by Kerry Tombs
‘Who the devil are you?’ growled Leewood.
‘I am Inspector Ravenscroft of the Ledbury Constabulary, and you, sir, are Joshua Leewood, if I am not mistaken, recently absconded from Hereford gaol.’
‘Damn you!’
‘Watch your language, man!’ snapped Rivers.
‘How long have you been out here?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘What’s it to you?’ replied the convict, attempting to break free from his captors.
‘Have a civil tongue in your head, Leewood. I’ll deal with you later. At present we have more pressing things to attend to. We are looking for a young man who is lost in this wood. Have you seen anyone in the wood in the last day or two?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘Seen no one,’ muttered Leewood.
‘I don’t think you are telling us the truth, Leewood. It will go bad for you if you don’t tell us what we need to know and we find the gentleman lying dead in the wood tomorrow morning, knowing that we could have saved him if we had reached him tonight. Think carefully before you answer, Leewood. Have you seen anyone else in the wood during the last day or so?’ said a determined Ravenscroft, staring into the grizzled, unshaven face of the felon.
‘I might have caught sight of someone late yesterday afternoon,’ replied Leewood.
‘What did he look like?’
‘I don’t know, do I.’
‘I said, what did he look like?’ repeated Ravenscroft angrily.
‘Young gent, dressed in long brown coat and hat. That’s all I saw.’
‘Young master’s coat is brown,’ said Rivers.
‘Where did you see him?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘I don’t know, do I.’
‘I don’t believe you. My patience is running out with you, Leewood. Either you tell me now exactly where you saw the young gentleman or I’ll make sure you go down for another ten years,’ threatened Ravenscroft.
‘You can’t do that,’ protested Leewood.
‘I can do anything I like. I have the law on my side. I won’t ask you again, Leewood!’
‘I was out near Eastnor. In the other wood on the other side of the hills, near the obelisk, that’s where I saw him,’ replied Leewood sullenly.
‘What’s this obelisk?’ asked Ravenscroft, turning eagerly towards Rivers.
‘It’s a tall monument built by the Somers family of Eastnor Castle in commemoration of one of their soldier ancestors,’ replied the gamekeeper.
‘How far is it from here?’
‘About three miles or so. We will need to drop down to the road near the village before we can go up again through the woods up towards the main hills,’ said Rivers.
‘You better be telling us the truth, Leewood, or it will be the worse for you. Constables, put the cuffs on him, take one of the torches and escort him back to the station, as quickly as you can. Lock him up in the cells for the rest of the night. I’ll deal with him in the morning. Then bring some transport and wait for us in the village of Eastnor.’
Ravenscroft watched as the constables led Leewood away.
‘It’s a wonder he survived for so long out here in these conditions,’ said Andrews, using his boot to turn over some of the debris which lay on the floor of the hut.
‘There are the remains of a stale loaf and a piece of cheese. I would say that either someone has been feeding him out here or he has stolen these items from somewhere in Ledbury or Eastnor,’ said Ravenscroft. ‘Anyway, gentlemen, our task is not yet completed. Will you be so good, Mr Rivers, to lead the way down to the village?’
The group continued on their journey through the darkened, overgrown wood, which to Ravenscroft seemed to have no end, but after nearly another hour the search party finally left the wooded area as a gentle path led them steadily downwards across some fields, towards a distant light that signified that they were about to enter the village of Eastnor. Passing by the side of a church, Ravenscroft knocked on the door of a nearby cottage and made enquiries concerning the youth.
‘The fellow there says that he saw a young gentleman of Rupert’s description late yesterday afternoon crossing the road in the direction of the hills,’ said Ravenscroft, returning to rejoin his companions.
‘That would seem to confirm what Leewood told us,’ said Catherwood.
‘Mr Rivers, can you lead us up towards this obelisk? I have asked the man in the cottage to wait for our constables to return and instruct them to remain here.’
‘Right, Mr Ravenscroft. Follow me, you men,’ instructed the gamekeeper.
The group, although tired and cold, nevertheless set off at a brisk pace across the snowy landscape, knowing that their journey might shortly be reaching its climax. Rivers held the torch high above his head, lighting the way, as Catherwood sought to restrain his dog as it pulled anxiously on its leash. Ravenscroft could feel his chest tightening and his breath coming in short gasps as he fought against a cold wind that seemed to blow directly into his face.
Their journey took them steadily upwards across open parkland until they again entered more woodland. ‘Not far now, gentlemen!’ shouted Rivers, as Catherwood’s dog suddenly slipped its leash and disappeared from view.
‘There are some footprints in the snow!’ exclaimed Ravenscroft.
‘The dog’s picked up something!’ said Catherwood, breaking into a run, the rest of the group following suit.
Ravenscroft and his companions quickly found themselves on a piece of high, open ground, as a tall obelisk gradually came into view, silhouetted by the moon’s glow against the whitened landscape.
Catherwood’s dog began to bark loudly as the men ran towards the edifice. ‘The dog’s found something!’ shouted Catherwood.
The searchers came to a halt as they reached the monument. Ravenscroft could just make out the outline of a figure slumped at the base of the obelisk.
‘It’s Master Rupert!’ exclaimed Rivers, approaching the figure.
‘Pray God we are not too late,’ said an anxious Catherwood, pulling back his dog.
Suddenly the figure moved.
‘He’s alive!’ shouted one of the farm labourers.
‘Master Rupert, it’s Rivers!’ called out the gamekeeper.
‘Keep back, all of you!’ shouted Rupert, lifting up a pistol that had evidently lain at his side and aiming it at the group.
‘It’s all right, Master Rupert, it’s Rivers come to look for you. Don’t be afraid, you’ll be all right now. We’ve come to take you home.’
‘Stand back, I say,’ said the agitated youth. ‘One more step and I’ll blow my brains out. Leave me alone to die in my own time.’
‘He’s been out too long in the cold,’ whispered Catherwood, moving slowly forward.
‘Keep back! I mean it. If you come any closer I’ll end it all now,’ said Rupert, raising the pistol to his temple.
‘You don’t want to do that, lad,’ said Catherwood in a reassuring tone. ‘We are here to help you.’
‘I warn you. If you come another step nearer, I’ll do it. There’s no point in going on. Nobody cares if I live or die. My father hated me!’ said Rupert, crying and waving the pistol around his head.
‘Come now, lad. There’s folk that cares for you. All these people have come out here tonight to look for you. Don’t end it all like this. Give me the pistol,’ said Catherwood in a sympathetic, reassuring voice as he inched towards him.
‘Nobody loves me! Keep back!’
‘Come, lad, give it to me. Nothing we can’t sort out in the morning,’ said Catherwood, extending his hand out towards the weapon.
‘Why can’t I end it all?’ cried the distraught youth.
‘Because you know that would be wrong. You’re young, you have everything to live for. Give me the pistol, lad,’ said Catherwood firmly.
Rupert dropped the pistol to the ground and sobbed uncontrollably. Ravenscroft quickly recovered the weapon as Doctor Andrews placed a comforting arm around the forlorn figure.
A few minutes l
ater, the search party made its slow progress back through the wood and down the path to Eastnor, where Ravenscroft was relieved to see that his men had returned with two horsedrawn vehicles. As they journeyed back to Ledbury, the men, weary and cold after their exertions, sat with bowed heads in silence, the only sounds being that of the wheels on the frozen road and the occasional sob from Rupert Montacute.
Eventually the vehicles came to a halt outside The Gables. ‘I’ll take Mr Montacute inside and put him to bed. He will no doubt see things differently in the morning,’ said Andrews, alighting from one of the conveyances.
‘Thank you, Doctor – and, you Mr Rivers, and all you men for your assistance,’ said Ravenscroft as the group began to go their separate ways. ‘Mr Catherwood, perhaps you would care to accompany me back to the town?’
Ravenscroft and Catherwood walked back in silence for a while before Ravenscroft finally spoke. ‘That was a very brave thing you did tonight, Mr Catherwood. The lad could have shot you at any moment.’
‘That’s as may be.’
‘Why did you come with us tonight? You have no obligation towards the Montacute family.’
‘I think you know the answer to that question, Ravenscroft – unless of course you are a complete fool, which I very much doubt.’
‘That Rupert Montacute … is your son?’
Catherwood said nothing but gave a brief smile before turning away and striding purposefully in the direction of his house.
INTERLUDE
LONDON, 7 JANUARY 1889
The Brothers of the West Kensington branch of the Freemasons Society took their places around the large oak table, as the flickering light from the oil lamp placed in the centre of the room cast fleeting shadows on the portraits of their illustrious predecessors.
The eldest member, and more senior of the group, cleared his throat. ‘Gentlemen, apologies for the brief notice given to you all for the convening of this meeting this evening, but I have just received a report from our Brother in Ledbury which contains some rather disturbing news.’
‘Please go on, Brother,’ said one of the gathering.
‘I received the communication from Brother 127 of Ledbury late this afternoon. In this letter he states that he believes the papers are located in the offices of one Midwinter, Oliphant and Burrows, Solicitors of the town. It seems likely that the man Robertson deposited the package there before his untimely death at the hands of our agent Major Monk.’
‘It should be an easy task for Major Monk to retrieve the package and bring it to us,’ interjected a high-pitched voice from lower down the table.
‘That apparently is what Monk endeavoured to do yesterday evening, but unfortunately he was thwarted in his enterprise by the local constabulary and had to leave empty-handed. A trap had evidently been laid to arrest the good major,’ continued the main speaker.
‘That is rather unfortunate. Do we know who is in charge of the police there?’ asked another of the group.
‘A man by the name of Ravenhill or Ravenscroft, I believe,’ replied the speaker, looking down at the letter which lay before him on the table.
‘Not one of our number, I suppose?’
‘Unfortunately not. Furthermore a police guard has been placed in the offices of the solicitors to prevent any further attempts to retrieve the papers.’
‘This is most unwelcome news, Brother,’ muttered the questioner.
‘I have also received a communication from Major Monk in which he acknowledges that the case presents difficulties but stating that he knows of another way to recover the papers and that he is confident that they will be in our hands by the end of the week.’
‘I do not like this, Brother. Monk has twice failed us in his attempts to secure the papers. Why should we expect his next attempt to succeed?’ wheezed a stout, elderly Brother.
‘In the present circumstances there would appear to be little that we can do, Brothers, other than trust that Major Monk is successful in his recovery,’ replied the senior member.
‘Cannot Brother 127 of Ledbury recover the papers for us?’ interjected one of the group who had spoken earlier.
‘No one in the town knows the identity of Brother 127. It is important for the Brotherhood that he retains his secrecy. If Brother 127 was to make an attempt to recover the papers then his position would be compromised, and at present there is nothing to suggest that he might be any more successful than our man Monk,’ continued the elder.
‘What do you propose then, Brother?’
‘I suggest that we write back to our Brother in Ledbury tonight instructing him to keep a close watch on our Major Monk. Once Monk has fulfilled his task, then Brother 127 should eliminate the major and destroy the papers at the same time.’
‘Would it not be better if the papers were returned to us?’
‘We cannot take that risk. Someone else could intercept and acquire the papers between their passage from Ledbury to London. For every hour that those papers survive, the risk becomes greater that they will fall into the wrong hands. Far better that Brother 127 acts. Once he has destroyed the papers, there would be no evidence to support anyone who might seek at some future date to bring the issue into the public domain. No, gentlemen – let our Brother in Ledbury see that the papers are burnt.’
‘You can trust Brother 127 to carry out this task?’ asked the high-pitched voice.
‘I have known the Brother personally for a number of years. He can be entirely trusted to carry out our orders. He shares our beliefs and will do anything to uphold the ambitions of the Brotherhood.’
The six members talked quietly amongst themselves for a few seconds before the senior member spoke once again. ‘Gentlemen, do I have your agreement? Does anyone dissent? Then we are all agreed. I will write to our Brother in Ledbury tonight. Let us all hope that this matter can be brought to a quick and satisfactory conclusion.’
CHAPTER TEN
LEDBURY, 8 JANUARY 1889
‘Gent to see you, sir.’
‘Thank you, Constable. Show him in.’
It was the following morning, and Ravenscroft had arrived at the police station to interview Leewood.
The constable opened the door. An elderly gentleman, dressed in working clothes and adorned with a snowy white beard, shuffled into the room.
‘Good morning, what can I do for you?’ asked Ravenscroft, looking up from his papers.
‘The name’s Sanderson, Albert Sanderson. I am one of the lamplighters,’ replied the visitor.
‘Ah yes, Mr Sanderson, I thought I recognized you. You were present at the Lamplighters’ Ball if I recall.’
‘That’s what I’ve come about. Got something to tell yer.’
‘Then you best take a chair, Mr Sanderson,’ instructed Ravenscroft.
His elderly visitor accepted the seat. ‘Yer must excuse me, sir, if I appears to look at yer in a funny way. It’s on account of me being boss-eyed, like.’
‘Boss-eyed?’
‘Me squint. I were born with it. I comes from a family of squinters. Me dad and his dad before him were all boss-eyed. Me brother, he were a squinter as well. Can’t do much about it.’
Ravenscroft wondered what the condition of the man’s eyesight had to do with the case he was now investigating. ‘Please continue, Mr Sanderson. You have some information for me?’
‘I were there that night that Mr Montacute were done in. I might have seen who done it,’ said the old lamplighter, pausing for the effect of his words to register with Ravenscroft.
‘Yes, go on,’ urged Ravenscroft.
‘When we arrived at the Feathers, after putting out lamps, the others went on ahead, I followed them up the stairs shortly after. It were then that I saw her,’ said Sanderson, leaning forward and looking in Ravenscroft’s direction.
‘Her?’
‘Standing at the top of the stairs she were, just along from the room.’
‘Who was standing outside the room?’ asked Ravenscroft, wishing that his vi
sitor would come to the point.
‘I didn’t get much of a look at her. Her head and face were covered in a long shawl, like. I’d say she were quite old though. Almost bent double she were.’
‘And what precisely was this woman doing?’
‘She weren’t doing nothin’. She were just standing there, like, outside the room.’
‘Do you remember anything else about this old woman?’
‘No, except she had a nasty bussack.’
‘Bussack?’ asked a bewildered Ravenscroft.
‘Bad cough, like,’ replied Sanderson, demonstrating the cough. ‘Real bad it were. She must have had it for a long time. Likes it will carry her off real soon. Folks is always getting bussacks in Ledbury.’
‘Oh, why is that?’ enquired Ravenscroft before realizing that he was encouraging the old man to digress from the matter in hand.
‘It be the weather, like. Damp no good for the bussacks. Folk in Hereford don’t have so many bussacks as we do here in Ledbury.’
‘Tell me, Mr Sanderson, did you notice if this woman, who had the bad cough, actually went into the room where the ball was being held?’
‘Don’t know. I just passed her and went into the room. Then we went round snuffing out all the lights.’
‘So after you entered the room, you did not see her again?’
‘That’s correct, sir,’ replied Sanderson, leaning back in the chair with a look of satisfaction on his face.
‘So she may have entered the room when the lights went out or she may have just gone on her way? Perhaps she was intending coming into the room once the New Year was announced, like they do in Scotland?’
‘Oh, she wouldn’t be doing that, sir.’
‘Why not?’
‘We has a saying in these parts that it is bad luck to have New Year let in by a woman or child. Has to be a man that do that.’
‘So she would not have been loitering around outside the ballroom ready to make some kind of entrance when the New Year began? Perhaps she was hoping that the guests would give her something once they began to leave?’ suggested Ravenscroft.
