BRIGHTON RESIDENT
BRIGHTON RESIDENT TO THE EDITOR OF THE TIMES
Sir— there have been many persons amongst the residents of Brighton, especially men of business, who have long suspected that the disappearance of Mr Jasper Holt was a well calculated fraud, designed to cheat his creditors. I for one, have always believed that he was able to reach the shore safely and make his escape undetected, perhaps with the assistance of accomplices. I have my suspicions of who those accomplices might have been, but beyond commenting that one must have been a female, I decline to venture an opinion. And now he reappears, begging forgiveness! There are men in Brighton who came close to ruin or whose good reputations were unjustifiably sullied because of his actions and they cannot forgive him however much he pleads for mercy. Are the police taking no steps to place him under arrest? They had better take good care of him or he might run away again.
JUSTICE
TO THE EDITOR OF THE TIMES
Sir— Might I suggest that the person best placed to determine whether the man who claims to be Mr Jasper Holt is actually his family doctor?
COMMON SENSE
Mina pointed to the last contribution. ‘People without information are often very free with their opinions. They think they have all the answers which other, stupider people have not thought of, and they never think to check if they have their facts right before writing their letters. As a result, their mistakes are immortalised in print for the world to see. This person who demanded that the family doctor should go and identify the man in the Town Hall was obviously unaware that Mr Holt was never examined by Dr McClelland. Dr Crosier would be a better man to consult.’
‘Yes,’ said Dr Hamid, thoughtfully, ‘the man who examined Mr Holt for the insurance company.’ He made a brief but attentive examination of Mina’s respiration and pulse, and nodded satisfaction. ‘Dr Crosier’s name was familiar to me, when you first mentioned him, but I decided not to say anything at the time in case my memory was faulty. I did not want to risk criticising a man’s character without good reason. I have however, been making some discreet enquiries on the subject, and I have at last discovered that Dr Crosier died two years ago at the age of eighty-four.’ He made a pause that was so solemn and significant that he had all Mina’s attention. ‘But that was not before he had been struck off the medical register.’
‘Oh? For what reason?’
Dr Hamid completed his notes. ‘That I have not yet been able to establish. If I do, I will let you know. But my feeling is that it must have been something more serious than a decline in his faculties with age. Had that been the case; for example, had he been losing his sight, he would simply have been encouraged to retire from practice.’
‘But if the answer does not lie with either Dr McClelland or Dr Crosier, you might be able to solve the mystery. Didn’t you tell me that Mr Holt used to visit the Baths?’
‘Yes, but I didn’t examine him.’
‘But your masseur might recall if there were any marks about him that would assist identification.’
‘I will ask, but it seems unlikely. It was about ten years ago, and our records do not keep details of that kind unless they are relevant for treatments.’
‘Did he ask for any special treatment?’
‘Nothing out of the ordinary. Many gentlemen ask for a shoulder and back massage especially businessmen and shopkeepers. And the scalp as well, if they are afraid of losing their hair. I’m sorry, but I don’t think I have any information which would assist the police.’
Mina pointed to the letter from JUSTICE. ‘The veiled inference here is as clear as day. Even if the man is not Mr Holt, I fear that the suspicion that Mrs Vardy actually connived and colluded with her husband’s disappearance will always attach to her. She will never be free of it.’ Suspicion, she thought was like the corpse of a drowned man, one that had sunk below the waves, and then just as one hoped it had finally rotted away to nothing, it rose to the surface again, bloated by the foul-smelling gas of gossip.
‘Oh, it may turn out to be much worse for her than that,’ said Dr Hamid, regretfully. ‘One of my patients was in the crowd yesterday and he tells me that someone had heard a rumour that Mrs Vardy had not been left destitute by her husband’s loss, but had, unknown to him, been concealing some property, a box of jewels or some such, that she had held when she was single, and which by law ought to have passed to him on their marriage.’
‘But the Married Women’s Property Act —’
‘It is not retrospective. And in my opinion does not go nearly far enough.’
‘As if I needed another reason not to marry,’ said Mina dryly. ‘But the rumour cannot be true!’
‘There will be some people to whom that hardly matters. Those who prefer scandal to the truth. But as you can imagine it has especially aroused the interest of Mr Holt’s creditors, who suddenly saw a chance of suing him for their money.’
Mina realised that in her eagerness to solve the mystery of Mr Holt she had not seriously considered that in one sense it would never be solved. Even the production of a mouldering corpse wearing the last garments the man was seen in, or his living body recognised by his nearest and dearest would never for some people, be enough.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Mina was eager to hear from Mr Merridew again. She had written to him asking him to observe Mrs Vardy specially at the next séance, saying that having read all about the recent dramatic events at the Town Hall she was concerned for the lady’s wellbeing. She was delighted to receive his reply informing her that he had visited Mrs Barnham a second time and would call on her to make his report.
When he arrived and saw her no longer in bed but sitting in an armchair, he gave a little cry of pleasure and made a pirouette of joy, before joining her before a table where there was a dish of biscuits and tiny cakes, nicely arranged, and a carafe of refreshing mineral water.
‘As you know,’ he said, ‘I was anxious about the behaviour of one of the attendees at the last séance, a Mr Cobbe. ‘I am sorry to say that there are persons who take a delight in cruelty to others, especially those in a humble way of life, who cannot speak out in their defence.’
‘Is that Mr William Cobbe, the banker?’ asked Mina
‘It is. Do you know him?’
‘Only by name. I have sometimes read in the newspapers of people who treat their servants quite abominably,’ said Mina, ‘usually when they are facing judge and jury. Prison is the only place for them. Is he a creature of that sort?’
‘I fear he may be. A man such as Mr Cobbe, who is very jealous of his reputation, dare not indulge his cruelty too openly,’ observed Mr Merridew, ‘but he will always find ways and places. I therefore took the opportunity to speak to little Maggie before I went up to the medium’s rooms.’
Mr Merridew proceeded to describe everything that had happened when he reached the house:
As Maggie opened the door, I was struck once more how dreadfully thin and worn she was and could not help wondering if she might be a little older than she looked. I wanted to sit her down to a good nourishing dinner, but I doubted that Mrs Barnham would allow it, and there was also the concern that Maggie might well mistake my intentions. Some of these vile individuals earn the trust of their victims with outward kindness, which they soon abandon. I would not be able to help her if she were frightened of me. I asked if I could speak to her for a moment.