scrawled.’
‘Ah,’ said Harcourt, thinking of the note, also an anonymous scrawl, which he had received with the knife in the box.
‘I have it here,’ said Traynor, taking a folded piece of paper from his pocket. He passed it to Harcourt. The Superintendent read: ‘LOOK TO DOCTER TONY HE MURDERED THOSE 2 IN NORWOOD’. Harcourt returned the paper and looked enquiringly at Traynor.
‘Interesting, eh? Now usually such a note — and we get them from time to time at the Yard — would not take us much further. Who is to say that this is not simply a malicious or mischievous communication? But the writer of it knew something. He knew that this was a case of murder even though the deaths had initially been reported as a household accident. And then we had a stroke of luck. One of our detectives on the metropolitan force makes it his business to be familiar with the area of London round Rosemary Street. He knows its courts and alleys, he knows many of its disreputable inhabitants. He knows too of a gentleman called Tony, Doctor Tony, who lodges in the vicinity. No last name at that stage but it appears he might have been a genuine medical man once. Of him we could find no trace. But we did lay our hands on an individual called George Forester of the Old Mint, which is near Rosemary Street. It did not take long to break Forester. It turned out that he was the writer of the note. He confessed soon enough. He said he felt under some sort of obligation to this Tony, claimed that the doctor had saved the life of one of his children and that ever since he, George, had run the odd errand on the doctor’s behalf.’
‘I see.’
‘One of the things he had done recently was to spy on a couple of dwellings, one of which belonged to the Seldons. Doctor Tony had requested this and George did it without thinking very much about the reasons. When he heard about the death of the Seldons he put two and two together. George is not a bad fellow even if he has had the odd brush with the law in his younger days. He didn’t want to sing out direct to us so he wrote that note, hoping we’d nab Tony without involving him. Fact is, though, I think he was relieved when we hauled him in. Said it had been weighing on his conscience. He told us everything. We didn’t even have to threaten him with being an accessory.’
‘So this doctor — this Tony — turned on the gas taps in the policeman’s house. Do you know why, Inspector?’
‘We’ve been doing a bit of deep digging, which is our method at the Yard. We reviewed all the arrests which Seldon had been present at. We looked at cases where he had given testimony in court. And we discovered that Seldon had recently been involved in a case against a medium — what’s the matter?’
Traynor hesitated. At the mention of the word ‘medium’, Harcourt had given a start.
‘It’s nothing,’ said the Superintendent. ‘A coincidence perhaps. I’ll explain in a moment.’
‘Well, there was to be a prosecution against the medium under the Vagrancy Act. Seldon had attended a seance at which a man called Ernest Smight accepted money in exchange for his predictions. No great crime perhaps but it is still an offence. We don’t always concern ourselves with such matters but someone high-up had laid a complaint against Smight, and we were obliged to investigate. Ernest Smight was due to appear before the magistrates. It wasn’t the first offence either so he might have served a few months inside.’
‘But something happened?’
‘You might say so, Superintendent. Smight threw himself off Waterloo Bridge. Obviously he thought he was facing financial ruin and penury. He preferred the cold waters of the Thames to prison gruel. He has a sister who assisted him in his presentations and she as good as accused the police of bringing about his demise. He also has a brother who has gone much further than words. By a combination of close questioning of Miss Smight and keeping our ear to the ground, we have established that George’s friend Tony is Doctor Anthony Smight. He has assorted letters after his name and might once have enjoyed a respectable practice. But he allowed himself to sink in the world. He haunts an opium den near the London docks, having acquired a taste for it out in the East. He consorts with dubious men and loose women. He occasionally does a good turn, as he did when he attended that child of George’s, but in general his life is one of indolence and vice. However, he has never committed murder — until now!’
Inspector Traynor paused in his recital. In his quiet way he had been leading up to this climax. Only he wasn’t quite done.
‘We believe that Tony — Doctor Smight — with his brains addled by years of dope-smoking and moral turpitude has embarked on a reckless homicidal course. He may not even care if he is caught provided he has accomplished his grim task. He is determined to revenge himself on those he regards as responsible for his brother’s suicide. There were six people at the seance in Tullis Street. Two of them are believers and played no part in the unmasking of Ernest. Two more are already dead, Mr and Mrs Seldon, the policeman and his wife. And there is a third couple whose lives, we consider, are in real danger. And they are currently in Durham.’
Finally, thought Harcourt as he struggled to keep his head in this whirlwind of explanation, we have arrived at the reason for Traynor’s presence.
‘We have made discreet enquiries — which is also our method at the Yard — and have found that they are here on a visit. The lady has an aunt who lives in the city and they are staying with her.’
This time Harcourt didn’t give a start. But he was pretty certain he knew who the aunt was, and the couple too. Nevertheless he asked Traynor for their names.
‘The aunt is called Miss Julia Howlett,’ said the Inspector. ‘Helen Ansell is her niece. She and her husband Thomas were the others present at that fateful seance. Mr Ansell is a lawyer and it seems as though he may have helped to expose Smight. He and his wife would have been called as witnesses if the affair had gone before the bench. Miss Smight, the sister, gave these names to her doctor brother — she says now she had no idea of his murderous purpose, although I am not sure that I believe her. The danger to the Ansells is plain as day. We have reason to believe that Anthony Smight is also in the city. An individual of his description was seen boarding the northbound train from the London terminal at about the time the Ansells left the city.’
Frank Harcourt said, ‘I have met Mr and Mrs Ansell in somewhat unfortunate circumstances. It may be hard to believe but Mrs Ansell was briefly suspected of an involvement in our murder, I mean the murder of Eustace Flask.’
Now it was Traynor’s turn to look both baffled and curious, insofar as his bland face could register those reactions. Frank Harcourt gave a brief account of Flask’s death and the reason for the apprehending of Helen Ansell. He described the strange delivery of the cardboard box with the knife to the police station. He hinted at a plethora of suspects but also that an arrest could not be far off. Then he mentioned that Flask was a medium.
‘What! Why didn’t you say so at first, Superintendent?’
‘It did not seem relevant, Inspector. I was not aware that your own case was connected to a medium. Besides, yours took his own life while Flask had his taken from him.’
‘A coincidence, no doubt,’ said William Traynor, ‘but unsettling as coincidences may sometimes be.’
‘What are you going to do? Do you intend to alert the Ansells to their danger?’
‘Yes. I will require you to call on the resources of the Durham force to, ah, keep an eye on them. And we will need to be on the lookout for Dr Tony. I have a likeness of him.’
Traynor unfastened his portmanteau and drew out a sheaf of papers, one of which he passed to Harcourt. The Superintendent looked at a drawing of a thin-faced man in late middle-age. His face was creased with lines and the police artist had put a malicious glint in his eyes.
‘It was George Forester who provided most of the detail for that,’ said Traynor, ‘but we also called on Smight’s sister for confirmation. Her position is more serious than Forester’s and we may charge her as an accessory. Doctor Smight has a sallow complexion to the point of yellowness. He is about six feet tall and he is thin. Few of these addicts waste their time in eating, you know, Superintendent. You must distribute that picture and the other facts I’ve mentioned to all the men in the city force. How many constables have you?’
‘Sixty-five for the city and the surrounding area.’
‘Good. You should take personal charge of passing on these details, although I would like to be able to attend when you do. But every constable should know that this is a dangerous man, one we suspect is already responsible for two deaths and one who is on a quest for more victims in Durham.’
‘Of course,’ said Harcourt, slightly irritated that the Yard man was telling him how to do his job. He said, ‘Shouldn’t we be distributing this picture to the newspapers.’
‘No,’ said Traynor firmly. ‘I do not want Smight alerted to the fact that we are looking for him. He will only go
