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By Root 195 0

that of Bisgrove, in that Walker was being supervised outside the walls. On 7th August 1873, he was in a working party of eight patients in an oat field to the north west of the Asylum. The morning had passed without incident, and after lunch, the group returned to their labours. By 4pm, the party had been at work for several hours, and they stopped for a break. The patients lined up, and the two attendants in charge poured out beakers of oatmeal and water for the men to drink. Walker was one of the first to receive his refreshment. By the time the attendants had reached the end of the line, they looked up to see Walker making his way towards the edge of the field. This was not unusual: they were some distance from the Asylum facilities, and if a man wished to spend a penny, the field edge was as good a place as any to do so.

As they watched, Walker reached the edge of the field, where he halted. Expecting to see him undo his trousers, their casual observation turned to alarm as Walker proceeded to vault the fence and, like so many before him, make off into the woods. One of the attendants immediately began to run after Walker, but caught his foot in a ploughed rut in the field and fell over. This gave the patient enough time to make good his sylvan flight.

It was a case of déjà vu. The usual searches were conducted of the woods and surrounding estates, the local police and the Met were informed, the railway stations were watched. He could be found nowhere. Walker was considered to be a low risk patient – Orange suggested, perhaps sheepishly, that ‘his liberation at no distant period would probably have taken place’ – but this was a further failing all the same. To lose one lunatic might be considered a misfortune, but to lose two most definitely had the whiff of carelessness about it.

Fortuitously, this missing patient did turn up again, a little over five years later, and two years after his prison sentence had expired. It was a chance meeting between two old acquaintances. On 28th September 1878, one of the Broadmoor attendants was visiting Birmingham when he spotted Walker about the city. A personable conversation ensued, and the attendant suggested that it might be better for Walker to accompany him, in order to remove officially the cloud still hanging over his freedom. Even more fortuitously perhaps, Walker agreed, put up no resistance to returning to Crowthorne, and travelled back with the attendant the next day. Perhaps he felt that he had nothing to fear, as he had made a success of his time outside. After his escape, and as the summer of 1873 continued, he had taken seasonal work as a harvester, crossing England on a path from Berkshire to Liverpool. When winter arrived on Merseyside, he had gone back to his old job as a stonemason, moving back to his native Birmingham in 1874. At the time of his voluntary apprehension, he was earning two pounds per week and getting on well. It was quite apparent that Walker was sane and was also a productive member of society. It was in no-one’s interest to stop his contribution. Orange discharged Walker absolutely three weeks later, gave him five shillings for his trouble and also paid his train fare back to Birmingham.

Orange could afford to be relaxed about escapees by the autumn of 1878. In 1873, the year still had another sting for him in its tail. The final escape of 1873 took place on 12th November. It had its roots back in August too, when there had been a theft from the Principal Attendant’s room in Block 1, one of the ‘back Blocks’ with higher security. Nearly fifteen pounds had been stolen – a large sum of money – and although searches had been made throughout the Asylum, the money had not been recovered. The reason was that a conspiracy was in progress. Despite a one pound reward on offer for information, the money was being hidden, quite possibly in turn, by two patients: Timothy Grundy (who may be remembered from Escape from Broadmoor: Part One) and John Brown. Using the money they had thieved, both men also managed to bribe a corrupt attendant, William Phillips,