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Clarence nodded. ‘It was an elaborate ruse, certainly. But, as Miss Decima has already pointed out, implausibility comes with its own benefits. What pathologist in England is going to look for the venom of a deathstalker scorpion, when the victim already had their throat slashed open?’

He chuckled at his own joke but no one else laughed. His aunt was gazing at him in silence, tears in her eyes.

‘I’ve been looking for that bloody thing ever since it escaped,’ he muttered. ‘Up all hours combing the corridors, searching the sewers with a little mirror … It’s why I was on all fours when you found me in my bedroom, and why I had to get you out of the apartment so quickly. The last thing I needed was for one of you to get accidentally killed by a rare scorpion …’

‘But you were too late for that, too, weren’t you?’ I said.

Clarence paused – he seemed wrong-footed, for the first time.

‘Peter – Cartwright’s manservant.’ I turned to the Chief Constable. ‘I’m guessing that his port-mortem revealed that he died by asphyxiation, and that you found a small puncture wound on his ankle.’

Cartwright nodded, surprised. I saw Éimhear clutch Cath’s hand out of the corner of my eye – breaking the news to her about Peter’s death had been one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do.

‘Poor Peter,’ said Miss Decima. ‘His death was a tragic accident. He had nothing to do with my trunk room being emptied, nothing to do with the death of Constable Watts. He really did come into our basement that evening to try to find Stephen. Some socialist graffiti had appeared in the park in the early hours of Monday, scrawled on the steps of the Albert Memorial. It appears that Peter got in high spirits during the football game and defaced a public monument. Police officers have been milling around the area ever since. He must have been terrified, being the servant of a chief constable and knowing that Éimhear had already been sacked for her links with a Fenian group. He went into our basement to find Stephen’s bedroom, panicked when he heard someone coming downstairs and hid, which is where the escaped scorpion stung him. A pre-existing weak chest meant that the neurotoxin did far more damage than it should have done, no doubt exacerbated by the stress he was experiencing at the thought of losing his job. He died hours later.’

‘He was a good man,’ I said, ‘and he died for nothing. The same goes for Albert Watts. And, if you’d had your way, Mr Gussett, these three women would have been executed, too – including your own aunt. All for greed.’

‘Yet there he is, grinning like the Cheshire Cat!’ spat Éimhear, leaping to her feet. ‘Look at him! He doesn’t care!’

She was right. Clarence couldn’t have looked less concerned. If anything, he was enjoying all this.

‘Indeed,’ said Miss Decima. ‘I must say that it’s quite unusual, Mr Gussett. You have been spinning a web of falsehood and lies for years, and yet, all of a sudden, you’re happy to incriminate yourself in a room filled with witnesses and police. Why, pray tell?’

Mr Gussett smiled magnanimously. ‘Ah! Well spotted as ever, Miss Decima. That was something else that I was able to bring to this plan, which no one else could. An escape route, if you will.’

At some point, he’d managed to sneak a hand into his pocket. Now he held it up and presented, between his thumb and forefinger, a single white tablet.

‘Cyanide tablets,’ he said. ‘Easy enough for me to procure in my profession. The way I saw it, if anything went wrong, it was in everyone’s interests to get out fast. Sir William didn’t quite manage it, the silly ass, but then I always was the true brains of this operation.’

The officers were already racing towards him, but it was too late. Before anyone could stop him, Clarence popped the pill in his mouth and beamed.

‘I confess!’ he boomed, arms wide. ‘The plan, the means, the murder – all of it was mine. I did it for money, and I’d do it all again, too. Hang my bloated corpse, for all the good it will do you! Better still, why don’t you kiss my arse and burn in h—’

He trailed off, his eyes slowly growing wide. The smug smile finally fell from his face. He had just realized that his cyanide pill came with an invigorating hint of minty freshness.

‘We had a feeling you’d try that,’ I said. ‘So we thought it was best to take precautions and swap them. Luckily, we’ve got an expert pickpocket on hand.’

The Ivy who had been sent to collect Mr Gussett – the twenty-eighth one in the room, if you’d counted properly – removed her bonnet. It was Temperance, holding up a cyanide tablet. The name that we’d decided on – after much deliberation that we really didn’t have time for, if I’m honest – was Poison Ivy.

‘That’s the thing with living in a city,’ I said cheerfully. ‘You never know who’s around you.’

Saturday, 24 June 1911

DATE SET FOR TRIAL OF ‘CRACE CASE’

Those eagerly following the shocking and disturbing revelations of the ‘Crace Case’ will no doubt be equally eager to learn that Sir William Crace has today been committed for trial at the Old Bailey.

On Friday, 28 July, he will be tried for the murder of Constable Albert Watts and attempted regicide under the Treason Act 1848, along with three other men who allegedly aided him in committing the nefarious deed.

A fifth man connected to the case, Mr Clarence Butler Gussett, will also be tried for murder, conspiracy to murder and manslaughter.

The outlandish and improbable details of the case have captivated the attentions of the nation this week, almost as much as the coronation of its new monarch. Sir William, who had been reported dead for several months, reappeared during the coronation celebrations in an apparent attempt to commit mass murder. Further investigations revealed that he and his accomplices were also responsible for the murder of Constable Watts the previous week.

‘It is safe to say that we are dealing with a group of extremely dangerous individuals,’ said Chief Constable Morgan Cartwright, who is in charge of the investigation. ‘It is only thanks to the tireless work of the Metropolitan Police Force that these men are now safely behind bars.’

It has been well documented, not only by this newspaper but by many others, that the intention of the group was to falsely incriminate the Women’s Social and Political Union for the murder of Constable Watts and the attack on the coronation cavalcade. Following these recent revelations, the government have abandoned their efforts to criminalize the WSPU, and the arrest warrant issued for the Society’s leader, Mrs Emmeline Pankhurst, has been dropped.

When the question arose on whether the case will result in investigations into corruption within the Metropolitan Police Force, Chief Constable Cartwright replied, ‘I am unable to comment on individual details of the case at present.’