he had not yet lost hope of convincing Helen that her fears were groundless, and after the funeral he called on Dr Gillespie to tell him of the suspicions, and ask him to do what he could to lay them to rest. Dr Gillespie, prudent man, offered sympathy but no reassurance. The next morning Bennison was to approach Mr Hay and Mr Millar of the Ironworks to ask them to have a word with Helen. He called also on Mr Kilgour the grocer and from him was at least able to bring back the message that, `Mr Kilgour was much displeased’ with Helen `for entertaining such a notion’.
If this not very convincing admonition had ever had a chance of success, it arrived too late. Helen and her friends had not been idle since the funeral. With Mrs Moffat she had spent the Wednesday afternoon discussing the case with a succession of medical men in Edinburgh. By evening they had resolved to lay information before the Fiscal. They kept this news from Bennison when they encountered him that evening (again with Margaret Robertson). He passed the Wednesday night at the Robertsons’, and it was only on the Thursday morning that he learned of his sister-in-law’s activities. He protested again, repeating what he had said on the Wednesday morning that `his feelings could never stand it’ and finally snapped that the exhumation should be at her expense. It was the snap of a weak man whose time was running out.
He must have considered flight. At the trial his counsel put his rejection of the idea forward as an argument of innocence. Bennison, he said, could have escaped `seeing the great facilities that he had for doing so by railway’. It was not much of a defence, but not quite as feeble as it sounds. Liaison between police forces was still poor; crime was the concern of a locality, and, despite the circulation of descriptions and newspapers like Hue and Cry, it was difficult to trace a wanted man in another city. Labour, especially Irish labour, was highly mobile, and few questions were asked of a new employee. There was no national popular Press. There were no documents that would aid identification, no national insurance, tax records, no official record of existence indeed beyond that furnished by birth, marriage and death registrations; and these were often defective in cities. Consequently a quick escape by rail was possible, and a new identity in another city could be adopted without difficulty. It is easy to forget how bureaucracy and technology have restricted the freedom of the criminal.
Bennison however stayed put, but he was now agitated, alert to the danger of his position. His mind turned back to the purchase of the arsenic. If only that could somehow be wished away … he set off to see the MacDonalds. The conversation began obliquely. He asked Mr MacDonald if he could have a line for the medicine with which he had been supplied. The druggist assured him that was not necessary. Bennison made to leave. Then, as if the idea had just crossed his mind, he turned and asked about the arsenic. MacDonald, who knew nothing of the sale, was taken aback. Bennison explained the matter, how he had got the poison from Mrs MacDonald `for the rats’. Since MacDonald had not been involved in the sale Bennison suggested - surely he could truthfully deny all knowledge of the transaction? Not only Jesuits, but Wesleyans too, are capable of casuistry. Mr MacDonald however was adamant. It was as much as his position was worth; besides which it would be wrong; and what anyway had Bennison done with the stuff? Bennison replied that he had handed it over to his wife. She had mixed it in a plate, and he had never seen it since. MacDonald, though mindful of Bennison’s Christian piety, was not to be persuaded. Bennison said, `They may find it, but I declare to God that I am innocent’. It was not to be the last of his appeals to divine authority.
He returned to his house in a state of despondency. Even he could see that his position had become desperate.
If this not very convincing admonition had ever had a chance of success, it arrived too late. Helen and her friends had not been idle since the funeral. With Mrs Moffat she had spent the Wednesday afternoon discussing the case with a succession of medical men in Edinburgh. By evening they had resolved to lay information before the Fiscal. They kept this news from Bennison when they encountered him that evening (again with Margaret Robertson). He passed the Wednesday night at the Robertsons’, and it was only on the Thursday morning that he learned of his sister-in-law’s activities. He protested again, repeating what he had said on the Wednesday morning that `his feelings could never stand it’ and finally snapped that the exhumation should be at her expense. It was the snap of a weak man whose time was running out.
He must have considered flight. At the trial his counsel put his rejection of the idea forward as an argument of innocence. Bennison, he said, could have escaped `seeing the great facilities that he had for doing so by railway’. It was not much of a defence, but not quite as feeble as it sounds. Liaison between police forces was still poor; crime was the concern of a locality, and, despite the circulation of descriptions and newspapers like Hue and Cry, it was difficult to trace a wanted man in another city. Labour, especially Irish labour, was highly mobile, and few questions were asked of a new employee. There was no national popular Press. There were no documents that would aid identification, no national insurance, tax records, no official record of existence indeed beyond that furnished by birth, marriage and death registrations; and these were often defective in cities. Consequently a quick escape by rail was possible, and a new identity in another city could be adopted without difficulty. It is easy to forget how bureaucracy and technology have restricted the freedom of the criminal.
Bennison however stayed put, but he was now agitated, alert to the danger of his position. His mind turned back to the purchase of the arsenic. If only that could somehow be wished away … he set off to see the MacDonalds. The conversation began obliquely. He asked Mr MacDonald if he could have a line for the medicine with which he had been supplied. The druggist assured him that was not necessary. Bennison made to leave. Then, as if the idea had just crossed his mind, he turned and asked about the arsenic. MacDonald, who knew nothing of the sale, was taken aback. Bennison explained the matter, how he had got the poison from Mrs MacDonald `for the rats’. Since MacDonald had not been involved in the sale Bennison suggested - surely he could truthfully deny all knowledge of the transaction? Not only Jesuits, but Wesleyans too, are capable of casuistry. Mr MacDonald however was adamant. It was as much as his position was worth; besides which it would be wrong; and what anyway had Bennison done with the stuff? Bennison replied that he had handed it over to his wife. She had mixed it in a plate, and he had never seen it since. MacDonald, though mindful of Bennison’s Christian piety, was not to be persuaded. Bennison said, `They may find it, but I declare to God that I am innocent’. It was not to be the last of his appeals to divine authority.
He returned to his house in a state of despondency. Even he could see that his position had become desperate.
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