“How does this research work, Kate?” Sherlock asked. “Where does Hopgood get his specimens?”
“The poor. The cast out. Corpses that were sent to Oxford on the dead trains. He’d take the heads and-” Her voice trailed off. “But Cecil also financed him further.
“Then, not long ago, just a few weeks ago, Cecil sent word to me. He asked me to meet him. I don’t know why I did,” she admitted.
But I knew. When you loved someone completely, you could find yourself acting in total discord to the very essence of your soul.
“I met him once at the ladies’ entrance to the Turkish Bath... at Neville’s. We met again at the Doulton Pottery factory at Lambeth High. Do you know of it?”
“Yes, I know of it,” Sherlock said. “They used to make drainpipes and such but now they make stoneware there.”
I nodded. My Aunt Susan had many pieces of Doultonware and the privy on the first floor of Uncle’s home was decorated with Lambeth Faience from the factory. “It’s near the Thames,” I said.
She said, “Yes. He bought me a pretty cup and saucer and then we walked along the Thames that evening. He told me that Hopgood’s research had done nothing. He was no closer to knowing how to improve his daughter’s lot than he’d been before and he intended to stop funding the research. And he also told me that his daughter was very ill. He wanted to know if he could take my Mary. Raise her as his own daughter. Which she is, of course. I would have none of it. If I have to lay on my back until I take my dying breath to keep my girl and feed her, then I’ll do it,” she added defiantly.
“A few nights ago, he sent word to me to meet him at St. Marylebone Cemetery. And that’s when I found out his little girl had died. Died from the relentless fog. And he begged me again to let him raise Mary. He promised me I’d be taken care of as well. We were arguing when a man came upon us. He started yelling at Cecil.”
“He had followed you?”
“Cecil. He’d followed Cecil. Apparently he had told the professor that he was done with him. There’d be no more money. His child was dead and he was done with all of it. He was about to go to the police about Hopgood’s illegal grave robbing activities, even if it cost him his position. He didn’t care anymore.
“The man at the grave became enraged. He grabbed a shovel from nearby. There have been many new graves dug there recently. He hit Cecil across his back and then the back of his head.
“I started to run. I ran as fast as I could. But he hit me, too. Many times. He was going to kill me I think, but we heard voices and I scrambled to my feet and ran until I couldn’t run anymore.”
I drew in a breath. “So, Sherlock. What do you think?”
He propped his hands beneath his chin as if in prayer. “I believe he killed Sir Gray. And when it was safe, he drew instruments he’d carried with him and dismembered him and tossed him into the child’s grave.”
I felt as though I were going to vomit.
“Kate, you were injured again - after that first time I saw you. There was a large welt on your cheek and a cut above your left eye. Did Hopgood do that?”
“Yes. He found me. I don’t know how, but I’ve thought about that. I had a late... appointment...” She almost choked on the word. “An appointment and I was still wearing my costume beneath my coat. I tripped over my coat as I ran. So when I stopped to catch my breath beneath a street lamp, I cast off my coat and then I started to run again. He-”
“He could have seen your sleeves. They look like wings,” I interrupted. “And if he knew Cecil had a mistress - a woman who... who does what you do... he could have found your description in the Bachelor’s Pocket Book.”
“The what?” Sherlock asked.
“Never mind. Go on, Kate,” I urged.
“All I know is he found me and when he did, he made it clear that he’d kill my girl if I told anyone anything. And he will.”
She started to cry again.
“I was so frightened,” she continued. “I was afraid to go to the authorities. But... but...”
“Yes, yes, go on,” Sherlock urged.
“I went to where Cecil told me he would take money to arrange the grave robbing for Hopgood. I knew the pub owner. We all know one another round here.”
“And?” Sherlock queried, leaning forward.
“And I paid to have Cecil’s daughter’s grave unearthed. You see, that night I met Cecil there, when the man - Hopgood - attacked us... I just knew he’d killed Cecil. I went back just before dawn. The flowers Cecil had brought were tossed aside, strewn about. And the dirt had been overturned. So I wanted to make sure that someone discovered Cecil... Cecil’s body. That’s why my note said to await further instructions at the gravesite. That way Cecil wouldn’t be put on a dead train and-”
“And you gave no thought to what might happen to young Wiggins!” Sherlock shouted angrily.
She shook her head. “I didn’t think of anything except poor Cecil.”
Realizing the predicament that Kate had put him in, Wiggins lunged for her, but Sherlock tripped him and he went sprawling on the cobblestone. He sprang back up quickly but Sherlock pushed him against the wall. Forefinger to Wiggins’ nose, he said, “No. Not now.”
Wiggins shrugged him away and crossed his arms.
“I’m sorry,” Kate said. “I just wanted Cecil to be found. That’s all.
