“Are you implying that Mister Dombey…?”
“It is not my task to imply, sir. I merely state the facts.”
“Yet from the facts you seem to speculate…”
“Speculation, sir, is a fruitless task. Facts must breed more facts, sir. And it is facts that I come in search of.”
“I will say nothing that may harm my client,” replied Mr Plankton firmly, folding his hands on the desk before him. “Mister Paul Dombey is a worthy gentleman and already faced with shame and ruin by the deeds of this man Carker and, may God forgive me, but I must say that it is a just recompense for his evil deeds that he has departed life in this manner.”
“It is not in the brief of my official capacity to indulge myself in moral judgements,” murmured Captain Ryder, “but simply to gather the facts for presentation to be assessed by judge and jury.”
Mr Plankton shook his head.
“What I meant…” He paused.
“Precisely what did you mean?”
“Simply, that in the demise of James Carker, the world has no cause to grieve. However, his death is little compensation for the financial and emotional loss that Mister Dombey has suffered.”
“Again, you express a moral judgement, sir, which I am not at liberty to comment on.”
There was an uncomfortable pause.
“What is it that you want from me?” asked the solicitor, finally breaking the silence.
“I believe that you knew James Carker?”
“He was, as you have correctly stated, the manager of Dombey and Son and so we knew each other in a business capacity.”
“And in a social capacity?”
“Certainly not,” snapped Mr Plankton. “He was sharp of tooth, sly of manner with a watchful eye, soft of foot and oily of tongue. He was, to sum up, sir, a most disagreeable creature. A thorough-going scoundrel. I did not trust him, sir, and certainly would not include him among my social acquaintances.”
“Did you ever mention your views to Mister Dombey?”
“It was not my place to question Mister Dombey’s judgment of the men that he employed. Mr Dombey was a man not to be trifled with so far as his business dealings were concerned.”
“Yet you were his legal adviser?”
“And legal advice I gave him when he requested it.”
“Did you also know Mrs Dombey?” the young man asked so abruptly that Mr Plankton blinked.
“I have, on occasion, met her.” The reply was more guarded.
“I am given to understand that she was formerly the widow of a Colonel Granger before she became Paul Dombey’s second wife. Were you aware of that?”
“I was. Mister Dombey’s first wife had died in childbirth when his son was born. The son was a weak child and eventually died, leaving Mister Dombey a widower with a daughter who he neglected. He decided to marry again and, as you say, Mrs Granger was thought a suitable match. Again, should you seek a personal opinion, I did not share that view. I once represented her mother, the late Mrs Cleopatra Skewton, over a matter of a small land purchase some years ago. It was not an experience that provided me with esteem for her or her daughter.”
“So you knew Mrs Granger before she married Mister Dombey?”
“Briefly, sir, briefly. Never more than a nod, an exchange of polite pleasantry.”
“She eloped, if I might apply the word to this matter, with James Carker and they both fled to France?”
“That is so. The facts are not unknown to me as well as to several others in the City. Alas, sir, such scandals are never kept secret for long.”
“Indeed. The facts are given in a statement made by Mister Dombey taken down by the superintendent of police at Maidstone. The parish constable at Paddock Wood felt he needed more expert guidance after the incident when the basic facts were known.”
Mr Plankton coughed delicately.
“As I say, the facts are not unknown to me. You will have seen from the statement that I was attending on Mister Dombey at the time that he gave his statement to the superintendent. I acted in the capacity of his legal adviser, of course.”
“Of course, sir. Which begs the question. How was it that you were on hand when the statement was made? The accident happened at four o’clock in the morning when the Dover to London Express was passing through Paddock Wood station. The same day at precisely noon, you were with Mister Dombey at Paddock Wood. Mister Dombey had passed the night at the Forester’s Arms, the inn there, indeed, as had the victim of the accident, James Carker. How were you alerted to the incident and able to travel down to Kent so quickly? The accident prevented any train running on that line until midday. You’ll forgive me, sir, but I do so dislike a question unresolved.”
Mister Plankton smiled thinly, an almost habitual expression before answering a question.
“Then pray do not trouble yourself, for the resolution is simple. I was already staying at Maidstone where I had proceeded to settle some legal business with an old client preparatory to my retirement.”
“Indeed?” Captain Ryder sighed reflectively. “That places you within eight miles of Paddock Wood. How did you…?”
“I had booked into the hotel in King Street on the afternoon before the accident. On the morning… I left the hotel for a walk, it being my custom to take a stroll every morning. As you may know, sir, the Maidstone police station is also situated in King Street, and at that time I encountered the superintendent of police, with whom I had a passing acquaintance. He told me that a James Carker had fallen under a train at Paddock Wood and the local parish constable was troubled by the circumstances. He had sent to the superintendent to interview a Mister Dombey who had witnessed the incident. I was astonished and felt obliged to point out my connection with Mister Paul Dombey. The superintendent suggested that I should accompany him in his horse and fly to Paddock Wood.”
The young detective sat nodding slowly.
Then he said quickly: “So, we have Mister Paul Dombey and James Carker, both having stayed at the Forester’s Arms in Paddock Wood. How did they come there on that precise night? Both had just returned from France and separately, with Mister Dombey a few hours behind James Carker.”
Mister Plankton sat back, toying for a moment with a silver letter opener that he had picked up from his desk.
“You make it sound extremely sinister, sir. Do you imply that Mister Dombey was following Carker?”
The young man shook his head as if suddenly bewildered.
“Mister Dombey admits to travelling to Dijon in France to confront his wife and Carker after they had eloped together. He had discovered where they were staying on the intelligence of a Mrs Brown. Mister Dombey admits that a confrontation took place but that he left Carker and his wife unharmed and returned via Paris. The fact is that Mister Dombey did board a ferry sailing from Calais only a few hours after the ferry on which Carker had sailed. That both men wound up at the same railway halt to which they were strangers when both might have logically proceeded directly to London is rather singular, is it not? What conclusion would you draw from these facts?”
Mr Plankton’s brows drew together.
“Implications do lead to speculation, sir, and I thought that you denied the habit?” he observed dryly.
When Captain Ryder did not respond, the solicitor added defensively: “I have said that I will not say anything which impugns the good name of Mister Dombey.”
“You do not have to, sir. However, Mister Dombey admitted during my subsequent inquiry that these were the facts. Therefore I was able to ask my colleague Monsieur Caissidiere, at the Prefecture de Police in Paris, to contact a police officer in Dijon to take a statement from Mrs Dombey. She confirms the essentials; that she had run off with Carker on a whim to spite her husband whom she thought little of. But she thought even less of Carker. Dombey came to see them in the apartment she had taken in Dijon. There was an altercation but not of a violent kind. Verbal blows were all that were struck. Dombey then left to return to England, leaving his wife to her chosen path. Mrs Dombey then told Carker what she really thought of him and he, in a rage, also took his baggage and left. She further alleged that, while doing so, he had muttered something about settling with someone in London with whom he had business. His parting taunt to her was that she would be sorry, for he was a rich man.”