Since the subsequent events are obscured by a conflict of evidence, we shall content ourselves with a summary of unchallenged facts. That Saturday morning, Cook preferred to drink a cup of coffee in bed rather than step over to Dr Palmer's and breakfast on bacon and eggs. Coffee was accordingly brought up by Elizabeth Mills, the flirtatious young chambermaid, who placed it in his hands; and the Doctor departed to his own breakfast. An hour later, Cook was seized by the same nausea as had plagued him at Shrewsbury, and vomited the coffee into a chamber pot. By this time, Dr Palmer had gone off to Hednesford for a review of his horses. Soon after he had returned, Mrs Ann Rowley, of The Albion Inn, arrived with a saucepan of broth and put it by a fire in the back kitchen to warm. 'Mr Jerry Smith's compliments, and this is a gift for Mr Cook,' she told him. Dr Palmer presently
Elizabeth Muls, Chambermaid at The Talbot Arms
poured the broth into a 'sick-cup', a covered two-handled vessel used by invalids, and sent it to The Talbot Arms with Smith's message. The cup, on arrival at the hotel, was taken up to Cook by a hare-lipped waitress named Lavinia Barnes. Cook at first refused the broth, complaining that he felt sure it would not stay on his queasy stomach; but the Doctor, who then appeared, persuaded him to try it. Cook proved to be in the right: for the broth followed the coffee into the chamber pot without a moment's delay.
At three o'clock, old Dr Bamford of Rugeley visited Cook, as requested by Dr Palmer; but, not taking a serious view of the case, merely prescribed rest and a diet or slops. Later, Cook was brought barley-water and arrowroot from the hotel kitchen, which his stomach seems to have retained. Dr Palmer was in and out of Cook's bedroom all day, and that night Jeremiah Smith occupied the spare bed to keep him company.
At about noon on that Sunday, November 18th, Dr Palmer's gardener brought over a second gift of broth, likewise made at The Albion Inn by Mrs Rowley. In The Talbot Arms kitchen, Elizabeth Mills sipped at the broth and said that it tasted very good—of turnips and celery. How much of the beverage Cook kept down is not recorded; at all events, he had only occasional short bouts of vomiting that afternoon, and appeared to be in high spirits. Nevertheless, Dr Palmer, remembering Cook's recent suspicions of him, wrote as follows to Dr William Henry Jones of Lutterworth, Cook's most intimate friend, who had taken part in the Polestar celebrations at The Raven Hotel, and was a surgeon of repute:
My Dear Sir,
Mr Cook was taken ill at Shrewsbury and obliged to call in a medical man. Since then he has been confined to his bed with a very severe bilious attack, combined with diarrhoea; and I think it advisable for you to come to see him as soon as possible.
Yours very truly,
Wm Palmer
Nobody slept in Cook's room that night. The next morning he told Elizabeth Mills, when she inquired after his hcaldi: 'I'm tolerably well now, thank you kindly, but what I suffered! I was just mad for two minutes a little before midnight.'
She asked: 'What do you mean, Sir?'
Cook explained that, when he awoke, he had been in an agony of terror—possibly alarmed by the noise of a street quarrel.
'Why didn't you ring the bell for me?' she asked winsomely.
'I feared you would all be asleep, and didn't want to disturb you,' Cook replied with a slight frown. 'At any rate, the madness passed, thank Heaven, and I managed to drop off again without rousing the household.'
On Monday, November 19th, Dr Palmer travelled to London, where he had an appointment to meet Mr Herring, the commission-agent. Arriving at Beaufort Buildings, off the Strand, soon after one o'clock, the Doctor apologized that Cook had been unable to accompany him. 'The poor fellow's still suffering from his Shrewsbury sickness. His physician has prescribed calomel, and told him to keep indoors, out of the damp,' he said. ' So he's entrusted me with a list of bets to be settled this afternoon at Tattersall's. He wants you to handle them this time; because (strictly between the two of us) he now regards Fisher as somewhat unreliable. It seems that there should have been more money left in a packet of bank-notes which he entrusted to Fisher as soon as the puking fit began.'
When Mr Herring accepted the commission, Dr Palmer read out a list of the various sums due from the layers against Polestar, and instructed him to pay Cook's creditors with the proceeds— though these were, in reality, his own creditors: Pratt for four hundred and fifty pounds, Padwick for three hundred and fifty pounds, etc. He had, it seems, compiled the list of winnings from Cook's betting-book, temporarily abstracted from where it hung against the bedroom mirror. The three hundred and fifty pounds paid to Pratt—not in settlement, but merely on account, of larger debts—would stave off the threatened writ against old Mrs Palmer. Herring duly collected the money (all except three stakes, which had not yet come in) and made the payments without further question, afterwards writing to tell Cook what had been done. Why Dr Palmer engaged Herring rather than Fisher to collect Cook s debts can be simply explained. Not only did Cook owe Fisher two hundred pounds, which would have been deducted from the total, but Fisher knew that Dr Palmer had no right to any of Cook's winnings.
Meanwhile, Cook felt a deal better, though exceedingly weak. He got up once more, shaved, washed and dressed himself as if to go out. Mrs Bond, the housekeeper, sent him some arrowroot, which he managed to retain, and three visitors came calling: Will Saunders, the Hednesford trainer, and the two brothers Ashmole, both jockeys. When they left early in the afternoon, he went back to bed, and appeared happily relaxed. At about 8 p.m., Dr Bamford sent him a small box of morphine pills, which were placed on the bedside table. Dr Palmer left London by the express train, reaching Stafford at 8.45 p.m., took a fly from thence to Rugeley—an hour's drive—and on arrival briefly visited Cook before obeying an angry summons from old Mrs Palmer at The Yard. That night, one of the maids noticed the betting-book hanging against the mirror.
At a quarter to twelve, Lavinia Barnes aroused Elizabedi Mills, who was already asleep, saying that Cook had been taken ill again and rung for assistance. Elizabeth Mills dressed hurriedly and, hearing screams, entered Cook's room. She found him seated upright in bed, madly threshing the coverlet with his hands. His pillow lay on the floor. When he demanded Dr Palmer, she said that Lavinia Barnes must have run across the road to summon him, and indeed the Doctor appeared two or three minutes later. He administered the pills left by Dr Bamford—these, however, stuck in Cook's throat—and made Elizabeth Mills give him a tablespoonful of toast-and-water to help them down. Next, he administered a dark, thick, heavy-looking draught which, when Cook vomited it up again, left an odour like opium hanging about the room. Dr Palmer asked Lavinia Barnes to hold a candle while he took a quill from his bag and with it searched for the pills in Cook's vomit. They did not appear to have been returned.
Cook now seemed better, but asked, would Dr Palmer kindly listen to his heart, how loud it was beating? The Doctor, having obligingly listened, reassured him that all was well. Presently the women went to bed, and Dr Palmer stayed with Cook until shortly before dawn.
Dr Jones of Lutterworth, a well-qualified and most experienced medical man, had been unable to visit Cook on the Monday, although Dr Palmer's request reached him by the first post. He was himself still suffering from the epidemic of nausea that, as we know, affected many other visitors to Shrewsbury Meeting. However, he arrived by train at three o'clock on the Tuesday, which was November 20th. Dr Jones found Cook's pulse steady and, learning that his bowels were now acting normally, and that he felt fairly comfortable, made no prescription; but saw him several times in the course of the afternoon.
That evening, Samuel Cheshire got a written message from Dr Palmer: 'Pray come to my place, Sammy, and bring a receipt stamp with you.' When Cheshire complied, Dr Palmer told him that it was imperative for an order to be sent by Cook to Mr Weatherby, Secretary of the Jockey Club, at Birmingham; but that Cook was too sick to sign anything. He therefore begged Cheshire to do him a great favour, namely copy an order, which he had drafted, and sign it in Cook's name. 'It conce
rns Cook's racing debts to me,' he said. 'I can't wait for his recovery, because if I don't get the money by Thursday, the bailiffs will seize the furniture of this house.'
Cheshire obligingly copied out: 'Please pay Mr William Palmer
the sum of £350'' signed himself: 'J. P. Cook.' This order Dr Palmer posted to Mr Weatherby's office, with a covering note:
Gentlemen,
I shall thank you to send me a cheque to the amount of the enclosed order. Mr Cook has been confined here to his bed with a bilious attack which has prevented him from being in town.
Yours respectfully,
Wm Palmer
When Dr Bamford called again at seven o'clock, he, Dr Jones, and Dr Palmer held a consultation. Dr Palmer suggested that, aldiough Cook objected to Dr Bamford's morphine pills which were administered on the Monday night, he should nevertheless be given a second dose.
That night, the spare bed in Cook's room was made up for Dr Jones. At about eleven o'clock, Dr Palmer brought the morphine pills in a box wrapped around with the paper of directions. 'What an excellent handwriting Dr Bamford has, for so old a man!' he remarked, and Dr Jones agreed. Though Cook at first refused to take the pills, on the ground that the others had made him so ill, he yielded after a while. The two doctors were soon searching for the pills in the toast-and-water which he had immediately vomited, but could not find them.
Cook, relieved by the vomiting, got up and sat in a chair by the fire, where he joked with Dr Jones of what sport he would have in the hunting field that winter. Dr Palmer had already said goodnight. Dr Jones went contentedly down to his supper, from which he returned at 11.45 p.m. Cook was now in bed, but still awake, and ready for another drowsy fox-hunting chat. All of a sudden, before Dr Jones had fallen asleep, Cook sang out: 'Doctor, Doctor, I'm going to be ill again! Ring the bell and send for Billy Palmer!'
He did so, and Dr Palmer was there within the space of two or three minutes, remarking: 'I never dressed so quickly in my life.' Meanwhile, Cook had asked Dr Jones to rub the nape of his neck. Dr Jones, who complied, found a certain stiffness of the neck muscles. Dr Palmer had brought two ammonia pills, which Cook swallowed but then uttered a cry of agony, and flung himself back on the bed.
There being only a single mould-candle in the room, Dr Jones could not get a clear view of Cook's face, which lay in the shadow of the chamber pot on the bedside table; yet his body was dreadfully convulsed and all the muscles were in spasm. Cook gasped: 'Raise me up, or I shall suffocate.' Though the two doctors tried to raise him into a sitting position, his head and spine were bent back like a bow, and they could do nothing. Dr Palmer hurried away to fetch spirits of ammonia from his surgery. On the stair, he met Elizabeth Mills and Lavinia Barnes, and when they asked after Cook, waved them away. 'Be off with you, my good girls!' he said, 'Cook's not so bad by a fiftieth part as he was last night.' Nevertheless, they were not to be got rid of and, as soon as he returned, followed him into the sickroom.
They heard Cook say: 'Turn me over on my side,' and when this was done, he lay quiet.
Dr Palmer prepared to administer the ammonia as a stimulant, but first felt Cook's pulse. Suddenly he turned to Dr Jones and the maids by the bedside and cried, aghast: 'Oh, my God! The poor devil has gone!' Dr Jones listened to the heart with a stethoscope—a curious instrument, somewhat like a sixpenny trumpet —and agreed that life was extinct. The convulsions had lasted for a quarter of an hour only.
The maids were sent off to summon Dr Bamford and, while Dr Jones took a glass of spirits at the bar with Masters, the landlord, Dr Palmer stayed by the corpse. Elizabeth Mills, returning to announce that Dr Bamford would soon come, found him going through Cook's pockets and feeling beneath his pillow and bolster. Later, he handed Dr Jones, as Cook's nearest friend, five pounds in sovereigns and half-sovereigns, five shillings in silver, and the dead man's gold watch and fob; but neither bank-notes nor personal papers. In answer to Dr Jones's inquiries, Dr Palmer said: 'No, somehow I can't find the betting-book. Still, it's not a particle of use to anyone. Death, my good Sir, voids all gambling debts.' After a while, he added: 'I doubt if you are aware, Jones, what a very bad thing for me this is? Cook and I jointly owe betting debts of between three and four thousand pounds. Let us hope Cook's friends won't make me responsible for his share as well; because, unless they show me a little charity, every one of my horses will be seized.'
Layers-out were sent for, but it was not until one o'clock in the morning that a respectable widow named Mary Keeling arrived, with her sister-in-law, to undertake the task. Mrs Keeling had been delayed by the necessity of engaging a neighbour to look after her sick child while she was absent from home. The two women found the corpse lying so stiffly on the bed that they needed tape in securing the arms, which Elizabeth Mills had officiously crossed over the breast, to either side of the body; and in making the right foot, which was twisted outwards, lie flat against its fellow; they also experienced great difficulty in closing the eyes. However, attendants at a deathbed usually close the corpse's eyes, place its arms along the sides, and straighten its feet as soon as the last moment has come; the rigour was therefore less remarkable than the Prosecution has alleged. Indeed, Cook's body must have been perfectly lax at death, to let Elizabeth Mills cross the arms over his heart.
Dr Jones at first suspected tetanus but, since some of the symptoms seemed irreconcilable with this diagnosis, afterwards decided that Cook died of violent convulsions, due to over-excitement. Upon Dr Bamford's suggesting apoplexy, he replied that, though the case still puzzled him, the seizure, in his opinion, rather pointed to epilepsy.
Chapter XVI
STEPFATHER TO THE DECEASED
ON Wednesday, November 21st, the morning of Cook's death, Palmer wrote to Pratt, the moneylender:
My dear Sir,
Ever since I saw you I have been fully engaged with Cook and not able to leave home. I am sorry to say that, after all, he died today. So you had better write to Saunders; but, mind you, I must have Polestar if it can be so arranged; and should anyone seek to know what money or moneys Cook ever had from you, don't answer questions until I have seen you.
I will send you the £75 tomorrow and, as soon as I have been to Manchester, you shall hear about other moneys. I sat up two full nights with Cook and am very much tired out.
Yours faithfully,
William Palmer
Pratt replied by return of post:
My dear Sir,
I have your note and am greatly disappointed at the non-receipt of the money as promised, and the vague assurances as to any other payment. I can understand, 'tis true, that your being detained by the illness of your friend has been the cause of not sending up the larger amount, but the smaller sum you ought to have sent.
If anything unpleasant occurs, you must thank yourself. The death of Mr Cook will now compel you to look out as to the payment of the bill for j£5°° on the 2nd of December.
Yours faithfully,
Thos. Pratt
The seventy-five pounds which Dr Palmer intended for Pratt was to come from the three hundred and fifty pounds which Weatherby owed Cook; and the five hundred mentioned by Pratt was the loan made to the Doctor in September, supposedly on Cook's behalf, and supported by an assignment of Polestar and his
stablemate Sirius. Dr Palmer, as has already been explained, had laid his hands on this money by forging Cook's receipts to Pratt's cheque, and placing it in his own account at the bank. He now also wanted Polestar, the value of which had risen to over seven hundred pounds. However, Weatherby did not send the three hundred and fifty pound cheque, being mistakenly informed by the Clerk of the Course at Shrewsbury that Cook had already received the value of the Handicap Stakes, and thereby exhausted his funds.
On November 26th, Dr Palmer wrote to Pratt again: Strictly Private & Confidential
My dear Sir,
Should any of Cook's friends call upon you to know what money Cook ever had from you, pray don t answer that question or any o
ther about money matters until I have seen you. And oblige
Yours faithfully,
William Palmer
This anxiety about possible inquiries resulted from the suspicions of Dr Palmer which Cook's next-of-kin, Mr William Vernon Stevens, began to entertain. Mr Stevens, a retired City merchant, had married Cook's mother (now dead) eighteen years previously; and been made executor to his father-in-law's will, under which Cook inherited twelve thousand pounds. He last saw Cook alive at Euston Square station, a fortnight before he died. His greeting on that occasion was: 'My boy, you seem to be very well; you don't look anything of an invalid.' Cook, striking himself firmly on the chest, exclaimed: 'Indeed, I'm quite well now, Pater, and I'd be a happy man but for so many financial anxieties.'
Mr Stevens, not having heard of Cook's illness, was shocked when Dr Jones arrived on November 22nd to report his death, bringing with him the five guineas and the watch. The next day, accompanied by Dr Jones, he visited Lutterworth to search for Cook's will and any personal papers he might have left. They found the will, which appointed Mr Stevens sole executor, and took it to Rugeley that Friday, November 28th.
Meanwhile, Dr Palmer had gone up to London, where he paid Pratt one hundred pounds on account. He also paid some Rugeley drapers sixty pounds, long owing them, plus the cost of a writ issued against him; and settled a debt of some forty-six pounds with Spdlsbury, a local farmer who had supplied fodder to his mares. This money Dr Palmer cannot have drawn from the Market Square bank, where his balance then stood at no more than £9 6s.; and since the packet of notes which Fisher returned to Cook were missing from the money-belt, it looks as if the Doctor had purloined them.