by Kerry Tombs
‘Do not distress yourself, Miss Petterson. Nobody has been recovered from the canal. Can you confirm that Miss Chilton was in possession of this handkerchief on the day she disappeared?’
‘Yes, yes. I am sure.’
‘Then it seems highly likely that your charge was taken from the churchyard, by a person or persons unknown, along the path that leads down the hill, and across the railway line, to the side of the canal, and that the handkerchief was dropped there,’ said Ravenscroft.
‘All this is quite terrible, Inspector.’
‘If I may have the handkerchief back? Thank you, Miss Petterson. If you will excuse us, we must both continue with our investigations.’
* * *
A few minutes later Ravenscroft and Crabb stood once more in the churchyard of St. Augustine’s church.
‘A fine view from up here, Crabb,’ said Ravenscroft looking out beyond the canal and river and the salt workings below them, towards the buildings of the town in the distance. ‘Now that Miss Petterson has identified the handkerchief, I think we know which way young Mildred was taken.’
‘Do you think she was taken aboard a canal barge?’ asked Crabb.
‘Almost certainly, I would say. That would explain why no one in the area saw the girl and her captor. If Mildred, and the person or persons who took her left the town that way, they would have followed a route which joined the Worcester–Birmingham canal after a few miles, and from there they could have gone either north or south. We must make enquiries of the lock keepers along the canal to see whether they have noticed anything untoward. Unfortunately it is now getting dark, so we must wait for the morning.’
‘Do you believe Miss Petterson was telling us the truth? She could have arranged the abduction of the child herself and planted the handkerchief in the canal where it was sure to be found,’ suggested Crabb.
‘You could well be right, Tom, but I cannot see why she would have arranged such an abduction; she has nothing to gain by such an action — in fact quite the reverse.’
‘I don’t see sir.’
‘Well, she would have known that police enquiries would be made, and that such enquiries might have reveal the truth concerning her deception to secure an appointment here.’
‘She lied to us about her time in the church — tidying up the hymn books and such like.’
‘Yes. Just why did she go into the church? All this nonsense about finding which hymns had been chosen, and untidy books, I don’t believe her for one minute. No, I think she had arranged to meet someone there, although of course she denied that. Furthermore I believe she was inside the church for more than five minutes, giving ample time for Mildred to be taken. I wonder who she met there? Sir Charles, perhaps?’
‘Why Sir Charles?’ asked Crabb. ‘He is her employer.’
‘She could have been having a liaison with Chilton. She would not be the first governess to be taken advantage of by her employer.’
‘She is a bit too plain if you ask me, and he would probably frighten most women off with his bluff manner if he made advances towards them,’ joked Crabb.
‘You’re probably right Crabb, but we must retain an open mind. A meeting inside the church would have been well away from the house where the servants might have talked. Certainly Sir Charles does not appear to have any feelings towards his wife, so he may have transferred his affections to the governess, but until we have any evidence that Miss Petterson met either her employer, or indeed someone else, in the church, then we cannot accuse her of lying on that account.’
‘I suppose you’re right sir.’
‘What’s that, Tom?,’ said Ravenscroft suddenly.
‘It’s that laughing noise again, the same as last night,’ replied Crabb.
‘Yes, quick — where is it coming from?’
‘Over there sir, behind that tree,’ indicated Crabb.
‘Quickly Tom. Come out man, show yourself!’ shouted Ravenscroft as he and Crabb ran forwards.
A figure darted quickly from one side of the tree to behind one of the larger upright stones in the churchyard.
‘That’s him sir,’ said Crabb pointing to the ragged grey-haired man. ‘I swear that was the old fellow I chased down the path last night.’
‘Can’t catch Old John!’ laughed the man.
‘We would like a word with you, my man. We mean you no harm,’ said Ravenscroft walking slowly towards the stone.
‘Old John is too quick for thee!’ taunted the man, pulling an ugly face as he moved swiftly across to another stone.
‘Stop where you are,’ commanded Crabb. ‘It’s the law.’
‘Don’t like peelers. Can’t catch me! Can’t catch Old John!’
The man moved swiftly away from the approaching detectives, flinging his arms in the air and laughing as he did so.
‘We only want to ask you some questions about the girl who disappeared,’ called out Ravenscroft. ‘You are not in any trouble. There is nothing to fear.’
‘Can’t catch Old John!’
‘Did you see anything? Did you see who took her?’ asked Ravenscroft trying to keep up with the movements of the strange figure.
‘Can’t catch Old John!’ taunted the man.
‘For goodness sake stop still!’ commanded a frustrated Ravenscroft.
Suddenly the man came to an abrupt halt before a large vault in the corner of the churchyard, before issuing a loud piercing scream. ‘No, you shan’t have Old John! You can’t have me as well!’ he cried.
‘Good God,’ called out Ravenscroft, taken aback by the man’s fear. ‘Whatever ails you man?’
‘You can’t have me! He’s come back for me! Come back for me!’ repeated the man pointing at the tomb.
‘See if you can get round the other side of him, Tom,’ instructed Ravenscroft as they moved nearer the figure.
‘He has come back for me! Master has come back for me. Yer not taking Old John!’ shouted the man briefly turning in the detectives’ direction, before laughing out loud once more, and darting quickly from the churchyard. ‘Can’t catch Old John!’
‘Shall I get after him sir?’ asked Crabb, as the figure disappeared from view.
‘I fear he will be too quick for us again, Tom. Let him go.’
‘Strange fellow. How old do you think he was, sir?’
‘Difficult to tell by his dirty bedraggled appearance. Certainly many years older than you or me.’
‘Fellow was half-soaked if you ask me.’
‘Did you notice how he stopped suddenly by that vault and let out that loud scream? You would have thought that he had seen a ghost of some sort. How odd! We’ll make enquiries in the town tomorrow and see what people can tell us about him.’
‘Don’t expect he can help us anyway,’ added Crabb.
‘I’m inclined to agree with you. If the man did see the girl being abducted, I doubt whether he would have any sense at all to describe the event to us. Come Tom, the night is drawing in. We can’t do any more today; let us return home.’
CHAPTER SIX
LEDBURY
‘Well my dear it seems that we are both faced with mysteries that may prove difficult to solve.’
Ravenscroft was sitting with his wife, later that evening, before a roaring fire in their small house in Church Lane.
‘But what am I to tell poor Miss Corbett?’ asked Lucy.
‘I think it was very bold of you to take yourself off to Cheltenham like that,’ replied Ravenscroft seeking to evade the question.
‘I could do little else. If you had seen how distressed she was, in this very room, you would also have felt compelled to do all within your power to reunite her with her poor infant child.’
‘I am sure there must be some logical explanation for all this,’ said Ravenscroft, placing another log on the fire whilst attempting to lighten his wife’s anxiety.
‘That is what I thought, but you have seen the letter. Twenty-two Suffolk Square, Montpelier, Cheltenham. Mrs Amelia Huddleston
e. There is no other address it could be, and no one in the area has heard of the Huddlestones.’
‘Then I think we must conclude that the woman Huddlestone gave a false name and address.’
‘But why, Samuel? Why would she do that? I do not understand what she could gain by such deception.’
‘You say that, according to Miss Corbett, this woman Huddlestone had just lost her own child and that that was the reason for her anxiety, and for her desire to look after the infant Lily. If that is the case, she may have given the false address and gone elsewhere in case the mother should later reappear and want her child back. I can see how such a demand would cause problems for both the child, and for her new guardians.’
‘Then we have no chance of finding the Huddlestones,’ said a dispirited Lucy staring into the fire. ‘There is nothing more that I can do.’
‘There is one disturbing fact about this case — you say that Miss Corbett gave the woman £5 when she handed over the child?’
‘Yes — apparently it was agreed that the £5 would go some way towards the initial expenses the Huddlestones would incur. Oh no! You don’t think the woman took the money and then abandoned the child!’ cried out Lucy.
‘Unfortunately that may well be the case. Certainly in Whitechapel I would often come across poor unfortunates who were often more than prepared to give their children away, to what they perceived as a good home, in order to relieve themselves of their own personal responsibilities — and there were certainly other unscrupulous characters who were more than willing to take advantage of such orphan children.’
‘But that is terrible,’ said Lucy becoming more agitated. ‘To think that poor Lily has been given away to that terrible Huddlestone woman. She may be dying of hunger as we speak, or even be dead!’
‘There, there, my dear, I am sure that is not the case. It may all be a misunderstanding and everything will come right in the end. We may yet discover the whereabouts of this Mrs Huddlestone and you will then be able to reunite mother and child,’ said Ravenscroft placing a reassuring hand on his wife’s shoulder.
‘How on earth am I going to do that, when the Huddlestones are nowhere to be found in Cheltenham?’
‘We must look further afield. The letter itself does not appear to offer us any clues. How did your Miss Corbett learn of this Mrs Huddlestone?’
‘She replied to an advertisement in a local newspaper.’
‘Did she tell you the name of the newspaper?’
‘Apparently she was living on a farm in Hanbury at the time, and saw the advertisement in a Droitwich newspaper. I think it was the Droitwich News or something like that — no, The Droitwich Advertiser, I’m sure that was the name of the publication,’ said Lucy optimistically.
‘There we have it! A visit to the offices of The Droitwich Advertiser might discover the true name and address of the person who placed the advertisement, or at least may provide us with the names of similar unfortunate women who may have responded to Mrs Huddlestone request.’
‘Samuel, you are wonderful,’ said Lucy leaning over and kissing her husband, ‘I knew you would think of a solution. I shall travel with you to Droitwich tomorrow and visit the newspaper office in person.’
‘Do you think that is wise, my dear?’ asked Ravenscroft. ‘We do not know where all this is going to lead. It was very brave of you to have undertaken the journey to Cheltenham today.’
‘Well you are too busy to investigate this case at the present, and what harm can befall me in making enquiries at a newspaper office?’
‘Lucy, I am very proud of your actions in support of your Miss Corbett, and I know that you, more than most people, are entirely sympathetic to her situation. To give away your only child is a crime against nature, that would haunt one for the rest of one’s days. Of course you shall go, but only upon one condition.’
‘Yes, Samuel?’
‘If you are fortunate enough to discover either the true identity of this mysterious Huddlestone woman, or to find out the names of other unfortunate women, you will not act upon any of that information until you have consulted me.’
‘Of course, but whatever for?’
‘This Mrs Huddlestone may be a dangerous woman.’
‘We don’t know that yet,’ interrupted Lucy.
‘No we do not, and as I said, there may be a perfectly innocent explanation for all of this — but until we are in receipt of all the facts, we must err on the side of caution. Promise me that you will not do anything foolish.’
‘Oh Samuel, I’m sure you are exaggerating the danger.’
‘Promise me?’ said Ravenscroft leaning forwards and taking his wife’s hand within his own. ‘I came close to losing you in that cottage up on the hills, I could not bear to go through such torture again.’
‘Dear Samuel, I promise that I will not do anything foolish,’ replied a smiling Lucy. ‘Now tell me more about your case. It sounds perfectly dreadful that someone should have taken that poor girl. Whatever for?’
‘I wish I knew that, my dear. At present I can find no reason at all why anyone would have wanted to take the girl. Sir Charles Chilton is not particularly well liked by the town’s people, but the family have received no threats in the past, and no demands for money have been made since the girl was taken,’ sighed Ravenscroft.
‘From what you have told me, that governess has a lot to answer for. Fancy leaving the child to play alone in the churchyard, whilst she went inside the church. I think you should question her more. She does not sound like a woman to be trusted,’ suggested Lucy.
‘You are probably right, but I can see no reason why she would have been involved in the girl’s abduction. She has nothing to gain by it. No, I think whoever took the girl placed her on one of the salt barges and made their escape that way. All we can do now is to see whether we can trace their route along the canal, and hope that the lock keepers, or the canal folk, may have seen something.’
‘Let us hope you are successful. It is strange that you are looking for a young girl who has been cruelly abducted from her family, and that I am trying to reunite a young infant with her natural mother. And both have connections with Droitwich. Miss Corbett gave her baby away at the station in Droitwich, and your Miss Chilton was taken from Dodderhill church just outside Droitwich. Rather a coincidence, don’t you consider? You don’t think the two events are connected in some way?’ asked Lucy.
‘At the moment I cannot see how they are. We don’t know that your Miss Corbett’s baby has been taken against her mother’s will; there may yet be a simple explanation as to why you could not find the Huddlestones — I am sure you will discover the truth tomorrow. Several months seem to separate the two events.
‘It is late my dear, and both of us will have an early start in the morning. Let us hope that Tom and I will soon find out who has taken the Chilton girl, and that we will be able to bring her home safely, to her parents.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
DROITWICH
Lucy looked intently at the worn brass plate that was attached to the oak door of the old black and white three-storey building. She was standing on the main street of Droitwich; she peered closely and eventually made out the letters Droitwich Advertiser. Confident that she had found the correct address, she pushed open the door, and gradually made her way up the dimly lit flight of creaking steps.
After knocking twice, and receiving no answer, she decided to push open the door. As she entered the room, a large marmalade coloured cat gave out a loud squawk of annoyance as it brushed quickly past her legs and out onto the landing.
‘Good day. Is anyone there?’ Lucy called as she looked at the rows of ancient ledgers that graced every wall of the room, and the piles of untidy books and papers that littered a large desk and the floor. A thin shaft of sunlight stretched across a thread-bare patterned carpet, highlighting a brown-stained, chipped teacup and saucer which lay on a box of typeface letters.
‘Sorry, we don’t accept advertisements o
n Thursdays. You are too late for this week’s issue anyway,’ said a short, grey-haired man entering from an inner room.
‘I have not come to place an advertisement, but to make an enquiry,’ replied Lucy hesitantly.
‘Then you will have to go to the library, that’s where all the back copies are kept,’ muttered the man turning away, and searching through one of the stacks of papers on his desk.
‘I was rather hoping you would be able to help me.’
‘Sorry, madam, cannot help you today. Paper has to be printed. Readers to be reached. Advertisers to be pleased. No time to spare. Now where did I put that article on brine,’ said the man speaking in short sharp sentences.
‘Brine?’ enquired Lucy.
‘Salt, my dear lady, salt. The fortunes of Droitwich are based on salt. No salt; no Droitwich. I really must find that article — ah, here we are,’ replied the man holding up the missing sheet of paper with a degree of triumph, before turning on his heel and making his way back into his inner sanctum.
‘If you could but spare me a moment of your precious time sir, I would be most obliged,’ called out Lucy, wondering whether her journey might have been in vain.
‘Time! Time! Time, my dear lady, is something which idle people seek to expand, whereas those of us who are fully engaged attempt to harness,’ uttered the newspaper man with a degree of indignation, as he disappeared from view.
‘It is a police matter, sir.’
A moment’s silence ensued before a face peered round the corner of the inner door. ‘Police matter, you say. Since when have the police employed gentle ladies to conduct their business?’
‘I am not actually a member of the police force. It is my husband—’
‘Your husband! Then why is he not here to ask the questions?’ demanded the other indignantly.
‘He is busy on a case at the moment. A local girl has gone missing.’
‘Really. A local girl gone missing you say!’ exclaimed the newspaper man returning quickly to the main room. ‘Why on earth did you not mention that before. A missing person indeed! And your husband is leading the enquiry. May I be so bold as to make enquiries regarding the name of your husband, ma’am?’
