If you haven’t read the earlier installments of this series, go to The Mad Love of Mrs. Mort, Part 1

Part 4: “Tout mon amour, Claude”

The police investigation was underway as Mrs. Mort made an improbable recovery at Royal North Shore Hospital.

Police discovered two automatic Colt pistol cases hidden in a wardrobe. Dorothy had purchased the gun that killed Claude Tozer less than a week before the murder from gunsmith William Charles Cowles. Under questioning, Cowles recounted what Mrs. Mort had said to him. “She said, ‘I want to send it as a present to my husband, who is in India.’” Cowles said he showed her how to use the pistol after she purchased it but she did not buy any cartridges.

The police interviewed a local chemist, James Johnstone. He and Mrs. Mort were in the same dramatic club. She called at his shop and requested laudanum. She said she would mix it with olive oil to use for her son’s earache. He had warned her at the time not to drink the laudanum. “She asked if it would hurt her that much and I assured her it would,” Johnstone told the officers.

Police next interviewed Mr. Mort. He was a quiet man whose profession was engineering. He served as a church warden and his hobby was collecting stamps. Harold told the police his wife was hysterical. She frequently spoke of death and suffered from regular nightmares about her children being burned alive. He feared Dorothy was suffering from hereditary insanity.

The police showed Mr. Mort some evidence they collected. He appeared to be baffled by the gun cases and said he had never seen them before.

The officers then had the unpleasant duty of disclosing to him that Claude Tozer had been carrying on an affair with his wife for months, since they met in July. Harold seemed shocked and said he had no idea there were any improper relations between Tozer and his wife. The police believed him.

Harold may have been loathe to believe it—and it was extraordinary—but there was no doubt about it. Mrs. Mort had kept all of the doctor’s letters to her and their tenor was unmistakable. They were love letters. And the evidence pointed to the fact that Dr. Tozer had abruptly broken off the relationship about a week before Mrs. Mort killed him.

In one of his earliest letters, Tozer wrote playfully that he was glad she was getting better. “We can compare symptoms and mingle tears and sympathies. I’m afraid you are responsible for my illness—yes, very compromising, I admit, but then how can anyone die better than in such compromising conditions?” In the same letter, he wished Dorothy luck with “the American producer.” Dorothy was, at the time, attempting to persuade a producer to put her into a silent film he was making. “Smile on him sweetly and he MUST capitulate,” the doctor advised her. The letter was addressed to “Lady Diana,” which was probably a reference to Dorothy’s pen name, Diana Reay. It’s unclear what kind of writing Dorothy did. However, Claude wrote beautifully:

“Where is it all going to lead us, and when or how is it going to finish? It always brings you up against the same old answer of—nowhere. And then you try to think round the stone wall and see if there is any way of overcoming it.

I cannot see one, so the only thing to do is to gather happiness while ye may and let things slide, which is admittedly dangerous and at the same time not very satisfying. You know or you should know by now, Di, that l am never happier than when you are near me.”

“As sure as the sun rises and sets, one day I will forget, and then there in nothing between us and damnation except your purity and strength. Don’t blame me too much, Di, if my reserve goes to the winds some day. There is in every one of us some deep-seated fountain of emotion—call it passion if you like. Mine has never been tapped, except by you, and some day the pressure will be too great for me. Who knows what I would say or do? You have stirred me to such an extent, little lady. that you are now sitting metaphorically on a sleeping volcano…I can’t explain why there is hardly one woman who has ever attracted me before but they say you get it badly when you fall and there is no explanation.

“So, Lady Fair, it is better for us to take stock of things now, before I break out and consider what is to be done. At present I am content to glide on the river of bliss, but the small conscience sits on the bank and shows the danger signal.

“Nous verrons. For the moment everything is nothing, except another day gone and Tuesday in nearer.

“Tout mon amour, Claude.”

In another letter, Claude wrote that “time drags slowly” when he wasn’t with her. He talked of receiving her “telepathic messages” and wondered if she received his.

His letters seemed to be at least as focused on himself as on Dorothy, but he signed it, “Yours Longingly, Claude.”

Go to Part 5: “Did you ever shoot anybody?”

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