by Kerry Tombs
‘Might we see who the directors of the new company are — and could you also provide us with a list of subscribers?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘Of course, if you will just bear with me, Inspector,’ replied Clifford, crossing over to a bookcase and removing one of the ledgers.
‘Here we are, gentlemen. I will have to ask you to look through this on your own, as I have just heard the bell ring and must attend to my customers.’
As Clifford left the room, Ravenscroft turned over the pages of the ledger.
‘Now let us see. The Leominster and Tewkesbury Railway Company, apparently formed in July of last year. Here is the List of Directors. Good heavens, Crabb, see who is listed as one of the directors!’ exclaimed Ravenscroft.
‘Jabez Pitzer!’ said Crabb.
‘So our Mr Pitzer was a director of the company, as well as being a trustee of the almshouses. That would explain why Armitage and Pitzer fell out. Armitage must have found out about Pitzer being a director. There would certainly be a conflict of interest there, and I have no doubt that once the line had been built our Mr Pitzer would have received a good return on his investment, at the expense of the inmates of the almshouses. Let’s look down the rest of the list of directors. No, I don’t see either Touchmore, Sommersby or Gladwyn listed. The other names appear to be outsiders, possibly directors of other railway companies. Ah, here is a list of subscribers. There is Pitzer’s name again. He appears to have taken up quite a few of the shares. Besides being a director, he was also one of the major shareholders. Our Mr Pitzer was certainly well committed to the project. I can’t see any other names I recognise in this list of subscribers.’
‘It seems to me, sir, that Mr Pitzer was using his influence to have the almshouses demolished, so the new line could go through,’ commented Crabb.
The two men had not noticed that Clifford had returned silently to the room.
‘I trust you found what you were looking for, gentlemen?’
‘Yes indeed, Mr Clifford. Can I enquire as to whether the shares are fully subscribed?’ asked Ravenscroft, looking up from the ledger.
‘Not at present, Inspector.’
‘What percentage has been subscribed?’
‘I would say about sixty per cent.’
‘That would still leave nearly half the issue under-subscribed,’ said Ravenscroft.
‘It would appear so, Inspector, but I must say there have been a great number of enquiries from both town and country gentlemen.’
‘Tell me, Mr Clifford. If the issue is not fully subscribed by the closing date of the twenty-third, am I right in assuming that the proposed development will not go ahead?’
‘That is correct, sir.’
‘And the shareholders would lose all their money?’ asked Crabb.
‘No, Constable. If the line does not go ahead, then the proposed shareholders are released from their pledges,’ replied Clifford.
‘But the directors—’ began Ravenscroft.
‘They would lose any initial capital investment they made in establishing the company. Can I help you further with your enquiries, Inspector?’
‘No thank you, Mr Clifford. You have been most helpful,’ replied Ravenscroft.
‘I am glad that I have been of some assistance,’ smiled Clifford, giving a little bow.
Ravenscroft and Crabb made their way out of the Reading Rooms, to find that the skies had clouded over and that rain was beginning to fall.
‘Well, it seems as though our Mr Armitage had good cause to want Mr Pitzer dead, what with him being the director and main shareholder of the railway company,’ said Crabb.
‘That does not mean to say that he murdered him. You also forget that Sommersby was neither a director nor a shareholder in the company, and if our killer is Armitage there would have been little point in killing him as well. No, although we may be getting nearer the truth, Crabb, we seem as far away as ever from finding out who killed the two men — and why,’ replied Ravenscroft.
‘Can’t say I cared for your Mr Clifford.’
‘Why ever not, Crabb? I found him most helpful.’
‘Bit too silky for me.’
Ravenscroft smiled. ‘I think I see Stebbins running in our direction, and trying to attract our attention?’
‘Mr Ravenscroft, sir, I thought I might find you ’ere. This letter was delivered to the Tudor about thirty minutes ago, sir,’ said the youth, handing over the rain-spattered envelope.
‘Thank you, Stebbins,’ said Ravenscroft, giving the messenger a coin from his pocket.
Stebbins ran off, as Ravenscroft opened the letter. ‘It’s from Doctor Gladwyn. “Dear Inspector Ravenscroft. Can you come and see me as soon as possible. I think I may have some important information regarding the deaths of Pitzer and Sommersby, which may be of value to you.” It’s signed: Septimus Gladwyn.’
‘That’s a turn up for the books,’ said Crabb.
‘Let’s see if we can secure a cab,’ said Ravenscroft, turning up the collar of his coat.
‘I don’t fancy walking down to the Link in this weather. The heavens look as though they are about to open up on us.’
The two policemen walked up onto the Terrace where they hailed a cab and set off for Gladwyn’s house. The rain began to fall more heavily.
A few minutes later, they arrived at the doctor’s residence.
After climbing down from the cab, Crabb instructed the driver to wait, and rang the doorbell.
‘Yes, sir. Can I help you, sir?’ said the maid opening the door.
‘Inspector Ravenscroft and Constable Crabb, to see Doctor Gladwyn, if you please,’ said Ravenscroft attempting to shelter under the entrance porch. ‘We are expected.’
‘Sorry, sir. Doctor Gladwyn has been called away on urgent business, to attend to a sick patient I believe,’ replied the maid.
‘That’s alright, my girl, we’ll wait inside. I’m sure your master won’t be long,’ said Crabb.
‘I believe he has gone to Hollybush, sir. He may be some time.’
‘At what time was he called out?’ enquired Ravenscroft.
‘It was about thirty minutes ago, sir.’
‘Must have been after he had sent the letter to us,’ said Ravenscroft. ‘Can you tell me who it was who called at the house?’
‘Yes, sir. He was a strange-looking gent. Quite tall he was, dressed in a ragged overcoat — and yes, sir, he was blind as well.’
‘Must have been the same fellow who we saw hanging about outside here the other day, Crabb. What happened when this man called? Do you remember? I am a police officer and it is important that we speak with your master as soon as possible,’ said Ravenscroft quickly.
‘Well, sir. I remember the gentleman was quite agitated. He kept saying his wife was dying and could the doctor come urgently and try and save her. Doctor Gladwyn said he had to see someone else first, but the man was quite insistent that Doctor Gladwyn come immediately. He kept repeating that his wife would surely die if the doctor delayed. Finally the doctor got out the horse and trap, and the two of them left together.’
‘Thank you. You have been most helpful. You say they set off for Hollybush?’
‘Yes, sir,’ replied the maid, looking concerned.
‘Where is this Hollybush, Crabb?’
‘It’s a good few miles away from here — on the other side of the hills, sir. Just off the Ledbury to Tewkesbury Road — past the village of Eastnor. It’s near the Golden Valley, close to Raggedstone Hill. Should take us about thirty or forty minutes to get there, sir,’ began Crabb
‘What was that you said?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘I said it’s on the Ledbury to—’
‘No, what did you say after that?’
‘I said it’s near the Golden Valley, close to Raggedstone Hill.’
‘Raggedstone Hill,’ repeated Ravenscroft, deep in thought.
‘Yes, sir,’ replied Crabb, looking puzzled.
Ravenscroft thanked the maid, and
the two men climbed back into the cab and gave instructions that the driver was to proceed with all haste in the direction of Hollybush.
‘Rather a coincidence that just after Gladwyn had sent us a letter, he should be called out to attend to a patient,’ said Crabb.
‘I find it more than a coincidence, Crabb. I don’t like the sound of this blind fellow, who was hanging about the house the other day. I fear that Doctor Gladwyn’s life may be in danger. I’ll instruct the cab driver to go quicker. We are on urgent police business my man. Drive as quickly as you can!’
‘Old Patch will do his best, sir. Weather is breaking up badly though. Are you sure you wants to go to Hollybush?’ enquired the driver.
‘We do indeed. A man’s life may be in danger.’
The cab sped on at a fast pace, travelling through the Terrace at Malvern, on past the Tudor, the Wyche Common, and Pitzer’s house, and out towards the Wells, spraying water onto the sides of the roads as it did so. The skies had now become black, and to Ravenscroft looking through the falling rain, the hills seemed to be taking on a more overpowering and sinister appearance.
They passed a collection of elegant buildings before the cab made its way up a winding road, until they reached the top of the hill. Ravenscroft could just make out the outline of a large inn on their right-hand side, and Crabb informed him that they had arrived at the British Camp.
‘This road will take us down towards Ledbury, sir,’ said Crabb.
After a few more turns the cab hurried quickly down the road that lead away from the hills. Ravenscroft could now barely see the sides of the road through the driving rain.
‘Not the best of days to be going out to Hollybush,’ shouted Crabb.
‘I thought the sun always shone on Malvern,’ said Ravenscroft.
The cab made a sharp turn to the left and they found themselves leaving the main road and heading out in an easterly direction along a country lane. After going through a small village and past a large house which was hidden from the road by a long tall wall, they found themselves climbing upwards again.
Suddenly their driver pulled up the cab. ‘Hollybush, sir,’ he called through the noise of the falling rain.
Ravenscroft and Crabb alighted from the cab and looked around. They appeared to be at a crossroads. To the left and right of them were large hills towering up into the mist and rain. Ahead of them the road seemed to drop sharply away from the range.
‘That’s Hollybush Hill over on our left, sir, and I believe the other hill on our right is the Raggedstone,’ said Crabb, closely clutching the top of his tunic around his wet neck.
Ravenscroft stared up at the forbidding hill on his right and felt a cold shudder travel down the spine of his back.
‘Are there any cottages around here that you know of my man?’ asked Crabb.
‘There’s one or two further on past church at Hollybush, and one down track there,’ replied their driver pointing in the direction of the Raggedstone.
‘Let’s try that one first’ replied Ravenscroft, climbing back into the cab.
‘Right you are, sir. Up there, Patch!’
The cab turned off the road and made its way along the bumpy track, the two men straining to see if they could see any other signs of life at the base of the hill.
Suddenly Ravenscroft cried out, ‘Over there. I can see a building of some kind — and yes, there is a horse and trap in front of it!’
‘Could be Gladwyn’s, sir,’ said Crabb anxiously.
As their cab came to a sudden halt and the two policemen jumped down and ran over to the empty trap.
‘This looks like a medical bag of some kind,’ said Ravenscroft, holding up the article in question from the seat of the trap. ‘Now where is Gladwyn?’
‘Over here, sir!’ called out Crabb, running towards the old stone cottage.
‘God, we are too late!’ exclaimed Ravenscroft.
Lying on the ground, face down, was the body of a man.
Ravenscroft quickly turned him over. ‘It’s Gladwyn — and look here, there is blood on the side of his head where he has been hit by a weapon of some kind.’
‘This is it, sir,’ said Crabb picking up the item from the ground. ‘There’s still blood on it. Whoever killed him used this stone, and then threw it to one side.’
‘The cottage, Crabb! Our murderer may still be inside. Draw your truncheon and follow me,’ said Ravenscroft, racing up the path. Upon reaching the door of the cottage he lashed out with his leg and kicked it open.
The two men rushed inside. Ravenscroft looked frantically around the empty room.
‘Looks as though he’s got away, sir,’ said Crabb.
‘Quickly! Outside!’ instructed Ravenscroft, turning on his heel.
The two men ran up the path towards the trap.
‘Look around you, Crabb. Whoever killed Gladwyn must have left only minutes ago,’ said Ravenscroft, looking around frantically in all directions. ‘We obviously passed no one on either the road, or the path coming here. Therefore our killer has either made his escape by going further down this track, or by climbing upwards to the top of the hill.’
‘There is no sign of any other vehicle having been here recently, other than Gladwyn’s trap and our own cab,’ said Crabb.
‘My God, Crabb! Look up there on top of the hill, just where the sun is breaking through all that cloud. There’s someone up there looking down on us! Can you make out who it is?’
‘All I can see is a tall figure wearing some kind of long coat,’ said Crabb.
‘Precisely! Our friend is the blind man, who called on Gladwyn and lured him out here to his death.’
‘I’ll get up there after him,’ shouted Crabb.
‘Wait. He’s heading back over the hill towards the road. If you take the path up to the hill, I’ll head back to the road in the cab, and see if I can cut him off. At least this damned rain is easing.’
Crabb set off up the path. The figure on top of the hill had now completely disappeared.
‘Quickly back towards the road,’ instructed Ravenscroft to the cab man.
The driver turned the cab slowly, and with care, in the confined space, Ravenscroft irritably stamping his feet on the ground as he did so. The manoeuvre completed, Ravenscroft jumped in, and they set off at a brisk pace. After what seemed an endless eternity to Ravenscroft, they gained the main road and turned to their left before the cab came to a halt in the space between the Raggedstone and Hollybush hills.
Ravenscroft jumped down from the cab and looked anxiously all around. A path on his left appeared to go up onto the Raggedstone. If the blind man was still on the hill, he must surely come this way, thought Ravenscroft. On the other hand, if he had arrived too late the fellow could have crossed the road by now and have headed on over the Hollybush hill. Who would come down the path first — Crabb, or the mysterious blind man? If it turned out to be the latter, he would be ready for him; he was determined that this was one quarry that he would not let escape.
Suddenly Crabb came crashing down the path.
‘Damn it. He’s gone from us!’ exclaimed Ravenscroft.
‘I ran all the way, sir,’ panted Crabb.
‘Did you see the fellow at all?’
‘No, sir, but he must have come this way. There is only this one path that leads down from Raggedstone.’
‘Then he was too quick for us! Damn the man. For someone who is supposed to be blind, he seems to know these hills remarkably well,’ muttered Ravenscroft.
‘He moves at the speed of lightening, I know that,’ complained Crabb breathlessly.
‘You did your best, Crabb. He had a good start on us. He must have run down here, shortly before I arrived, and made his escape up there over the Hollybush hill. See here,’ said Ravenscroft examining the ground. ‘If I’m not mistaken these are boot marks going in that direction.’
‘We may still be able to catch him, sir. If he carries on over the hills, he will eventually reach the British Camp. I
f we return to Malvern, I could have some men searching the hills from there.’
‘That seems a good idea, Crabb. At least the sun is starting to come out at last. The rain has cleared up and we have several hours of daylight left to catch the villain. You take the cab back to Malvern and get your men out on the hills. I’ll go back to the cottage, make a search there, and put poor Gladwyn’s body in the trap, then join you all at the British Camp,’ said Ravenscroft, sneezing. ‘Go quickly, Crabb.’
Ravenscroft watched as the cab drove off down the road and into the distance, then made his way back down the track towards the cottage. It was obvious that the blind man had lured Gladwyn out to Raggesdstone on the pretext that his wife was seriously ill, and that once there, he had killed the doctor. But why had the blind man committed such an atrocity? Then he remembered the note that Gladwyn had sent, and wondered what had been the urgent news that Gladwyn had been so anxious to tell him. Gladwyn had said that he had some important information regarding the deaths of Pitzer and Sommersby. Could it have been that Gladwyn had discovered who had murdered the two men, and that knowledge had now cost him his own life? If only he and Crabb had arrived a few minutes earlier, they might have been able to have saved the doctor’s life. But they had not and now he had three bodies on his hands; three crimes to solve. Worse than all that — he had let the killer slip through his hands yet again!
Dejectedly, Ravenscroft walked into the cottage and looked around at its meagre contents — a broken chair and a pile of old rotten rags in one corner of the room — there was certainly no evidence that a sick woman could have been dying there.
He made his way out into the overgrown, abandoned garden, gazing down at the ground, looking for anything that might yield a clue as to who the perpetrator of the crime might be, even though aware that his search would probably prove futile. There was poor Gladwyn still lying in a pool of blood on the ground. Ravenscroft made a search of his pockets but could find nothing that might have identified the killer of the three men.
Slowly, he edged the body upwards and dragged it over towards the trap. With all his strength he managed to lift it into the vehicle. Then, finding a blanket, which the late doctor had evidently used to wrap round his feet and legs on his journeys, Ravenscroft draped it over the dead body. He returned to the garden, recovered the blood-stained rock and placed it by the side of the deceased man.
