Dracula in London

“Very commendable, I’m sure.” Inspector Ames’s sarcasm was as bad as his disbelief. “You spent a month in gaol, my lad.”

“That I did. Two years since.” He could not conceal his bitterness. “My Mum nearly starved to death. No one cared for her.”

“An unfortunate circumstance,” said Inspector Ames smoothly. “You must be very grateful to Mister Carfax. Not many would employ the likes of you, not once you’ve been in gaol.”

“Probably not,” Edward said, keenly aware that the inspector was right. “But Mister Carfax, being foreign, is not so worried about these things as you are. He hired me—and I did tell him about what I had done.” He did his best to look unconcerned, though the memory of that interview still rankled. “Mister Carfax is willing to give a man a chance.”

“No doubt,” said Inspector Ames. “And you are loyal to him for this.”

“Certainly,” said Edward staunchly.

“Good,” said the inspector. “It would be unfortunate to see the man served a perfidious turn by one who should have only gratitude.”

“I understand you, Inspector Ames,” Edward told him. “I will not abuse Mister Carfax’s faith in me.”

Inspector Ames frowned at him. “I shall hope you do not. For I shall make it my task to be watching you.”

By the time the fourth body was discovered, only five days after the third, fear was all but palpable in the air. Activity on the docks became hasty, furtive. More constables patrolled, and fewer businesses kept their offices open past seven in the evening except when it was absolutely necessary. Everyone looked upon strangers as dangerous, and occasional fights broke out as a result of quickened tempers and unlucky mistakes.

After sustaining a third visit from the police in as many days, Edward found himself wandering restlessly around the main floor of the warehouse, looking at the stacked coffins and trying to steady his chaotic thoughts. He knew Inspector Uriah Ames was suspicious of him; his experience of the police told him that once they had settled on a man, they were tenacious in their purpose, no matter how much in error they might be; the implications worried him. Why did Inspector Ames think he was guilty of some criminal act? How could any policeman believe that he was a murderer? He paused beside the largest stack of caskets, noticing that one or two of them were slightly out of alignment. Sighing with a sense of ill-use, but secretly glad to have something to take his mind off his problems, Edward did his best to shove the coffins back into position.

The uppermost coffin teetered, rocked, and fell, crashing onto the rough planking with an ominous crack as the lid split open at the lock, spilling out a load of dark-red earth on the warehouse floor.

Edward stood in silence, staring at the fallen casket and its unaccountable contents. He could not bring himself to move. What was earth doing inside a coffin? he asked himself, and found no answer. Very slowly he let his breath out, unaware until that instant that he had been holding it. He noticed that this coffin was one of the ones that had been tagged to be picked up by the drayage firm the next day, and that made him more puzzled than ever. Who wanted the earth, and what would he do with it? He had no answer, so he approached the matter from a different angle: why should any undertaker buy a coffin filled with earth? To whom was Carfax selling these coffins, and why?

The sound of a carriage in the street brought him back to himself. He swore obscenely and comprehensively under his breath as he resisted the panic that threatened to overcome him. He was aware that he had to clean up the dirt and make some attempt to repair the coffin before Mister Carfax could see what a mess had been made. This galvanized him into action: in a flurry of activity, he removed his jacket and turned up his sleeves in preparation for all he had to do, searched for the wide broom he used every night before he left to make a pile of the dirt, and he improvised a dustpan to collect it and stuff it back in the carved wooden box. The lock was a trickier problem, and it so engrossed him as he glued the various bits back together that he did not notice when the door opened and Carfax himself slipped into the warehouse, taking refuge in the shadows where Edward could not see him.

When he was satisfied that he had repaired the worst of the damage, Edward hurried off to the washroom to clean his hands and neaten himself up. He combed his hair with his fingers and patted cold water on his face to diminish the flush of exercise, then straightened his collar and tie before going to fetch his jacket. He stopped still when he saw Carfax standing in the doorway. “Good afternoon, sir,” he said nervously. “I did not hear you arrive.”

“I daresay,” said Carfax, strolling into the center of the warehouse, his voluminous European-style cloak swinging around him. “Is all well?”

“The police still haven’t caught the murderer, but your business is thriving,” said Edward uneasily. He hoped that Carfax would not notice that the caskets were not stacked as they had been.

“Five bodies, is it?” Carfax asked.

“Four, actually,” said Edward.

“Oh, yes. Four.” He paused beside the first stack of coffins. “How sad.” Then he turned abruptly. “If you will fetch the accounting books down from the office? I want to assure myself that our records are accurate. There have been enough orders for these coffins for a review of our stock.”

Glad to be doing something useful, Edward bolted for the stairs; he did not see Carfax open the nearest coffin, take rumpled, stained clothing from under his cloak, and thrust the clothing inside; he closed the lid carefully, making almost no sound. Smiling slightly, he waited for Edward to come down with the account book.

“Here it is,” said Edward, holding out the ledger. “You’ll see I’ve ticked off all the coffins and caskets you have already shipped, and entered the date they were shipped here—” he pointed out the place in the columned paper.

“Ah, yes,” said Carfax. “A good arrangement.” He pointed to the inventory numbers of the next lot that would be shipped. “These are the ones that will be transported tomorrow?”

“Yes, sir,” said Edward, unable to keep from glancing at the earth-filled casket.

“Very good,” said Carfax, and turned his attention to other matters, which quieted Edward’s dismay.

“I’ll see the coffins get off all right and tight,” Edward promised Mister Carfax shortly before that worthy left him that evening. “It will be good to have them gone,” he said with genuine emotion.

“He denies everything. He claims to know nothing about the clothing or the earth. If you had not told us where to search, he might have got away with it,” said Inspector Ames as his men struggled to return some order to the chaos they had created. “We expect that of such criminals. This one was no different, claiming someone had planted what we found, to fix the blame on him. I am sorry that we had to do this.” He nodded as an indication of why he was apologizing: coffins and caskets were strewn about, most of them opened, as if a terrible desecration had taken place in an unlikely graveyard. The constables were doing their best to restack the coffins and caskets now that Hitchin had been taken into custody.

Carfax heard this out with every sign of distress. “But what did you find?” ‘

“Enough to give the hangman employment,” said Inspector Ames heavily. “In his drawer in the office there were some things he had hidden—of course, he denies any knowledge of them. They will be enough for the Queen’s Counsel to make an unbreakable case.”

“Are you so certain he is the man?” Carfax shook his head.

“Well,” said Inspector Ames knowingly, “it’s often the cooperative ones who prove the most dangerous in the end. No doubt he holds the police to blame for his father’s death and his mother’s decline.” He held out his hand to Carfax. “And speaking of cooperation, I thank you for all you have given us, sir. Without your help, this case might not have ended so quickly.”

Carfax accepted the inspector’s hand. “I must admit I did not think it would come to this when I first admitted you to my warehouse.” He sighed. “I can hardly stand to look at the place now.”

“Give it time, sir; give it time,” Inspector Ames recommended with a touch of sympathy.

“No doubt that is excellent advice.” Carfax nodded as he looked about in mild distraction. “At least my business will keep me away from here for a while, so I may accustom myself to what has happened here.” He stared up at the office above them. “I shall have to find someone else to manage this place for me, someone who can assume more of my duties in my absence.”

“I can recommend an agency, sir,” said Inspector Ames. “I feel a bit to blame for all the disruption you have endured.”