Ten days afterwards a lock-keeper on the Regent's Canal pulled the head of a woman out of the water. A preliminary examination showed that it bore bruises which must have been inflicted before death. The most important discovery, however, was that the head had been roughly sawn from the body. Now, the trunk found at Kilburn bore similar traces of sawing, and that drew the attention of the Stepney police to the coincidence. They took the head to Kilburn, and there it was seen that it fitted the trunk exactly. It was now possible to have the body identified, but, although scores of persons came and viewed the legless corpse, it remained unnamed.
Two months were to pass before the body was to be completed. A basket-maker was cutting osiers in Coldharbour Lane when he saw a parcel floating in the ditch at his feet. He recovered it and examined the contents—two legs. These he conveyed to the police, who immediately placed them in the mortuary where the rest of Mrs. Browne's remains were.
In this way Greenacre's plans were confounded. He had staked everything against the possibility of the three parts ever finding their way into the same room, but within three months of the crime the complete body lay awaiting identification.
The police were not a highly-organized force in the year that witnessed the death of William IV and the accession of Queen Victoria. Out-of-date methods prevailed, and the most celebrated of the detectives were now old men, the remnants of a system that was soon to be swept away. But the treble discovery aroused the authorities. The mangled remains of the poor woman were proof positive that there was a dangerous beast at large in London, and the police concentrated their efforts on the task of finding someone who could identify the corpse, certain that once the woman's name was known the arrest of her murderer would follow speedily.
However, the days went, and failure seemed certain when Gay, Hannah Browne's brother, called to view the body. He had not seen his sister for over three months, and he was getting anxious about her. At first sight of the corpse he declared that it was his sister's and that when he had last seen her she was going to dine with James Greenacre on Christmas Eve.
"Did she keep that appointment?" asked the officer in charge of the case.
"No, she didn't," answered Gay. "At least, Mr. Greenacre came to me late on Christmas Eve and said that Hannah had not turned up. He explained that she probably had been afraid to call and dine with him because he had found her out in some lies."
"Then this Mr. Greenacre will be unable to help us to trace her movements last Christmas Eve?" said the detective.
"I suppose so," said the brother of the murdered woman. "He and Hannah quarrelled. He thought she had a lot of money, and when he learnt that she was penniless he told her he'd never see her again."
Gay's conduct hitherto had not been creditable. He had accepted with complacence Greenacre's account of his quarrel with his sister and had not troubled to confirm it by a little independent investigation, and his feeble excuse was that he was afraid that if he took too much interest in Hannah she would insist on his keeping her, and, as he found it difficult to provide for his own and his family's wants, he did not wish to be saddled with additional expense.