by Kerry Tombs
‘Tell me, do any of your patients ever escape from the asylum?’ asked Ravenscroft his curiosity aroused.
‘Why do you ask, Inspector?’ said the superintendent adopting a defensive posture.
‘I was just curious to know. Has anyone left without your permission recently?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘There was one gentleman. Name of Martin. He was out in the gardens planting some crops about a month ago. When the wardens counted up the numbers in the party at the end of the day, he was found to be missing.’
‘I see. Could you describe this man Martin for us?’ asked Ravenscroft stopping at the foot of the stairs.
‘About forty years of age, tall, thin, of a docile personality.’
‘Did he by any chance have a missing finger on his left hand?’ asked Ravenscroft eagerly.
‘Why yes. How did you know that, Inspector? Have you seen Martin? Have you got him in custody?’
‘No, but I can tell you that this man Martin has been seen quite recently. In fact we believe that he is the man who has abducted Sir Charles Chilton’s daughter.’
‘Good heavens!’ exclaimed Woods.
‘What can you tell me about this man? It is a matter of great urgency.’
‘I think you had better come into my office, gentlemen,’ said the superintendent opening a door which led off the hallway.
‘It is important that we learn as much as we can about this man,’ repeated Ravenscroft as he and Crabb followed Woods into his room.
‘I believe I may be able to supply you with some of the facts,’ said Woods reaching for a large ledger on one of the shelves at the back of his desk. ‘Yes, let me see. Martin. Martin. Ah, here we are. I cannot tell you a lot about him. It is just as I thought, he was already a patient at the asylum before I came here.’
‘And how long have you been in charge here?’ asked Ravenscroft anxious to know more.
‘Just over six years.’
‘And you say that this man Martin was already here when you came?’
‘Yes. Ah, now this is interesting. Apparently four years ago Martin was undertaking some work in the kitchens, when he met with a serious accident. Something to do with one of the large knives. That must have been when he lost his finger,’ said Woods looking down at the page of his ledger.
‘Poor man!’ exclaimed Crabb.
‘Did Martin ever talk about Sir Charles Chilton or any other members of his family?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘No. He was a man who kept very much to himself. He seldom spoke, and did not go out of his way to strike up any friendships with any of the other inmates.’
‘I find it even more strange then that he should choose to escape and abduct Miss Chilton. Did he ever talk about leaving the asylum one day, and what he might do then?’
‘No, as I said, he was a man of few words. Oh yes, there was one occasion when he had to be restrained.’
‘When was that?’
‘Shortly after he lost his finger, I believe.’
‘Can you tell me the circumstances of what happened at that time?’
‘I remember one of the wardens called me to his room. Martin was shouting, saying he had no reason to be here, and that he should be set free, and that he could stand it no more, or words to that affect.’
‘What happened next?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘We tried to reason with him, but to no avail. The man just fell to the floor, sobbing and crying, saying over and over again, that a great injustice had been done. We could do no more for him, so we left him alone in his room, making sure that all items of a harmful nature were removed. The next day, he was restored to his former self, and everything carried on as usual.’
‘This is most interesting. Did you not believe this man Martin when he said he had been imprisoned here against his will?’
‘Oh dear me Inspector, that is what a great number of our patients say,’ laughed Woods. ‘If we believed everything they told us, there would be no one here at all.’
‘And just why was this man incarcerated here in the first place?’
‘Let me see,’ said Woods consulting the register once again. ‘Here we are. The notes were made by my predecessor — “This man is a great danger both to himself and to society, and is not to be released under any circumstances”, I think that answers your question Inspector.’
‘Did no one ever question that statement?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘No, we saw no reason to review the initial diagnosis. We could only do that if someone from the man’s family urged us to do so.’
‘And did anyone from his family do that?’
‘As far as I know Martin appeared not to have any family.’
‘So if he had not escaped last month, he would have been here for the rest of his life?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Forgive me, Superintendent Woods, if I say that all that sounds rather harsh,’ said Ravenscroft.
‘It may appear so to you, Inspector, but you are an outsider. You do not know what these people have suffered in the past, and how society might be put at risk should they be allowed to go free once more. The fact that Martin has taken this girl would seem to support my view.’
‘Tell me, Superintendent, did Martin ever mention anyone of the name of Huddlestone or Drew to you?’ continued Ravenscroft, realizing that it would be pointless to pursue his argument, and hoping that a new line of enquiry would lead somewhere.
‘No, I don’t think so. The names are unfamiliar to me.’
‘Well thank you, Superintendent, you have been most helpful. Rest assured that once we have found this man he will be returned to you. Oh, one more thing before we go — you mentioned that this man Martin had no family; did he ever receive any visitors at all?’
‘No. No one.’
‘You mean that no one was responsible for him?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘No — oh yes, I see here that someone did call here once a year, and made a payment for his upkeep,’ said Woods looking down at the page once more.
‘Can you tell us the name of the person who made these payments?’ asked Ravenscroft anxious to know more.
‘Yes. The name is not entirely clear. Blackway, Brackway — no Brockway, I believe.’
‘Brockway!’ exclaimed Ravenscroft. ‘Brockway. Now that is most interesting. You are sure, Superintendent, that the name is Brockway?’
‘Yes, it comes back to me now. Once a year, Mr Brockway calls upon us, enquires about the health of Martin, and pays for his next year’s upkeep.’
‘Thank you, Mr Woods. Come, Crabb, we need to move quickly. I think I now know where Mildred Chilton can be found. It is time we rescued her.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
LEDBURY AND KIDDERMINSTER
Lucy stood by the window overlooking Church Lane, watching the raindrops making their slow, crooked way down the pane of glass; her thoughts returned once more to the small house in Inkerman Street, where she saw again in her mind’s eye the stern, lined face of Mrs Huddlestone, and the forlorn eyes of the desperate young boy. She recalled her conversation there, and wondered what it was she had said to the woman that had so alarmed her, causing the occupants of the house to flee as soon as she had left.
Then there was the cry of the baby she was sure that she had heard, it seemed to come from the upstairs room, although the woman had denied this. The red shawl lying discarded in the corner of the room had confirmed her fears. Oh, how she had wanted to run up those stairs and recover the infant, and how she now cursed her indecision and lack of resolution!
In her dreams that night she had seen the boy cowering in the corner of the room, holding out the baby in his outstretched arms in her direction; tears of sorrow and longing ran down his face, entreating her to come to their aid. But as she had attempted to move towards the children, the dark presence of the woman had suddenly interceded between them, and she had found herself being pushed further and further away by this new darkened force. The increasing pain of
her failure added to the desperate cries of the two children.
Despite the heat from the fireplace, and the confines of the small drawing-room, she felt a cold shiver run down her spine, as the awful realization swept over her that she might never see the boy again and that he and the infant might eventually suffer the same fate as the girl found under the stairs. And then there was Mildred Chilton. Why had she not be found in the house? Or had she also been confined to one of the upstairs rooms, held against her will, by that awful woman and her associates?
‘Begging the intrusion, ma’am, but it’s that strange man again, saying he must see you at all costs,’ said the maid interrupting her thoughts.
‘Mrs Ravenscroft, the day is saved! The Gorgon has been located in her den! Our prey is about to be netted! The veil is about to be lifted!’ said Shorter rushing enthusiastically into the room and seizing Lucy’s hands.
‘Calm yourself, Mr Shorter,’ said Lucy wondering what had caused such animation in the new arrival.
‘Calm, Mrs Ravenscroft! This is not the time for calm. This is the time for decisions to be made! Time for us to act, my dear lady!’
‘Whatever has happened?’ asked Lucy.
‘After the flight of our party, I decided to contact my fellow newspaper editors in the three adjacent counties, to see whether they had been approached to run similar advertisements in their journals. My esteemed colleague, Mr Nightingale of the Hereford Times remembered an advertisement which had been placed nearly a year ago in his newspaper, similar in content and language to the one which our Mrs Huddlestone placed in my own paper.’
‘Hereford. So that is where they have gone,’ interjected Lucy breaking into the fast flowing words of the newspaperman.
‘Not so. Ah, it’s cunning my dear lady — very cunning. Our Mrs Drew is sly!’
‘Whatever do you mean?’
‘Although the advertisement had been placed in the Hereford Times, the box address was given as a Mrs Polly Huddlestone residing in Kidderminster no less!’
‘Kidderminster — but why Kidderminster when the advertisement was placed in the Hereford newspaper?’ asked Lucy.
‘That is where the cunning comes in, my dear lady. By placing an advertisement for an unwanted child in one town, and having the address in another, the Drew/Huddlestone woman was hiding her tracks. Extremely clever. Could not have thought of it myself. We are dealing with a very ingenious and dangerous person. The deception of the woman!’
‘I see. I remember my husband saying that he had been told by the next-door neighbour that there was a daughter, called Polly, who used to call on them.’
‘There you have it!’
‘So that is where the Drew woman has gone — to her daughter’s in Kidderminster.’
‘Exactly!’
‘Mr Shorter, you are so wonderful. How clever of you to have thought of contacting your fellow newspaper editors.’
‘It is nothing, my dear lady. We newspapermen are used to making investigations in our quest for the truth. No stone is left unturned by the seekers of knowledge. If the pan is cold and empty, then you must look for other food to fill it, as they say.’
‘We must travel to Kidderminster at once,’ said Lucy eagerly.
‘My own sentiments exactly, my dear Mrs Ravenscroft, but perhaps it would be advisable if we were to inform your husband first?’
‘I’m afraid my husband is away at present.’
‘Ah yes, the Droitwich disappearance. Quite understand. “Constabulary duty to be done.” Then perhaps we should visit the police station in Kidderminster and engage their assistance, before we seek out the Drew woman?’
‘I think that might be wise,’ said Lucy hastily writing a note to leave for her husband, and then calling her maid.
‘There is a train in fifteen minutes. We can be there within the hour,’ said Shorter excitedly. ‘What a story all this will make! The pen is poised, my dear Mrs Ravenscroft. The pen is ready!’
* * *
Later that morning, Lucy and Shorter, accompanied by a uniformed police officer, made their way down the narrow alleyway that ran between the two rows of brick houses, that lead away from the police station, in the town of Kidderminster.
‘Number thirty-five, ma’am,’ pronounced the constable. ‘What would you like me to do, Mrs Ravenscroft?’
‘I will knock on the door first,’ said Lucy.
‘What a miserable looking place,’ muttered Shorter looking at the shabbily constructed terraced house.
‘Ready when you are, ma’am,’ announced the officer.
‘Good luck, my dear lady,’ said Shorter giving an encouraging smile.
Lucy returned the smile, then moved towards the house. On the journey to Kidderminster, as they had sat together on the train, watching the stations of Malvern, Worcester and Droitwich pass by slowly, it had seemed as though their journey would have no end, and as they had walked down the hill into the centre of the town, doubts began to enter her mind. What if the address they had been given did not exist? What if the Drews had lived there before their stay in Worcester and had now moved elsewhere? What if she arrived too late and some terrible misfortune had befallen the children? Now all those questions were about to be answered — and she hoped against hope that they had not come too late.
There had been no sign of movement from inside the house, no signs of moving curtains or eyes observing her arrival. As she raised her shaking gloved hand and bought it down on the woodwork, she felt a cold anxiety within her taking hold, and prayed that she would keep her nerve in what was about to follow.
Receiving no reply, she strained to hear any possible noise from within the house, she repeated her action, but again there was no response.
So, they had left. She was too late.
‘Let me try, ma’am,’ said the officer joining her. ‘Open up. Police!’ he shouted, banging his fist heavily on the door. ‘Open up in the name of the law!’
‘They have gone,’ said Lucy sadly.
‘Stand back, ma’am,’ indicated the policeman, taking three steps backwards then rushing at the door.
The wood gave way.
‘Best if I go first, ma’am,’ said the constable entering the building.
Lucy and Shorter followed.
‘’Ere what are you doing!’ exclaimed a voice from within.
‘We believe a Polly Drew lives here,’ said the constable addressing the old woman, whom Lucy recognized as Granny Thomson.
‘What she doing here?’ said the woman pointing angrily at Lucy.
‘Where is Mrs Drew?’ asked Lucy anxiously. ‘Where are the children?’
The woman said nothing as she shrugged her shoulders and turned away.
‘I’ll look upstairs, Mrs Ravenscroft,’ said the Constable.
‘I’ll look in the backroom,’ said Shorter.
‘Where are the children?’ repeated Lucy. ‘For God’s sake tell me where the children are.’
The old woman gave her a surly look, before seating herself at the table.
‘No one upstairs, ma’am,’ said the constable returning to the room.
‘There seems to be no one in the backroom either,’ said Shorter.
‘Please tell me where they are. Where are the children? What have you done with Mildred Chilton?’ implored Lucy, feeling that her heart was about to break.
‘Who is she? I don’t know anybody of that name,’ said the old woman.
‘The birds must have flown the nest,’ said a dejected Shorter.
‘If you have one ounce of humanity in you, tell me where the children are?’ said Lucy.
The old woman looked away and remained silent.
‘Oh, Mr Shorter, we are too late!’ cried out Lucy. ‘They have evaded us again.’
‘Do not distress yourself, my dear lady,’ offered Shorter.
‘Why is it that they are always one step ahead of us?’
‘They cannot run for ever.’
‘What is that noise
?’ said Lucy suddenly.
‘What noise, ma’am?’ asked the constable.
‘I’m sure I heard a noise. Tapping. Somewhere in this room. Cannot you hear the noise? Over there!’ exclaimed Lucy pointing at the blue painted cupboard situated in the corner under the stairs.
The constable sprang forwards and opened the door.
‘Please don’t hit me! I ain’t done nothing wrong,’ said a voice from within.
‘It’s the boy! Let me speak to him,’ said Lucy kneeling down by the cupboard.
‘The old woman must have locked him inside when she heard us,’ remarked Shorter.
‘Do not be afraid. We will not harm you. You remember me. I came the other day to the house in Worcester. Give me your hand,’ said Lucy reaching out slowly for the boy.
‘Don’t want to come out. She will hit me.’
‘It’s all right. Mrs Drew is not here. You are safe now.’
The boy hesitantly accepted Lucy’s hand and stepped out of the cupboard. ‘You going to hit me?’
‘No, of course not,’ said Lucy clasping the ragged child tightly to her, seeking to bring comfort to the sobbing figure. ‘There is nothing to fear. We have come to save you.’
‘Poor child,’ said Shorter stepping forward.
The child, alarmed by the sudden movement of the newspaperman, broke free of Lucy and moved quickly to the side of the room, where he sank to his knees and sought to cover his face.
‘It’s all right. These gentlemen are with me. They mean you no harm. Give me your hand,’ said Lucy reaching out again for the child. ‘What is your name?’
‘Harold,’ said the boy dragging his arm across his tear-stained face.
‘Well Harold, how old are you?’ asked Lucy smiling and looking into the child’s face.
‘Don’t know,’ came back the answer.
‘Never mind. Would you like a drink?’
The boy nodded.
‘Constable, perhaps you could see if there is any water in the kitchen. Now Harold, take a seat here by me at the table. Don’t worry, Granny Thomson can’t harm you now. She will never harm you again.’
