by Kerry Tombs
‘Probably thought better of it,’ said the military gentleman, running a finger over a red moustache.
‘The night is certainly, how you say, it is wretched,’ remarked Hollinger smiling.
‘I took the liberty, gentlemen, of securing the services of a local man, who, I assume, is the custodian of the building. He declared he would be here tonight to unlock the door for us,’ said Jenkins, in his usual matter-of-fact tone of voice.
‘Then it would appear, sir, that the fellow ran off with your money!’ snapped Anstruther striding up and down.
‘We are a few minutes early, I believe,’ said his companion pulling out a large watch from his waistcoat pocket and examining its hands.
‘Good evening, gentlemen!’
The group turned round to discover that a tall, thin gentleman, dressed in a long black coat and slouch hat, had suddenly entered the porch.
‘And who the devil are you?’ asked Anstruther.
‘Ross. My name is Ross, gentlemen. At your service. I’m sorry, ma’am, I did not observe your presence,’ said the new arrival addressing Miss Eames.
‘I take it, sir, that you are engaged on the same business as ourselves?’ asked Ganniford after clearing his throat, and observing that the speaker had a marked Scottish accent and that his face was partially obscured by his large hat.
‘I believe so, gentlemen.’
‘Your voice suggests that you have, how you say, travelled far?’ said Hollinger.
‘I originate from Kirkintilloch, gentlemen, in Dumbartonshire, but now reside near Bredon,’ replied Ross, in a formal, brisk tone that suggested that he was unwilling to engage in further conversation.
‘Then you have had the shortest journey of all of us,’ said Jenkins, giving the stranger a curious stare.
The latest arrival said nothing, as he turned away from the group.
‘Damn cold out here tonight,’ said the major, stamping his feet on the ground.
‘Miss Eames — and gentlemen, as it would appear that neither our host, nor the person you engaged, Mr Jenkins, is here tonight to, er, meet us, then perhaps we should adjourn to one of the nearby inns, and return in, say, thirty minutes’ time?’ suggested the doctor.
‘You can go to the inn if you want to, I will remain here,’ retorted Anstruther. ‘I’ve come a damn long way to be here tonight, and I’m not inclined to forsake our quest now.’
‘I was not implying that we abandon our visit entirely, Major. I was merely suggesting that we return later. I’m sure Miss Eames must be feeling the cold,’ corrected Hollinger becoming somewhat flushed in the face.
‘I agree with the major. If we go away now, and if either our host or this fellow you have engaged, Jenkins, was to turn up in our absence and see we were not here, he might decide not to wait for our return,’ offered Ganniford.
‘I am quite content to remain here, gentlemen,’ said Miss Eames, before Hollinger could reply.
‘Then it is agreed, we shall all remain,’ added Jenkins, observing that during this conversation Ross had moved across towards the large oak door and had been busily intent on turning its iron handle.
‘My word, Ross, I do believe that you have found the door to be open!’ exclaimed Ganniford.
The Scotsman said nothing as he stepped into the building.
‘Well that is fortunate indeed. I think we should follow Mr Ross, gentlemen. After you, my good lady,’ said Hollinger.
One by one the group entered the Abbey.
‘Hold the lantern up, Ganniford,’ instructed Jenkins trying to adjust his eyes to the intense darkness of the interior.
‘Hello! Hello! Is there anyone here?’ shouted out his companion, complying with the request.
‘It would appear that we are, how you say, not with others, but quite alone, gentlemen,’ said Hollinger, raising the other lantern.
‘Perhaps we should withdraw, gentlemen, and return in the morning,’ suggested Miss Eames.
‘Unsporting of our host not to be here to great us, after the long way we have all come,’ muttered Anstruther, ignoring the last remark. ‘Bad manners I call it, and damned inconvenient.’
‘What are we to do now, gentlemen?’ asked Hollinger, a worried expression on his face.
‘I must confess I am at a loss as to how to proceed,’ said Jenkins.
‘Look here, in the letter it said something about the old knight’s tomb, or monument, or something like that,’ said Ganniford.
‘Ah, Sir Roger de la Pole, I believe that was his name. He is one of your Templar Knights buried here in the abbey,’ offered Hollinger.
‘Well if we find the tomb then perhaps we would then know how next to proceed,’ said Ganniford, becoming increasingly impatient.
‘Capital idea! Rather dark in here though,’ said Major Anstruther.
‘It is rather a large building, gentlemen,’ said Miss Eames.
‘Would do no harm to look,’ urged Ganniford.
‘May I make a suggestion?’ said Jenkins. ‘As we are six in number, and yet have only two lanterns, why do we not form two groups and divide the lanterns between us. Ganniford and Miss Eames shall accompany me down the left-hand side of the abbey, whilst you Hollinger, Major and Ross take the other side.’
‘Excellent suggestion, sir,’ echoed Anstruther.
‘Speaking of Mr Ross, I cannot see the gentleman,’ said Hollinger.
The five members looked intently around them, straining to see any sign of their companion in the gloom.
‘I don’t believe I’ve seen him since we entered the building,’ said a puzzled Ganniford. ‘He must have begun to search the abbey by himself.’
‘Then no doubt we shall shortly meet up with him again. If you would care to proceed onwards Herr Jenkins with your group, and Major if you would accompany me,’ said Hollinger.
‘If we find this Pole fellow first we’ll give you a shout,’ indicated Ganniford as they set off.
‘And we will do the same,’ added Hollinger.
‘You keep the lantern, Ganniford. Miss Eames if you would care to take my arm, so that neither of the three of us becomes separated.’
‘That is most kind of you, Mr Jenkins.’
Ganniford lead the way cautiously down the side aisle of the building, holding the lantern in front of the group, and pausing now and then so that they could examine the various monuments that lay along the side of the wall, and occasionally glancing across at the other party’s lantern as it flickered in the darkness.
‘It would help if I knew what we were looking for,’ said Ganniford, irritably, after a few minutes had elapsed.
‘I believe that Sir Roger de la Pole would be buried inside a monumental tomb of some kind,’ replied Jenkins. ‘It might even have his effigy on top of it.’
‘Can’t see who this fellow is,’ said Ganniford bringing the lantern closer to one of the monuments. ‘The carving’s long been worn away, and there does not appear to be any lettering left round the sides.’
‘I think that monument probably relates to one of the old abbots,’ said the lady of their party.
‘You seem remarkably well informed, Miss Eames,’ said Jenkins.
‘I have seen similar edifices in other religious buildings.’
‘Nothing for it then but to continue our search,’ sighed Ganniford.
As the trio moved deeper into the abbey, the lantern threw up enlarged shadows of themselves onto the walls of the building and, as they neared the centre, they could hear the occasional sound of footsteps in the far distance.
Suddenly a voice, whom they recognized as belonging to Hollinger, cried out in the darkness, ‘Over here, gentlemen. We have found the Templar!’
‘Can you hold your lantern higher so we may see you?’ asked Ganniford.
‘There!’ pointed Miss Eames.
The three seekers quickly made their way across to the other side of the building, where Major Anstruther and Doctor Hollinger were waiting for them.
‘I believe this is what we are looking for. Sir Roger de la Pole, the Templar Knight,’ said Hollinger, holding the lantern high so that its rays fell on the mounted sarcophagus.
‘No sign of Ross?’ asked Jenkins.
‘Good heavens! It looks as though someone has recently forced open the tomb!’ exclaimed Anstruther. ‘Bring the lantern closer.’
The group crowded round the stone monument.
‘I believe you’re correct, Major. It looks as though someone has opened the lid,’ said Ganniford leaning forwards.
‘Some effort would have been required. The stone must weigh a great deal,’ added Jenkins.
‘Why would someone want to break into the tomb?’ asked Miss Eames.
‘We may be able to look inside. Bring the light nearer, Hollinger, so that I can see,’ instructed Anstruther.
‘Can you see anything?’ enquired Ganniford impatiently as the major peered into the sarcophagus.
‘My God, there’s a body in here!’
‘The ancient bones of Sir Roger, I expect,’ suggested Jenkins.
‘No, not bones, gentlemen. Good grief, it is none other than our missing host Grantly!’ exclaimed Anstruther stepping back from the tomb.
‘Let me see,’ said Ganniford moving forward quickly and bringing the lantern closer to the monument.
‘What can you see?’ asked Jenkins eagerly.
‘It’s Stanhope!’ replied Ganniford. ‘What can you see, Hollinger?’
The doctor took the lantern and stared down into the open tomb, before stepping back and addressing the group. ‘Major, you said you believed the body to be that of a certain Mr Grantly?’
‘Yes, Grantly,’ replied the military gentleman.
‘And you, Mr Ganniford, thought the man to be a Mr Stanhope?’
‘Yes. He told me his name was Stanhope,’ answered a bewildered Ganniford.
‘Well, that is most strange, gentlemen, for you see I recognize the deceased as a Dr Thorne,’ continued Hollinger.
The members of the group looked at one another for some seconds before Jenkins broke the silence. ‘Perhaps I may be able to clarify the situation. If you will allow me the lantern for a moment, my dear Ganniford?’
Jenkins took the light and peered into the sarcophagus.
‘Well?’ asked Ganniford growing impatient by his friend’s silence.
‘This man was known to me as Professor Harding. This is all most strange. Miss Eames, I wonder whether you would oblige us.’
‘Good God, man, you can’t expect a lady to look down at a corpse inside that thing!’ protested Anstruther.
‘If it would help us, Major, I am quite prepared to do so,’ replied Miss Eames moving forward cautiously.
‘Let me give you the lantern, my good lady,’ said Jenkins.
Miss Eames took hold of the light and stared briefly into the tomb, before recoiling backwards.
‘My dear lady, let me take your arm,’ said Anstruther, placing a protective hand on the lady’s shoulder.
‘Would you care to take a seat, Miss Eames?’ asked an anxious Hollinger.
‘No, it is quite all right, gentlemen. I shall be well in a moment.’
‘Did you recognize the man?’ asked Ganniford eagerly.
‘Yes. The gentleman was known to me only as a Mr Robarts.’
‘This is, as you say in English, a most extraordinary state of affairs! It would appear that the deceased gentleman is known to all of us. In fact, I think it would be safe to conclude that it was this gentleman who was instrumental in our all being here tonight — and yet it would also appear that the said gentleman was known to each of us individually by a different name,’ said Hollinger looking perplexed and rubbing his forehead with his hand.
‘Good lord, Jenkins, this is a deuce fine mystery and no mistake!’ exclaimed Ganniford.
‘It looks as though our host did keep his appointment after all,’ replied Jenkins.
‘Mystery or not, what are we to do with the fellow?’ asked Anstruther.
‘What do you mean, Major — what are we to do with him?’ enquired Hollinger.
‘Well, undoubtedly he’s dead, although he can’t have been in there for long. Why don’t we just push the lid back into its rightful position, and leave him inside?’
‘We cannot do that, Major. It is only right and proper that we report this death to the proper authorities,’ urged Hollinger.
‘I agree with the major,’ interrupted Ganniford. ‘But if we do report this matter to the authorities, how the deuce are we going to explain our presence here tonight? It would look rather odd to say the least.’
‘I am inclined to agree with you, Dr Hollinger. It is obvious that a crime has been committed, and as such we have a duty to report the matter,’ said Jenkins.
‘Miss Eames, what do you think?’ asked Ganniford.
‘I don’t know what to think, gentlemen,’ replied the lady shaking her head as she turned away from the scene.
‘Look here, Hollinger, how do you think all this is going to look? Six people walking around the abbey at this time of night. There’s bound to be some difficult questions to answer,’ said Anstruther pacing up and down.
‘The major is correct. It would look decidedly bad for us if we were to tell the authorities the real reason as to why we are all here tonight, trying to find the tomb of some medieval knight at such a late hour,’ continued Ganniford.
‘I must confess, my friend, that you may well have a point,’ acknowledged Jenkins.
‘Then let us put the top back on the tomb and leave as quickly as possible. No one would ever know that we have been here tonight,’ urged Anstruther.
‘I shouldn’t do that, sir, if I were you!’ said a gruff voice suddenly from out of the darkness.
The five members turned round quickly to see who had disturbed their conversation, and were alarmed to see a uniformed police officer standing before them holding a small lantern.
‘Now then, gentlemen — and miss — would someone care to tell me what has been going on here tonight?’
CHAPTER ONE
LEDBURY, MARCH 1889
‘Samuel.’
‘Yes, my dear?’ replied a voice from behind the newspaper.
‘Are you familiar with the works of Mr Gilbert and Mr Sullivan?’
‘When constabulary duty’s to be done, to be done, the policeman’s lot is not a happy one!’ came back the tuneful reply.
‘Samuel, I did not know that you had such a fine voice!’
‘Pirates of Penzance — or is it Pinafore?’ mused Ravenscroft, as he lowered his morning paper and stared at his wife through his spectacles, unsure as to whether she had just paid him a compliment, or had been merely teasing him over the breakfast table.
‘Oh, I think it was the former,’ replied Lucy. ‘More tea?’
‘Yes I believe it was the Pirates — although it could have been Ruddigore, the more I think about it,’ said Ravenscroft resuming his reading.
‘No, it was definitely The Pirates of Penzance.’
‘If you say so. Why do you ask?’
‘I read in the newspaper yesterday that Mr Gilbert and Mr Sullivan have composed a new operetta.’ ‘Really.’
‘They call it The Gondoliers,’ said Lucy, replenishing her husband’s empty cup.
‘Really,’ said a uninterested voice from behind the paper.
‘The critic in yesterday’s newspaper has declared it to be one of their finest works.’
‘Right.’
‘The songs are said to be very witty.’
‘Yes.’
‘The sets are quite colourful, I believe,’ persisted Lucy.
‘Yes.’
‘And the costumes are said to be quite striking in their design.’
‘Really.’
‘I wonder whether Mr Grossmith will be taking a role.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Samuel, you could at least listen to what I am saying,’ said a frustrated Lucy.
/> Ravenscroft lowered his newspaper once more. ‘I am sorry, my dear, you were saying?’
‘I was telling you about The Gondoliers, the new operetta by Mr Gilbert and Mr Sullivan.’
‘Ah yes — and no doubt this work is being performed in London this very day.’
‘The paper said the piece had been so well received, there was no reason that it should not run until the middle of the summer, at the very least. The critic in the Illustrated London News declared that it had been the finest thing he had seen this year. I was wondering whether we might undertake a short visit to— But no, you are far too busy,’ said Lucy, turning away and looking out of the window.
‘So this is what all this has been all about. You would like us to visit the capital to attend a performance of this Gondoliers,’ said Ravenscroft smiling.
‘Oh, Samuel, could we? I should so like to visit London. I have never been there, and have always wanted to go. We could go to one of the museums as well, or perhaps even Westminster Abbey. We need only be away for one night, if we caught the morning train?’ said Lucy, excitedly, placing a hand on her husband’s arm.
‘And when were you thinking that we might undertake this excursion, my dear?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘Well, we could go next week — or even this week. You do not seem to be particularly busy at the moment, and I am sure you must be eligible for a few days’ relief. Oh do say yes, Samuel! I’m sure you would enjoy returning to London, even if only for a day or two, and I know you would so like to show me all your old familiar places,’ continued Lucy, looking deeply into her husband’s eyes.
‘How can I, let alone any man, resist that beautiful, enticing smile of yours? Of course we shall go to London — and yes, you will see The Gondoliers.’
‘Oh, Samuel, you are the most wonderful man in the world!’ cried Lucy leaning across the table and planting a kiss on her husband’s cheek.
‘Excuse me, miss — sorry, Mrs Ravenscroft, Constable Crabb has just arrived and requests that he speaks with the master on urgent business,’ interrupted the maid at the doorway.
‘I’m sorry, my dear—’ began Ravenscroft.
‘Will you show Constable Crabb in, Susan?’ said Lucy, leaning back in her chair and giving a slight sigh as she did so.
