is a pervert.â
The sergeant raised his truncheon menacingly.
âThat is as may be,â said Mary calmly, âbut he is right. A murder has been committed and we must do what we can to find the fiend who did this to our poor fallen sister.â
With varying degrees of awkwardness, and many muttered comments, finally all the women had divested themselves of their stockings and handed them over. The sergeant bundled them all together in one big pile. Then he clanged the door shut and locked.
âWait a minute,â I called out. âHow will you know whose is whose?â
âDoesnât matter, does it?â he replied with a leer. âI reckons how you was all in it together, so youâll all hang.â The he stomped off.
âWhat does he mean all hang?â asked Jasmine Pettigrew in a wavering voice.
âNow, now, dear, donât let the nasty man upset you,â answered her sister.
âI reckon the stupid man is only trying to frighten us,â said Martha haughtily. âAs Miss â¦â she looked at me.
âSt John,â I supplied.
âAs Miss St John remarked, the man has no way of telling one stocking from another.â
âI reckon he was doinâ it for a bet with the lads,â broke in Abigail. âWho can get the underthings off a suffragette! You know the kind of thing.â
âWell, really,â said Martha, turning away in disgust.
âWas she strangled?â asked Constance, the doctorâs wife. âI would have thought â¦â she tailed off.
âIt was still dark and the body was removed quickly,â said Mary. âI think all of us were too shocked to take notice of the details.â
âI mean, if she had been hanged,â continued Constance, âI mean, hanged herself, then it would have been obvious by the colouring, but strangled, I am unsure â¦â
Jasmine Pettigrew sat down heavily on the bench all the colour draining from her face. âHave some thought for others,â snapped her sister, Eunice. âMy poor sister is prone to fainting fits.â
âUndo her stays, then,â said Abigail, not too unkindly. âThey are an unnatural harness for any woman and you too seem to have right pulled yours in.â
âEunice,â moaned Jasmine, âis that gal mentioning underthings ?â
âToo right I am,â said Abigail. âNext thing you know that copperâll be checking to see all our laces are intact.â
Jasmine gave a low moan at this and slid onto the floor, her eyes fluttering. Her sister fussed over her. âNow see what you have done, you unnatural creature,â she cried.
âI have smelling salts in my reticule â oh, blast it. They took that away,â said Martha. âFan her face.â
âWith what?â said Abigail as Eunice flapped her hands uselessly around her sisterâs face. âUndo her stays, you silly besom. Thereâs no way she should have slept in something that tight. Itâs a wonder thereâs any blood left in her head.â
âAllow me,â said Constance. She turned Jasmine on her side and then quickly and efficiently loosened her stays. Gradually the colour came back to Jasmineâs face. Constance helped her sit up slowly and demanded someone find her a glass of water.
I found some leftover water in a forgotten mug and passed it to her. âDid you learn about this sort of thing from your husband?â I asked, impressed.
Constance nodded. âI asked him for information on the sort of injuries that one might expect to find after a march.â
âHe does not mind you attending?â asked Martha.
âOf course not,â said Constance. âHe says that in another time I would have had the brains to be a doctor myself.â
âWhat a forward-thinking man,â said Martha in somewhat shocked tones.
âThere are women who have qualified as doctors, I