It was generally assumed by solicitor Arthur Abrahams,46 who later became acquainted with Rosenblum in England, that his sudden arrival in London in December 1895 was the direct result of him having dishonestly come into a sizeable sum of money in France and having to leave there post haste. Indeed, four decades later Yan Voitek (alias Alexander Matseboruk), a Russian émigré residing in Paris, contacted Britain’s Secret Intelligence Service volunteering to supply information on Reilly’s criminal past in exchange for passage to England. While SIS rejected Voitek’s overtures, he later related his story to Nikolai Alekseev, a Parisbased journalist. According this account, Reilly and an accomplice were responsible for attacking two anarchists on board a train, relieving them of a substantial sum of money in the process. Until now, this story has remained uncorroborated. However, a detailed investigation by French researcher Michel Ameuw, concluded in spring 2003, unearthed documentary evidence confirming Voitek’s story. From this, contemporary French press reports of the robbery were tracked down. According to the 27 December 1895 edition of Union Républicaine de Saône et Loire:
A dramatic event occurred on a train between Paris and Fontainebleau… on opening the door of one of the coaches, the railway staff discovered an unfortunate passenger lying unconscious in the middle of a pool of blood. His throat had been cut and his body bore the marks of numerous knife wounds. Terrified at the sight, the station staff hastened to inform the special investigator who started preliminary enquiries and sent the wounded man to the hospital in Fontainebleau.
The report went on to relate how, on the afternoon following the attack, 26 December, the man had briefly regained consciousness and been questioned by the public prosecutor’s department. Apart from revealing that he was a thirty-seven-year-old Italian citizen by the name of Constant Della Cassa, he was unable or unwilling to give them anything more than an elementary account of what had happened to him. According to Della Cassa he had been attacked at Saint-Maur by two men. He refused to say how much cash had been stolen or whether he was alone in the compartment at the time of the attack. The public prosecutor’s office were certainly of the view that it had been a sizeable sum due to the fact that 362 francs had been left behind by the attackers. A ticket found in his jacket pocket indicated that he had boarded the train at Maisons-Alfort. Although Della Cassa gave no description of his attackers, the two men had been seen alighting the train at the station after Saint-Maur.
The following day, 28 December, Le Centre reported that Della Casa, of 3 rue de Normandie, Paris, had died from his wounds in Fontainebleau Hospital. The report also stated that he had been identified by police as an anarchist. Although an enquiry was immediately set up by the French authorities, it failed to shed any further light on the robbery or lead to any arrests in connection with the crime. By the time Le Centre announced Della Cassa’s death, at least one of the culprits was already on his way to England. London was an obvious destination, where émigrés from Europe were welcomed as refugees, in keeping with Britain’s tradition of providing sanctuary for victims of political persecution.
Rosenblum’s most likely route from Paris would have been the boat train service from the Gare du Nord to London, via Dieppe and Newhaven. According to the 1895 timetable, the ferry Tamise departed from Dieppe at 1.15p.m., bound for Newhaven. The London & Paris Hotel would therefore have been among his first sights of England. It would be another decade before any meaningful controls were placed on entry to the UK by foreign nationals, and he would therefore have passed unhindered through the quay-side customs point and proceeded by rail to London.
Being well supplied with money and being a creature of habit, Rosenblum would more than likely have spent a short period in a comfortable hotel before finding a more permanent residence. We know from local government records that he moved into Albert Mansions, a newly completed prestigious apartment block in Rosetta Street, Lambeth, in early 1896.47 He was also able to acquire business premises, albeit just two rooms, at 9 Bury Court, in the City of London, from where he established ‘Rosenblum & Company’.48 Ostensibly a consultant chemist, Rosenblum was, to all intents and purposes, a patent medicine salesman who went to extraordinary lengths to acquire a cloak of professional respectability for himself. Within six months he had succeeded in being admitted to the Chemical Society as a Fellow,49 although it would take a further nine months to gain a fellowship of the more prestigious Institute of Chemistry.50
In order to have gained a fellowship, he would not only have to have demonstrated degree level knowledge of chemistry,51 but would also have needed the support and sponsorship of other Fellows. Circumstantial evidence indicates that Reilly set about gaining this. We know, for example, that his neighbour at Albert Mansions, William Fox,52 had been a Fellow of the Institute of Chemistry since 1889, and that another Fellow, Boverton Redwood, was a member of the Russian Technical Society, of which Rosenblum was also a member. A further Russian connection with the Institute of Chemistry, albeit an indirect one, was another institute member, Lucy Boole, the sister of the novelist Ethel Voynich (née Boole).
According to Robin Bruce Lockhart, Ethel met Sigmund Rosenblum in London in 1895 and became his mistress.53 He further asserts that they went to Italy together with the last £300 he had. During this sojourn Rosenblum apparently ‘bared his soul to his mistress’, and revealed to her the story of his mysterious past. After their brief affair had ended, she published in 1897 a critically acclaimed novel, The Gadfly, the central character of which, Arthur Burton, was, according to Rosenblum, largely based on his own early life.54
In reality, this is but one more example of Rosenblum’s ability to turn reality on its head. The truth about this remarkable book, and how its equally remarkable author came to write it, can be found in Appendix 1.