The Night Calls (14 page)
Authors: David Pirie
On a late afternoon, two days after my excursion, the Doctor and I sat upstairs in his private room, discussing the various strands of the case left to us now that Crawford was no longer a factor. It was another warm day and, though the conversation was somewhat unproductive following my visit to Dunbar, I was still in a high good humour. I looked around me as we talked and reflected for the first time that Bell’s secret room was much better suited to winter than spring. Its high windows filtered the sunshine all too effectively and the dark shelves, on which were placed the Doctor’s remarkable collection of criminal artefacts, seemed almost to repel what light there was.
Consequently there was a dimness about the place even in broad daylight, and the walls were so thick that on the hottest days the temperature was not warm. Indeed it sometimes seemed to me that the whole room had a faintly unnatural chill about it, almost as if those objects on the shelves – ordinary things which had come so close to human cruelty – created their own grim atmosphere.
‘We must at all costs,’ the Doctor had his hands clasped together as he spoke, and was seated under the window which sent a meagre ray of light slanting past him on to his precious shelves, ‘make the most of what we have. Our man need not necessarily have known Crawford well, for Crawford himself was notorious both in the town and the university. But he certainly seems to have known someone would follow his tangle of clues and make the connection to Crawford. In other words he may know of my interest in the field.’
‘Unfortunately, Doctor,’ I shook my head, ‘that knowledge is not so remarkable. Very few people know of the existence of this room or the time and effort you have devoted to the study of crime. But a great many people know of your general interest in forensic matters. Moreover, the man who was responsible for molesting these various women could easily have observed the investigations following his activities. It would be a useful precaution, and he is no fool. In which case he could be quite unknown to either of us and still have made the connection.’
The Doctor sighed. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I agree it is not very much. So let us see what we do have. I would now discount all the religious imagery. The blood, they eyes, the psalm. I also believe Samuel’s death was a distraction or a trial. Our man is much more interested in women, especially fallen women. He must by all logic be a patron of Madame Rose’s for he knows its geography intimately. But we know also he patronises other brothels. There, I am sure, is his weakness, if we can use it. We will start from there.’
The mention of Madame Rose’s now reminded me of something. Miss Elsbeth Scott and I had discussed several intimate subjects, and I had been able at last to talk to someone freely and openly about my own family. However, there was one subject we both found difficult and that was the plight of her sister Lady Sarah Carlisle.
Although Elsbeth Scott was desperately anxious about her sister, she knew she could not press me for details, for my own position in the matter was extremely delicate. Essentially I had visited Lady Sarah in my role as Bell’s medical clerk, so anything I heard or observed was confidential. As a result the subject was only touched on lightly during our day together at the cottage. But Elsbeth exacted a promise from me shortly before I left her: which was that I would do everything in my power to help her sister. She was not asking me to break any confidence, but she must have first-hand reports, and I was the one to give them.
I told Bell of this now, and he was humane enough to understand, but there were considerable difficulties. Carlisle had not been pleased to see me at the house on the first occasion, and after that Bell always visited alone. ‘Of course,’ said Bell, ‘I would never accept conditions in the treatment of any patient – it is for the doctor to make conditions – but the fact remains he will not admit you. Therefore …’ He stretched out a languid hand to gather some papers and I half expected him to say it was impossible but I should have known better. ‘Therefore,’ he repeated, ‘we go when he is out.’
We called unannounced at the Carlisles’s a few days later when Sir Henry was meeting some London dignitary at the university. I suppose we could have arranged our visit late one evening when Carlisle was off in pursuit of pleasure. But Bell was too proud a doctor to appear clandestine, nor did he wish to alarm Lady Sarah. On this occasion he could not be accused of deviousness, and he had prepared me with a warning. ‘There has been a faster deterioration in Lady Sarah’s condition than I expected,’ he said grimly. ‘At first her symptoms improved, giving me hope. Now the omens are far more serious and Carlisle already talks of getting another opinion.’
Carlisle’s front door was opened by Drummond, the foppish butler I had disliked from the first. As soon as he saw me, his lips curled in distaste as if he would have liked to block my entry, but he merely bowed to Dr Bell who moved past him with a few words.
Drummond went into Lady Sarah’s room ahead of us, announcing Dr Bell but not dignifying me with any description. Lady Sarah exclaimed with pleasure and I entered behind Bell.
He had given me due warning, but even so her appearance was a terrible shock to me. Lady Sarah had never seemed as beautiful as her sister, but she was undoubtedly a handsome woman. Now, however, she looked ten years older. Her skin was wan and yellow. There were great rings under her eyes and, what was worse, she seemed altogether less alert than before while she was also considerably thinner. My one consolation was that she seemed visibly pleased to see me and managed a little smile.
Bell made his examination and talked to her without asking very much. Her replies, when they came, were a little rambling and unclear. She did, however, say she was having trouble eating and, though he was his usual cheerful self, I could tell perfectly well how perplexing he found this. At last he told her he would return the following day but, since she and I might like to converse, he would leave us for a minute or two.
I moved over beside her as he left us. ‘Lady Sarah,’ I said as positively as I could. ‘I am glad to see you.’
She looked at me with emotion. ‘Oh, I am not much to see.’ There was a pause, and then for a time we talked of Elsbeth and she repeated what she had said on my first visit, namely how her sister thought so highly of me. She understood our acquaintance had been renewed and grown deeper before she left for London, which I was readily able to agree, then suddenly a thought seemed to trouble her. ‘Perhaps … it is … better she is not here for a time. The truth is my husband does not take kindly to her. Once in my hearing he threatened her. Of course she had probably provoked him. I am sorry, my mind is not clear …’
I reassured her as well I could, for what she had said was perfectly clear; in fact it startled me and confirmed an old suspicion.
‘Mr Doyle,’ she said. ‘Will you come closer?’
I bent down so she could whisper. How frail she seemed, with none of the life and vigour I had just seen in her sister.
‘Elsbeth has said you can be trusted …’ she went on. And now from her sleeve she produced a little red pill box of distinctive character. Its top was embroidered in scarlet and its sides were smooth. There was something about the design of the thing that unnerved me. Indeed I wanted to see more, but almost as quickly as she had taken it out, she shook her head and put it away again. ‘So,’ she continued ‘I want you to tell me something. Is it true what Dr Bell says? That this is merely an imbalance, a general infection. Or is there more? Please tell me, for you are the only one I can ask and I know you will speak the truth.’
This was horrible. Was I to tell her what I knew perfectly well? That she was carrying a sexually transmitted disease passed to her by her husband? The more recent symptoms were, it is true, a little puzzling but the original ones made the diagnosis almost certain. All my human and moral instincts told me speaking out would be right. Yet to do so would be a flagrant breach of medical and ethical confidence, and would also betray a man who trusted me. In the end the decision was taken out of my hands but in the worst way imaginable. For the door of the bedroom opened and Sir Henry Carlisle walked in.
Heaven knows what he would have done if he had found us as we were when the door opened, my face so close to hers. But I was quick enough to move away and put a hand on her wrist, pretending to be listening to her pulse.
Even so he stopped dead. ‘Mr Doyle? I thought I had made it quite clear that you were not to have any part in my wife’s medical supervision.’
His face had reddened, his hands were clenched. All the boyish good humour he paraded before the students was utterly vanished, and I reflected yet again just how very shallow it was. Moreover, there was a slight feverishness in his eyes which I had not seen before and I wondered, not for the first time, what exactly lay at the heart of this man. It was dreadful to think of his dominance over the woman on the bed and I longed with all my heart to oppose him. But I had to keep reminding myself of his power. He needed only denounce me as the mad son of a mad father and I would leave the university in ignominy, breaking my mother’s heart in the process.
‘Sir, I must take my instructions from Dr Bell,’ I said quietly.
He looked scornful. ‘Yes, well she may not be Dr Bell’s patient for very much longer. Now I will bid you good day.’
I recall the misery in Lady Sarah’s face when he said that and I nodded to her, whispering Dr Bell would return. Fortunately Carlisle did not hear it and I left the room as he closed the door behind me.
Bell was standing in the hall downstairs and he indicated that I should leave the house at once and wait for him outside in the cab. It was almost an hour before he emerged and entered the vehicle, instructing the driver to take us back to the university. There had obviously been an argument. He looked tired and preoccupied and for a time, neither of us spoke until at last he turned to me. ‘For the moment Carlisle will not force another opinion on his wife. But matters will come to a head very soon, unless we can make more progress.’
‘And if he does so?’
‘I believe I can guess who will be consulted. If I am right it will be very bad.’
Later, in the privacy of the upstairs room, we discussed the matter in detail. I told him the new information I had discovered, namely the strange box of pills and the fact that Carlisle had threatened Miss Scott.
The Doctor was intrigued. ‘Did she say why?’
‘No,’ I admitted. ‘She said her sister had probably provoked him. But do you not see the significance of this? We can establish that he threatened Miss Scott directly. He is a regular customer at Madame Rose’s, he was even a visitor to the Crawfords. This makes him a clear suspect, therefore surely we should speak out against him now.’
Bell got up from his chair at once, greatly exercised by my words. ‘I have told you the consequences of announcing her condition. They are potentially devastating for the patient. And though I accept Carlisle is a candidate, we can hardly put it more strongly than that.’ He went over to his drawer and took out a map. It was a map of Edinburgh on which Bell had marked out the places where we could say for certain our man had been active and drawn a circle around them.
‘As you know, Doyle,’ Bell said as he pored over it, ‘I do not believe in revealing my thoughts before I am ready, but I will make an exception on this occasion. I think there is a pattern to the places he frequents. It is, for example, inconceivable that anyone could have created the room of blood without getting blood on his clothes and person, and yet nobody appears to have noticed. I suggest it is very likely our man lives within this circle, which incidentally would exclude Sir Henry Carlisle.’
I suppose I should have felt privileged. But I kept thinking of the frail and frightened features of Lady Sarah and of Carlisle’s cruel manner. ‘He could have washed away the traces – Madame Rose’s provides every facility – and Carlisle could easily disguise himself in a cape and hood.’
‘It is possible. All I am saying is that the evidence cannot yet be considered decisive. We must rely on the principles of deduction and be patient.’
‘Even if your method works, Doctor,’ I said, ‘it is too slow. We cannot simply wait and see this woman suffer. Besides, I have promised her sister otherwise.’
Bell had returned to his chair, but this made him look up. ‘I should be very careful of engaging yourself too personally in this business.’ He spoke quickly, his eyes bright and fixed on me. ‘From everything I have seen, the man we are seeking has a singular quality. The resolution may not be happy.’
Having issued this warning he returned to his papers, and shortly afterwards I left him. He knew quite well that it was a good deal easier for me to protest than to think of anything practical to do. Of course I could have stormed into the Carlisle household and denounced the man to his wife, but how could I be sure this would have a positive result? And, try as I might, I could think of no way to further my investigation into his activities. Until one night I acted on a reckless impulse.
It was about eight in the evening. I had walked down that familiar street where Samuel used to play and, as so often, I stood before the lighted windows and red curtains of Madame Rose’s, desperately wishing there was some way I could share its secrets.
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