Edward Kane, Advocate in The Supernal Sisters. Chapter 7: ‘Almost Like a Real Gentleman’

The young Advocate kept his thoughts to himself for now. Solicitor, John Hawkes, on the other hand, was respectful but vociferous: ‘Professor Peterson, I’m afraid to say that Mr Kane is correct here. It was well-known – both in the family and in the wider Edinburgh community – that Alexander Humbie possessed only nine toes. He would sometimes walk with a slight limp and, latterly, required the use of a walking cane. Which cane was stolen when the coach in question was robbed, sir.’

Edward Kane, Advocate in The Supernal Sisters. Chapter 7: ‘Almost Like a Real Gentleman’ (Illustration: Lesley-Anne Barnes Macfarlane)

Professor Peterson frowned: ‘You are quite sure of this, Mr Hawkes?’

The solicitor smiled: ‘I could not be more certain, sir.’

Peterson sat back in his chair again and studied his notes. Then he put the papers on the desk and began – absent-mindedly – to tap his failing pipe onto the wooden ashtray, obviously deep in thought.

Edward Kane. Illustration: Lesley-Anne Barnes Macfarlane

*tap* *tap* *tap*

He nodded to himself. Then:

*tap* *tap* *tap*

Finally, Professor Peterson (FRSE FRCSE) re-surfaced and gave the gentlemen across the desk a warm smile.

‘I am very grateful to you, gentlemen. You have assisted me in writing an entirely new chapter on the demise of that poor unclaimed creature on the dissection table. For it is now as plain as the nose on my face: the body that was on that table – and expertly examined by me was – without a doubt – dead. But – indisputably – it was not the body of fish magnate Alexander Humbie…’

*****

‘Yer what, Mr K??? Not old Alexander Humbie?’ Mr. Horse’s eyes were wide in disbelief. ‘If it weren’t Alexander Humbie on that table, then who was it, sir?’

Edward Kane sat in his chair, cup of tea and side-plate of toast in his lap: ‘They have no idea, Mr Horse. Apparently, there were five bodies brought to the university that day and there has obviously been an error when labelling their provenance.’

Horse frowned – not understanding the word. Kane clarified: ‘A mistake when writing down where the body had come from.’

Horse gave a thumbs-up: ‘So – what happened to the body of old Alexander, then?’

‘The professor didn’t know. He did only one of the autopsies that day and left the rest to junior colleagues. He said that he’d check to see if anyone else dealt with a body fitting Humbie’s description in the other dissections that day.’

Mr Horse finished laying the table. Then went over to the open fire where a pot was cooking on the embers of the orange coals. He put a rag around the fingers of his left hand and lifted off the top of the pot. Steam rose. Horse looked at the bubbling contents. He dipped his finger into the pot then quickly put it into his mouth. ‘Oh, yes – that’s a mighty good stew, Mr K. A bit salty, but then – that bit of mutton weren’t born yesterday. I’ll get you a bowl and you can dip yesterday’s bread into it.’

Kane nodded. ‘Thank you, Mr Horse.’ He studied his manservant’s face for a moment. It was covered in small cuts. ‘And if you don’t mind me asking – have you injured your face in some fashion?’

Horse rubbed his chin: ‘No, sir. I’ve just had a shave…’

*****

Later that evening, the clean-shaven manservant and his occasional special friend, Maisie Mount, were knocking on the door of the residence of sisters, Sarah and ‘Sukie’ Spooner, spirt mediums who were encouraging adherents to use their preferred – and advertised – heavenly title ‘The Supernal Sisters’. Horse stood at the front door and looked Maisie up and down: ‘Have to say, Maisie - you do scrub up well, girl…’. Maisie tittered and gave a little curtsy. ‘And you almost look like a real gentleman, Horsey. Remember – you’re here to help me. That’s the story. So keep your mouth shut and they won’t know that you’re really here to spy on them.’

Horse protested: ‘I ain’t no spy, Maisie.’

‘Then you have no right to be here and you can just go home then, eh?’

Horse considered this for a moment: ‘I’ll keep me mouth shut…’

The door opened. And when it opened, Mr Horse was quite taken aback by the radiant vision of loveliness before him. Sukie Spooner, all warmth and smiles and petticoats and curls, welcomed Maise Mount like a long-lost friend. She took both of Maisie’s hands: ‘Why Miss Mount – delighted to have the pleasure of your company once again. Come in, come in.’ Sukie nodded over to a lady’s maid standing in the corner and the maid came over to take Maisie’s coat. Sukie focused on Horse now. Still speaking to Maisie: ‘And you have pleasured me…’ (at this point that the expression caused some distraction in Horse) ‘…you have pleasured me with the company of this fine gentleman.’ She smiled at Horse. ‘I do not believe that we have had the pleasure, Mr…Mr…?’

Horse looked over at Maisie. He was reluctant to answer. They had agreed that he would stay silent as he posed as Maisie’s assistant – but they hadn’t thought of agreeing on a fake name for the introduction.

Maisie gave a brittle little smile: ‘This is Mr…Mr…’. But her attempt at invention was frustrated by another voice. The voice was that of the lady’s maid: ‘Shall I take your coat, Mr Horse? The manservant looked up. The maid stood there, head slightly cocked, lips twisted into a malevolent smile. The maid repeated: ‘Your coat. Mr Horse?’

Edward Kane and Mr Horse Collected Short Stories Volume 1 is available on Amazon, Kindle and from all good bookshops