"Why should anyone know?" she said, in a whisper that sounded like a croak. "Let us get rid of the body. Hannah had no real friends. There'll be no one to make awkward inquiries."
Her voice roused him and he pulled himself together. The fear of the hangman was the greatest terror of all, and now dread of the consequences transformed him into a cunning, calculating villain.
With the help of Sarah Gale he divided the body into three parts—head, trunk and legs. Each meant a separate journey to a different part of London, for he believed that if he hid the remains in three places far apart from each other discovery and identification would be impossible. One or possibly two of the ghastly parcels might be unearthed, but it was out of the question that all three would be found and put together. For several hours the guilty couple laboured to remove all traces of the crime, and Christmas Day dawned with the parcels ready for disposal.
Wrapping the head in a silk handkerchief, he journeyed by omnibus into the city; from there he went to Stepney, and, reaching the Regent's Canal, he took a walk along the bank until he came to a more than usually deserted spot. Here he flung the head into the water, taking care to retain the silk handkerchief, for even in the hour of danger and stress he could remember that it had cost him several shillings.
No murderer ever spent a more ghastly Christmas than James Greenacre did, but he was by now quite callous. The second journey enabled him to dispose of the legs by flinging them into a ditch in Coldharbour Lane, not very far from his house. The disposal of the trunk, however, was the most difficult of all. It made a very heavy parcel, and Greenacre, with extraordinary daring, did not pack it in a box and attempt to get rid of it that way. He wrapped it up in cloth and paper, and, carrying it himself into the street, found a passing carter, who gave him a lift until he was a couple of miles from Camberwell. Then the murderer took a cab, and, after two or three incidents which would have unnerved most men, he reached a lonely spot in Kilburn which he considered would make an ideal hiding-place.
The threefold task completed he returned home quite satisfied with himself. If the worst happened and the three parcels were found, the finder of the trunk at Kilburn would never dream of inquiring at Stepney for the head, or at Camberwell for the legs. He argued that the public would make three mysteries out of the three parts and never think of associating all with one crime.
Greenacre began the new year with a feeling of relief and security. His mistress, Sarah Gale, instead of being able to hold a threat over him, found herself compelled to keep silent for her own sake as well as his. She was his accomplice, and, therefore, equally guilty in the eyes of the law. Thus she had the best of reasons for forgetting the Christmas Eve tragedy, and the respectable grocer, quite unperturbed, went to reside in another London suburb and continued to deal out his "amalgamated candy" to the credulous and eloquently describe its healing qualities.
Despite his first mistake, however, Greenacre had not abandoned the idea of marriage, and he speculated in an advertisement in the "Times," taking precautions to disguise his real intentions. He advertised to the effect that he required a partner with at least three hundred pounds to help him to place on the market a new washing-machine, of which he was the sole inventor. Of course it was a lie. Greenacre wished to get into correspondence with a woman of means, and, in his opinion, this was the surest way, for any female who answered his advertisement would possess at least three hundred pounds, and the chances were that the majority of correspondents would make a more detailed reference to the means they possessed.
A lady with considerable savings did reply to the advertisement, and Greenacre promptly changed his letters from business communications into ardent protestations of respect and admiration. Encouraged by the lady's failure to resent the freedom of his language, he boldly asked her to marry him, but, fortunately for herself, she promptly rejected his offer.
But, meanwhile, something had occurred elsewhere which was to have a fatal result for the murderer. On December 28th, 1836, the trunk of Hannah Browne's body had been found at Kilburn. There was nothing to identify it, and it was ordered to be preserved for a certain time in case anyone with a missing friend or relation should come forward and recognize it. The only clue—and that a very tiny one—was that the remains were wrapped in a blue cotton frock, which had evidently been worn by a child.