‘There’s someone here to see you, Dr Raven,’ she said.

‘Thank you, Martha.’

He got to his feet, aware that his hands were still shaking a little. They had remained steady when he needed them to, but it was as though a dam had broken and all the anxiety being held back was now slowly seeping through his system. Or perhaps it was merely the cold.

He stepped into the hallway, where he was surprised to find Jarvis standing before him. It seemed incongruous to see him anywhere but Queen Street, and looming in the gaslight he could almost have been a vision conjured by Raven’s over-wrought mind. There was no question but that he was real, though, and he was looking even more austere than usual.

‘I need to speak with Mrs Banks,’ he said firmly, taking off his hat.

‘She is indisposed.’

‘It is a matter of some importance, Dr Raven.’

The fact that Jarvis addressed him this way made Raven wary.

‘In truth, she has been taken ill. She is not fully conscious.’

Jarvis turned the hat in his hands, looking uncertain of himself. It was a sight Raven had never witnessed before.

‘Perhaps it is best that it comes from you,’ Jarvis said.

He cleared his throat.

‘Dr Banks is dead.’

SIXTY-FIVE

rchie’s was one of the more peaceful-looking bodies Raven had been confronted with. He was propped against his pillow, eyes closed, no evidence of writhing torment or the choking agonies Raven had feared might attend his passing. It would be important to convey this to Sarah. He could tell her Archie looked as though he had simply fallen asleep and never woken up. This was ostensibly true, but the actual nature of his death was more problematic, as indicated by the strong smell of chloroform pervading the room.

It was early morning. The sun had only just started to penetrate the mist as Raven and Jarvis strode briskly from Sarah’s home to 52 Queen Street, and the warm scents of Mrs Lyndsay cooking breakfast had greeted them as they entered the house. It had struck Raven that in an hour or so he would be expected to see patients as usual at the morning clinic. The house and the city beyond it were preparing to get on with a normal day, indifferent and oblivious.

‘I found him when I came in to ask if he felt strong enough to get up for breakfast,’ said Jarvis.

Archie’s right arm was extended, palm-up, a stock bottle of chloroform lying on its side a few inches from his fingertips. It had fallen from his grip, the stopper sitting in Archie’s lap. Half of the volume had soaked into the sheets and the mattress.

‘You had best let some air in here otherwise the pair of us will soon be on the floor,’ Raven said.

Jarvis assented with a nod, drew back the curtains and slid open the window.