They Hanged My Saintly Billy

  Mr Stevens met Dr Palmer in a corridor at The Talbot Arms Hotel, and at once asked to be shown the body. It is important to observe that Dr Jones, who had been Mr Stevens's constant companion for the past two days, made no suggestion to him of foul play, but only mentioned the mysterious disappearance of the betting-book. Thus Mr Stevens was the first to suspect that the death had been caused by poison.

  When informed of the arrival of Cook's stepfather, the story goes, Dr Palmer exclaimed:' Good God! But he has no relatives!' This, however, is a plain fabrication. Dr Palmer had met Mr Stevens, briefly, at Lutterworth in 1854, and told The Talbot Arms maids of his existence shortly before Cook died. He also knew that Cook had a sister and a half-brother living, and a maternal uncle who owed him money.

  Mr Stevens went upstairs with Dr Palmer to view the body; and the door, locked on the morning of the death, was opened for him. The sole visitor since then had been Dr Palmer himself when he borrowed the key, on the excuse of retrieving a silver paper-knife which he had lent to Cook, and rummaged awhile in the chest-of-drawers and cupboard. Dr Palmer now removed the sheet from the corpse. The tightly drawn skin across the face surprised Mr Stevens, though a corpse's appearance sixty hours after death can be but a poor indication of how it looked at the time of death. He came down to one of the sitting-rooms, where he called for drinks, and presently addressed Dr Palmer: 'I hear from Jones that you know something of my stepson's affairs.'

  'Indeed I do,' was the ready answer, 'and I'm sorry to say he had four thousand pounds' worth of bills out with moneylenders. The Devil is that they bear my name. Fortunately, however, Mr Cook signed a paper drawn up by our lawyer, which proves that I never received any money from him to cover this friendly accommodation.'

  'Four thousand pounds!' exclaimed Mr Stevens. 'Impossible! How could he have incurred so large a debt?'

  'By betting heavily and unwisely,' the Doctor replied.

  'Well,' said Mr Stevens, 'I fear there won't be four thousand shillings to pay you from his bank account or mercantile investments. Moreover, his house is entailed and reverts to a sister. Tell me: has he no horses? And no sporting debts owing to him?'

  'Why, yes, he has some horses,' Dr Palmer sighed, 'but they are mortgaged; and his sporting creditors outnumber the debtors. I do know of three hundred pounds owed him by an uncle, which may be recoverable; yet this is not a racecourse debt, and I understand the uncle to be in poor health and circumstances.'

  Mr Stevens said: 'Well, I suppose his creditors had better take his sporting effects. I want nothing to do with the business myself, having always set my face against the Turf and, so long ago as 1852, warned him that it would prove his undoing. But whether he has left money or not, John must be buried.'

  'Oh, I'll bury him myself, if that's all,' cried Dr Palmer.

  Mr Stevens protested: 'My dear Sir, I certainly couldn't think of your doing that, since you stand to lose so much by his death. I shall see to everything.'

  Meanwhile, Cook's brother-in-law, Mr Bradford, had arrived and also expressed a wish to undertake this melancholy task, yet Mr Stevens, as executor, would not budge from his resolution. 'No,' he said, 'I shall arrange it, though the funeral cannot take place immediately, because he must go to London for burial in his mother's grave. I'm sorry to inconvenience the landlord by keeping the corpse here a little longer, but all arrangements will be made as soon as possible.'

  Dr Palmer shrugged his shoulders, saying: 'Oh, that's of no consequence for a day or two. Nevertheless, he surely ought to be fastened up at once? The poor beggar was diseased.'

  Dr Palmer and Dr Jones then went away, leaving Mr Stevens in earnest talk with his son-in-law. Half an hour later, they returned, and Mr Stevens asked: 'Can you give me the name of a reputable undertaker in this town? I should like to order a coffin.'

  Dr Palmer smiled amiably. 'Keeyes is the very man,' he said, 'and I have already been and done what you suggest. I ordered a shell and a strong oak coffin.'

  'Humph!' ejaculated Mr Stevens, in surprise and displeasure. 'I gave you no authority for that. I must see Keeyes and instruct him myself.'

  The Doctor had, in fact, gone to Keeyes and told him: 'My friend Mr Cook has died of a nasty disease, and needs a strong oak box. I advise you to screw him down quick.'

  Mr Stevens, having already ordered dinner at The Talbot Arms for himself, his son-in-law, and Dr Jones, invited Dr Palmer to join them. Meanwhile, he went out and strolled through the town. They all dined together at three o'clock. Afterwards he asked Dr Jones to be so good as to get him Cook's betting-book and whatever other papers might be in the death-room. Dr Jones climbed upstairs, followed by Dr Palmer, and about ten minutes later both came down again. Dr Jones reported: 'I regret to say, Sir, that the betting-book is still missing, nor can we find any personal papers.'

  'No betting-book!' exclaimed Mr Stevens. 'But he always carried one: a long, green-covered book with gilt edges, a clasp, and a pencil-holder.' Turning to Dr Palmer, he asked abruptly: 'How is this?'

  The Doctor said: "Why, Sir, the betting-book will be no manner of use even if you find it.'

  'No use, Sir?' Mr Stevens expostulated. 'Pray don't try to gammon me. I am the best judge of its use, I believe. Dr Jones informs me that my stepson won a large sum of money at Shrewsbury, and calculated his winnings from the book in his presence. I ought to know something about that.'

  The Doctor repeated: 'It is no manner of use, I assure you. When a man dies, his sporting bets the with him, and Mr Cook received the greater part of his money on the course at Shrewsbury.'

  "Then where is it now?' asked Mr Stevens. 'He will have carried the notes in his money-belt.'

  'I should hope, Sir, you're not accusing me,' Dr Palmer cried in menacing tones.

  'Gentlemen, gentlemen, pray let us all be civil!' pleaded Dr Jones.

  'I accuse nobody for the present,' said Mr Stevens. 'But the betting-book must be found.

  Dr Palmer replied in a quieter voice: 'Oh, it will be found, no doubt.'

  'Sir, it shall be found,' Mr Stevens insisted. He opened the door and calling to Mrs Bond, the housekeeper, who stood behind the bar, announced: 'Madam, it is my desire as the executor of the late John Parsons Cook that everything in the room where his corpse lies shall be locked up. No persons whatsoever must be admitted until I either return or send someone with authority to take possession. And before I catch the London express, I shall view the corpse once more; for I'm by no means satisfied that my stepson met his end fairly.'

  He went upstairs to the death-room where, at his instructions, Mr Keeyes the undertaker had measured the body for a coffin and, with the help of his assistant, already placed it inside a shell. Mr Stevens knelt down beside the corpse for a last farewell, taking one cold hand in his. He noticed that it was tightly clenched, and so also was the other hand. Then he descended, bade Dr Palmer a curt good-bye, adding: 'You shall hear from me again, Sir!' and strode briskly off to the railway station.

  In London, he communicated with Cook's sick uncle, and with his own solicitors, who recommended that he should entrust his affairs to a respectable firm of Rugeley solicitors named Gardiner & Landor. The next day, Saturday, November 24th, on the platform of Euston Square station, he ran into Dr Palmer, who greeted him effusively with: 'Why, good day, Mr Stevens! Are you by any chance travelling down to Rugeley?'

  'I am,' he replied.

  'Why not let us share a compartment?' suggested Dr Palmer. 'I have found a nearly empty one farther along the train.'

  'Many thanks,' answered Mr Stevens, 'but the porter has already placed my bag on the rack in this carriage, where I have acquaintances.'

  'No offence taken,' Dr Palmer said smiling. 'By the way, I was summoned to London by telegraph soon after you left Rugeley.'

  'Where are my stepson's horses kept?' Mr Stevens presently asked.

  'At Hednesford, some three miles out of Rugeley,' came the answer. 'I'll drive you there, if you please.'

  'That would b
e civil of you,' Mr Stevens said, and bowed slightly.

  The guard then rang a bell, and they parted, each to his carriage.

  Dr Palmer had just paid Pratt another four hundred pounds in notes, but it is unknown whom else he saw during his short visit to London. Possibly the nature of his other business there, though nefarious, would have proved him innocent of Cook's murder; this, however, is only a surmise.

  Much as he disliked Dr Palmer, Mr Stevens thought fit to smother his feelings for the time being. When the train stopped at Wolverton, and they met in the refreshment room (among stale sandwiches and slices of pork-pie, grey with engine grit) he reopened the conversation. First apologizing for his heat in the matter of Cook's betting-book, he continued ingratiatingly: 'Doctor, this sudden death of my stepson is a very melancholy event and may, I fear, have impaired my usual good manners. His poor mother, you see, died young, and so did his father, at the age of a mere thirty-one. For the sake of his brother and sister, who are also delicate in health, I should like to know more about John's complaints, and therefore intend to have his body opened.'

  'Why, that can easily be done,' assented Dr Palmer; but the interview was once more interrupted by the guard's bell, and they did not meet again until the train pullcd up at Rugby. Mr Stevens then said: 'Since I live far from Staffordshire, and the horses at Hednesford are supposed to be valuable, I think of asking some solicitor in your district to manage my affairs.'

  'Yes, that would certainly be prudent,' Dr Palmer agreed. 'Do you know any solicitors there personally?'

  'None,' Mr Stevens answered, after a moment's hesitation. But the Rugby stop is short, and service at the refreshment room is slow. The bell rang imperatively, and Mr Stevens tipped his cupful of scalding tea into a saucer to cool; then drank from the saucer, spilling some down his waistcoat as he did so, and ran for his carriage. He found Dr Palmer very forwardly, as he diought, ensconced in the scat next to his.

  'You were talking about Rugeley solicitors,' said the Doctor.

  ' No, Sir, you were,' Mr Stevens snapped at him.

  'Pray allow me to dry your waistcoat with this handkerchief,' offered Dr Palmer; but Mr Stevens curtly declined, and resumed conversation with the lady and gentleman, sitting opposite, who shared his interest in German instrumental music. Dr Palmer did not venture to put in an oar.

  On arrival at Rugeley, Mr Stevens gave his acquaintances a polite good-bye and alighted with Dr Palmer, who lowered his bag for him from the rack to the platform. As they waited for a luggage-porter, Dr Palmer said: 'If you will pardon my correction, Sir, there was certainly talk of a solicitor. Unless I misheard your remark, you know no Rugeley man personally?'

  'My intention was,' explained Mr Stevens, 'to cut short a profitless discussion.'

  'Well,' continued Dr Palmer unabashed, 'I know them all intimately, and can provide you with a most reliable one. Let me go home for a cup of coffee first; then I'll step across to The Talbot Arms and tell you about him.'

  'Many thanks, but pray don't trouble yourself. With the help of Mr Masters, who seems to be a knowledgeable and judicious old fellow, I'll soon engage the sort of agent I require.'

  'At all events, Sir, you'll not find a solicitor tonight.'

  'And why not, pray?'

  'It's late, and some of the best go out of town at the week-end.'

  ' Upon my word,' said Mr Stevens, ' I never in my life experienced any difficulty in finding a solicitor when I needed one, whatever the hour.' Then suddenly altering his voice and manner, he asked: 'Sir, if I should engage a solicitor as my adviser, I suppose you would not mind answering any questions he might care to put?'

  Though Mr Stevens claims that Dr Palmer's reply: 'Oh, no, certainly not,' was accompanied by a nervous spasm of the throat, the moonlight can hardly have been strong enough for this to be distinctly observed. They were now boarding the station omnibus, and no more was said.

  The omnibus stopped outside The Talbot Arms. Dr Palmer entered his own house, and Mr Stevens, after leaving his bag in the care of Mrs Bond, went off at once to find Mr Gardiner, the solicitor—who was out of town, as it happened—and presently returned to supper at the hotel.

  Later, Dr Palmer sought him out and said: 'I fear those bills I negotiated for Cook are going to affect me in a deucedly unpleasant way.'

  Mr Stevens replied, somewhat menacingly: 'I think you should know, Sir, that, since last we saw each other, I have heard a rather different account of John's affairs.'

  'Oh, indeed?' remarked the Doctor politely. 'Well, I hope that the matter will be settled amicably, at any rate.'

  'It will be settled, Sir, only in the Court of Chancery,' was Mr Stevens's severe rejoinder.

  'Oh, indeed?' repeated Dr Palmer, coolly and offhandedly.

  They did not meet again until six o'clock the next evening (Sunday), by which time Mr Stevens had consulted with Mr Gardiner, and the Doctor had attended divine service at St Augustine's Church, where he laid a sovereign in the collection plate.

  Mr Stevens was now seated at a table in the coffee-room, writing a letter, while the cook prepared his dinner. Dr Palmer entered with a paper in his hand. He offered it to Mr Stevens who, however, took no notice of him, but went on writing. After a while, Mr Stevens looked up and said: 'Ah! Good evening, Sir! Do you know a local man named Smith?'

  Dr Palmer answered: 'Smith? Smith? Smith? It's a common enough name hereabouts. I can think of at least a dozen Smiths.'

  'I am referring to a Mr Smith who sat up with my stepson one night,' explained Mr Stevens.

  'Why, of course,' said the Doctor. 'That's Mr Jeremiah Smidi, a very good fellow, a solicitor, the very man whom I should have recommended to you, had you let me.'

  'I raised the question because, since the betting-book has been lost, it is important for me to know who was with my stepson Then he paused and inquired: 'Did you attend him in a medical capacity?'

  'Oh dear, no!' replied Dr Palmer, caught off his guard.

  Mr Stevens said: 'I ask you because of my determination to have his body opened. If you attended him professionally at any time, doubtless the medical man I engage will think it proper for you to be present at the examination.'

  'May I ask whom you have in mind?' Dr Palmer ventured.

  'I shall not know myself until tomorrow,' Mr Stevens replied, ' but think it only proper to disclose my plans. Whether you are present or not is a matter of indifference to me.'

  With a curt nod of dismissal, Mr Stevens returned to his writing and this lack of civility so nettled the Doctor that he snapped back: 'And equally a matter of indifference to me, Sir.'

  'That is surprising,' observed Mr Stevens, his eyes still on the letter before him. 'I thought that as a close friend of Mr Cook's, you would be interested to learn whether some other medical man may have accidentally given him a fatal dose.'

  Then he re-read his letter, signed it with a flourish, and proceeded to address an envelope which he had already stamped.

  Dr Palmer again offered the paper in his hand. Mr Stevens waved it away, saying: 'It looks like a financial document. You will excuse me: I never discuss finance of a Sunday.'

  It was a sheet of yellow post-quarto written in Dr Palmer's handwriting, but signed 'J. P. Cook'. On the day after Cook's death, the Doctor had again summoned Samuel Cheshire to his house, poured him a glassful of brandy and pleaded: ' Sam, I count on you to save my life and fortune. When Cook and I drew up this document some days ago, we omitted to get it witnessed. It refers to a business in which I freely assisted him, without any hope of benefit for myself except his continued friendship. In point of fact, I raised four thousand pounds for him in loans on my own security to help him out of his difficulties, and here he acknowledges the various sums he had, together with the dates of receipt. Be a good fellow and witness it, predating your signature to last Saturday, the morning after Cook's arrival. It won't be legal otherwise, and my horses and furniture may be seized by the money-lending leeches.'

  'Bill
y, old chum,' Cheshire answered, 'I very much regret that I can't oblige you. I have already broken the Postal Regulations in steaming open letters and allowing you to read their contents; but this would be going too far. Neither did Cook sign the document in my presence, nor would I recognize his signature. So I shouldn't fancy being summoned to give evidence on the matter at some future date—especially since this paper is supposed to have been witnessed at your house, on a Saturday morning, when the Post Office is at its busiest and many people saw me at work.'

  'Oh, very well,' said Palmer. 'I'm disappointed in you, Sam! But it doesn't signify much; perhaps Cook's executors won't object to its not being attested—for at least he signed over a receipt stamp as the Law requires.'

  Mr Stevens had taken care that Dr Palmer should steal a glance at the letter on the coffee-room table. It was addressed to Mr William Webb Ward, the Stafford Coroner, and demanded an inquest on Cook's body. He had already written asking Dr Harland of Stafford whether he would kindly conduct the postmortem examination.

  Next morning, in the hope of forestalling trouble, Dr Palmer caught old Dr Bamford just before he went out on his rounds, and requested him to sign Cook's death certificate. Dr Bamford did so, but on entering the cause of death as 'an apoplectic seizure' said: 'Properly, my boy, you should do this yourself. He was your patient, not mine.'

  Chapter XVII

  THE INQUEST ON JOHN PARSONS COOK

  DR HARLAND had been in practice since the year of Waterloo, and won a medical degree at Edinburgh only a few years later. He was a negligent and easy-going man of whom people said: 'If his patients recover, they pay him well; if they die, their heirs don't dispute the fees.' He used few drugs, reposing great faith in the power of Nature to effect cures if left to herself. Rhubarb, magnesia, calomel, and sulphur were, in general, the limit of his prescriptions: he chiefly favoured rest, and a diet of slops. It was this Dr Harland who had obligingly passed Walter Palmer as a good life, and been rewarded by Dr Palmer for this kindness with a dozen of 1834 port. Yet he could by no means be called ignorant of his profession.