,” Joanna explained. “Had anyone demanded the casket be opened, simply cracking the lid open would have released a most putrid odor and, in most instances, necessitated immediate closure. I can assure you a cargo inspector would not have wished to look further.”
I had to admire the ingenuity of the foreign agents. Like the true Germans they were, they rehearsed every step of the funeral down to the smallest detail. And except for a redheaded spy tripping over a pram, they might well have gotten away with it. I nodded to myself as yet another part of their clever plan came to mind. Thinking aloud, I said, “In all likelihood the train’s destination to Shoreham was not some random choice. Shoreham-by-Sea is a small port where a German U-boat could easily slip in unnoticed during the dark of night and transport a most valuable cargo back to Germany.”
“So cunning,” my father remarked.
“Oh, they are beyond cunning, Watson,” said Joanna, as a thin smile crossed her face. “A foreign agent of such clever thought is one I would be eager to do business with.”
Dunn, with a pair of constables at his side, ran up to us and grimly announced, “He has gotten away scot-free. Of course, the entire surrounding area will be thoroughly canvassed and searched, but the chances of finding him are virtually nil.”
“So we are back to square one and the Germans remain one step ahead of us,” Lestrade said unhappily. “We have gained nothing despite our cleverness.”
“Oh, I believe we have gained some much-needed information,” Joanna informed.
“Pray tell, what?” Lestrade asked.
“The Germans now know we will closely surveil every train station within a fifty-mile radius, so they can no longer move their cargo by train,” Joanna replied. “They are thus forced to travel by motorcar or carriage to reach their desired destination.”
“That gives us no advantage,” Lestrade argued. “It is quite impossible to block all roads leading out of London, and we most certainly cannot search every vehicle that wishes to pass.”
“We must think moves ahead if we are to counter their next step,” Joanna advised. “It is not their way out of London that we should be concerned with, but rather their destination.”
“How can we possibly determine that?”
“By deduction, Inspector, which goes as follows,” Joanna went on. “John is correct in his reasoning that their ticket to Shoreham was not a random choice, but one that takes them to a small port where, in all likelihood, a German U-boat will await them.”
“But surely they will not return to Shoreham now,” said Lestrade. “Particularly since they know we are aware of their train’s destination.”
“I would not rush to that conclusion,” my father cautioned. “Perhaps the Germans in their cleverness now believe we will pay little attention to Shoreham and thus proceed with their original plan.”
“Very good, Watson, for you are now beginning to think as the spies would,” said Joanna. “Of course, another very real possibility is that Shoreham-by-Sea was never their intended port of departure. It, like the funeral procession, may have been false. For obvious reasons they would keep their final destination secret until the very last moment.”
Lestrade pondered the dilemma at length before asking, “Are you suggesting we must cover hundreds of small ports on the east coast of England?”
“It can’t be done,” Dunn said firmly. “We do not have the manpower to undertake such a task, and the local police are not clever enough to measure up. If these foreign agents can outwit us so easily, it would be no problem for them to outmatch a small district constabulary.”
“There are ways to narrow down the list of ports from which the Germans might depart,” Joanna told us. “We now know they cannot transport their cargo by train, which restricts their movement to roads. In all likelihood they will have a bound, drugged Alistair Ainsworth in their motorcar or carriage, which necessitates them traveling in the dark of night to avoid curious eyes. They cannot stop at an inn or hotel, and thus would be obliged to ride straight to their destination. By car or carriage, a single night’s journey would be limited to seventy-five miles or less. We can further reason that they will not travel south to the Southampton area, which is England’s major port and whose waters are closely guarded by His Majesty’s warships. No U-boat would dare come near. When all is said and done, I think it fair to say that the Germans plan to depart at a port seventy-five miles or less north of London.”
“There are dozens of such ports, some of which are mere villages with hidden docks and wharfs,” Dunn countered. “Moreover, we must consider the possibility that the Germans have a safe house along the way outside of London. Here, they could rest and delay their departure for a more suitable date.”
“I think your latter point is unlikely,” Joanna responded. “The Germans must be very exact in their escape, which no doubt was planned in advance. They would be on a strict schedule—as would the U-boat—that dictates how and when the transfer of Alistair Ainsworth would occur. To be successful, these types of maneuvers must be carried out on a precise timetable. We can therefore assume that, on leaving their current location, the next move is to go directly to their port of departure. Nevertheless, your description of the small villages with their secluded docks and wharfs is well taken and could present a surveillance problem. Yet, with the forces of Scotland Yard and Naval Intelligence, you should be able to find a way to cover them.”
“We shall give your suggestion our closest attention,” Dunn said. “But we should realize that, even with our best efforts, surveillance of all the inlets and estuaries would be next to impossible.”
“Nonetheless we should try,” Joanna persisted.
“And we shall.”
We paused briefly as hospital personnel entered the train car to retrieve the body of the German spy. Moments later the covered corpse was wheeled away, with strands of his bright red hair protruding out for all to see.
“Perhaps we should concentrate on the dead spy,” my father proposed, as the door to the car closed. “Does his presence here give us any clues that could lead to the whereabouts of the other German agents?”
“You assume that he is connected to the sham funeral,” Dunn said. “There is no evidence to associate the two. One must consider the possibility that it was a random, unplanned encounter.”
“Spies do not do random,” Joanna said. “There is a purpose behind every action they take, and that was certainly the case here.”
“But where is your proof to back up such an assertion?”
“Let us begin with the premise that two of Germany’s most skilled foreign agents show up at the same place at the e
xact same time,” Joanna elucidated. “And this takes place during the rehearsal of a plan to smuggle Alistair Ainsworth out of London. What is the chance of these events simply being coincidental?”
“None,” I replied at once. “Absolutely none.”
“Exactly.”
Lestrade asked, “But what was Rot’s purpose?”
“A number of possibilities come to mind,” Joanna answered. “He might have been an uninvolved observer who was there to oversee the plan in action and determine if there were any flaws. Or he could have been here as a protector for the actors in this play. And then there is a third, more likely reason that could tie Rot to the other German agents. Perhaps he was at Waterloo Station to conduct business that required a face-to-face encounter with the others.”
“But would he have taken such a risk, knowing the station was under close surveillance?” Dunn challenged.
“The risk was not as great as one might think,” Joanna replied. “Rot would have melted into the crowd without notice had he not tripped and exposed his red hair. And no one would have ever considered the woman in mourning to be the recipient of a spy message.”
“But all eyes would have been on the funeral procession,” Dunn persisted.
“Not initially,” Joanna responded. “Arrangements for moving the casket would have been carried out in a private room where Rot could have stopped in to pay his condolences. I can assure you no one would have paid his visit the least bit of attention.”
“But why take the risk at all?” Lestrade asked. “Why not send the information by wireless?”
“They would have been concerned the vital message might have been intercepted and decoded,” Joanna told him. “The safest and most secure method would be a hand-to-hand transfer, and this indicates how very important the message was.”
I inquired, “Do you have any idea what was in the message that made it so vital?”
“Here we must depend on logic and ask ourselves the following question. What was Rot’s singular mission while stationed in London?”
The Disappearance of Alistair Ainsworth Page 17