Edward Kane, Advocate in The Hanged Man. Chapter 13: ‘Let me tell you what the hangman told me’

Collins laughed: ‘I see. So you asked the client everything – except the question that you had set out to ask him…’

Mr Collins, Advocate, had a mirthful look in his eye. Edward Kane smiled: ‘Correct. I meant to ask in more detail why there required to be two doctors on the scene – but I suppose that one of them was the unfortunate man’s brother, so he doesn’t actually count.’

Collins took off his tortoiseshell glasses and he began to nibble the end of one of the arms: ‘Or to provide double proof that the hanged man was dead?’

Kane laughed: ‘“Hanged by the neck until doubly dead”…’

Collins nodded: ‘That would certainly be proof well beyond the balance of probabilities.’

Edward Kane frowned: ‘But for what reason?’

‘That – Edward – is what I suspect you will find out when you are interrogated by our three judges.’

The conversation was interrupted by the silent attendance of a Faculty Servant, standing at the side of the table. Kane looked up and smiled, inviting conversation. The Servant gave a little bow: ‘I apologise for the interruption, Mr Kane, but there is a gentleman waiting at the Scott statue in the Hall and he’s asking for you.’

‘Did he give his name?’

“That would be a Mr Mackintosh. A detective. He says that you will know what it concerns…’

****

‘There’s something afoot here, Mr Kane. I can smell it…’

Mackintosh of the Detective and Edward Kane were walking up and down the great Parliament Hall, the detective rubbing his bushy moustache with the knuckle of his index finger.

Kane raised his eyebrows: ‘Mackintosh, you will appreciate that. I cannot comment on this. All communications between client and Counsel are entirely confidential. He could tell me at consultation that he killed a hundred fathers, but that would remain between him and me…’

‘I appreciate that sir, I do. But here’s the thing: the man who was hanged is not your client. He is dead – or so he claims.’

‘Still, I…um…’

Mackintosh nodded: ‘We can make this simple, sir: who is paying your bill?’

The young Advocate frowned: ‘The money will come from…from his estate, I suppose.’

‘Which proves that he is dead, then, doesn’t it. I should think that your client is actually the dead man’s brother – as executor?’

The conversation had now assumed all the character of a university examination question. And a hard one at that. Kane stopped in his tracks: ‘Mackintosh, please excuse me. I do not meant to appear rude, but you were the one who has asked to speak to me. Within the limits of my own responsibilities, how can I help you, sir?’

Mackintosh frowned: ‘I know that you’re an honest man, Mr Kane, and I know that you would never – knowingly – partake in fraud. But this whole case…’

Kane held up his hand to stay the conversation: ‘Forgive me, sir – but what I will not partake in is idle gossip. This whole situation is difficult enough, without…’

‘Let me tell you what the hangman told me. Then you can decide for yourself.’

The Advocate and the detective walked up and down the length of Parliament Hall.

*****

*CLUNK* – the jug of beer was set down abruptly onto the table before Mr Horse. He looked up at barmaid Molly: ‘Molly, my dear, I didn’t order…’

The barmaid smiled: ‘Shut yer pie-hole and drink up. I’m fed up looking at that miserable face of yours staring into the fire there. What’s the matter with you? You look like a man that lost a shilling and found a farthing.’

Horse stared into the flames. He placed his hand around the jug: ‘I lost more than that, my lovely. A lot more than that.’

Molly rolled her eyes: ‘A jacket? Is that it? A jacket? You’re acting like you lost your mother…’

Horse shook his head: ‘It was what was in the jacket, Molly. Something I can’t replace.’

The barmaid looked at the manservant and then looked at the flames. She nodded towards a metal poker at the hearth: ‘Did you dig through the ashes with the poker?’

The disconsolate manservant nodded: ‘First thing I did. Dug through the whole fire straight away. Found nothing but ashes.’

Molly gave a smile. ‘Funny, that, eh?’ A casual observer might have detected an odd, almost knowing quality to that smile, but Horse was too grief-stricken to notice. She shook her head. ‘Drink up, Horse, drink up’

****

Later that evening, Edward Kane sat back in his wing chair by the fire. ‘Ahhh, Mr Horse – that gammon was beyond delicious. I take it that the butcher was more than pleased to have his bill finally settled.’

Horse gave a grunt of assent. Kane detected a measure of dissatisfaction in the sound and attempted to cheer his man up: ‘I hear from Mr Phipps, the solicitor, that payment for the case of Dr Balloch will be with us very soon, so we can rescue our watch ere long….’

Horse said nothing.

Kane smiled: ‘So – all being well – no canine “scraps” for a while, eh?’

Horse. Nothing.

The Advocate pressed on: ‘Are you feeling quite well, Mr Horse. You hardly touched that excellent meal. And – if you don’t mind me saying so – you appear devoid of your usual ebullience.’

Mr Horse – who was yet to confess the destruction of the pawn ticket and the concomitant loss of the gold watch – was removing the dirty dishes from the table: ‘If I knew what you was talking about, Mr K, I might agree.’ He sighed: ‘Been a long day. If it’s all one, sir, I’ll get these dishes done – then hit the hay.’

TOMORROW: ‘Lovely evening for a stroll, ennit?’