Page 50 of A Whisper in the Shadows

“You’ll have to ask them.” Dr. Giles flung his hand toward the two living administrators. “I did not approve Cardy or anyone else who may be ill. That is not what I agreed to do.” His voice rose slightly.

Thetford’s brows darted up. “What do you mean? Whatdidyou agree to do?”

Tilda was glad he asked the question, for she found Dr. Giles’s choice of words notable. She was also watching—and noting—the others’ reactions. Mrs. Cardy watched the interrogation with open hostility, whilst Nevill appeared pale, and Furnier looked peeved.

“Precisely what I already told you. I assess potential members.”

“But you did not assess Mr. Cardy?” Thetford confirmed.

“No.” The doctor gave his head several vigorous shakes for good measure.

“You seem angry about this,” Thetford noted quietly. “Why?”

Dr. Giles took a breath and rolled his shoulders. “I do not like my reputation impugned. I would not misrepresent someone’s medical state. I was not aware Eaton was admitting members. I am not an administrator. The three of them did not include me in all the society’s business.” He sent a perturbed glance toward Nevill and Furnier.

“I understand,” the coroner said evenly. “Thank you, Dr. Giles.”

Thetford turned his attention to Furnier. “You said Eaton recorded new members in the membership roll and that you accounted for the entrance fees. Did you not account for the health qualifications of these members?”

“That is not my responsibility,” Furnier said coolly. “That is up to Dr. Giles and Nevill, since he is our membership director.”

Nevill’s face turned scarlet. “I— Walter said anyone Eaton admitted was fine! I didn’t realize they hadn’t been assessed by Giles!”

“It is a shame we can’t ask Mr. Phelps if that’s true,” Thetford said with a humorless smile. “May I assume that your recollection would be at odds with his, and that you may have argued about such matters?”

“We did not argue,” Nevill grumbled, his gaze shifting to the floor.

“Others have testified that you have,” Thetford noted. He drew a deep breath and returned his attention to the doctor. “Thank you, Dr. Giles.”

Thetford took a few steps as his gaze moved to the next person in the row of chairs and asked his name.

“Isaiah Jarret.”

“You knew Mr. Phelps?” the coroner asked.

“I did.” Jarret sent a dark look toward Phelps’s body and gave his head the barest shake. The man was middle-aged, withthinning sable hair and long side whiskers that were sprinkled with gray. His eyes were hooded beneath brown, bushy brows.

“Mr. Nevill said you introduced him to Mr. Phelps. How did you come to be acquainted with the deceased?” Thetford asked.

“I met him at St. Stephen’s one Sunday,” Jarret replied. “We shared an affinity for Wren’s architectural designs. We would visit his buildings and discuss them.”

“It sounds as though you became friendly,” Thetford observed. “But then you fell out over the teetotal business?”

A faint scowl marred Jarret’s high forehead. “I took issue with Phelps about more than just his penchant for drink. He was not from this area, and I found it strange that he’d come to this ward to start a friendly society.” Jarret crossed his arms over his chest. “He said his grandfather was born in the ward and that he wanted to reestablish roots here.”

Thetford nodded. “Do you know where Phelps originated from?”

“Somewhere in Kent. He was always vague about it, just as he was concerning his wife. She died year before last, and that’s what prompted him to come to London.”

“Phelps does not seem to have been employed,” Thetford said. “Do you know how he came to have money?”

“He said it was from his wife’s family. Though he seemed to live modestly, he had a few nice things at his house—decent table linens and a fancy pair of brass candlesticks—and he dressed well enough.” Jarret unfolded his arms. “He had plenty of liquor too.” He made this comment with derision.

“You argued with Phelps about whether the society should be teetotal?” Thetford asked.

“We disagreed. I didn’t really argue with him,” Jarret said with a shrug. “There wouldn’t have been any point. I withdrew my involvement.”

The coroner shifted his attention to Mrs. Burley. “Ma’am, did you witness Mr. Jarret arguing with Mr. Phelps?”