‘Yes. Dr Jackson said men could handle much larger doses than women. It made sense to me at the time. And then we were just leaving the laboratory when… that’s when Alexander collapsed.’
‘It was completely sudden?’ Augusta asked.
‘Yes. A moment before, he said something about a tightness in his chest. I was just about to respond when his legs just gave way beneath him. I knelt beside him and called his name, but…’ Mrs Campbell took a breath to recover herself. ‘He was drifting away.’
‘What did Dr Jackson do?’ asked Philip.
‘He told me to calm down. I was panicking, you see. He told me to get up and stop worrying because he was a doctor. Then he tried to speak to Alexander, but he was unresponsive. I said I could telephone a doctor and he got angry with me. He told me again that he was a doctor and that I didn’t need to telephone anyone. Then he told me to stop being hysterical and to go home. I didn’t know what to do or say. As I’ve said, he wasn’t the sort of person you could argue with.
‘So I left the laboratory and headed for the railway station. I was in a daze. In shock, I suppose. I’d only walked about twenty yards when Dr Jackson caught up with me. He told me Alexander was coming round and was going to be alright but he needed to keep an eye on him so he was going to keep him at the laboratory for the time being. I asked if I could see him, and he told me no because Alexander’s condition was still delicate.’
Mrs Campbell paused and took a breath.
Augusta reached out and rested a hand on her arm. ‘I can understand why this is so difficult for you. You’re doing a brilliant job of explaining it all so clearly.’
‘I hope I am. And I hope you can see why I haven’t been able to tell anyone about this. I was only twenty at the time, and Dr Jackson was so intimidating. He told me I wasn’t to breathe a word of what had happened to anybody. I asked about Alexander’s family, surely they would need to know what happened to him? He told me he would speak to them personally. He said I was to leave everything to him and I mustn’t even think of taking matters into my own hands. Then he pulled some money out of his pocket. A bundle of ten-shilling notes. He gave it to me and urged me to take it. I didn’t want to disobey him, so I did. He then said that if I ever breathed a word about what had happened, then he would know about it. He would come for me. And that was the last time I saw him.’
‘He threatened you,’ said Philip.
Mrs Campbell nodded. ‘And that’s when I ran. I ran to the station, desperate to get away from there. I got on a train and I went home and… I didn’t know what to do with myself.
‘The fear has never gone away. And back then I believed Dr Jackson when he told me Alexander was getting better. I honestly thought I would see him at work on Monday and he would be joking about what had happened. I was so naive!
‘Everyone was asking where Alexander was on that Monday. No one knew he and I had visited Dr Jackson at the weekend. So I just kept quiet and assumed Alexander was recovering in hospital somewhere. After a few days, I grew quite worried about him. John had said he hadn’t been able to contact him. At that point, I guessed he was in hospital and that his family knew what had happened. But as time passed with no word about Alexander, I began to doubt Dr Jackson. I suspected he had caused Alexander some serious harm, and I’d played a part in it.
‘John was confused. He couldn’t understand what had happened to Alexander. I didn’t know what to say to him and I was worried I might accidentally give myself away. When everyone was looking for Alexander, I tried to stay out of it. I felt like I was guilty of the crime. I had seen what had happened and I had told no one about it. So I kept silent. I was convinced I would stand trial for Alexander’s death if anyone ever found out what I knew.
‘And then John heard Alexander had written to his sister. Apparently, there was something strange about the letter, as if Alexander hadn’t written it. But I wanted to believe it was from him. I wanted to believe he had gone off and started a new life in the north. That perhaps, after his long recovery in hospital, he had decided to begin again elsewhere. I suppose I consoled myself with that thought. I never met Alexander’s sister, so I didn’t know what she truly thought about it. I don’t think the letter convinced John either, he thought it was mysterious. But I chose to believe it because it was easier for me. I could convince myself it was the truth, and I’d done nothing wrong.
‘I blame myself for what happened because I should have told someone about it. I should never have trusted Dr Jackson to look after him. Alexander had still been alive when I left him. If a proper doctor had seen him then, perhaps he could have been saved. I can’t believe how foolish I was.
‘The memory of Alexander collapsing has haunted me every day. It was particularly difficult when I read the newspaper reports of Dr Jackson’s trial for poisoning someone. When I discovered he hadn’t been a real doctor after all, I was furious! And I felt even more ashamed of how gullible I had been.’
‘Were you tempted to tell someone about Alexander when you learned about Dr Jackson’s trial?’ asked Philip.
‘There were moments when I considered it. But by then I felt like a criminal too. I had covered up someone’s death. I was much too scared to walk into a police station to tell my story. I felt sure I would go on trial too. And even though Dr Jackson received a prison sentence, I knew he would be out again one day and he’d be able to come for me if I ever told anyone what had happened. So I just got on with my life. It was selfish of me. But I married and then I had children to look after and I did all I could to forget.’
‘When I called on you earlier today, Mrs Campbell, you looked frightened,’ said Augusta. ‘Why was that?’
‘Because I heard from him again.’
‘Dr Jackson?’
‘The letter was anonymous.’
‘You received a typewritten letter?’
‘Yes. How did you know?’
‘Because he likes to send typewritten letters. What did the letter say?’
‘It threatened me and my family. I knew immediately that it had to be from him. And I received it after I spoke to you, Mrs Peel. Somehow, he knew you had visited me. Even all these years later.’
‘Do you still have the letter?’ Augusta asked.
‘Yes.’
‘I think Detective Sergeant Joyce needs to see it,’ said Augusta.
‘Me?’ said Joyce.
‘Yes. Along with this one.’ Augusta pulled the letter from her bag which she had collected from Constable Simpson at Crawford Place police station that morning. ‘This is the letter Jane Stanton received from someone claiming to be her brother.’ She passed it to him. ‘We also need the threatening letter which was sent to Louisa Bradshaw.’
‘And the reason?’ asked Joyce.
‘We can find out if they were all written on the same typewriter. I suspect they were.’
‘Yes, I think we can guess they were.’
‘And then we find the typewriter.’
‘Just like A Case of Identity,’ said Philip with a smile.
‘I don’t understand,’ said Joyce.
‘It’s a Sherlock Holmes story,’ said Philip. ‘And in the story, it’s proven that a letter was written on a specific typewriter. This isn’t just the stuff of fiction, Joyce, it’s a fact that every typewriter has a style of its own. Every machine has a unique defect, whether it’s misalignment or an uneven strike. These defects are often subtle, but a trained eye can spot them.’
‘I don’t know about subtle. Most of the typewriters here at the Yard have quite obvious defects.’
