Death And The Running Patterer Part 20

"Here I am, as you requested," she said in a level voice, dropping a curtsey to the governor.

He, like the others (save the patterer), looked dazed at the dramatic development.

"I'm sorry I kept you waiting until the hour," said Dunne. He was just as even in his speech. "But it was necessary."

Miss Dormin looked around the room coldly. "So I see." She took the seat proffered. "What makes you think that I, as you say, did it?"

"Oh, it all came together. Very slowly, admittedly. I suppose I first realized, early on, that you were left-handed, like our killer. But I dismissed it. Many people are-at least until a schoolmaster or parent has thrashed the sinister habit out of them. Or tied the offending left hand behind their back until they learn to use the proper right hand. Enough of that, though. More important-and not necessarily in this order-I gradually examined all the things I knew about you. They eventually added up to the rather startling conclusion that there really is no such person as Miss Rachel Dormin."

Only he broke the silence that had fallen. "You were no free arrival with independent means. Remember your tale of the aunt who was too poor to escape from the horrors of low Farringdon Street in London? But then, suddenly, she became a lady of means-leaving 150 pounds to you, a similar amount to the Church.

"Official records show all s.h.i.+ps that enter the port. There's a good reason for this-they've been levied since Governor Macquarie's time to pay for the South Head Light, and to facilitate customs transactions. Tallies of convict arrivals are kept, too-if sometimes rather haphazardly.

"It seems that Rachel Dormin never arrived. You said that, on arrival, you were met on s.h.i.+pboard by Dr. James Bowman. But he was gone from that duty, to bigger and better things, by the time you say you arrived. Perhaps it's only your timing, not the truth of meeting him, that is at fault. And seeing gold offered by Jimmy Grants to Bungaree? I have heard from his own mouth that he only asks for, and gets, coppers-at most a dump or small silver, never gold."

The patterer paused.

Rachel Dormin remained still.

"Then there is the matter of your treasured painting ... your extremely professional miniature, executed here and signed 'J. L.' I am certain it could only have been executed by Joseph Lycett, who left here for England-in 1822. On the accompanying amateur depiction of your s.h.i.+p of pa.s.sage, the red-and-white pennant gives a clue. That whip is the mark of a convict transport, which brings us to the good s.h.i.+p Azile Azile. A friend coincidentally mentioned to me the transportees' frequent desperate habit of seeking some sort of solace, if not salvation, by thinking and acting back to better times, literally trying to go backward. I discovered that one of the few s.h.i.+ps to have made the crossing in about a hundred days was a convict transport in 1820. This was the Eliza Eliza ... The good s.h.i.+p ... The good s.h.i.+p Azile Azile, no?

"Another of your stories falls down, too. No fiance with such a serious lung disease would have won a berth with the agricultural company setting up here. And anyway, he could not have died here of pertussis in 1826. It wasn't until two years later that whooping cough first entered the colony. And they are just two different names for the same disease.

"Whoever you are, or were, you came as a convict and almost certainly served much of your time, before coming back to Sydney, on a pastoral property. That's why you know so much about sheep. From your comments, I guess that your master was not an ardent admirer of the Macarthurs-of Mistress Elizabeth, perhaps, but not Master John. I also imagine that is how and where you gained your knowledge of firearms-which has proved so fatal."

Miss Dormin waved dismissively. "Even if all that were true, it would simply mean that I created a new life for myself-dragged myself up from adversity. I wouldn't be the first to have done that." She looked around the men in the room.

Most nodded, or murmured agreement.

Nicodemus Dunne bowed his head, then continued. "If that were only as far as you went! You began your killing spree and wrote the zuzim zuzim note to His Excellency. I thought it was Dr. Halloran, who knew the rare rhyme, but then, of course, you had access to his reference books." note to His Excellency. I thought it was Dr. Halloran, who knew the rare rhyme, but then, of course, you had access to his reference books."

Rachel Dormin sounded more amused than concerned. "But why, pray, would I kill a private soldier at a public house?"

"Why? More of that later. But how? Well, you stalked the streets, trailed him to the Labour in Vain and, without resistance on his part, slashed him to death."

She laughed openly. "My dear sir! How can a young woman do that, unnoticed and unopposed?"

"I didn't know how," replied the patterer, "until I saw a friend recite, in falsetto, female lines from Shakespeare. And another friend, at the same time, remark that if you skewed something, anything, ever so slightly, the outcome was altered. I missed your performance that night at Mr. Levey's theater, but Captain Rossi praised it to me. He even repeated your lines from Oth.e.l.lo Oth.e.l.lo. Later I checked them. They were the Moor's lines! You were playing a male, voice and all. And 'all' meant that you played in black face.

"Thus you killed the first soldier, and took a b.u.t.ton as a souvenir, by flitting through the streets made-up and dressed-in a blanket?-as a native. They are always about." He looked hard at the governor. "And we know no white men ever really see them, don't we? The sugar, I believe, was all about Sudds. I don't yet know your connection with him, but you did it."

"Rubbis.h.!.+" cried Miss Dormin. "I was only play-acting at the Royal."

Dunne pressed on. "Now, let's consider Will Abbot, the New World New World printer. You said that you saw him early in the evening, to deliver the 'copy' for a government order. And you said he was grateful, for he had no other setting to hand and was eager for the work. Then, you say, you picked up the copy for its next destination and this was just before his death and the fire. Now, I believe you printer. You said that you saw him early in the evening, to deliver the 'copy' for a government order. And you said he was grateful, for he had no other setting to hand and was eager for the work. Then, you say, you picked up the copy for its next destination and this was just before his death and the fire. Now, I believe you did did make both visits-but you didn't really need to make that second call. For you had retrieved the copy and Abbot was dead not long into your first visit. You shot him. make both visits-but you didn't really need to make that second call. For you had retrieved the copy and Abbot was dead not long into your first visit. You shot him.

"You see, normally, to allow you to pick up the copy would require him to make full use of it and set all all the material. Yet we found next day the only typesetting he was obviously able to do. If he had had all night he would have set much more than the inch and a third we found, unfinished. If a champion compositor could set at a rate of nineteen lines per quarter-hour, let's say that Abbot's fifteen or so lines took him much the same time. I say that he realized very early in the piece that he was in danger-and why. Did he recognize you? He may have. Anyway, he was alerted, although he did not reveal it to you. Somehow he stayed calm and plotted. He was, after all, quite used to being under fire. His chance came when you the material. Yet we found next day the only typesetting he was obviously able to do. If he had had all night he would have set much more than the inch and a third we found, unfinished. If a champion compositor could set at a rate of nineteen lines per quarter-hour, let's say that Abbot's fifteen or so lines took him much the same time. I say that he realized very early in the piece that he was in danger-and why. Did he recognize you? He may have. Anyway, he was alerted, although he did not reveal it to you. Somehow he stayed calm and plotted. He was, after all, quite used to being under fire. His chance came when you had had to let him set to let him set some some type, to confirm your innocent comings and goings. Right?" type, to confirm your innocent comings and goings. Right?"

The patterer pushed on doggedly in the face of her silence. "Whatever. Nonetheless, you didn't know that the material should be set in a large type size. And that allowed him to send a forlorn hope of a clue. He altered the case and hoped someone would notice and translate the message."

"What was this famous 'clue'?" asked Miss Dormin. He told her, adding, "It led us eventually to Casa Alta."

He thought he saw a flicker of disquiet cross her face. For the first time.

"Then," he continued, "you made a mistake. For some reason, at one stage-perhaps to stall for time-you asked Abbot what the type he was using was called. Automatically, he answered. An English compositor would have said 'Ruby,' but he said the type's American name, 'Agate'-just what you said to me later when we examined the proof. You couldn't have picked that up at The Gleaner The Gleaner or elsewhere-there are no other American printers here and Dr. Halloran has no expert knowledge of the craft. Soon you blasted him when he put down the galley of type. But you or elsewhere-there are no other American printers here and Dr. Halloran has no expert knowledge of the craft. Soon you blasted him when he put down the galley of type. But you did did come back the next morning. So that you could be seen to continue your normal routine, not to 'find' him. come back the next morning. So that you could be seen to continue your normal routine, not to 'find' him.

"Abbot had fallen dying across the guillotine bench. It did not require much effort to roll him under the blade and decapitate him. If it had not been possible, you wouldn't have worried. It was just another touch. You knew that he, too, was-mysteriously to me still-involved in the Sudds affair. So, in yet another odd reference, you poured sugar into his mouth. There was no type form on the press bed and therefore there was room to squash the head. Another touch. Then you fired the building, to cloud the issue of cause and time of death."

Rachel Dormin was still calm, but she no longer smiled.

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DUNNE TOOK A breath. "Now, as for The Ox. Had it been an isolated occurrence, you may have been safe killing him, even though I found the apothecary who sold you the a.r.s.enic. At first I thought it may have been Dr. Owens, then Dr. Halloran. I'm certain that you got the poison to your victim by yet another theatrical deception.

"The flogged blacksmith? Yes, I can see that he, too, had harmed Sudds, through his contraption of torture. You marked that connection with your trademark sugar-though green this time, the first link we could have seen to poor Madame. And your other marks-left-handed ones-were at the Lumber Yard, too. Your scourger's heel, your right one, made a clear indentation in the ground. Of course, even you had to change from the heavy cat to the lighter tawse, but to compensate for this handicap you added injury to insult by attaching the scalpel-the one you bought for 'boils'-to the tawse tail."

"You can't prove any of this," said Rachel Dormin coldly.

Dunne thought he saw Wentworth nodding in agreement with her.

"Be that as it may," he said. "This one I can can prove. You poisoned Madame Greene over a long period. You talked her into dyeing her hair and introduced a.r.s.enic into the coloring mixture. She absorbed the toxin through her scalp. Just as you contaminated her constantly used prove. You poisoned Madame Greene over a long period. You talked her into dyeing her hair and introduced a.r.s.enic into the coloring mixture. She absorbed the toxin through her scalp. Just as you contaminated her constantly used maquillage maquillage, with the same results. But your masterstroke was performed in your role as her couturiere couturiere-and I own that you did bring that skill with you to the colony. In doing so, you played up further to her obsession with all things green.

"I've already explained briefly to these gentlemen that Muller, your last victim, guided me, in confirmation of Will Abbot, to the colony's Casa Alta-Madame Greene's High House. At first I thought that his last words were all in German, but only moments before I had begged him to speak in English and, with a few exceptions, he obliged. He did say 'b.l.o.o.d.y hand' in his native tongue, but he did not say 'chaos,' or alter alter meaning 'old,' as I had thought. He was saying 'Casa Alta.' And, more important, his final words were not meaning 'old,' as I had thought. He was saying 'Casa Alta.' And, more important, his final words were not Rache Rache for 'vengeance.' No. Meaning Madame Greene's killer-and his own-he simply said 'Rachel.' Which, I know now, is why he was so surprised when I required him to translate it as 'revenge.'" for 'vengeance.' No. Meaning Madame Greene's killer-and his own-he simply said 'Rachel.' Which, I know now, is why he was so surprised when I required him to translate it as 'revenge.'"

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT.

What she is not, not, I can easily perceive; what she I can easily perceive; what she is, is, I fear it impossible to say.

-Edgar Allan Poe, "MS. Found in a Bottle" (1833)

RACHEL DORMIN GLARED DEFIANTLY. CAPTAIN ROSSI AND DR. Halloran, who admired her, wore pained expressions.

The uncomfortable silence that had fallen in the room was finally broken by Colonel Shadforth. "You haven't told us what else this Muller said. It seems there was more."

The patterer nodded. "He offered two more words. I heard grun grun. Whether this was, in fact, 'green' in German or in English, matters little. In the context, that he was referring to Madame seems certain. The other word was Schwein Schwein. Was this simply a pejorative allusion to his attacker I wondered? I doubted that he literally meant 'pig.' Was it a choked-off longer word, perhaps? Later-in fact, only yesterday-when I was seeking enlightenment on our biblical clue, I came, quite by accident, across a legendary figure whose name plays a part in our mystery."

Dunne saw that his audience was puzzled by this seemingly abrupt swerve from the subject, but pressed on. "Finding that heroic figure sparked in my memory the myth of Medea. In Greek mythology, when Jason abandoned Medea for another, she murdered her rival-with a poisoned garment.

"I was also playing mental games with Muller's word Schwein Schwein. If it wasn't a pig or a person-could it be a place? I looked in a gazetteer. In Britain, I found Swindon, two Swintons, Swinefleet and of course Swineshead Abbey, near where bad King John lost the royal treasure trove in The Wash 600 or so years ago ..."

"Get to the point, d.a.m.n it!" ordered the governor.

The patterer nodded, unperturbed. "Then I found a German link, Schweinfurt. And a book on poisons took me even further."

"What's that got to do with it?" Darling asked, still dissatisfied.

"Everything. It brings together our words Schwein Schwein and 'green,' which and 'green,' which does does turn out to mean Madame Greene. turn out to mean Madame Greene. And And the manner in which she died. You see, ' the manner in which she died. You see, 'Schweinfurt green' also describes a paste of copper a.r.s.enite and starch dried onto dress material and polished to a high sheen. It's popular in Europe, but it can be highly dangerous. Particularly here. In a hotter climate it can be lethal. As it was for Madame Greene. green' also describes a paste of copper a.r.s.enite and starch dried onto dress material and polished to a high sheen. It's popular in Europe, but it can be highly dangerous. Particularly here. In a hotter climate it can be lethal. As it was for Madame Greene.

"Her best-loved gown and turban were made of tarnatan, a muslin originally from Bengal and treated in Germany with the paste. She wore them as often as possible, as well as her shoes covered in the same material, outside and inside, day and night. I'm sure we've all seen her. She danced furiously and sang in sweltering halls, under hot lights.

"Every time, the poison was absorbed through her skin, as was white a.r.s.enic from her makeup and the poison in her dyed hair. Minuscule glittering flakes from the material were also shaken into a cloud that entered her mouth and nose.

"That dress, Miss Dormin, was all your work."

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"THAT MAKES ME a murderess?" she asked, arch now, unsmiling. "Even if I innocently made the dress in question? I know nothing of this material."

The patterer looked at her sadly. "Ah, but you do. And you were very patient. You had the deadly dress in planning for a long time-allowing for s.h.i.+ps' pa.s.sages, perhaps a year. Which suggests how long you plotted to kill Madame Greene, how far back your grudge against her lies.

"When the dressmaker here from whom you had obtained work made out an order for fabric from Europe, you were suddenly inspired. You secretly added your requirement for some of the poisonous cloth. When the consignment finally arrived, it went to The Gleaner The Gleaner. No one there opened it; had you told the office that such a parcel was coming for you? Even if they had pried, the contents would have meant nothing to them. But ...

"That's where Muller somehow uncovered you. Perhaps he saw you with the material? He was widely read, from the Schweinfurt area and, when Madame died and the description of her strange death circulated, he put two and zwei zwei together. Whatever happened, he had to die. But, at the end, he was able to point to Casa Alta, to name your ingenious murder method-and to name you as the 'b.l.o.o.d.y hand,' ironically in the only German to which he completely regressed. together. Whatever happened, he had to die. But, at the end, he was able to point to Casa Alta, to name your ingenious murder method-and to name you as the 'b.l.o.o.d.y hand,' ironically in the only German to which he completely regressed.

"Oh, and don't imagine that you can bluff it out here and later destroy the evidence. I have what's left of the consignment-even the dress, which I'm sure Dr. Owens can a.n.a.lyze."

Miss Dormin was wide-eyed now. "But, how ... ?"

"Rather simply," replied Dunne. "I stole it-or, rather, had it stolen-from your hiding place above the shop, where the disabled mistress of the house has never lately ventured. Recent events guided me. When I was a felon on the run, what better place to hide than among felons? Who would look there? You had applied the same thinking to the green dress. What better place to conceal it than among many other dresses?"

Miss Dormin frowned. "Why would I have killed Elsie?"

The patterer sighed. "Why do you ask that? I've only just informed these gentlemen that Elsie was murdered-you've never even been told." Rachel Dormin paled.

"But, since you ask," continued Dunne, "she was another danger to you. She might find the poisoned maquillage maquillage. But, more important, she might have asked you to return the dress. Remember, Captain?' he addressed Rossi. "After we left the theater that night, Miss Dormin had the dress. And she kept it. As we left her at her front door, she said something. You took it to be directed at you-that she 'would not call for the police.'

"In fact, she was telling Elsie, who was going back to the brothel, that she 'would not call for the pelisse,' p-e-l-i p-e-l-i-double-s-e. I later learned that this is an overgarment that goes with a lady's gown. This particular example was furred and, doubtless, unpoisoned. And it would seem not to be incriminating. But ..." He turned to Miss Dormin. "You eventually did want the pelisse. Its existence on its own could always raise the question of the whereabouts of the dress. I also found the pelisse. You killed Elsie, and made it look like a lover's suicide. And you killed all the others, too, didn't you?"

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RACHEL DORMIN NODDED, almost dreamily.

"I'm sorry about Elsie," she said at last, softly. "At first she thought Dr. Owens had poisoned her mistress with his eternal lozenges. But then she remembered something: where she had seen me before, in another life. That's why she surely had to die. Yes, I killed them. Every one."

Only the ticking clock broke the silence as she paused.

"I killed the soldier in the lane just as you deduced. He suspected no attack, only had time to invite me to urinate with him, then ask what I was doing there. Will Abbot at the New World New World also died much as you said. I don't regret telling him that he was about to die, even if he was more cunning than I could have imagined. I waited until he paused to fiddle with the tray of type, then I stepped behind him, clapped the pistol to his face and fired. I took back the doc.u.ment for setting and, on the spur of the moment, decided to leave another significant, yet confusing clue. And, yes, more disguises delivered The Ox to me." also died much as you said. I don't regret telling him that he was about to die, even if he was more cunning than I could have imagined. I waited until he paused to fiddle with the tray of type, then I stepped behind him, clapped the pistol to his face and fired. I took back the doc.u.ment for setting and, on the spur of the moment, decided to leave another significant, yet confusing clue. And, yes, more disguises delivered The Ox to me."

She rushed on, brooking no interruption. "The Lumber Yard blacksmith? Male vanity and l.u.s.t sealed his fate. Again in my first disguise, I played the tart and made up to him as he went to work. He greedily accepted my offer of some bhang bhang. What danger could a native harlot pose? With the promise of my favors, I persuaded him to demonstrate the workings of the flogging apparatus. I secured him there and ... you know the rest. You're correct about the tawse and the scalpel. The green sugar? Oh, I accidentally spilled hair dye."

"Why?" Mr. Hall got in a word. "Why, in G.o.d's name, mutilate him in that horrific manner-even worse than the others?"

Miss Dormin's fierce frown returned him to fascinated silence. "I chose the way that b.i.t.c.h, Madame, died quite deliberately. I wanted her to sicken slowly, not go out quickly. You were right, in the main, about Elsie," she said to Dunne. "But only partly correct about Muller. His main offense was to know the same secret that sealed the maid's fate. But neither of them them deserved the mark of sugar," she added cryptically. deserved the mark of sugar," she added cryptically.

"What the devil has any of this got to do with Sudds?" asked the governor. "And what is the truth of your messages?"

Miss Dormin eyed him steadily. "The business of the zuzim zuzim was just something I came across, but somehow it summed up my mood and plans. I wanted someone to know what was happening. Did I want to get caught? Perhaps. Who knows?" She gave a brittle little laugh. "My attempt at typesetting was rather a failure." was just something I came across, but somehow it summed up my mood and plans. I wanted someone to know what was happening. Did I want to get caught? Perhaps. Who knows?" She gave a brittle little laugh. "My attempt at typesetting was rather a failure."

"What were you trying to say?" asked Mr. Hall gently.

"Oh, I meant to set 'Exodus 21:22.' But I couldn't find the piece for a colon. That last number '3' was meant to be followed by the words more to come more to come or at least the printers' abbreviation or at least the printers' abbreviation mtc mtc, to indicate three more killings. However, it all became too hard. I had only played played with type at with type at The Gleaner The Gleaner and, of course, I didn't think about the right way to put the pieces in place. I just went to the case Abbot had been using. 'Exodus' came out with a small and, of course, I didn't think about the right way to put the pieces in place. I just went to the case Abbot had been using. 'Exodus' came out with a small e e rather than a capital rather than a capital e e, simply because I couldn't readily reach the upper-the higher-part of the case. And it all turned out garbled. I wonder you could make any sense of it."

"What is is verse 22?" asked Wentworth. verse 22?" asked Wentworth.

Rachel Dormin replied curtly, "'If men strive, and hurt a woman with child, so that her fruit depart from her ... he shall be surely punished.'"

Dr. Halloran frowned. "Is that the full verse?"

Her eyes glittered. "It is the only interpretation that I care to recall. It represents, gentlemen, what this whole sorry saga is all about. Those four men who were executed-I won't say murdered-raped me. And that rape left me with child. And the lady in green made me a wh.o.r.e. And she had my baby killed, before it was even born."

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE.

Truly My Satan thou art but a Dunce, And dost not know the Garment from the Man; Every Harlot was a Virgin once ...

-William Blake, For the s.e.xes. The Gates of Paradise (1820)

THE MEN SAT DUMBSTRUCK AS MISS RACHEL DORMIN CONTINUED. "I did arrive in Sydney in 1826 as I told you, Mr. Dunne. But by road, not by sea. The actual sea-landing had had taken place, but six years earlier. That's when I came to begin seven years of punishment-for stealing hair! taken place, but six years earlier. That's when I came to begin seven years of punishment-for stealing hair!

"Back home I had worked hard as a seamstress-although even then I longed to be on the stage-but it was barely enough to keep me and my poor aunt out of the poorhouse or the debtors' prison. One day a lady inspected our wares and absentmindedly left behind a hatbox. I opened it, simply to seek some identification, and found a beautiful wig, made of real women's hair. It was very valuable. Wigmakers, you know, seek hair, usually from poor girls' heads, but there's never enough. Thieves attack women in the street and even steal tresses from hospital patients and dead bodies.

"I did nothing, but I was still accused. I'd put away the box, antic.i.p.ating the customer's grat.i.tude on its return and then forgot all about it. One day, however, I came from an errand to find the shop's mistress confronted by the angry customer, who was accompanied by a constable.

"The box had disappeared and the woman accused us of stealing the hairpiece. She eventually believed my mistress. That left only me. Despite my protestations, I was arrested and charged. Together with a young man, who stood accused of stealing a brood of oysters, I was sentenced to transportation."

She nodded to the patterer. "Upon my arrival in the colony and after induction at the Factory, I was a.s.signed to a distant pastoral family, as you thought. They were kind to me, in a rough-and-ready way. And yes, I did learn to shoot-for we were always afraid of outlaws and blacks-and to ride, side-saddle and and astride. It was there that Mr. Lycett, who was visiting, painted my miniature, adding it to the rude rendering of the astride. It was there that Mr. Lycett, who was visiting, painted my miniature, adding it to the rude rendering of the Eliza Eliza.

"After four years, I received my ticket and determined to start a new life in the town. How could I have returned to London? And why? G.o.d knows, my poor aunt was probably dead without my companions.h.i.+p and help. So, although I was freed, I was still in a prison whose bars were the sea. Thus, following a period sewing in Parramatta, I did arrive, but by cart, on a spring afternoon. With little money, certainly not 150 pounds.

"I was set down from the cart in George Street, near the Lumber Yard and spent some time wandering the nearby streets, enjoying the rediscovered bustle of a town. I then sought directions to St. Phillip's, where my kind country mistress had always said I could receive advice on where to stay. Dusk was falling by then. Beside the main guardhouse, I asked directions of a soldier and explained my quest. Both actions were my undoing. He seemed drunk, but soldiers often are. Nevertheless, I allowed him to guide me toward a street he said led to the church."