The lady was clearly under great emotional strain at the time of her visit, and she might not have dared to take more than a glance at the man. He was undoubtedly changed from the man she had once loved and called husband, and her natural disinclination to find herself in a dreadful situation did the rest. As for Mr Saltmire, I must assume that he found it best to simply agree with his sister.
I should also mention that according to reports Mr Holt was brought out of his cell and placed in a well-lit room to be photographed and identified. His three business associates would therefore have had the benefit of bright sunlight in which to view him, a commodity in which I understand the Town Hall police cells to be deficient.
COMMON SENSE
TO THE EDITOR OF THE TIMES
Sir — It is said that one should never speak ill of the dead, however I feel that under the circumstances appertaining to Mr Holt and the gentleman currently languishing in the cells at Brighton, I should reveal what I know of Dr Crosier, who passed away two years ago at the age of eighty-four.
I was once a friend of Dr Crosier, but with advancing age and the deterioration of both his hearing and his eyesight, his patients began to seek other medical advice, and his practice was greatly reduced. On the last occasion on which I saw him, I wished to be examined for an insurance policy and he told me that he was content to sign any paper required, for a fee, irrespective of any condition which might result in an increase of the premium, or even refusal of the policy. Naturally I declined the offer, but I was somewhat shocked by it, and on making enquiries found that other patients had been advised the same, although all had stoutly refused to take advantage of it. One gentleman said, and I hope he was joking, that for the right fee Dr Crosier would sign a paper to say that a man had two good legs when he only had one.
I was considering what to do with this information, but soon afterwards I was relieved of that burden on hearing that Dr Crosier had been struck off the medical register. The proceedings were never reported in the daily press, and I believe it was assumed that he had retired due to his advanced age, however I made discreet enquiries and was told that he had indeed been struck off for signing fraudulent certificates. Soon afterwards he suffered a fit and lost the use of one side of his body. He was never prosecuted for the offence and died about a year later.
BRIGHT RESIDENT
TO THE EDITOR OF THE TIMES
Sir — Have your correspondents not considered that the gentleman claiming to be Mr Jasper Holt may be him in fact but at the same time, deceased? It is not beyond the bounds of possibility. I myself have attended many séances in which spirits of my departed relations have appeared to me. I recognised them at once, since they were exactly as they had been in life, able to move, and even warm to the touch, only they were now clad in glowing heavenly garments. I have even been permitted to embrace my dear mother’s spirit.
If this be the earthly reappearance of Mr Holt, then he has come to tell us of his tribulations and should be allowed to repent of his transgressions in order for his immortal soul to find the peace it craves.
I suggest that the authorities in Brighton call in the services of a sensitive, who will be able to establish this man’s identity beyond any doubt by viewing his aura. There is a noted sensitive residing in Brighton, a Miss S who surely ought to be consulted.
SPIRITUALIST
When Rose brought Mina her daily post, it consisted not of one or two letters but several dozen. Mina had an unhappy feeling as to what the letters would say and on opening one of them found that her instinct was correct. The powerful hand of famed explorer, spiritualist and persistent roué Mr Arthur Wallace Hope who had so often insisted that Mina was a sensitive who refused to acknowledge her gifts, was reaching out to her even from across the sea.
‘There are a number of persons outside asking to see you,’ said Rose.
‘Are they from the newspapers?’
‘They don’t say they are.’
‘Then I expect they are. You are to admit anyone who is either a uniformed policeman or someone I already know. The others can leave their card.’
‘That will be all of them, then,’ said Rose.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
That evening Richard arrived home complaining of a headache and declaring himself too exhausted even to sample the delights of the town. Mina found herself unexpectedly transformed from patient to nurse as she asked Rose to bring her a cloth, a towel, and a basin of cool water with which to bathe Richard’s temples.
‘I now know exactly how many people live in Brighton,’ he moaned, as he collapsed into a chair by her side, ‘because every single one of them down to the last bootlace and match seller has been crowding into Ship Street, and most of them have come for just one reason, to stare at the pictures in the window of Beckler’s shop. That is all very fine for him, I suppose, and he is highly pleased about it, but when will the chaos end? The street is very narrow as you know, but much used, so the crush has been preventing the movement of traffic. And the noise! There were frightened horses and barking dogs, quarrelling ladies and burst parcels all over the place. Two carriers started laying about them with whips, three shopkeepers came in to complain to us that they weren’t getting their deliveries, and the only man who was able to travel from one end of the street to the other without hindrance was riding a velocipede.’
‘Did anyone have any useful suggestions as to who the man in the police station might be?’ asked Mina. ‘Apart from Mr Holt’s creditors, that is, who are all adamant that he is Mr Holt.’
‘Everyone has an idea, but no-one could actually give him a name. He has been everything and everyone, a beggar, a fishmonger’s delivery man, an escaped convict, a puppeteer, a famous private detective in disguise, and who knows what else, all in the course of one day. It is too much for anyone to endure!’ Richard took the damp cloth from Mina and pressed it to his face. ‘I need a brandy. I need a good smoke. I need a holiday. I need —’ he groaned. ‘I need Nellie. I wish she would come back.’
‘Perhaps all these people think that they will get a reward, although none has been offered,’ Mina suggested. ‘Didn’t someone start a rumour that Mrs Vardy has a secret cache of valuables, which has led the creditors to imagine they might receive their money after all? That is the person you should be blaming for the pandemonium.’
Richard peeped out one eye from under the cloth. ‘It wasn’t a rumour it was just idle talk, the sort of thing all fellows do. It might be true though. Married ladies are always hiding things from their husbands.’
‘I won’t ask how you know this, but it will certainly stand you in good stead when you marry.’ Mina took the cloth and wetted it again, then dabbed it to her brother’s forehead. ‘Do you have any other symptoms apart from the headache?’
‘Only misery and ennui,’ he sighed. ‘But I did find something you might like.’ He sat up, produced a photograph from his pocket and handed it to Mina. ‘Don’t tell anyone but I have borrowed it. They look like a fine collection of walruses.’
Mina put aside the cloth, dried her hands and studied the picture. It was a card-mounted tintype of a group of six gentlemen standing about a table on which was displayed a handsome model yacht. She turned it over and written on the reverse of the card was ‘Brighton Yacht Club, 1863, Old Steine, Brighton, Secretary W Sutherland.’