“Exactly how many times did you amend a will at Dr. Thorne’s request?” Henry wanted him to understand the amount of evidence they were collecting.
“I couldn’t say without checking my records.” The solicitor boldly lifted his chin. “I don’t know what you are trying to imply, but I am not involved in any nefarious schemes.”
“Are you willing to swear to that under oath?” Fletcher asked directly.
The query gave Mr. Barnes pause for a long moment. “Either charge me or release me.”
Irritation took hold of Henry. He’d known the solicitor wouldn’t be easy to question, but he’d hoped he would realize the game was up. He stood and nodded at Fletcher to do the same. They’d leave their suspect to his thoughts while they discussed it with the Director. Without a word, they stepped out of the interview room, Fletcher closing the door behind them.
“Stubborn idiot,” the sergeant grumbled. “How can he not see the writing on the wall?”
“He will when we bring in Dr. Thorne.”
Fletcher’s brows lifted with excitement. “I’m ready for it.”
“Let’s have a word with Reynolds first.” Henry started toward the Director’s office, only to come upon him on the way.
“Any luck?” their superior asked, interest shining in his eyes behind his spectacles as he waved them into his office.
“The solicitor won’t give up easily,” Henry admitted. “But he didn’t act pleased to learn that we know about both Dorothy Symes and Thomas Ambrose changing their wills in addition to Walter Dunn.”
Reynolds smiled with satisfaction. “That’s good to hear. We have enough to charge him with a felony for fraudulently amending the wills.” The Director gestured toward his desk. “I just received approval from the magistrate for a search warrant of the sanatorium. Mr. Collins’s confession was enough to convince him—albeit reluctantly—to allow us to proceed.”
Satisfaction poured through Henry as he shared a look with Fletcher. “Excellent. I’ll send word to Dr. Stanhope to meet us there, then gather some men for the trip to Enfield. We’ll have the sanatorium closed very soon and those poor patients in the hands of proper professionals.”
“Do tread with care,” Reynolds warned. “The doctor has friends in high places.”
Henry nodded, though he didn’t intend to take any missteps. After sending a message to Dr. Stanhope to meet them at Hollowgate Heights, he selected a half dozen officers to accompany him and Fletcher, but the train ride to Enfield had never felt so long.
The other passengers gave the officers a wide berth, providing a modicum of privacy as Henry described the layout of the sanatorium and the plan. He didn’t expect anyone to attempt to flee out the back, but he assigned a constable to guard that entrance just in case. “We need to treat the patients with care and dignity. Some may be weak or ill. Some of them have been refused their freedom, and for many of them, their food.”
“What should we tell them?” Constable Dannon asked in a quiet tone.
“That Dr. Thorne and some of her staff are under arrest, and the sanatorium is being closed,” Henry suggested. “Better not to mention on what charges for now. Telling them she murdered other patients might prove too upsetting for some. They’ll learn the truth soon enough.”
Fletcher nodded in agreement.
“We’re most interested in Dr. Thorne,” Henry continued, providing a brief description of the doctor. “I’ll go directly to her office but if anyone sees her, detain her immediately. All staff are to be brought to the Yard for questioning.”
As the train pulled in and the men squashed themselves into three hansom cabs, he hoped Dr. Stanhope and the other physician he was bringing to help wouldarrive in a timely manner. Stepping out before the large respectable looking sanatorium, he advised the officers to tell the patients to pack their things and be prepared to depart as quickly as possible, though some might require assistance.
Soon Fletcher was pounding on the door to the sanatorium, the other officers waiting impatiently for entrance. “Police! Open up!”
The same porter who’d passed a message to Amelia’s friend had the misfortune of opening the door, allowing the flood of officers entrance.
“What is the meaning of this?” Mr. Duffield demanded as he stumbled back in surprise.
“The sanatorium is being closed. All staff members should wait in here.” Henry gestured toward the small reception room.
“But what about our guests?”
“Physicians will arrive shortly to see to any who need medical attention. The remainder are going home.”
Henry left Fletcher to oversee the officers, with Inspector Duncan’s assistance, and headed toward Dr. Thorne’s office. He looked forward to seeing her face when he told her Andrew Collins, a nurse, and the solicitor, Tobias Barnes, had already been arrested.
He opened the door swiftly, not bothering to knock—and the office was empty. Disappointed, he glanced around, but there was no sign of her. With a sinking feeling he quickly searched the other two offices, both of which were empty. Then he found Fletcher, who was directing patients and staff members in an orderly fashion.
But it was clear from one look at his sergeant’s face: the doctor was nowhere to be found.
