and it turned her brain. He thinks she’s in the right place now. They’ll know how to look after her.’
‘I spent a long time with Agnes Rossiter,’ said Canon Smalley. ‘It’s a sad case.’
‘They’re all sad cases in here,’ remarked Swift. ‘But it’s no part of my job to feel sorry for them. I leave that to you.’
‘Christian love can sometimes do what medicine is unable to do.’
‘Between us, we can offer both, Canon Smalley.’
‘Mrs Rossiter talked endlessly about the stationmaster.’
‘I know. I heard the tale from her myself. What she fails to understand is that the stationmaster would never have talked in the same way about her. In his view, she was merely someone with whom he worked. It’s only in the febrile recesses of her mind that she decided she is effectively his widow.’
Dr Morton Swift enjoyed his occasional meetings with Canon Smalley. While he retained complete control over the treatment of those confined in the asylum, Swift was always ready to listen to the man who had dedicated his life to providing pastoral care. They’d both had successes in the past. Thanks to him, some of Swift’s patients had been nursed back to health to a point where it was safe to release them. Canon Smalley’s triumphs could not be measured in terms of numbers who left the asylum. His achievements were related to the relief of anguish and the building of trust. Of the canon’s many skills, none was valued more highly by Swift than his ability to quell the fire inside violent patients. It was a skill that was in constant demand.
‘Another new case is being admitted today,’ said Swift, opening a file on his desk. ‘The young lady’s name is Esther Leete.’
‘I’ll make a point of talking to her before the day is out.’
‘That’s not possible, I’m afraid. Miss Leete is deaf and dumb. She’s been subject to fits of violence, so has come into our hands. Treat her with care.’
‘I’ll do so, Dr Swift.’
‘Thank you.’
‘First, however, I promised to call on Mrs Rossiter again.’
‘Don’t mention Mr Heygate’s funeral,’ advised Swift. ‘It’s best that she knows nothing of what’s happening in the outside world.’
Agnes Rossiter had no idea where she was or what she was doing there. She missed her sister, her friends and her job. Most of all, she missed the freedom to do what she wanted. She needed to mourn the man she adored, to attend his funeral and to place flowers on his grave. Yet she couldn’t even leave her room until it was unlocked. She couldn’t eat, drink, wash or relieve herself until she was told. Her own clothing had been taken from her and she had been put into a coarse shift and a rough woollen dressing gown. They’d stolen her identity and turned her into something she neither liked nor recognised as herself. It was demeaning. But there was one thing they could never take from her and that was the memory of Joel Heygate. As long as she held on to that, she had a bulwark against the multiple indignities of the asylum. He was her comfort and salvation. She would tell that to Canon Smalley.
Although he’d joked about putting them in adjoining cells, Colbeck made sure that Bagsy Browne and Adeline Goss never even saw each other. While the former was locked up, the latter was interviewed by Colbeck and Steel. There was no need for handcuffs and Leeming was not required to stand in front of the door. He’d been sent by the inspector on another errand. Unaware that Browne was in custody, Adeline was careful to say nothing to incriminate him.
‘We believe that you were harbouring a man named Bernard Browne,’ said Colbeck. ‘How long did he stay with you in Rockfield Place?’
‘He didn’t stay with me,’ she replied.
‘Then why did he feel the need to rescue you from a police cell?’
‘It’s the sort of thing Bagsy would do for an old friend.’
‘So, until then, you’d spent no time together?’
‘That’s right.’
‘What about the last couple of days? Where did you spend those?’
‘I was on my own.’
‘You’re lying, Adeline,’ said Steel, ‘as you always do when we haul you in here. You haven’t got an honest bone in your body. Don’t take us for fools. Even Bagsy wouldn’t go to all the trouble of getting you out of here, only to abandon you to your own devices.’
‘Yet that’s what he did.’
‘We don’t believe you.’
‘After you left here, then,’ resumed Colbeck, ‘you and Browne parted company. Have you seen him since?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I’ve seen neither hide nor hair of him.’
‘Then how to do you explain the fact that he saw you off on the train this morning? It’s how we caught you, Miss Goss. We learnt that Browne bought you a single ticket to Plymouth. I sent a telegraph there.’
‘Well?’ pressed Steel as she fell silent. ‘Are you going to deny it? Or are you going to claim that it was Bagsy’s twin brother?’
She looked anxious. ‘Where is he?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘You’re trying to trick me,’ she said with an accusatory glare.
‘We’re trying to discover to what extent you were his accomplice,’ said Colbeck, taking over once again. ‘As things stand, it looks as if you’ve been hand in glove with him from the time he first came to Exeter. That may be a very unfair judgement on you. For your sake, Miss Goss, I sincerely hope that it is. Cast your mind back, if you will, to the night of November 4th. Did you spend it with Browne?’
‘No!’ she affirmed.
‘Did you see him at all that day?’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘You seem very sure of that.’
‘I know who I sleep with, Inspector.’
‘In other words,’ he said, ‘you can’t provide him with an alibi.’
She grinned slyly. ‘You’re trying to trick me again, aren’t you?’
‘It was a simple question,’ said Colbeck. ‘All we wish to know is whether or not you spent the night before Guy Fawkes Day with your old friend, Browne.’
‘I’ve told you,’ she snapped, ‘I bleeding well didn’t.’
‘Do you have any idea where he was that night?’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘Would you swear to that in court?’ asked Steel.
‘I’ll yell it from the bleeding rooftops, if you like.’
‘That won’t be necessary, Adeline.’
‘We believe you,’ said Colbeck. ‘It’s the only thing you’ve said so far that we
Adeline was disturbed. ‘What do you mean?’
‘How long have you known Mr Browne?’
‘Tell me what you mean about my neck,’ she demanded.
‘Calm down, Miss Goss.’
‘You can’t make threats like that against me. I’m a whore, that’s all I am. My mother was a whore and I was brought up in the trade. I’m good at it, though I say so myself. Arrest me for that, if you like,’ she said, spiritedly, ‘but don’t start accusing me of anything else.’ She stood up. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Sit down, Adeline,’ said Steel.
‘I won’t be blamed for something I didn’t do.’
‘Sit down or you’ll have to be restrained.’
After a silent battle of wills, she eventually gave in and resumed her seat.
‘Let me tell you why we have such an interest in you,’ said Colbeck, ‘and I advise you to listen carefully. Bernard Browne is in custody, charged with a number of offences, some related to you. He has also been charged
