I had made the usual inquiries at his office and at the club he was known to frequent. It appeared that he left the office at the usual hour most days, however he had not attended his club in some time.
Although that did not answer the question as to where he went when he was not at his office, the hospital, or his club, I had not found anything amiss.
His office assistant, an older woman by the name of Mary Bishop who attended patients as well as staff I spoke with at St. Thomas’ Hospital, had not noticed anything different in his habits. Long hours, the administrator of the hospital explained, were not unusual.
As for Helen Bennett, she did not appear to be someone given to hysterics over a missed supper or two. She was intelligent, quite calm in her manner, and used to the callings of her husband’s profession that occasionally required him to be at some function or called away with the lectures he gave.
When we met previously there had been a noticeable concern over her husband’s increased absences, but this was now more than mere concern and the growing suspicion that he might bekeeping companyelsewhere as she put it at the time.
I had found no indication of that, having become quite familiar with the usual signs of a philandering husband in thematter of my sister’s case, and the early experience with our own father.
By all accounts, Dr. Bennett was a dedicated physician, lecturer, and prominent member of the Medical Society of London.
He had done extensive research in the treatment and after-care of wounds suffered by those in the military in campaigns in Burma and more recently in the Sudan, and frequently lectured on advances in such things.
Our previous acquaintance with a captain of the Royal Fusiliers, who had been injured in one of those confrontations and returned to London, had been the benefactor of some of those advances.
Instead of losing his injured leg as would have happened in the past, he had gone through restorative surgery and was assured of the returned use of the limb.
I had also made inquiries about the Bennett family, in case there might be any difficulties there— obligations to a family member that might have made a demand on Dr. Bennett’s time.
His parents were long deceased and there was only a sister who had moved with her husband to the United States. The distance precluded any concern in that regard. And Mrs. Bennett had not indicated any difficulty there.
Mrs. Bennett was from a notable family. Her father had been an architect and had designed the first residences constructed in Belgrave Square where she and her husband now lived.
While the square and the surrounding area was known for those of the upper class who lived there, I did not have the impression that Dr. and Mrs. Bennett lived lavishly or beyond their means. There did not seem to be any sort of financial difficulty. A housekeeper answered my telephone call to the Bennett residence and it was immediately picked up by Mrs. Bennett.
I could hear the tension in her voice. She was quite upset however, but did not want to discuss whatever it was that had happened over the telephone, or obviously in the presence of servants.
I agreed to meet with her promptly.
I added a brief note to the chalkboard— a habit that had driven Brodie quite crazy when we first worked together. He kept details in his head, as he had explained at the time, far more efficient when going about London on some matter or the other.
However, he was forced to admit that my notes were quite efficient when the two of us were working on an inquiry case. It was his way of acknowledging that I had contributed important aspects to that particular case. Stubborn man.
I tucked Mrs. Bennett’s note into my bag and was almost out the door of the office when I remembered Mr. Cavendish’s message from Brodie.
Oh, bother, I thought as I returned to the desk and retrieved the revolver, what Brodie called a “pocket pistol.”
It was small enough to tuck into my bag and somewhat lighter than the one he usually carried. A gift he told me at the time, since I had a habit of getting myself into certain situations. He was a bit put off by my martial art skills, acquired on a previous visit to the Far East.
“There’s no need for ye to engage with a criminal. Use the pistol if ye need to.”
He had proceeded to provide a lesson in the proper loading and handling of the weapon at my aunt’s estate at Sussex Square, a private location where the Metropolitan Police were not likely to be called upon to investigate.
To say that I was a most excellent student is an understatement. I had taken two practice shots in order to compensate for the weight and the accuracy of the weapon, thenproceeded to put an additional four rounds in the center of the target.
There had been the requisite muttering with a handful of curses thrown in for good measure on Brodie’s part afterward.
“I suppose ye learned that from her ladyship,”he snapped when the lesson was over.
“She is quite accomplished, although she much prefers the saber. In her youth she bested several men in competition, dressed in disguise so that she would not be disqualified.”
There had been more muttering at that, along with,“No surprise why the woman is still unmarried. She undoubtedly killed off any serious suitor.
“I have to admit,”he then added. “I was not aware that such things were family traits. Although I am grateful that ye have the skill, considerin’ yer inclination for finding trouble.”
I had reminded him that the “trouble” he was referring to was a matter I was forced to take care of considering his preoccupation elsewhere at the time.
