by Sam Gafford
“Oh, dear me,” Mrs. Hutchins said. “I’ve said something I shouldn’t have, didn’t I?” She looked very sorrowful.
“It’s all right, Mrs. Hutchins,” Arthur said, “it’s all my fault. Give us a moment, will you?”
She backed out of the room. I actually felt sorrier for her than I did for myself.
“What did she mean, Arthur?”
“Well, Ann didn’t actually go to an audition tonight. She went to the theatre. She’d gotten the ticket the day that you collapsed, and she was torn about going. It was obvious that she really wanted to go, and after the doctor assured her that you were not likely to die this evening, she asked me to sit with you.”
“She left me to go to a play?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so. I didn’t agree with her decision, but I didn’t have the right to say anything. They were front-row tickets, you see, and those are very difficult to come by.”
“What show did she go to?”
“Really, Albert, you needn’t stress yourself about this. You’ll make yourself ill again.”
“What show?”
“Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde. It’s Mansfield’s show.”
I felt myself falling again. “How did she get the ticket?”
“Mansfield. He gave her a special pass.”
“I see. Is there anything else I should know?”
“No, not about Ann. She really did spend most of her time here with you. Tonight was the first night she’s left the house in three days. Surely that counts for something?”
I nodded unconvincingly.
“Look, Albert, I don’t confess to know much about women and how to deal with them. Even being married doesn’t give me much insight. But it seems to me that the two of you need to discuss where you’re headed and if you’re going there together.”
“I suppose.”
It was not a conversation I was looking forward to having, because I was afraid of the outcome.
I ate some more of the soup before I remembered something.
“You were going to tell me about the diary. You brought it back to Wendell, yes?”
Arthur looked at me sheepishly.
“I did send word to Wendell, yes. I let him know that the diary was found and was safe and that you were lying near death because of it.”
“But you didn’t bring it back to him?”
“No. At first, I waited because I wanted you to be able to bring it back yourself as part of your triumph, but then I had another reason.”
He looked at me and smiled. “I wanted to read it!”
I was stunned. “Arthur, I don’t think you should have done that. Isn’t that a breach of trust?”
Arthur shrugged. “Perhaps, but I had to know what was so important in that diary that someone was willing to kill for it.”
My curiosity was getting the better of me. I also wanted to know. “What did you find? What did it say?”
He reached inside his jacket and pulled out the diary. He tossed it onto the end of my bed.
“You should read it, Albert. It’s very educational.”
Turning his back to me, Arthur walked to the window and stared outside. It was dark, so I couldn’t tell what he was looking at. Probably he was just staring into the blackness.
“I think . . . maybe I was wrong.”
“What do you mean? Wrong about what?”
He paused. “The Nichols murder. I had it in my mind that she was killed by something . . . something beyond human. But I may have been mistaken.”
It didn’t make much sense to me. Not that I fully understood what Arthur had been talking about before, but now I couldn’t understand his willingness to abandon it.
“What do you mean?”
“This diary. I know who wrote it, and there are things in it that make me think someone knows more about this murder than we think.”
“You know who wrote the diary, don’t you?”
“Of course. Prince Albert Edward, blah, blah, blah. Ol’ Collars and Cuffs himself.”
“Well, surely he couldn’t be the murderer—and the diary was stolen before the Nichols murder anyway.”
He turned back to look at me.
“You need to read it, Albert. It describes some things that Eddy did with someone else—things that were very similar to what happened to Nichols.”
I stared at him. “Arthur, do you know what you’re saying? Are you serious?”
“Yes, Albert, I do know. What I’m telling you is that this diary could be evidence against the Duke of Clarence. I’m saying that a member of the royal family could be a murderer.”
I shook my head. None of it made any sense.
“You can’t be right. I can’t believe it. Why would a royal do this?”
“Why does any man commit unspeakable crimes? Sometimes it’s greed, sometimes it’s lust, sometimes it’s just madness.”
Arthur walked closer to me.
I had never seen him look so serious, and it frightened me.
“It bothered me, Albert. Why would someone—even the Duke of Clarence, who seemed to be as included in state secrets as you and I are—be so determined to get this book? I finally deduced that there was something in there that Eddy either saw or was told. I didn’t think it would be something he actually participated in. Then I read the diary and, to my horror, I found out something far worse.”
I stared. What could be worse?
“I think that Prince Eddy is insane.”
Chapter 27
Our haughty life is crowned with darkness,
Like London with its own black wreath.
—William Wordsworth
There are times that you are confronted with some thought or word so outrageous that, even though you should be shocked or terrified, it makes you laugh. It’s not that you don’t understand its significance or importance. Rather it is just so outlandish that it is beyond belief. Such a thing was my friend telling me that a member of the royal family was crazy.
Without wanting to, I started to laugh.
“I’m sorry, Arthur, but I just can’t believe that. Surely there would have been some mention of it before, in the papers or an announcement by the palace itself.”
Arthur looked pained. “Do you really think Queen Victoria would announce that her grandson was mad and fantasised about ripping up women?”
“He did what?”
“That’s what it says in that diary. And he may have done a little more than fantasise. I’m hoping that some of it is made up and that he didn’t do those things. You really need to read it.”
“You mean to say that the Duke of Clarence, second in line for the throne of England, has confessed in this diary to murder?”
“Not strictly speaking, no. But he describes a friend of his who exhibits a strong influence upon him. I believe it may have been the same person that Princess Alix was telling The Brothers about when prohibiting them from procuring any more hateful books. This ‘friend’ is seriously deranged, I believe, and it was he who gave Eddy the desire to kill. I believe that this friend has already committed murder and, I fear, convinced Eddy to join him on at least one occasion. If my suspicions are correct, Polly Nichols may have been their next victim. But it gets worse, Arthur.”
“How could this possibly get worse?”
“Because I don’t think they’re done. I think they’re going to keep killing; and if Prince Eddy is involved, they will get away with it.”
“Surely not! I mean, if they’re caught even he couldn’t avoid trial.”
“Albert, did you really think the Queen would allow her grandson ever to stand trial for such a crime? Or even to be arrested, for that matter?”
“I suppose not, but that’s not right or fair.”
“Tell that to the people in the East End. They can use a good laugh. I want you to read the diary, Albert; you’ll need to be as familiar with this mind as possible.”
“Why? What difference would that make?”
“Because you�
�re going to help me catch him before they kill again.”
“What? Me? Why not just bring the diary to Abberline? Have him conduct an enquiry.”
“Fred would never be allowed to do that. As soon as it became known what he was doing and what he had in the diary, his investigation would be quashed and, if he was lucky, Fred would only be demoted or reassigned. Worse, if he wasn’t lucky.”
“What do you mean? He’s an agent of the Crown, isn’t he? Wouldn’t he be protected?”
Arthur grew very serious, and his voice took on a conspiratorial tone. “This government has ways to protect itself, Albert, very dangerous ways used by very dangerous men. It will go to any lengths to squash any threat to itself or the monarchy. Should the government learn that someone suspected the prince of any wrongdoing, it would not be the prince who would feel the wrath but those who dared to accuse him. God help anyone who actually tried to publicise such a thing in the papers. No, if anything is going to be done, it will have to be done by men operating alone, outside the system. It will have to be done by us.”
It was all too much for me.
“I don’t know, Arthur. I mean, I’m just a fisherman’s son from Cornwall. I’m not meant for such things.”
“On the contrary! You have proven yourself time and again to be just the man for the job. Just in your quest for the book you have shown that you have imagination, daring, and pluck. Your bravery is without question and, in truth, I could ask for no better man at my side. Will you do it?”
“You’re going to do this whether I help or not, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And I’ll probably regret this, won’t I?”
“It is very likely, yes.”
I sighed. “Well, when you put it that way. What is our first step?”
Arthur clapped his hands together in celebration.
“Your first step is to read the diary. I hope you can decipher it easily enough. Lord knows it took me a while. The man’s handwriting and spelling are atrocious! You may doubt my suspicions, but you cannot argue that the man who wrote that, the man who is second in line for the throne, is a barely functioning illiterate. It amazes me that he has been allowed to progress so far in life and not been the victim of an unfortunate ‘accident.’”
I finished the soup and put it aside. It had made me feel warm and sleepy, and I doubted I would be able to stay awake much longer.
As I was about to ask Arthur what he would be doing while I read the diary, the door opened abruptly and Dr. Williams entered the room.
“Ah, Mr. Besame, back in the land of the living, I see. How are you feeling?”
“Dr. Williams, what are you doing here?”
He laughed. “Mrs. Hutchins sent for me the second she heard you were up. No grass grows under her feet!”
“Did you tend to me while I was unconscious?”
“While you were in a coma, you mean. Yes, it was I. I see that you neglected my advice to avoid such punishment. Sit still, I want to examine you.”
Arthur stood off to the side. “Albert,” he said eventually, “I think I’ll be going. I have a few things to check on and you need to get some rest. I’ll be back to see you tomorrow and we will talk some more.”
“Good!” said Dr. Williams. “Go, away with you, Mr. Machen. I need to check our sleeping patient.”
Arthur laughed and waved goodbye as he left the room.
For the next ten minutes, Dr. Williams prodded and poked me. He looked in my eyes and tested my motor reflexes and my ability to follow his finger with my eye. It was all rather annoying.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Not too bad, I guess, considering what happened. I still have a sharp pain in my head when I turn it a certain way.”
Dr. Williams grunted. “That’s to be expected. You probably still have a bit of soft tissue damage in your neck. You’ve taken several bad knocks to the head. It’s a miracle you weren’t killed or paralysed.”
He started to pack his tools back into his Gladstone bag.
“Not that I think you’ll listen, but I want you to stay in bed for several more days. Your system’s had quite a shock, and I’d like you to build your strength up again.”
“I will endeavour not to move from this bed.”
“Hmm, that should last a day. One more thing.” He drew closer to me and looked cautiously at the door. “Try not to get Mrs. Hutchins upset. Her son, William, was taken away by the police yesterday and detained. They haven’t said why yet, and she’s in a state of nervous collapse. That, in addition to her worry over you, made her my second patient in this house.”
“Her son was arrested?”
“No, not arrested, ‘detained.’ That’s official talk for ‘we’ll take you away until we decide whether to charge you with anything.’ I fear what they wanted him for.”
“I think I know,” I said and proceeded to tell the doctor about my conversation with Abberline about William.
The doctor nodded his head in agreement.
“You did the right thing, Albert. I shouldn’t like to think that her son is involved with that murder, but to speak the truth, I would not be totally surprised. You remember that I warned you about him and it was with reason. During his youth, this neighbourhood had more than its normal share of missing pets. One day, while helping Mrs. Hutchins clean the back yard, I found a box buried in the dirt. It contained the skulls of no fewer than fifteen animals. Small dogs, some cats, what I think were rats, and even some reptiles. Needless to say, I disposed of the box without her knowledge, but ever since that day I have kept as much of an eye on the boy as I could.”
“Did you ever catch him at anything?”
Dr. Williams sighed. “No, never red-handed. After my discovery of the box, the pet disappearances decreased. I’d like to think that it was because he’d stopped, but I fear it only meant that he had widened his hunting circle and became more adept at hiding his trophies. Although there were times . . .”
“Times what?”
“When he was in his middle teens, I would often catch him staring at younger children with such a look that it struck horror into my soul. But once again, I could not catch him at anything and there was nothing definite to say. You cannot lock a child away simply because you don’t like the way he looks at something, much to my regret.”
“Was there nothing you could do?”
He held his hands up. “Very little. Happily, most of the neighbourhood steered clear of William. He frightened the other children, and those his own age tormented him unmercifully. Thankfully, none of them disappeared into the night. When he reached the proper age, I recommended to Mrs. Hutchins that he be apprenticed to a butcher. It was my hope that the commission of his trade might reduce his ‘unhealthy’ appetites. Would that it had been so.”
“Do you really think he murdered that poor girl?”
“Do I believe he is capable of such a thing? Yes, I do. Did he kill this girl? I can’t say. But your mention of ‘Leather Apron’ fills me with apprehension.”
“Why is that?”
“Because two days ago, it was reported in the papers that the police were looking for a man known in the East End by the name ‘Leather Apron.’ Until you mentioned it, I didn’t remember that William wore such a thing during his work. That connexion worries me. What it would mean for Mrs. Hutchins concerns me even more.”
I nodded. “She would be devastated if he were guilty.”
“More than that. I believe that, were William to be sent to the gallows, she would follow him in death soon after. No matter what manner of man he might be, he is still her son and nothing will ever sever that bond. I pray that we are both mistaken.”
“If I hear anything from the inspector, I will try and let you know as quickly as possible. Perhaps, if a blow is to come, we can try to soften it as much as we can.”
Dr. Williams stood up and slowly nodded. I could tell that he believed, as I did, that there would be no way to
soften a blow such as that.
“Perhaps,” I said, “I should have kept my thoughts to myself. I wouldn’t wish to cause Mrs. Hutchins any pain.”
He patted my shoulder. “No, son, you did the right thing. I would have done the same were I in your place. Could you live with yourself if it turned out that he was the killer and took another life? Or another after that? No. As much as it hurts us to cause her pain, even Mrs. Hutchins would agree that it was better than letting another innocent woman go to her death. I should be going now. Try to get some rest. I’ve given Mrs. Hutchins a sleeping draught for you, and she will be bringing it up presently. If all goes well, you should be on your feet in a day or two.” The doctor left the room, but I barely had a minute to digest what he had told me.
Mrs. Hutchins popped her head through the door to check on me. “All done with your supper?” she asked.
I nodded, and she came in to collect the dishes. She had a large glass of water that had some reddish-looking substance in it. “Dr. Williams said that I could mix this for you. He said it would help you to sleep.”
“Don’t you think I’ve slept enough, Mrs. Hutchins? I mean, I’ve been out for three days!” I had meant it as a bit of a joke, but she didn’t take it that way.
“Don’t you be acting like that now,” she said. “You’re not going to ignore the doctor’s orders again! I’m not going to let you! So I am going to stand here and watch you drink every last drop of that glass and I’m not going to leave until you do!”
I knew it was the stress over her son that was causing her to behave in this manner, so I quickly did as I was told and downed the liquid. It was vile and grainy, but I drank it all.
Mrs. Hutchins left the room and I was left with my thoughts. On the one hand, there was Abberline who believed it was possible that William Hutchins could be the murderer. On the other hand, Arthur seemed convinced that Prince Eddy was behind it all. Of the two, I had an easier time believing in Hutchins’ guilt. I still couldn’t make the leap of faith that would allow me to believe that a member of the royal family could be capable of such a terrible thing.
But there was still the diary to consider. Arthur had said that the proof would be in its pages.