The Children of Silence (19 page)

Mr Gillan of the
Chronicle
came late, hurrying from another assignment, and, thwarted by Mr Luckhurst from finding a seat next to Frances, looked disappointed and lurked as near to her as he could, with a suspicious lean to his posture that suggested he was trying to eavesdrop.

‘I know this can hardly be called a social occasion,’ Luckhurst confided, ‘but even so, when in company one always looks for some intelligent conversation, and if it comes from a handsome young lady then so much the better.’ Frances was about to commiserate with him for having to manage with her society and not the hoped for beauty, when Dr Thomas announced the opening of the proceedings, and the jurymen took their places.

The coroner began by advising the jury that the nature of the remains meant that there was more than the usual difficulty in establishing the identity of the deceased. They would hear a number of witnesses on that point and must pay them close attention and consider what they said very carefully before making a decision.

The newspapermen awaited the evidence with rapt expectation and sharpened pencils.

The first witness to be called was a waggoner who testified to discovering the bones amongst the builder’s debris in the brickyard, having seen them partially spilling out of the coal sack. The bones and the sack were, he was sure, the same items currently displayed on the evidence table, and he also thought the pieces of cloth and leather were those he had seen at the site. He was followed by the foreman of the demolition men who said that he often saw animal bones, sacks and pieces of old clothing in houses being demolished and never thought anything of it. He had seen coal sacks in the cellars of the Queens Road houses before work had begun. Some of them had smelled bad, and he had assumed they held dead dogs or rubbish. He was as sure as it was possible to be that everything was put on the wagon with the rest of the rubble. It was not a part of his men’s duties to sift through rubbish.

Inspector Sharrock testified to supervising the team of policemen who had searched through the heap of rubble in the brickyard and extracted the remains, which he had taken charge of and passed to Dr Bond of the Westminster Hospital.

The coroner then notified the jury that the owners and landladies of the lodging houses had yet to be traced and called Dr Bond to give evidence.

Dr Bond, lecturer on forensic medicine and assistant surgeon at the Westminster Hospital, was a dignified and gentlemanly looking man of about forty, with a luxuriant and firmly pointed moustache. He stated that he had received from Inspector Sharrock a number of bones, together with a coal sack and some fragments of rotted clothing, all of which he had been told had been extracted from the same heap on the Shepherd’s Bush brickfield. ‘Apart from a few very small bones, which I believe to be those of rats, all the remains were human. When I laid them out in their correct positions I saw that I had most of the larger bones of a skeleton, and there were no duplicates. In other words there was no evidence that I was dealing with more than one skeleton.

The size of the bones was compatible with them all belonging to the same individual. The deceased was undoubtedly male, about five feet six to eight inches in height and aged between thirty-five and forty-five. There was no evidence of any disease. There was a healed fracture of the right tibia.’

‘How long before death would you say this injury occurred?’ asked Dr Thomas.

‘I am afraid the condition of the remains makes that very hard to determine. I would not at this stage wish to provide an estimate. I have, however, received some more bone fragments from the police this morning, which, if they are part of the same skeleton, could enable me to do so.’

‘After the injury was healed, would the man have continued to suffer pain?’

‘That is possible. Even a healed fracture may cause pain many years later, especially in inclement weather.’

‘What can you tell the court about your examination of the teeth?’

‘The dentition was poor, and many of the teeth were decayed. This man only rarely attended a dentist. On the left side of the lower jaw there were signs that there had once been an abscess that had necessitated removal of the wisdom tooth. The upper wisdom teeth had been extracted many years previously, but I believe the lower left was operated on more recently. The lower right was very much decayed but still in place. There were a number of other teeth missing. These might have been old extractions or, more likely, simply worked loose during the lifetime of the deceased.’

Mr Luckhurst, who had been listening to the evidence with great concentration, suddenly looked very thoughtful. Frances looked at him quizzically, but he said nothing, only took a notebook and pencil from his pocket and began to write.

‘Were you able to arrive at a cause of death?’ asked the coroner.

‘Not conclusively,’ said Dr Bond, ‘but there was damage to the vertebrae that suggested to me that the deceased may have suffered a broken neck. Whether that was due to accident or a deliberate injury it is impossible to determine, but some considerable force was involved.’

‘What kind of accident or injury could have produced this?’

‘A fall down a flight of hard steps is one possible cause, or external violence with a strong twisting of the neck.’

‘When do you believe death took place?’

‘If the body was not buried, and I see no evidence that it has ever been, it would have been exposed to the action of the elements, together with insects and vermin, which would have broken down the tissues more rapidly than if it had been sealed in a coffin. The bones were dry; there was no flesh or connective tissue. This person has been dead for a minimum of two years and more likely longer.’

‘Did you find anything that was incompatible with the remains being those of Edwin Antrobus?’

‘No, neither did I find incontrovertible proof that they are.’

‘Did you draw any conclusions from examining the coal sack and other debris?’

‘The clothing fabric I saw was much rotted, probably from contact with the fluids of decomposition. It was not possible to determine if the fragments had any connection with the remains. The fragments were incomplete – I could not account for all of a suit of clothing or gentleman’s linen. I think that the staining on the outer surface of the leather bag was from contact with body fluids. The interior of the coal sack was dirty, as one might expect. I do not believe that a fresh human body was ever placed in the sack. The bones were soiled from contact with the inner surface of the sack, and would have been placed in it after the body was reduced to a skeleton.’

As Dr Bond resumed his seat, Frances whispered to Mr Luckhurst, ‘I can see you noticed something that interested you.’

‘Surprised me,’ he said, ‘but I will listen to what the other witnesses have to say before I decide what to do.’

There was a short pause for the note-takers to complete their work. The next witness was Mr Rawsthorne, who said that he was acting on behalf of Mrs Harriett Antrobus, who was too unwell to come to court but had signed a statement in his presence, which he would like to read. Dr Thomas assented and Rawsthorne proceeded to read aloud:

I, Harriett Antrobus, wife of Edwin Antrobus, wish to attest the following in the hope that it will assist the coroner’s jury in their deliberations on the remains recently discovered together with my husband’s travelling bag. My husband once told me that as a young man he suffered an accident in which he broke some bones. The injury was to a leg, and although it healed it pained him from time to time. He did not, as far as I know, ever visit a dentist in London, but he did once inform me that while absent from home on business he was obliged to have a tooth extracted. I regret that I cannot recall the date of this occurrence or which city he was visiting.

There were no questions for Mr Rawsthorne, who resumed his seat and patted Miss Pearce’s hand in a kindly fashion.

Mr Wylie was the next witness and recounted the same story he had told at the police station. However, he said that on further reflection he had become quite certain that the tooth his associate had had extracted was a wisdom tooth from the left lower jaw. He also recalled seeing his friend experience some pain on walking and when he had asked about it Antrobus had simply said it was an old injury that occasionally troubled him.

As Wylie resumed his place, Mr Luckhurst, with an intensely serious expression, rose to his feet and went to speak to the coroner’s officer. There was a brief conversation and then Luckhurst wrote in his notebook, tore out the page, handed the paper to the officer and limped back to his seat. Frances glanced at him, and Mr Gillan leaned closer, but Luckhurst simply allowed a flicker of the eyebrows and said nothing.

Lionel Antrobus was called next. Asked if he could corroborate the evidence concerning his brother’s leg injury he said he could not. If his brother had broken any bones he was unaware of it.

‘A broken leg is not a trivial injury,’ observed Dr Thomas. ‘The deceased could have been incapacitated for some time. Family and business associates would not have been unaware of it.’ The jurymen nodded in agreement.

‘I agree,’ said Lionel Antrobus. ‘For that reason I do not believe the remains can be those of my brother.’

He also had no recollection of being told about a tooth extraction, although he was obliged to admit that he and his brother had not been close. Before Edwin’s entry into the tobacco trade they had met only infrequently, and afterwards most of their conversation had been on business matters.

As Lionel Antrobus returned to his seat with a grim expression, the coroner was in the process of announcing that there were no further witnesses to call, when he was handed Mr Luckhurst’s message. He perused it without a change in demeanour and then said, ‘There is one last witness.’

The officer beckoned Luckhurst to the seat by the coroner’s table. As the little man lurched up to the chair, Frances wondered for a moment why he did not employ a walking cane, but then reflected that it might be a matter of pride that he could do very well without one. As he took his place he smiled at the onlookers as if to say ‘Look your fill, do! Aren’t I a sight to behold?’

‘Please give your full name to the court and the reasons why you have volunteered to give evidence.’

‘My name is George Henry Luckhurst and I am Mr Edwin Antrobus’ business partner. I believe I know him better than anyone present in this court. I was first introduced to him by a mutual friend in 1863, shortly after he returned from America, where he had spent two years studying the tobacco industry.’

Frances wondered if the significance of this information was as apparent to others as it was to her. It meant that Edwin Antrobus had been far from home at a time that could have coincided with a leg injury. If he did not want to worry his family he might not have mentioned it at all in letters home, which explained why no one knew of it.

‘Three years later we went into business partnership as Luckhurst and Antrobus Fine Tobacco.’

‘Did Mr Antrobus ever tell you about an accident in which he had broken bones?’ asked the coroner.

‘No, he never mentioned it to me.’

‘Did he ever tell you that he had had a wisdom tooth extracted while on a business trip?’

‘No, he did not.’

‘Did he ever say that he was suffering pain from an abscess in the jaw?’

‘No. He was a very reserved man. He rarely discussed personal matters and almost never alluded to his state of health. He wished to appear robust and strong, especially in view of the active nature of his work that necessitated a great deal of travelling. He did not like to admit to any weaknesses.’ Luckhurst paused, and for a moment the only sound in the court was pencils on paper.

‘I do have one thing of importance to convey in that respect,’ he added, and his tone carried such seriousness it was enough to cause the scribblers to pause and raise their heads. ‘Some years ago I was suffering considerable discomfort from a wisdom tooth and thinking of going to a dentist. I asked Antrobus if he could recommend a man, and he said he could not as by and large he detested dentists and only went to them when it was strictly necessary. He also volunteered the opinion that wisdom teeth were more trouble than they were worth. He told me that he had had all of his removed in America when he was twenty-five and, while it had been an unpleasant experience requiring substantial doses of ether and whisky, he had never regretted it.’

There was a brief silence in the court followed by a burst of excited chatter, which the coroner quickly quelled.

‘Mr Luckhurst,’ Dr Thomas leaned forward intently and everyone waited in anticipation to hear what would be said next. ‘I want to be quite clear on this. Mr Antrobus told you that he had had all of his wisdom teeth removed as a young man?’

‘He did.’

‘I assume that you simply took his word for it.’

‘I did not look into his mouth to check, no,’ said Luckhurst with a smile.

Dr Thomas addressed the jury. ‘I wish to remind you, gentlemen, that Dr Bond has testified that the remains before you have one wisdom tooth still in place.’ He turned to Luckhurst again. ‘Is there anything else you can tell me?’

‘No, that is all.’

As Luckhurst returned to his seat Frances looked about her and saw Mr Wylie very shocked and unhappy, Mr Rawsthorne displeased and Marsden with an unashamed smirk of triumph. Lionel Antrobus, his evidence now vindicated, his control of his brother’s property unchallenged, did not, despite everything, appear content. The burden of duty and the uncertainty remained. Mr Gillan and the ranks of newsmen were clearly delighted, their pencils speeding over paper in a tangle of hooks and whirls, their eyes shining at the prospect of a column headed ‘Exciting scenes in court.’

‘That is all the witnesses we have today,’ announced Dr Thomas, staring keenly around the room as if challenging anyone else to appear, but the assembled company held its collective peace and he nodded. He then addressed the jurors, who exhibited that look of anxiety that always appears on the faces of men confronting the prospect of returning a decision they do not feel competent to make. ‘I propose adjourning the proceedings for one week to enable further witnesses to be found.’ There was audible evidence of relief.