by Kerry Tombs
‘This case has been inscribed with the name Charles Quinton!’ said Ravenscroft holding up the item.
‘Very well. I confess it. I also took Quinton’s cigarette case. It would only have been thrown away, or one of the servants would have taken it. Looks as though you will have to charge me with theft, inspector,’ said Quinton.
Ravenscroft sighed, knowing that his adversary was enjoying their confrontation.
‘Sorry to have disappointed you, Ravenscroft.’
‘Your wallet, sir.’
‘Come now, Ravenscroft, surely some things can remain private?’
‘Your wallet if you please, Captain Quinton,’ said Ravenscroft firmly, but knowing that this was probably his last opportunity to obtain an admission from his chief suspect.
Cherrington reached into the top inside pocket of his coat and took out his wallet. ‘There are just a few notes, a receipt from Talbot for the room, nothing more,’ he said handing over the items to Ravenscroft.
‘I should like to see the rest of the wallet if you please.’
Cherrington looked away quickly, as Ravenscroft reached for the wallet and peered inside.
‘I told you there was nothing else there,’ said Cherrington.
Ravenscroft ran his hand inside the empty wallet. ‘Ah, what have we here, Mr Cherrington? There appears to be something behind the lining.’
Cherrington moved uneasily in his chair as Ravenscroft took out a small piece of folded paper which he then proceeded to open.
‘A rather faded newspaper account headed Pimlico Poisoner: Acquitted’. Well, Captain Quinton this is most interesting. I suppose you are going to tell me that this was Captain Quinton’s wallet, and that you appropriated it for yourself, and that you did not know that this newspaper cutting was here, hidden in the lining? However, you and I know that will not suffice, especially as the wallet has the name Cherrington neatly engraved on the outside,’ said a triumphant Ravenscroft. ‘It is all over with you, Captain Quinton!’
‘All right, all right. Stop going on, man,’ protested Ravenscroft’s suspect burying his face in his hands. ‘Yes, I am Captain Charles Quinton.’
‘Thank you, sir. You should have discarded the cutting, like all the other papers you destroyed,’ said a satisfied Ravenscroft.
‘What do you want from me, Ravenscroft?’ asked a crestfallen Quinton.
‘The truth, Captain Quinton. That is all we have ever wanted.’
Quinton reached for the glass of water on the table and after swallowing its contents he turned to face his accusers. ‘I remembered you Ravenscroft, that first day we met on the stairs at Talbots’, as that young policeman who had arrested and charged me with the death of my first wife all those years ago in Pimlico, but I hoped that you would not recognize me. After the trial I attempted to resume my position in London society, but everywhere I went people were whispering behind my back or shunned me until I was driven out of the capital. For a while I tried living in Manchester and Liverpool, and then retired to the country, but it was the same everywhere I went. Then I decided to go to India. I thought that perhaps no one out there would have ever heard of the Pimlico Poisoning case. I started the tea plantation and the business prospered. I met and married Isabella, and we were happy for some years, until the fever took her away from me. Realizing that there was nothing left for me in India, I decided to return to England, but thought it better if I took the name Cherrington — it is an old name from my mother’s side of the family — so that I could begin again, without the past haunting me. That is why I tried to make you believe that I was Cherrington, but you persisted with your questions, never accepting what I was telling you, always trying to dig up the past. Why couldn’t you leave things alone, Ravenscroft?’
‘The answer to that, Captain Quinton, is that two murders have been committed here in Pershore. When and where had you previously encountered Jones, or should I say Murphy?’
‘Good God, man, why will you not believe me when I tell you that I had nothing to do with that man’s death? I had never seen him anywhere before. You must believe that,’ pleaded Quinton.
‘I believe that you poisoned Jones because he was threatening to expose you as Quinton—’
‘No, no,’ protested Quinton.
‘And that you then poisoned Miss Martin because she was blackmailing you,’ persisted Ravenscroft.
‘No, no. This is all nonsense,’ replied Quinton covering his face with his hands once more.
‘Is it?’
‘Look, Ravenscroft, I have never hurt anyone in my life. I did not poison my wife in Pimlico. I was acquitted by the jury and walked away from the Old Bailey as a free man. I came here to Pershore upon my return to England, because the place held fond memories for me and because I was waiting for my funds to arrive from India. I had never seen either Jones or Miss Martin before, and I certainly had nothing to do with their deaths.’
‘Well, I have to tell you, Captain Quinton, that I do not believe you.’
‘I know it was stupid of me to deny that I was Quinton. I realize that now. But if I had told you the truth you would naturally have concluded that I had committed these murders.’
‘Why don’t you tell me everything, Quinton?’ said Ravenscroft leaning forward in his seat and looking directly at his suspect. ‘You and I both know the truth. Surely you must be tired of all these lies and deceit. Why don’t you confess that you killed Jones and Miss Martin?’
‘Good heavens, man, why don’t you believe me when I tell you I am innocent?’ pleaded Quinton.’
‘You have lied to us so many times, Mr Quinton. Why should I believe you now?’
Quinton said nothing as he stared at the blank wall to his side for several moments. Ravenscroft was content to wait, knowing that it would only be a matter of time before he would, at last, secure a confession.
Suddenly Quinton rose to his feet. ‘I have to tell you, Ravenscroft, that I am innocent of these crimes. It is a pity that you cannot accept my word on this matter. As you have no further evidence against me, I believe that I am within my rights to walk away from this room. If you seek to detain me on these false accusations I will contact my lawyer, Mr Sefton Rawlinson, who will no doubt secure my release.’
‘I do not like being threatened, Mr Quinton,’ said Ravenscroft taken aback by this renewed assertiveness of his prime suspect.
‘If you can find the evidence against me, then by all means charge me. Otherwise it is my intention to leave this town tomorrow. I wish you good day, Ravenscroft,’ said Quinton picking up his cane and wallet and walking quickly towards the door.
‘Sir?’ said Crabb taken aback by this sudden turn in events.
‘Let him go, Constable Crabb.’
Crabb stood aside as Quinton strode out of the room and on through the outer room of the police station.
‘Shall I go after him, sir,’ asked a perplexed Crabb.
‘No use, Tom,’ sighed Ravenscroft
‘But you and I both know he is guilty,’ protested Crabb.
‘Yes, and he knows that as well, but with no evidence to bring against the man . . . I was sure that once we had made him confess that he was Quinton all along, he would have admitted the poisonings as well.’
‘He should have thrown that cutting away.’
‘His vanity made him keep it. Damn it, Tom, every time I get close to extracting a confession from the man, he slips through our fingers yet again. I am afraid time is against us. Unless I can find the evidence that Quinton killed Jones and Miss Martin we shall lose him for good after tomorrow. There has to be some previous connection between Quinton and Jones. There just has to be — but where Tom, where?’
Crabb looked away, desperate that he could bring no comfort to his friend and superior.
‘Right, Tom. Enough of this gloom. Let us repair to the local inn and refresh ourselves. Perhaps the ale there might give us new inspiration.’
* * *
‘Here you are, sir. Two tanka
rds of our finest ale. I will bring over the bread and ham to your table.’
‘Thank you, landlord. We are certainly in need of these,’ said Ravenscroft raising the tankard to his mouth. ‘That is better. You seem very quiet in here today.’
‘Gone to Worcester most of them,’ replied the landlord wiping down the bar.
‘Oh, why is that?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘Haven’t you heard. Lord Salisbury is speaking there.’
‘I see.’
‘Big rally by all accounts. You knows who Lord Salisbury is?’
‘Of course.’
‘Not every day that the Prime Minister of England visits the county.’
‘No, I suppose not.’
‘It’s all here in the paper,’ said the landlord passing over the newspaper to Ravenscroft.
‘Lord Salisbury, Prime Minister to Address Anti-Home Rule Rally at Guildhall in Worcester at three o’clock this afternoon,’ read out Ravenscroft.
‘Should be a grand occasion,’ added the landlord.
‘Indeed. Good God, Tom!’ exclaimed Ravenscroft suddenly. ‘We have been so stupid! That was on that slip of paper we found under Jones’s bed: ‘S.WORCESTER. SEPTEMBER 12. 3 P.M.’ Don’t you see — ‘S’ stands for Salisbury, and the rest refers to the time and place of this rally — Worcester at three o’clock this afternoon. What time is it now?’
‘Just gone two, sir,’ replied a startled Crabb.
‘Quickly, get the trap!’
‘Where are we going to, sir?’
‘To Worcester with all possible speed. I pray we may yet be in time!’
CHAPTER TWELVE
WORCESTER
‘I still don’t understand, sir,’ said Crabb as the trap set off at a fast pace along the road to Worcester.
‘I should have seen it earlier. The pistol, the letter, the name Murphy, it all points to the Fijians,’ replied Ravenscroft.
‘You mean those Irish nationalists?’
‘Yes. Some years ago they tried to blow up Clerkenwell gaol in London killing twelve people I believe in the process. They also tried to blow up the Yard though no one was killed that time. They will stop at nothing to secure Home Rule for Ireland.’
‘Where does Lord Salisbury fit into all this?’ asked Crabb.
‘Well, a few years ago, the Liberals led by old Gladstone tried to get Home Rule through the House of Commons, but they were defeated by the Conservatives. Lord Salisbury, the present Conservative prime minister is apparently visiting Worcester today to speak at an Anti-Home-Rule rally. I think Murphy was a Fenian, or certainly someone sympathetic to the Irish cause. I am sure that letter was instructing him to attend the rally and attempt an assassination of Lord Salisbury. You have seen the pistol, Tom.’
‘But why are we trying to get to Worcester in time for the rally? Surely there is no urgency now that Jones, or rather Murphy, is dead.’
‘Yes that is true, but we cannot conclude that the threat has been removed simply because Murphy is now dead. It could be that Murphy had an accomplice, or that the brotherhood are aware that Murphy is dead, and are sending someone else to carry out the attack. We cannot sit idly by when the life of the prime minister of this country may still be in danger,’ explained Ravenscroft with determination.
‘I see. Then I had better make this old horse go faster. There is another cab behind us that seems intent on keeping up close to us.’
‘Don’t worry about him. If there is an accomplice, and we can apprehend him before he has the opportunity to carry out his foul deed, we may also be able to discover the connection between Murphy and our Captain Quinton. Faster, Tom, faster.’
* * *
Crabb tied the reigns of the horse to a post outside the Commandery, and he and Ravenscroft set off at a brisk pace up the hill towards the cathedral.
‘Ten minutes before Lord Salisbury is due to speak and it looks as though the world and his wife have decided to come to Worcester today,’ said Ravenscroft observing the crowds of people who were intent on making their way along the narrow streets. ‘When we arrive I will find the superintendent and alert him to the situation.’
The two policemen entered the main street of the town and pushed their way through the crowd towards the Guildhall.
‘There he is,’ said Ravenscroft pointing towards a uniformed officer who was walking up and down the pavement.
‘Good morning, Ravenscroft. I thought you were still in Pershore investigating those poisonings,’ said the Superintendent.
‘I was, but important information has just come to hand to suggest that one of the deceased was a member of the Fenian Brotherhood,’ said Ravenscroft anxious to impart his information as quickly as possible.
‘Good grief!’
‘We think he may have had an accomplice. I think we should stop the meeting.’
‘Can’t do that now, Ravenscroft. There will be a riot if the meeting is called off at this short notice. I doubt we could stop it in time, anyway. All I can do is go round the men and alert them to the danger, and tell them to arrest any suspicious characters. Keep me informed, Ravenscroft,’ said the superintendent moving swiftly away.
‘Who are we looking for, sir?’ asked Crabb.
‘I don’t know, Tom. This Fenian could be anyone. All we can do is keep a sharp lookout for anyone behaving strangely,’ replied Ravenscroft looking all around him. ‘Listen to that, Tom. Do you hear the sound of a violin? I recognize that tune.’
‘Turco,’ pronounced Crabb.
‘Quickly over there, by the wall,’ pointed Ravenscroft.
The two policemen pushed their way through the crowd to where a familiar figure could be seen playing his violin, a hat containing coins at his feet.
‘So, Count, we meet again,’ said Ravenscroft. ‘Empty your pockets if you please.’
‘What is this? Who disturbs the Paganini?’ shouted a startled Turco.
‘Crabb, search the man,’ instructed Ravenscroft.
‘What you do? Turco he has done no harm,’ protested the violinist.
‘Nothing, sir,’ said Crabb after searching through the man’s pockets.
‘Nevertheless I want this man taken into custody,’ said Ravenscroft calling over one of the constables who was standing nearby.
‘This is not-a right,’ said Turco.
‘Constable, will you be so good as to arrest this man and take him under close supervision to the station,’ said Ravenscroft.
‘Yes sir. Now you just come along with me, sir,’ replied the constable taking hold of Turco’s arm and beginning to lead him away.
‘What is this? You cannot do this to Turco,’ shouted the musician as he disappeared into the crowd with the uniformed officer.
‘You think Turco is part of this plot?’ asked Crabb.
‘I don’t know. There was no weapon on him. Let’s see if we can get nearer the front.’
The crowd suddenly surged forwards and cheered loudly as a group of dignities emerged from the main entrance to the Guildhall building and mounted the wooden stage that had been erected there.
A tall, grey-haired gentleman stepped forwards and introduced one of the speakers. ‘Lord Parkinson, the chairman of the County Conservative Association, will now say a few words.’
‘It’s him!’ exclaimed Crabb. ‘He was the man in the hotel bedroom.’
‘So I see. Said his name was Harris. No wonder he was anxious not to tell us who he really was. Afraid of the scandal. That must be Salisbury in the middle of the group,’ said Ravenscroft attempting to push his way towards the front of the crowd.
Parkinson began speaking as the two detectives edged their way closer to the stage, both men looking intently at the people around them.
‘Police, make way!’ said Ravenscroft clearing a pathway until he and Crabb reached the front of the meeting. Then he and Crabb faced the crowd as the speech continued.
‘One of these has to be the assassin,’ whispered Ravenscroft.
‘But
which one?’ asked Crabb as he surveyed the large crowd.
‘Will you now welcome the Prime Minister, Lord Salisbury,’ announced Parkinson as the crowd cheered enthusiastically.
Suddenly someone in the audience shrieked. Ravenscroft caught sight of what seemed like a glint of sunlight reflected off a bright object from somewhere in the midst of the crowd.
‘Arrest that man!’ shouted Ravenscroft pushing his way frantically towards the disturbance.
The crowd let out a number of cries as Ravenscroft saw the man taking aim.
‘Stop that man!’ cried Ravenscroft almost within striking distance of the assassin.
‘I have him!’ yelled a voice in the crowd.
‘No you ain’t,’ shouted another.
‘Over there!’ cried a third voice.
Ravenscroft pushed forwards and attempted to wrench the weapon from the man’s hand.
More members of the crowd cried out as Ravenscroft wrestled the man to the ground, but as he sought to secure him, the man forcibly pushed him to one side and quickly disappeared from view.
‘Where is he?’ shouted Ravenscroft getting quickly to his feet.
‘Over there!’ called out Crabb.
Ravenscroft and Crabb pushed their way frantically through the crowd as Parkinson was heard calling for order from the stage.
‘Where has he gone?’ said Ravenscroft emerging from the other side of the crowd.
‘There, sir!’ indicated Crabb pointing to a figure who was running along the road in the direction of the cathedral.
Ravenscroft and Crabb set off in quick pursuit and soon left the throng of people behind them as they chased the gunman across the green in front of the cathedral and round the side to the close.
‘He must be making for the river,’ said a breathless Ravenscroft observing that the man was now running down the flight of steps at the end of the cathedral close.
The two detectives followed the man down to the side of the river bank.
‘There he is, sir. He must be making for the boats at Diglis,’ shouted Crabb.
