Chapter 6

Six

I received a message from Mr. Brimley in the morning. He had spoken with Dr. Pennington, who was currently providing a lecture series at the medical school at Oxford, regarding my inquiries into Dr. Bennett.

Dr. Pennington had provided valuable information in a previous inquiry case. Although his schedule was quite fractured, as he had put it, he would be more than pleased to meet with me if I was agreeable to come to Oxford.

I rose early to find Lily was already awake and downstairs, chatting away with Mrs. Ryan. In a short amount of time the two of them had become thick as thieves as the saying went.

Mrs. Ryan seemed particularly taken with Lily. I took that as a good sign as my friend Templeton would have said, after the horrible circumstances over the death of her daughter, Mary.

"Lily has been telling me all about the play at the Drury," my housekeeper commented as I joined them. "And ice cream after? It's a wonder the girl didn't end up with a misery of the stomach."

Lily merely grinned.

I had thought that it might be another adventure for her to accompany me to Oxford, however that was put aside for another time when my sister rang up.

She had made arrangements for Lily to accompany her to Sotheby's and the auction of various pieces of Egyptian artifacts and statues they were hosting.

When I explained to Lily, she had made a face.

"I first attended Sotheby's when I was very near your age," I consoled her. "You will find many fascinating things there. I'm certain that it led to my first adventure." I forced myself to keep a straight face at her response to that.

"I seen some drawings that Lady Antonia had in her art room. Masks of dead people and bodies in boxes?"

That was rather cutting to the heart of it.

"Ancient kings and queens," I replied in an attempt to pique her curiosity. "And undoubtedly a well-preserved snake or a ram covered in gold."

That brought about a disapproving sound from Mrs. Ryan. However, it had the desired effect.

"A sheep covered in gold?"

"The ram represented the ancient god, Amun. The sign of the ram or a goat's head has been found on the walls of many tombs. That would be far more interesting than an afternoon at Oxford."

"A sheep covered in gold?"

I had read about that in the dailies, promoting the exhibition and auction.

She seemed to be considering that as opposed to Oxford which I had explained was actually several schools located in the town of Oxford.

"Over thirty schools at one place?" she exclaimed as I explained that Oxford was actually a combination of many different colleges, including the women's college that had opened in 1879.

"Wot does anyone need with that many schools? Ye'd die before ye learnt it all."

She did have a very pragmatic way of thinking that I couldn't argue with.

"I s'pose I'd rather see a gold sheep than all those schools," she finally decided.

"Although I'd much rather go with ye in yer new investigation."

With that more or less agreed upon, I had Mrs. Ryan make arrangements for my aunt's driver to pick Lily up for her return to Sussex Square, which brought me around to the subject of Rupert.

He had joined us once more the previous evening when we went by the office on the Strand, in keeping with Brodie's instructions to Mr. Cavendish. He insisted that the hound accompany Lily and I to Mayfair.

This morning Rupert was presently reclined before the hearth in the front parlor with only an occasional twitch to give any indication that he was still alive.

I would be making the trip to Oxford by way of Paddington Rail Station and while it was possible that I might take him along, I did foresee some objections from the attendants not to mention other passengers.

He did have a way of putting people off somewhat if not with his over-protective manner, then most certainly by the smell that accompanied him when he'd been out and about the streets.

"I'll see that he gets to Mr. Cavendish then accompany Lily to Sussex Square," Mrs. Ryan spoke up as I considered precisely what was to be done.

I looked over in surprise. It was one thing that she provided biscuits and scones for Mr. Cavendish and Rupert. It was quite another to go about London with the hound in a coach much like a favored pet.

"There's no need to look at me like that," she commented. "It will give me the opportunity to air the place after ye're on yer way and the girl is quite fond of him."

Lily grinned.

Oxford was more than an hour away by rail.

When I rang up Dr. Pennington's office, his assistant informed me that the doctor suggested that we meet at an inn, rather than negotiating the vast grounds and halls of the medical school.

Oxford University was known across the empire and the rest of the world as one of the premier universities. The original school dated back almost to the time of the Norman Conquest with records that went back as far as the year 1096.

"Your several generations great-uncle studied there, something near very eight hundred years ago , " my great-aunt had shared with my sister and me with a casual wave of her hand.

"It's all there in our library, of course. Quite boring," she had added.

This was according to her grandfather who kept family records of such things. It was also where our father had studied. Not that it spoke well of his character.

The Chequers Inn was on High Street in Oxford. It had originally been a coaching inn for travelers to and from London, and then a meeting place for students and professors from the university.

It was a plaster and stone two-story building with meeting rooms over the tavern on the main floor. There were dark wood beams and a serving bar with fireplaces that kept it warm after the chill of the ride from the station, and had undoubtedly warmed a fair share of highwaymen lifting a pint after lifting a purse or two on the road.

I would have appreciated a bit of Old Lodge to warm myself, but ordered a cup of coffee instead. I explained that Dr. Pennington would be joining me. The man behind the bar, by the name of Alfie, nodded.

"Know 'im well. He meets regular with some of the others upstairs when he's over from London for a lecture."

Dr. Pennington arrived a short time later, stamping his boots at the entrance with the snow that had begun.

He was of medium height with close cropped dark hair and beard just beginning to gray about the edges. Not a particularly handsome man, he had a scholarly appearance as if his thoughts were chasing a dozen different things at one time.

Alfie greeted him with a gesture in my direction, and Dr. Pennington looked up and smiled.

He had provided information in a previous inquiry case on behalf of Mr. Brimley that had been most important. Dr. Bennett was an acquaintance as well as an associate at St. James Hospital according to Mr. Brimley, and I hoped he might be able to provide some insight into Dr. Bennett's recent disappearance.

He greeted me with the familiarity of that past case. "A bit brisk out today," he commented.

Brisk. Now there was a word, I thought, as my hands had just begun to thaw by way of the coffee mug.

Dr. Pennington was most congenial, not all the stuffy collegiate sort that I was most familiar with, and curious what I had been up to as he put it.

"And her ladyship?" he inquired as we exchanged pleasantries.

Was there anyone who didn't know my great-aunt?

I assured him that she was quite well and fully recovered from the injury to her ankle.

"And how is my good friend?" he inquired of Mr. Brimley.

I assured him that he was quite well, and deeply involved with a new specimen he had acquired.

"The man is quite brilliant," he replied. "A tragedy that he could not complete his studies. However, I admire the choice he made and his care for others."

The barkeep served him coffee as well. He took a long sip of the steaming brew.

"I would normally have Alfie add a bit of extra warmth," he said with obvious meaning. "However, I have a late afternoon lecture and then a meeting with the chairman of the medical school.

"Now, my dear Miss Forsythe, what has brought you to Oxford? Another inquiry case? How may I be of assistance?"

I explained the circumstances of the inquiry; Mrs. Bennett's initial contact over a month earlier and then further concerns more recently.

"Ah, my colleague in medicine. Yes, I know Dr. Bennett from our university days. He was a full year ahead of myself. Quite exceptional actually, and very much interested in experimental techniques. He was greatly affected by the loss of a younger brother who had a commission with the military.

"The young man was severely injured in a dreadful encounter in the Sudan, as I remember. He returned while we were at university, however, was horribly scarred and maimed."

He leaned in close. "Took his own life, unable to live with the situation. Terrible tragedy that effected Joseph deeply according to others who knew him as well.

"It was after that terrible situation that he left Oxford and went to France for a time. He studied there about certain restorative procedures for injuries such as his brother had. That seemed to motivate him. He returned to Oxford and finished his studies then began his apprenticeship."

By everything he told me, it seemed that Dr. Bennett was successful as well as brilliant.

"Successful, yes. Quite so to all outward appearances. However, having experienced it myself, he spoke more than once that those of our profession were slow to accept new practices that were not new at all according to what he had learned while in France."

"What might those have been?" I asked.

"Ways of restoring the use of limbs with intricate surgery, as well as helping those who had suffered burns. He was most fascinated by records discovered in Egypt about ancient procedures to repair facial features as well as surgeries of the brain. The Egyptians were quite advanced in those things."

I then asked him if he had noticed any recent changes in Dr. Bennett. For some it would have been a delicate matter— a wife's inquiries about absences, then not returning at all the past three nights.

"If you are inquiring as to whether or not there might have been another woman, or perhaps something else that occupied his time, my response would be no. He is not the sort."

As opposed to a man who would be the sort?

He was thoughtful. "I do hold you and your efforts in high esteem, Miss Forsythe. You seem a woman of common sense and not given to rash behavior."

I accepted that as a compliment, odd as it seemed.

"In the past you have conducted yourself with discretion."

If not the possibility of another woman and an affair, I did wonder where this was leading.

"Joseph has spoken often about the need to follow certain techniques outside the usual boundaries of our fellow gentlemen in medicine. To that end, he indicated that he needed a place apart from St. James and the established medical profession.

"He seemed to be of a mind to work independently to establish the practices that he had discovered in his time away from Oxford."

"When was this?"

"He first mentioned it upon his return. However, more recently he has been absent from the hospital and taken fewer patients."

More recently turned out to be the past six months.

"It is possible that he set up a private practice apart from St. James," he commented.

When he had the occasion to ask Dr. Bennett about those absences, he had only provided a vague response.

"He said that his wife was having some health issues. However, now with your inquiry, it is even more puzzling."

Puzzling indeed. Mrs. Bennett seemed quite healthy when last we met. Most interesting.

We shared a lunch at the inn. Dr. Pennington was then expected back for his afternoon lecture.

"I do hope nothing serious has happened," he said in parting. "As I said, the man is brilliant and I greatly miss our conversations. You will let me know once you've resolved your inquiry?"

I assured him that I would. I then returned to the rail station to await the next return train to London.

Dr. Pennington had been extremely complimentary of Dr. Bennett. Quite brilliant he had called him, and deeply affected by the loss of his younger brother. So much so that he had sought out medical treatments that might have made a difference had he known about them earlier.

It wasn't unusual that a tragedy set someone on a particular course in life. On the one hand, as Brodie would say, the man was to be commended for pursuing something that would make a difference to others in the future. On the other hand, there was the fact that Dr. Bennett was now apparently among the missing.

What did it mean?

Was it possible he had taken himself off, as Dr. Pennington explained, to pursue private practice that might provide him the freedom to apply the things he had learned? If so, then what reason was there for him to simply disappear?

Surely he could pursue those aspects of his profession in private. Couldn't he? And where might that be?

A private office to be certain, some place discreet and away from those who would have been critical of his techniques?

Where to begin?

I was going to need assistance with this, from someone who knew the streets of London, had lived on them and had connections where others might not. Quite naturally Brodie came to mind, however, I already had my answer there. He had made it very clear that I could pursue this on my own.

Very well, I thought as my train pulled into Paddington Station, I would pursue this. After all, we had a client who was very much in need of answers.

I knew the best person to assist me. He could be a bit difficult in such matters, no doubt owing to his loyalty to Brodie. However, I was certain he could be persuaded. He simply needed to see it as assisting me so that I was not going off on this alone, and he had proven to be most capable of assisting in the past. In fact, Brodie frequently relied upon him for information on one matter or another when making inquiries.

Perfect, I thought.

"No!" Munro replied most emphatically when I explained the situation and what needed to be explored next.

I had heard that before, in stronger language from another stubborn Scot.

"Very well, then I shall acquire Mr. Dooley's services in the matter." That brought the response I thought it might.

"Dooley? The man is competent as far as it goes, and I know he's been of assistance in the past. But he dinnae know everything that goes on out on the street."

I had learned over the past two years that there was a way of knowing precisely when I had persuaded one with my argument.

"He'd not approve of yer doin' this," he pointed out, obviously referring to Brodie.

I set aside my immediate response to the fact that I didn't need anyone's approval, in favor of seizing the moment as I heard Munro hesitate.

"Mrs. Bennett is quite concerned that something has happened to Dr. Bennett," I continued.

"And Brodie would undoubtedly not approve of your sending me off alone. When can you begin your inquiries?"

There was a round of curses that reached all the way from the wine cellar below the main floor at Sussex Square where I had sought him, up to the kitchens on the main floor.

Two of my aunt's maids and the cook looked at me with startled expressions as I emerged from the wine cellar. I merely smiled.

Angus Brodie swore at the information Alex Sinclair had picked up from one of the Agency contacts in Brussels and now handed to him.

"How old is this information?"

"No more than a few hours. Communication can sometimes be garbled coming in across the channel. And then it took a bit longer to clarify it."

"Has Sir Avery seen this?"

"Not yet," Alex replied. "I wanted to be certain of it, before I took it to him."

"Is it reliable?" Brodie asked.

"The man who intercepted it has been reliable in the past…" Alex hesitated. "Then the communication ended. We've been unable to reach him since to verify."

The first message and one other had been intercepted as well, some weeks earlier indicating that the man, Soropkin, was to meet with someone in London who could help their cause.

But precisely what was that cause, Brodie thought? And where was Soropkin now?

He had been chasing down bits and pieces of information since returning with Mikaela from Scotland and had contacted Herr Schmidt at the German Gymnasium.

The man had previously assisted in a particular matter and seemed to have an ear to the ground, so to speak. He seemed to know just about everything that went on in the immigrant communities in the East End. Both legal and illegal.

Brodie wouldn't have called him a friend, but the man had proven to be reliable when it concerned matters in that community that could be most serious and have far reaching repercussions.

When the first information surfaced in that early communication, he had gone to Schmidt for any gossip that might have been picked up on the streets.

It was always a tricky matter dealing with the different immigrant communities in the East End as he knew only too well from his time with the MET. The Germans didn't trust the Russians. The Russians felt likewise and had no love for those from Poland or any of the other European countries.

And then there was the mutual suspicion of those from beyond Europe, and some of the places Mikaela had traveled on her adventures. It was like a pot that could boil over at any time as each established their own areas and guarded them fiercely.

Someone might arrive and then simply disappear in the East End, without being noticed. But with this intercepted message, it seemed that Soropkin's people had managed to slip into the country. Those earlier rumblings that had been merely rumors at the time about something that was planned, were apparently far more concrete now.

He needed to contact Schmidt again. Soropkin was responsible for the deaths of dozens of persons in Germany and there was most certainly no love lost there. With this, it was possible that Schmidt or one of his people might know something about this latest communication.

"Make certain that Sir Avery sees this right away," he told Alex as he grabbed the revolver he carried and checked it, then grabbed his long coat.

"I'll be out and about for a while to see what other information there might be," he added.

That was as much as he was willing to reveal for now. He'd lived on the streets in the past and valued the trust Schmidt had in him, so far.

That went both ways. He kept the names of those he relied on to himself. Nothing was written down, no names mentioned, nor put into one of those reports that Sir Avery submitted to others. Not even to Alex, even though he trusted the young man.

But, as he'd also learned on the streets, the walls had ears. What one man overheard and might pass on, at least a dozen more might learn of, and he wouldn't put any man at risk.

It was precisely the reason he was determined to keep Mikaela out of this. Not that she couldn't be trusted. He'd never known a woman who wasna given to gossip, until she boldly walked into his life.

Quite the opposite and it was precisely that reason that he had kept the details of this from her. It would be just like her, once she heard what they'd learned, to insist on being part of it.

Not this time, he thought, not now, as he buttoned his coat and set off to find a driver to take him back to the office on the Strand to change into clothes far more suitable for where he was going next.

He needed to go back to the streets, blend in, move about without suspicion, and see what he could learn.