inside the archway at the entrance of St Bartholomew’s Hospital, with the intention of fortifying themselves for the rest of the patrol with a pipe of tobacco and a warming sip of grog from the small flask each of them carried.
It was as they were scurrying towards the hospital entrance that sharp-eyed Constable John Boggs alerted his companion, Constable Patrick Hilley, to the two figures skulking inside the hospital gates. Neither of the patrolmen was particularly inquisitive by nature, despite their office, and in the normal scheme of things would probably have hesitated before proceeding. But both men were aching from the cold and did not relish seeking alternative shelter by venturing further than they had to in the snow flurries that were beginning to swirl around them. Also, the quick snifter of grog had served to imbue them with a sense of confidence they might not otherwise have enjoyed.
Somewhat inevitably, it was Boggs, the younger of the two, who broke into a trot first, holding his lantern aloft, announcing his identity and calling for the shadowy figures to show themselves.
The two figures appeared to be male. One was of average height, his companion was taller, a lot taller, and big with it. Each bore a load of some kind, but as the underside of the archway lay in deep shadow it was hard to make out details. Boggs saw the ease with which the bigger man moved with the object on his back, unlike his companion, who seemed to be struggling with his burden. Both had shown an impressive fleetness of foot, though with two constables in pursuit, it was hardly surprising.
It soon became clear to the constables that the fleeing men were now empty-handed. Whatever they’d been carrying had been left behind in the rush to evade the constables’ clutches.
Arriving at the hospital entrance, Hilley and Boggs watched their quarry fade into the darkness beyond the falling snow, knowing it was pointless to follow. Not too dispirited at the thought, the constables returned to the archway to see what the disappearing duo had discarded.
Lanterns held high, they approached with some caution. A short way inside the entrance, arranged against the wall, were three large wicker hampers. Hesitantly the constables lifted the lid of each hamper and peered inside. All three were empty. The two men looked at each other, mystified.
Then Hilley spotted the sacks. They were lying between the last hamper and the wall, and looked as if they’d been flung there in a hurry. While his companion raised both lanterns overhead to shed light, Hilley took out his clasp knife and, with shaking hands, cut through the binding of the nearest sack. He was already conscious of the awful smell.
Hilley was the first one to throw up. Boggs wasn’t far behind him.
“Intriguing,” Quill said. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
Quill used the scalpel as a pointer. “As you can see, incisions have been made in both cadavers, allowing access to the internal organs, a number of which have been removed.”
“Organs?” Hawkwood said.
“Spleens, kidneys …” Quill began, then looked at him. “You don’t want the entire list?”
“No,” Hawkwood agreed.
“Curious that many of them are digestive in nature,” Quill mused.
“Is that important?” Hawkwood asked.
“I have no idea,” Quill said cheerfully, and then pointed. “As you can see, sections of skin have also been excised from the forehead and cheeks, the upper arms and thighs, the calves and the back.” The surgeon turned. “You’re going to ask me if it was the same person, aren’t you?”
“Was it?”
The surgeon looked down at the bodies and frowned. “Well, the similarity’s striking; especially with regard to the facial excisions. Whoever wielded the knife on these poor women certainly did so with the same degree of skill as the person who removed the facial skin of the body I examined earlier.”
“You mean they had medical knowledge?” Hawkwood said.
“Almost certainly.”
“A surgeon?”
“Quite probably. If not, then it was definitely someone with an intricate understanding of anatomy. I can also tell you that the procedures were carried out not only post mortem but post burial. They were found outside St Bart’s, I understand?”
Hawkwood nodded.
The surgeon pursed his lips. “Not an unusual occurrence.”
Quill was not wrong. The three wicker hampers stowed inside the hospital entrance gates were proof of that. They had not been left there by a forgetful hospital porter. They had been placed there deliberately, for the convenience of the resurrection men. Most of the gangs were in league with hospital staff; porters or dissection- room assistants working on behalf of surgeons, and the baskets made it easier for the sack-’em-up men to transport bodies, especially if they needed to deliver the merchandise to their customers in multiples.
The surgeon gazed at the remains and frowned. “Though, I confess it’s unusual for bodies to be in this condition
“I’ll take your word for it,” Hawkwood said.
“And the hospital has denied all knowledge?”
Hawkwood nodded. He suspected, however, that if the Night Patrol men had arrived ten minutes later, the bodies would have been in one of the hampers and probably on their way to the dissecting room. The hospital would have been unlikely to query the cadavers’ condition. Hospitals were so hard up for specimens they’d probably have accepted the things, no questions asked. It had been the thieves’ misfortune to be spotted before the bodies were picked up. They hadn’t even had the chance to drop them in a hamper. Even so, the discovery might have gone unreported if the two constables had opted to forget what they’d seen and go find somewhere else to have a drink and a smoke. They probably would have done just that, if they hadn’t leapt to the assumption that they were dealing with victims of cruel murder rather than medical malpractice. While Hilley had remained with the bodies, his partner had alerted Bow Street. It had been the two constables’ reports and description of the awful wounds that had aroused Hawkwood’s interest. He stared down at the dead grey flesh.
“You look perplexed, Officer Hawkwood,” Quill said.
“I am,” Hawkwood said. “I’m wondering how and why a dead man did all this.”
James Read’s expression was one of incredulity.
“What exactly are you telling me, Hawkwood? That you expect me to believe the individual who violated the women’s corpses and the person who murdered and mutilated the Reverend Tombs are one and the same?”
“Surgeon Quill seems to think so.”
“Is that what he said?”
Hawkwood hesitated. “Not exactly, but he said it was a possibility. Parts of the women’s skins had been removed, including around the face. He said whoever had done it knew their anatomy.”
Read looked sceptical. “The bodies were found outside a hospital. They originated from there, surely?”
“No. The constables saw them being delivered. In any case, porters wouldn’t have left bodies either in sacks or in that condition. Hospitals don’t dump bodies, they take them in. They certainly don’t leave pieces of them lying around. They’re far too valuable for that. It was Hyde. I know it was.”
The Chief Magistrate sighed. “It seems to me that we – you – don’t know
“He’s a surgeon. It’s what he does.”
James Read’s expression continued to mirror his doubt. “You think he was one of the men who
“I don’t know. Either way, I doubt he dug them up. And he must have a roof over his head. He needs a place to work. Which means
Read shook his head. “No, I’m sorry, Hawkwood, I fail to see it. This is all pure speculation. Colonel Hyde’s dead. He took his own life. You saw him die.”
“I saw him jump. I didn’t see him die.”
The Chief Magistrate sat back in his chair and steepled his hands. “So, what of the bodies recovered from the
