‘Would you like to tell everyone your findings, Mr Havers?’ asked Joyce.
‘Of course.’ He nudged his spectacles up his nose. ‘I have examined six typewriters. Five of them are the property of Hodgson Medicines and one of them is the property of Mr Anthony Ramsden. I have also examined the typeface on three letters which were passed to me late last night. It’s important to state that each typewriter has its own individual character. What do I mean by that? Well, these machines are designed well, but they’re not perfect. To the untrained eye, a typeface from one typewriter may look very like another. But in reality, there are minor differences. Some typewriters may have one or more characters which print slightly above or below the line, while others—’
‘I’m sorry to interrupt you, Mr Havers,’ said Philip. ‘But could we possibly just hear your conclusion?’
‘My conclusion? Before I can do that, I must explain—’
‘You can explain it in court, Mr Havers. But for now, please can you tell us if the three letters were typed on one or more of the typewriters you examined.’
‘Were the letters typed on one of the machines? Yes, of course they were.’
Augusta breathed a sigh of relief.
‘Thank you. Which one.’
‘Number six.’
‘And did that belong to Hodgson Medicines or Mr Ramsden?’
‘It’s Mr Ramsden’s personal machine and is an old Remington Standard Typewriter Number Ten. It was manufactured in 1909 and is quite antiquated when compared to today’s modern models. In fact, just a cursory glance at the letters was enough to make me suspect the Number Ten was used, it—’
‘Thank you, Mr Havers,’ said Philip. ‘Your help has been invaluable. You can go and get some much-needed rest now.’
‘Can I? Good. That was quick.’ He turned to Joyce. ‘I shall send you my full report.’
The typewriter expert left the room and Mr Ramsden sneered.
‘It’s a shame you don’t remember Robert Stanton,’ Philip said to him. ‘Because he remembers you extremely well. He told us all about your recent visit.’
‘He’s lying.’
‘Why would he lie? What would he have to gain from that?’
‘This is a conspiracy against me.’
‘By whom?’
‘It’s desperation.’
‘You heard Mr Havers’s evidence,’ said Philip. ‘You can’t possibly deny you wrote those letters.’
Mr Ramsden said nothing.
‘Perhaps you could finally show some decency,’ said Philip. ‘And explain what happened when you visited Jane Stanton on the night of her death.’
Mr Ramsden scratched his nose and glanced about the room.
‘If you insist you weren’t there, then you’ll need an alibi,’ said Philip. ‘And refusing to say anything at all only makes you look guilty.’
Mr Ramsden sighed. ‘She wouldn’t keep quiet,’ he said eventually. ‘She thought I knew something about her brother.’
‘She accused you, didn’t she?’
‘As a matter of fact, she did. Then she lashed out at me. Out of anger.’
‘Really?’
‘Oh yes. I had to defend myself. And we happened to be standing by an open window at the time.’
‘If it was an accident, then why didn’t you report it?’
Mr Ramsden laughed. ‘Because you would have arrested me for murder! You would never have believed me if I’d told you it was an accident.’
‘And John Gibson,’ said Augusta. ‘Did he lash out at you on the platform at Baker Street station?’
‘That was an accident.’
‘You were there at the time?’ asked Philip. ‘We still have all the details of the witnesses. It may have been ten years ago, but someone might recognise your face.’
‘You can try, Fisher.’
Mr Ramsden’s arrogant expression angered Augusta. ‘You threaten and murder anyone who gets in your way, Mr Ramsden,’ she said. ‘You’re a dangerous man who thinks only about his own ambition. Having accidentally killed Alexander Miller, you then murdered two more people who asked questions about his death. And the reason was you couldn’t bear the thought of losing your reputation and your lucrative income.’
‘But the irony is Mr Ramsden did lose it all for a time,’ said Philip. ‘The poisoning of Stephen Allen led to a prison sentence. But he was ambitious enough to reinvent himself again.’
‘And ruthless enough to silence anyone who dared ask what had happened to Alexander Miller,’ added Augusta.
‘So no remorse then, Ramsden?’ said Philip. ‘No regrets?’
