Edward Kane, Advocate in The Hanged Man. Chapter 4: ‘He wants to see the dog…’

Illustration: Lesley-Anne Barnes Macfarlane

It was getting late now, and the Faculty Servants were beginning to light the candles on their sconces in the great Parliament Hall. ‘Mr Kane, Mr Kane…’ The young Advocate had retrieved his coat, hat and gloves and was walking into the great hall when he was beckoned by a familiar figure. Small, bowler-hatted, moustachioed, thick glasses – Edward Kane recognised the figure of Mackintosh of the Detective.

Kane gave a little bow: ‘Mackintosh.’

The detective bowed: ‘Mr Kane. I wonder if we could have a word?’

The young Advocate and the diminutive detective began to promenade up and down Parliament Hall. Soon in deep conversation.

‘The thing is, sir,’ Mackintosh frowned, ‘I know that Dr Balloch was hanged and all….’

Kane pointed his finger to make the point: ‘Hanged until dead, Macintosh, “until dead” do not forget.’

‘On the face of it, sir…’ Mackintosh began to knead the knuckle of his finger into his bushy moustache. This was always a clear tell that something was not right with the detective. Kane nodded down: ‘You seem troubled, Mackintosh.’

Mackintosh nodded: ‘I confess, Mr Kane, that the case of Dr Balloch has troubled me.’

‘How so?’

Mackintosh frowned. They walked on down that great hall for a moment before the detective continued: ‘I mean, sir, the trial itself was fair. That was for the jury to decide. And, believe me, Mr Kane, they did not like the doctor one bit. Not one bit, sir.’

They walked on. Mackintosh spoke low: ‘I was thinking myself that they wouldn’t come back with Murder. Not with Murder. Culpable Homicide maybe.’

Mackintosh was referring to the lesser charge, like the English verdict of Manslaughter. He continued. ‘I mean you get a respectable person like the doctor and he’s trying to help his old father and he gives the father too much medicine and the father dies. You can see how that might be a mistake…’

‘You appear to know a great deal about the case, Mackintosh.’

‘I made the arrest, Mr Kane. Possibly the easiest arrest of my career. Once it was clear that the old father was dead, Dr Balloch sent to the police office at St Giles to notify the authorities. It was only later – when we found out that the doctor was up to his ears in debt…’

‘Oh dear…’

‘The fifteen men of the jury did not like that, sir. They did not like that one bit. Anyway…’ Mackintosh sighed and shook his head. ‘Must get back to work, sir. Can’t stand here gossiping all day. I just thought I would say “hello”.’ He nodded towards the courtroom where Kane had just faced the three judges. ‘I had a quick peek in at your case there, Mr Kane. You appear to have a mountain to climb. Especially with the good Lord Lothian.’

They laughed. Kane shook his head: ‘My best argument appears to be that having been sentenced to hang until dead, then the good doctor has now served his sentence.’

Mackintosh came to an abrupt stop and stared at the Advocate: ‘Has he, though, Mr Kane. Has he served his sentence?’ I had very brief dealings with Dr Jack Balloch. Very brief, sir. But he seemed to me to be the kind of man that you could throw from the top of the Scott Monument, but you could not trust him to fall…’

****

‘Are we out of milk? Again?’

Edward Kane, impecunious young Advocate stared into his teacup at the prodigiously strong cup of tea prepared by his Cockney manservant, Mr Horse. The liquid inside the cup was a dark shade of mahogany.

The manservant nodded towards the cup. ‘That’s it, Mr K. If the milk had been any older, it would have been cheese.’

The Advocate looked at the brew before him and sighed. He gave Mr Horse a rueful look: ‘I suppose that it’s time.’

‘I suppose it is, sir.’ The manservant held out his hand while Kane fumbled in his waistcoat pocket, producing a Hunter pocket watch and chain. Mr Horse took it with a nod: ‘Thank you, sir.’ He gave a wink: ‘Usual terms, Mr K?’

Kane gave a weary nod. At times he thought that the watch spent more time in the pawnbroker’s possession than it did in his pocket. He sat back in his chair and attempted a smile: ‘Despite our lack of money, Mr Horse, you must be commended in providing a very good standard of cuisine, my man. That beef stew over the last two nights was more than acceptable.’

Horse looked shifty. Kane noted this and raised his eyebrows: ‘Not the reaction that I was expecting to the compliment offered, Mr Horse.’

The Cockney manservant rubbed his stubbly chin: ‘The thing is, Mr K…’

‘Yes?’

The thing is…’

‘Yes?’

“The meat. The meat in the stew was…it was not the best quality, sir…’

Kane shrugged: ‘I did not detect…’

‘It was scraps, sir.’

‘“Scraps”?’

‘From the butchers’

The Advocate shrugged. The manservant continued: ‘Scraps for the dog. I asked the butcher for scraps for the dog, sir.’

Kane knotted his brow: ‘But, Mr Horse – we do not own a dog.’

‘I know that. You know that. But the butcher – he don’t know that, sir.’ Horse gave a feeble smile: ‘Sometimes, Mr K, when we’ve got nothing in the larder, then I goes down to the butchers and I asks for some scraps for the dog. And he gives me them and I makes a stew with them.’

Kane began to feel an odd sensation in his stomach. It was not hunger. Horse went on: ‘Problem is: the old butcher is getting a bit suspicious now and he says that he wants to see the dog.’

Edward Kane put the heels of his palms into his eyes and began a slow rub. Horse smiled: ‘But it will be all right now, Mr K – we got this.’ He held up the Hunter and chain. ‘And this will get us few bob and I’ll get down to that butchers and shake a few sovereigns in front of his face and I won’t need to take no dog with me.’

Kane gave a resigned nod. ‘You know, Mr Horse, I do wonder what my father would have thought.’ He nodded towards the gold watch in Horse’s hand. ‘He gave me that Hunter on the day of my graduation from university. I wonder what he would think if he saw it in the window of a pawnbroker.’

‘Something will turn up, sir. What are you doing tomorrow?’

Kane got up from his wing-chair and stretched: ‘Tomorrow, my man, I am to attend at Calton Prison to consult with the good Dr Jack Balloch, convicted patricide and notorious poisoner.’

Horse grinned: ‘A word of advice, Mr K. If he offers you a cup of tea, maybe say “No”…’

TOMORROW: Thieves, Embezzlers & Resurrectionists