Person or Persons Unknown (21 page)

“You think him a gentleman then?”

Mr. Donnelly ignored Sir John’s conclusion. “And we know that he uses it with the knowledge and skill of a surgeon. Those thrusts are simply too well placed to have been made by one ignorant of human anatomy and too sure to have been made by an unpracticed hand.”

“I suppose I must accept what you say. You, after all, are a medico. But what of his strength? Remember that he held and murdered a twelve-stone woman and then picked her up and walked with her some distance to hide her away.”

“Ah yes, that’s true, isn’t it?”

“And so we must find a gentleman surgeon with the size and strength of an ape. The parts make a strange whole, do they not?”

“I see what you mean.”

“But what about the one you have named the second murderer?” asked Sir John. “How would you describe him?”

“As a madman.”

“We know him thus by his work,” said Sir John with some assurance. “But even in his madness, he may show some logic. You argued convincingly last night that the same knife could not have been used in all the murders — that there was what you call the stiletto used in the first and third of the homicides and a sawtooth weapon in the second. I take it that the rougher, thick-bladed knife was used in this murder, as well?”

“Oh yes, I’d swear to it.”

“Perhaps he used the ugly weapon to do ugly things to those victims who had displeased him in some way. Perhaps Polly Tarkin had attempted to rob him, to pick his pocket — for we know now that she was a thief. Perhaps this poor woman, Tribble, had said something to offend him. Then, rather than simply killing, he mutilated, as well. He punished them.”

“You’re suggesting then that I’m wrong — that there could, after all, be a single murderer.”

“Yes, I’ve given it some thought, but I’m far from certain of it. You could indeed be right and I wrong. But consider this: Are we not, all of us, in our interior portions, so very different from beef, hogs, and sheep?”

“Well, of course there are differences, but in general, I suppose that, yes, that is true.”

“And so you will grant that a man could become familiar with human anatomy by analogy, so to speak, if he had come to know the interior anatomy of lesser animals quite well through years of experience?”

“I begin to see what you are aiming at.”

“Who is it works most commonly with sawtooth-bladed knives?”

“Why, a butcher, of course.”

“And who, of those you have recently seen, would be big enough and strong enough to throw a woman of twelve-stone over his shoulder and march away with her?”

“Again, the butcher — last night, of course. He’s as large as your Constable Bailey and no doubt as strong, throwing sides of beef about daily. But you do recall, Sir John, that I examined his knives, and not one of them had a blade narrow enough to inflict the wound on that girl in the passage.”

“Yes, certainly, but Mr. Bailey failed to frisk him, as he admitted to me afterwards. He is not always as thorough as he ought to be. And even if he had, the stiletto might well have been secreted away somewhere in the passage. A night search by lantern light would not likely turn up much. I believe I shall send Jeremy to look again this afternoon and perhaps also to drop in at the butcher’s stall and extend my invitation for an evening conversation.”

Ah, dear reader, you may suppose just how little I would welcome such a task. If I could have but talked to Sir John at some length, perhaps I could have persuaded him of Mr. Tolliver’s innocence. Yet he was such an intimidating presence that it was difficult for me to approach him in such a way. At such times as this I felt my youth as a terrible burden.

“By the bye, Mr. Donnelly, you have a timepiece, have you not? Could you tell me the hour?”

After a moment: “It is nigh on noon.”

“Then Jeremy and I must be off, for I have my session to attend to, and it should prove an interesting one. The key is in the door. I take it you will have further business here?”

“For some time to come.”

“I shall have a mortuary wagon sent for. They will bring a coffin. It would not do to carry her out in such a state.”

“I quite agree.”

Of all that has been said of Sir John Fielding in these years since he has passed on, that which has been said oftenest is also truest: He was a just man.

In the field of law, that is a quality, alas, far rarer than one might suppose. Upon Sir John, as magistrate, fell the duty of charging the wrong-doer. This was sometimes no easy matter, for it might happen that a deed has been done that is plainly a punishable offense, yet for which no precise law, neither felony nor misdemeanor, may exist. In such circumstances, and in the interest of justice, the magistrate must show ingenuity in fitting a proper law to the particular wrong that has been done. At meting out such rough justice, none did ever excel Sir John.

I know of no better example to put before you than his handling of those prisoners taken by Mr. Fuller at Number 6 King Street. Clearly, each had committed an offense of greater or lesser gravity, but was there anything in English Common Law to fit their crimes? I knew of nothing — but then, I was just a boy who hung about the court to learn what he might. Yet now I am no longer that boy but a barrister, and I would still say that I know of no laws that would have fit them exact.

That their actions had been most scandalous and shocking was evidenced by the reaction of the courtroom crowd when, at Sir John’s bidding, Mr. Fuller gave forth his discoveries upon reaching the premises of the murdered woman. Mistress Tribble. There were murmurs among the listeners, and again and again that sound of breath sharply taken in which is the commonest expression of horrified astonishment. Towards the end of his story, when he told of the actions of the victim’s putative husband, there were groans and shouts of anger from the assemblage. For once, Sir John withheld the gavel. I daresay he wished the prisoners to sense the outrage of all against them.

When the constable had concluded. Sir John banged down his gavel at last and called the court to order.

“Mr. Fuller,” said he, “remain where you are, if you will, for I expect I shall have some questions as I consider the matter of each of the prisoners you have brought me.” A pause, then: “Prisoners, stand before me.”

The five rose raggedly, and no doubt with some discomfort, for they were still attached at the neck, each to the other, with Mr. Fuller’s double-length of stout rope; the first and fifth of them wore hand-irons.

“First of all, you must identify yourselves for Mr. Mars-den’s record of these proceedings.”

That they did — as Albert Palgrave, Ezekiel Satterthwait, Thomas Cobum, Lemuel Tinker, and Edward Tribble. Mr. Marsden had a bit of difficulty with the second name; he asked Mr. Satterthwait to spell it, which the prisoner could not. The court clerk made do.

“Now, each of you,” said Sir John, “has behaved shamefully. There can be no doubt of that. Or would any one of you care to take serious issue with the account you have just heard from Constable Fuller? This is your opportunity to speak in your own behalf, if indeed anything can be said. I advise you to speak now.”

There was the briefest silence. Then did all five men begin talking at once.

Sir John gaveled them to silence.

“And so you all have something to say? Well enough, I shall hear you one at a time — Mr. Palgrave first. Sir?”

“Well, I fail to see why I am here at all,” said he. “I was not even informed of the charge against me when I was brought here so rude. It’s true I discovered the body of that trollop, but — ”

“And did you then send word of your discovery to Bow Street?”

“Nooo, but — ”

“No, you did not. Mr. Fuller has informed me that word was brought him by a boy of the court who knew the deceased and had come on his own. So there, sir, if you want a charge, by failing to report the murder of your tenant, you impeded the inquiry into her death. But that, I would say, was only the beginning of your sins. Did you, or did you not, charge a shilling each to all those who wished to view her corpus?”

Mr. Palgrave’s response was drowned in the shouts of the four who stood beside him. They made vigorous assurances to Sir John that indeed Palgrave had admitted them for payment of a shilling. “There was some in before us,” shouted one of the prisoners, perhaps Satterthwait. “He made a pretty penny off her.”

“Is that so?” said Sir John. “How many paid to look upon the corpus? How many shillings did you earn from this bizarre enterprise?”

“Not a great many — well, ten altogether. But as I told you earlier, this whore, Tribble, was behind on her rent to the amount of seven shillings. I felt it was my right, as landlord, to recompense myself as I saw fit. And since I was owner of the dwelling — of the entire court — I had the right to admit whomever I pleased.”

“Mr. Palgrave, something interests me. You have referred to Mistress — or perhaps Mrs. — Tribble by epithets indicating you thought her to be engaged in prostitution. Or perhaps you meant them loosely, only to indicate that she was a woman of loose morals, a woman of low degree?”

“No, by God, she was a proper whore!”

“You’re certain of that?”

“Course I am! I saw her bring her men in her room all hours of the day and night. I spied on them a few times, too. Once I even saw money changing hands. If that doesn’t say she’s a whore, I don’t know what does! Everyone knew what she was.”

“And yet you allowed her to continue paying rent and occupy a room in the court?”

“What of it?” said Mr. Palgrave defensively. “A man’s got to get income from his property. It wasn’t till later she fell behind in her rent. She was quite regular the first year.”

“Why then,” declared Sir John, “we have another charge against you, sir. You were running a bawdy house, knowingly giving over your premises for the purpose of prostitution and sharing in the proceeds. But let us go on. Tell me, when you first looked upon the body of that woman this morning, how did you find her? In what condition?”

“Why, dead, of course.”

“You miss my point. Was she sitting or lying? Clothed or unclothed?”

“Well, then, her body was on the bed, and she was unclothed, though at first look, what I thought to be a covering of some sort turned out to be a great hole dug in her middle.”

“And you took a shilling each from these men and others so that they might view this sight?”

“Yes.”

“Since you admit to that, I now charge you with offering to the public a lewd and obscene show and taking money for admission to said show.”

Albert Palgrave sputtered for a moment, trying to find words suitable for a denial. “It was no show,” said he, having recovered himself. “It was more of an exhibition — like — scientifical and not for entertainment.”

“She was naked, was she not? And obscenely hacked open? No, Mr. Palgrave, I reject your argument. The charge stands, and I find you guilty on it and sentence you to ninety days in the Fleet Prison.”

“The Fleet? I am no debtor, no bankrupt!”

“You may be by the time you emerge, for I am not done with you yet. I further find you guilty of knowingly running a bawdy house and receiving the proceeds of prostitution, and for that I sentence you to sixty days in the Fleet, and finally, in the matter of impeding an inquiry into the death of Mistress Tribble, I also find you guilty and sentence you to thirty days in the Fleet. Sentences to run consecutively — six months in all. And if you wish to add to your sentence, you will continue to argue against me, so I may find you guilty of contempt.”

Mr. Palgrave, shocked into silence, bit his tongue. And Sir John, satisfied that he had dealt his last with him, slammed down his gavel, indicating that the matter was done.

“And now, let us deal with Edward Tribble. We have heard Constable Fuller declare that this man, who claims to be the victim’s husband, was offering parts of her body for sale, as ‘souvenirs.’ Mr. Fuller, how came you by this information? What was seen and what was heard by you?”

The constable stroked his chin in thought. “Well, sir,” said he after a bit, “when I come into the murder room, there was three men between me and that fellow Tribble, so I was not recognized as a constable right off. I said nothing for a spell, so shocked was I by the condition of the victim I could scarce believe my eyes. Yet I become aware there was dealing going on between Tribble and that one, I believe he gave his name as Lemuel Tinker. They seemed to me to be haggling over the price of something. I, bein’ taller than the rest, got myself into a spot where I might have a better view of what was goin’ on. And I saw Tribble holding out to him something smallish and all covered with blood. Tinker asks him, ‘What part of her is it?’ and Tribble replies, ‘I know naught of inwards, but for three shillings, what does it matter?’ ‘If I’m to buy it,’ says the other, ‘then I should know what to call it.’ At that moment, realizing what they were about, I drew sword and pistol and arrested the lot of them.”

“So you did not actually see the purchase made, the money change hands, or the body part given over, even for inspection?”

“No, sir, I did not. I’d never seen the like, or even heard of such a thing, and I wished to put an end to it at that moment.”

Sir John nodded approvingly. “I’m sure,” said he, “that I, in your place, would have done the same. But now, Mr. Tribble, it is time for you to speak. Do you accept the constable’s account?”

“Not a bit, I don’t,” said Tribble most impudent. “I knows a deal of how the law works. You got to prove it against me. So I denies it all!”

Those in the courtroom did not like this, indeed did not like Tribble. A resentful rumble went round the benches. Had he, at that moment, been turned over to those assembled, I do not think he would have survived longer than a few minutes’ time.

“I should think,” said Sir John, “that we were well on our way to proving it with Mr. Fuller’s account. It was reasonable. He did not claim to have seen or heard more than he did. But perhaps another witness. The logical choice would be Mr. Lemuel Tinker. So speak up, Mr. Tinker, was the constable’s account of what passed between you and Mr. Tribble an accurate one? Would you care to enlarge upon it?”

“It was remarkable accurate, sir,” said he, a small weasel-faced fellow, “right down to the very words was used. What went before was this fellow was in the room when us three come in after payin’ a shilling each to the landlord. He says to us. This is a great crime has been committed here. It will be historical. This poor darlin’ was my wife, and much as it pains me to do it, I shall offer to sell these parts of her that was cut out by him who committed this foul murder upon her. I do this for to raise money to give her a proper Christian burial.’ He made it seem like we’d be doin’ charity if we bought something of her. I swear to God he did, sir. Her heart he put a great price on, asking a ned for it, the liver ten shillings, and the smaller part he offered me five shillings. I talked him down to three. I was the only one of us with money to spare. And the rest of what was said went just like the constable told it.”

Then said Sir John, “There is but one of you three who were found inside with Tribble whom we have not heard from, and that is Thomas Cobum. So let me direct this question to you, Mr. Cobum. Did you see evidence that Tribble had sold any of the organs before you entered the room?”

Thomas Cobum spoke low and rather reluctantly — or so it seemed to me. He began once, and then again when Sir John ordered him to speak louder. “Sir,” said he, “I am very ashamed to be here, and even more ashamed to have gone into that place of horror. I wish I had not, sir. But I will do me best to answer your question.” He came then to a complete halt, took a deep breath, then continued: “Us three stood in line, held back by the landlord till others cleared out of the room. Two came out. One of them, sir, was a great large fellow, near as wide as he was tall, with a patch over one eye. He held up for all to see a bloody gobbet of something, then made as if to eat it, making a great joke of it, he was. Some laughed, and some did not. Having seen that, I should not have gone inside, and I would not if I had not paid my shilling.”

Sir John nodded, satisfied. “AH three of you have been quite forthcoming as witnesses. I note this and am grateful, but just to calm my nagging doubts about you, will Sat-terthwait, Cobum, and Tinker raise your hands, palms out? Now, Mr. Fuller, will you inspect those hands and tell me if you see any traces of dried blood on them?”

The constable did as his chief directed and took the task most seriously. He went to each one and looked closely at each hand, front and back. Then, having concluded, he made a sharp tum and went front and center before the bench.

“Make your report, Mr. Fuller.”

“Well, sir, ain’t one of them got what I’d call clean hands, but I don’t see no blood on any of them.”

“Very well. Now satisfy me further and inspect Mr. Tribble’s hands, if you will.”

That was done as well, though the constable was forced to handle him rather rough to get a proper look.

“Quite soiled with crimson they are, sir — both hands. Even got it caked under his fingernails, he has.”

“Thank you, Mr. Fuller,” said Sir John. “Now, as to you three — Satterthwait, Cobum, and Tinker — I accept that your actions within that room were just as you presented them. You were there to gape and gawk, chiefly. Mr. Tinker was tempted to buy one of the unholy relics offered to him for sale by Tribble. Lucky for him he did not. His punishment would have been greater had he done so. And yes, there will be punishment, for if Mr. Palgrave offered a lewd and obscene show for personal gain, you three paid your money and attended that show. And for your attendance at it, I sentence you to thirty days each in the Fleet Prison. It is also true that by your very presence in that room you impeded the inquiry into the death of the victim of that ghastly murder. And so I thus charge you further and find you three guilty. That sentence, too, like the first, is thirty days in the Fleet Prison, but it shall run concurrently with the first. In other words, at the same time. One of you has already expressed sorrow and shame at his actions. I would advise the other two to use the month ahead to meditate upon the moral wrong you have done.”