by Kerry Tombs
‘I don’t recognize the handwriting,’ said Ravenscroft, examining the envelope. ‘If it is from Cranston, then he must have written it and deposited it at the post office yesterday, before he abducted Lucy.’ He tore open the envelope and read aloud its contents.
Ravenscroft,
When you receive this letter you will know that I have your wife.
The pretty young thing is well looked after!
I can assure you that no harm will befall her, provided you do exactly as I instruct.
You know what I want – a fair exchange – your wife for the envelope!
You are to take a cab from Ledbury at ten this morning. When you arrive at the British camp, you are to pay off the cab man, and follow the path that leads round the side of the large hill until you arrive at the Giant’s Cave. There inside you will find further instructions left within an old tin box. It is important that you bring the envelope with you, and that you come unarmed – and alone! I will be watching your every move, and if I find that you have sought to entrap me, then your wife will die!
Believe me, Ravenscroft, it will be an easy thing for me to kill your wife, should you attempt not to fulfil these conditions.
If you wish your wife returned to you, safe and well, you will do as I have instructed. There is no other way.
‘Well, at least he has not harmed your wife, sir,’ said Crabb, trying to sound reassuring.
‘You are forgetting one thing, Crabb. He wrote this letter before he seized Lucy. We only have his word that he has no intention of harming her,’ said Ravenscroft, laying the letter down on the table.
‘What will you do now, sir?’
‘We know that Cranston has Lucy somewhere near the old cave on the hills. I can see no alternative but to comply with his instructions.’
‘I’ll have some men out on the hills. We will have him as soon as he shows himself.’
‘No, Tom. From up there he will see our men for miles around. He will know that we are closing in on him and will carry out his threat to kill Lucy. I cannot take that risk.’
‘Then at least let me come with you in the cab. I could follow you up the hill, keeping at a safe distance. I could make sure that he never saw me.’
‘No, Tom. I know you mean well, but you must stay here. I have to go alone, as he says, otherwise he will kill Lucy.’
Crabb looked crestfallen and turned away.
‘Dear Tom. We have been through a great deal together, and you know how I value your service – and your friendship – but now I must see out this business alone, for Lucy’s sake. I cannot put her at risk. I hope you will accept that, Tom?’
The two men looked at one another.
‘Very well, sir,’ said Crabb.
‘Good. Then this is what we must do. What hour does the bank open?’
‘Just after nine, sir.’
‘Then we will go to the bank, and persuade Maurice Montacute to let us have the coachman’s envelope from his safe before I leave for the camp. There is nothing more we can do now before nine, so I will ask Sally to prepare some breakfast for us. Cheer up, Tom, once I have Lucy safe and sound, we will have all the time in the world to lay our hands on Cranston. He cannot escape us for ever.’
The town clock struck the hour of ten as Ravenscroft and Crabb stood by a cab in the marketplace in Ledbury.
‘Well, Tom, I best be on my way. You know my instructions? Neither you nor anyone else is to follow me. A life will depend upon it,’ said Ravenscroft firmly.
‘Yes, sir, but I wish you would take this pistol with you, sir,’ said Crabb, producing a weapon from the pocket of his tunic.
‘No, Tom. If he sees that I have come armed, he will know that I have broken my word and will kill Lucy.’
‘But how will you protect yourself, sir?’
‘Once Lucy is safe, I’ll think of some way in which I can move against him, although I must confess that at the moment I don’t see how. I must trust that a suitable opportunity will present itself. Give me the packet, Tom.’
‘It must be something mighty important in that envelope, sir, for him to go to all this trouble,’ said Crabb, handing over the item to his superior.
‘One day I’ll tell you all about it. Be in good spirits, Tom. I’m sure both Lucy and myself will be back in time for lunch.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then give me your hand, Tom – and wish me well.’
‘I do indeed, sir, with all my heart.’
The two men shook hands vigorously.
Ravenscroft stepped into the cab, after first giving instructions to the driver that he was to be taken to the British camp.
Crabb watched as the vehicle turned the corner at the top of the High Street and disappeared from view. As he made his way back to the station, feelings of despair and loneliness suddenly swept over him, as he realized that circumstances had combined against him to prevent him from assisting and protecting his colleague and friend. If only Ravenscroft had allowed him to shadow his progress on the hills, he was sure he would have been able to tackle the villain Cranston, but he had been sworn to inactivity. All he could do now was wait and hope.
Ravenscroft let out a deep sigh as the cab began its slow journey towards the camp. Shortly he would be reunited with Lucy. He knew that Cranston would not release her until he had handed over the envelope, but once he knew that his wife was safe, he would think of some way in which he could retrieve the papers and somehow destroy the diary to prevent it falling into the wrong hands. Perhaps Crabb had been right after all, and he should have secreted the pistol somewhere upon his person, but the more he ran over that course of action in his mind the more he was convinced that he was doing the right thing. He knew that his adversary was a dangerous, evil man, who would not have the slightest hesitation in killing Lucy if he in any way thought that Ravenscroft had broken his promise.
As they journeyed ever steadily upwards, he looked across the fields of corn. The London train was billowing out smoke as it made its way along the track that ran from Malvern and Colwall towards Ledbury – and he reflected on how his life had changed in the past few months. A year ago his daily round had brought him into contact with people of all nationalities and all stations in life. Pickpockets, thieves, prostitutes and villains of every description had crossed his path over the years. Sometimes the noise, smells and violence of Whitechapel had almost overpowered him in their intensity. Now, looking back on that old life, he wondered what it had all been about, and what contribution he had actually made to making the area a better place in which to live – and it seemed that his busy existence then had little reason or meaning. But then all that had given way in recent months to the rural tranquillity of Ledbury, as he had been reunited with the only woman he had ever wanted in his life – and he had acquired a joy, contentment and purpose in life that he had never thought possible. Now, as the cab neared the end of its journey, he realized that this new life could shortly be taken away from him; that the happiness and love he had so tentatively secured could again slip away from his hands, leaving him bereft and alone once more.
The cab came to a sudden halt. Ravenscroft alighted and paid for his fare.
‘Want me to wait, governor?’ asked the cabman.
‘I don’t know how long I will be,’ replied Ravenscroft, at a loss for words.
‘Be over at the inn. Patch needs a rest, and I could do with a drink.’
‘Then we may well see one another again,’ said Ravenscroft.
He watched as the driver swung the cab across the road towards the inn that lay in the clearing between the hills, and then sought out the path that he knew would take him around the side of the Beacon Hill.
As the path took him upwards, he realized that in his haste and anxiety his breathing had become more laboured, and as his chest began to tighten he prayed that his old affliction would not now return to bring him down at this crucial hour. He paused for a moment by an old seat, to wipe away the sweat from his br
ow and to gaze upon the fields and hedgerows that stretched out across the wide landscape – and wondered whether his every move was being observed by Cranston from some higher vantage point.
Eventually his journey brought him on to the small plateau at the side of the hill, and quickly taking the path that ran along the ridge he eventually found himself standing outside the cave that he had visited on his previous visit to the hills. He had half expected to see Cranston emerging from the cave itself, but then remembered that the letter had instructed him to look for an old tin box within its interior.
He stepped into the cave and, adjusting his eyes to its darkness, he moved tentatively towards the back of the cavity until his boot suddenly came into contact with an old battered tin on the floor. He knelt down, picked up the container and removed the lid. Inside, he was relieved to discover a small piece of paper.
Retracing his steps into the daylight, he unfolded the sheet and read the words written there:
So Ravenscroft, you have made the journey.
If others have followed you, or you have come armed, I will kill your wife! On that you can be assured.
Continue your way along the path, until you reach a place where five paths meet.
Take the first path on your left and follow it along until you reach the cottage.
Knock on the door twice and enter.
There you will find your wife.
As he read the words, he realized that his hands were shaking and that his breathing was coming in short gasps. The fact that his beloved Lucy was but a short distance away from where he stood, and that his adversary was in all probability studying his every movement, made him all the more nervous and unsure. The knowledge that he was now facing the greatest challenge of his life had slowly sapped away his confidence and resolution but then as he refolded the paper and placed it within his coat pocket and walked purposely along the path, an inner strength began to build within him and slowly a new determination came to the fore.
Reaching the crossroads, he took the path on his left and after a few hundred yards saw the cottage coming into view. A thin trail of smoke was drifting upwards from its chimney. He paused for a moment to look all around him at the surrounding hills, to see whether Cranston was looking down upon him. Seeing no one, however, Ravenscroft concluded that his adversary was in all probability awaiting his arrival within the cottage itself, and he quickened his pace, anxious to see that no harm had befallen his wife.
Striding up to the door, he briefly looked around him before banging his fist on the woodwork. Receiving no reply, he gently pushed open the door and stepped into the room.
Directly facing him he saw the figure of his wife, tightly bound to one of the chairs, her eyes staring in his direction as she struggled to free her bonds.
‘Lucy!’ he cried out as he rushed forward.
Suddenly he felt a sharp thud on the back of his head. Darkness seemed to close in around him as he fell to the floor, and an intense pain shot through his body.
‘So, Ravenscroft, you came – as I knew you would. See here I have your pretty young wife,’ said a distant voice that he recognized from his past.
Ravenscroft fought to clear the darkness from his head.
‘Don’t disturb yourself, Ravenscroft. Your wife is well. I have taken good care of her,’ continued the mocking voice.
As the mist gradually lifted from his eyes, he looked across the room to where his wife was attempting to speak from behind the gag that tightly bound her face. Standing beside her, he could just make out the outline of a figure.
‘Do not try to get up, Ravenscroft. I see that you have come alone. That is wise. I trust you have no weapon upon your person?’
‘None,’ he managed to utter, in a cracked voice that seemed not like his own.
‘Good. However, I know your policeman’s mind, Ravenscroft. You will now be thinking of a way to distract me so that you can make your move. That would be most foolish, I can assure you. One slight move from yourself and I will see that your wife pays the price.’
Ravenscroft could now see that his adversary had moved closer to Lucy, and that he was holding a pistol to the side of her head.
‘Don’t worry, Lucy,’ he cried out, forcing the words forth through the pain.
‘How very noble and gallant, my dear Ravenscroft. Always the gentleman, of course. I admire your choice of bride – such a charming personality. Not exactly a beauty in the fresh bloom of youth but an attractive face nevertheless and such pleasant locks,’ laughed Cranston, running the fingers of his free hand over Lucy’s hair as she struggled to turn her face away.
‘If you harm my wife in any way, I swear I will not rest until I have hunted you down and killed you,’ said Ravenscroft, struggling to find the words as he attempted to brush the swirling mist from his eyes.
‘Bravo! Fine words, my good fellow,’ said Cranston, clapping his hands together. ‘But may I remind you that you are in no position to make such empty threats. It is I, Ravenscroft, who now holds all the cards, who has the pistol at your wife’s head.’
Ravenscroft could see the fear in Lucy’s eyes as she groaned and attempted to free herself from the bound chair.
‘Nevertheless, Cranston, I swear—’ he began.
‘Oh, be quiet!’ snapped Cranston. ‘I am tired of you, Ravenscroft; tired of all your attempted meddling in my affairs. For nearly two years our paths have crossed – in Worcester, Whitechapel and Dinard.’
‘Dinard?’
‘You remember the day you and your wife left the Hotel Gandolphi at the conclusion of your stay? A cab drew up at the front entrance, and an elderly bearded man alighted with his pretty young companion. I saw how you looked across at me, trying to remember where we had previously encountered one another – but as usual you were incapable of making the connection,’ boasted Cranston.
Ravenscroft turned away, a sickening feeling of utter despair running through his body.
‘You had previously sought to cross me in that dingy moth-eaten lodging house in Worcester, but that was not the first time we had met. Remember the darkened alleyway in Whitechapel? The young girl not yet cold, and how you looked up when you heard me move in the darkness. You could have apprehended me then, Ravenscroft, but you were too slow and stupid! If you had only succeeded in catching me then, you would have spared me from all the dark deeds that were to follow. You could have earned your place in history!’ sneered Cranston.
Ravenscroft leaned his head back on the wall and let out a deep sigh of despair, as he saw and heard again the black cloak flowing along the darkened, crowded alleyways of Whitechapel.
‘You always were a miserable failure, Ravenscroft. You have had so many opportunities and never realized how close you came,’ said his adversary, continuing to mock him. ‘And now the game is nearly over. The package! Give me the package.’
Ravenscroft reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the envelope. Cranston rushed forward and snatched it from his grasp.
‘Now let my wife go. I will remain here with you, but please let her go. She has done you no harm,’ pleaded Ravenscroft.
‘In good time,’ replied Cranston, tearing open the envelope and tipping out the contents on to the floor. ‘Ah, what have we here? A diary of some kind, written by some illustrious person, I have no doubt. My masters will pay well for this.’
‘Now that you have the diary, let my wife go. Honour your side of the bargain,’ pleaded Ravenscroft, speaking through the almost deafening pain in his head.
‘Don’t speak to me of honour, Ravenscroft. You silly, stupid man, did you really think I could afford to let you and your precious wife leave here alive?’ replied Cranston in a voice full of anger. ‘You know far too much. If I were to let you go now, I know that you would not rest until you had tracked me down. Do you really think I am that stupid?’
‘My wife knows nothing. For God’s sake, man, I implore you to let her go. You can do what you like with me. You must see that she i
s the innocent party in all this!’ cried out Ravenscroft, attempting unsuccessfully to raise himself up from the floor.
‘Innocence is an expendable commodity! No, Ravenscroft. I have decided that you both must die. My work is nearly completed. I cannot afford to leave any loose ends.’
‘Please. I will do anything – but let my wife go free!’ implored Ravenscroft, looking across at his wife with tears in his eyes, and realizing that there was nothing he could possibly do to save the woman he loved.
‘I am so sorry, Ravenscroft. I know that you hate and despise me. You think I have no compassion, no feeling at all, but in that you are mistaken. I will shoot you first, Ravenscroft, so that you will be spared the sight of witnessing the slow death of your wife,’ said Cranston, raising his pistol and pointing it in his direction.
‘Let my wife—’ began Ravenscroft.
‘Prepare to die, Ravenscroft!’ snapped Cranston, taking aim. ‘How you have disappointed me. Your pleading is below contempt! I would have thought better of you, if you had been a worthier opponent!’
Ravenscroft allowed himself one final desperate look at Lucy before closing his eyes.
The shot rang out across the room.
Ravenscroft opened his eyes, and saw Cranston clutching his chest as he fell to the floor.
In the doorway, through the mist of his vision, he saw the distant outline of a figure holding a smoking pistol in his hand – and knew then that his life had been spared.
The figure said nothing as he walked over to Cranston and discharged another shot from a second pistol into the groaning body.
Ravenscroft wiped his hand across his eyes, struggling to see who his saviour was, but the figure seemed oblivious to their plight and bent down and retrieved the contents of the envelope from the floor.
‘Help us, for God’s sake!’ cried out Ravenscroft.
The figure walked over to the fireplace. He removed the pages from the diary and threw them on to the blazing fire.
‘Who are you?’ asked Ravenscroft, unable to see the other’s features.
The man remained silent as he stared into the flames. Only when the charred remains fell back on themselves did he walk over to Lucy and begin to untie the ropes and gag that bound her.
