Free Oscar Wilde and the Nest of Vipers by Gyles Brandreth Page B

leaning forward, ‘what on earth are you suggesting?’
    ‘The duchess’s body was found in the telephone room at 40 Grosvenor Square,’ said Oscar calmly. ‘She was half naked. Her torso was exposed. She had wounds about her chest and neck. She may have been the victim of a violent physical assault – or, as Lord Yarborough suggests, the willing participant in gross carnal activity that proved too stimulating for her enfeebled heart.’
    ‘This is preposterous,’ hissed the prince. ‘Did she have an enfeebled heart?’
    ‘Lord Yarborough says so,’ said Conan Doyle.
    ‘And what do you say, Doctor?’ demanded the prince.
    ‘A heart attack is certainly a possibility, sir. The cuts and scratches on her body were mostly superficial. The wounds in her neck were deeper, much deeper, but whether they were inflicted before or immediately after death, it is impossible to say.’
    The prince was perspiring. He wiped his eyes and forehead with his napkin. ‘This is most distressing. Not at all what I expected. Poor Helen.’
    Oscar leant towards the prince. ‘What did you expect, Your Royal Highness? Might one ask?’
    ‘I didn’t know what to expect. I suppose I hoped that it would be death by natural causes …’
    ‘It may be,’ protested Conan Doyle. ‘Yarborough may be right.’
    The Prince of Wales looked at Oscar. Tears pricked his round, protruding eyes. ‘Or suicide.’
    There was a moment’s pause before Oscar asked, ‘Was the duchess very unhappy?’
    ‘No,’ said the prince, ‘but she was troubled.’ He hesitated, before repeating, ‘I did not know what to expect.’ He found a handkerchief and blew his nose, then settled himself back in his chair once more. ‘The telephone room? The duke said she’d been found in her bed.’
    ‘No, the duke actually found her in the telephone room,’ said Oscar.
    ‘Why on earth was she there?’
    ‘To make a call or to receive one,’ suggested Conan Doyle.
    ‘At midnight? At the climax of her party? At the very moment when His Royal Highness was about to take his leave?’ Oscar shook his head. ‘I think not.’
    ‘Was she there by assignation?’ I asked.
    Oscar looked at me, as if surprised to hear me speak. Contemplating his cigarette, he spoke as if wondering out loud. ‘Had she gone to meet someone by arrangement? A lover that she knew? A stranger who wished her harm? It is possible, I suppose, but the timing makes no sense. Why disappear at the very moment when your absence is most likely to be noticed? Midnight was the hour set for His Royal Highness’s departure.’
    ‘Now here’s a thought,’ said Conan Doyle, leaning into the table, his eyes suddenly glinting. ‘Midnight approaches. The duchess comes downstairs to be in the hall ready to attend His Royal Highness’s departure. When she arrives, the hall is empty. The duke and the servants are not yet there. The duchess waits, alone. And as she waits, her assailant appears and drags her into the telephone room.’
    ‘She would have cried out!’ exclaimed the prince. ‘She would have called for help.’
    ‘Her assailant could have silenced her,’ said Doyle, pressing his own hand against his mouth.
    The prince shuddered. Oscar stubbed out his cigarette on a small silver ashtray that featured the emblem of the Prince of Wales’s feathers.
    ‘Perhaps Arthur is right,’ he said, slowly. ‘Not long before midnight, the duchess was in her drawing room entertaining her guests. As midnight approached, realising the time, she made her way down the stairs and into the hall. She was alone at this point – with no thought of going into the telephone room, either to use the telephone or to keep an assignation. But, waiting alone in the hallway, something drew her into the telephone room. What was it? Did she flee there suddenly to hidefor some reason? To escape from someone – or something? Or did someone entice her into the room? Someone she knew?’
    ‘The duke was waiting for me as I