by Kerry Tombs
Ravenscroft could feel his chest tightening and his breath coming in short gasps as he and Crabb slowly gained on the man.
Suddenly the man stopped and turned to face the two detectives.
‘Stop! If you come any nearer I will fire,’ said the man pointing his gun at Ravenscroft.
‘It is all over,’ said Ravenscroft. ‘You cannot escape.’
‘I warn you, back away or I will fire.’
‘Don’t be a fool man. Give yourself up,’ urged Ravenscroft as he inched closer, feeling a cold sweat running down his back as he looked the gunman in the eye.
‘I tell you, I will fire!,’ shouted the man levelling the gun at Ravenscroft.
Suddenly a shot rang out.
The man dropped the gun and fell to the ground, crying out in pain as he did so, and clutching his wounded arm.
Ravenscroft spun round to see where the shot had come from, and saw a tall, dark-haired man holding a smoking revolver in his hand, and two uniformed policemen running up behind him.
‘What!’ exclaimed a relieved but perplexed Ravenscroft.
‘Take hold of him, men,’ instructed the man addressing the constables. ‘Are you all right, Ravenscroft?’
‘Yes,’ replied the startled detective. ‘Who the devil are you, and how do you know my name?’
‘Permit me to introduce myself. My name is Forbes from the Yard. Section D, Special Branch.’
The policemen pulled the wounded gunman to his feet.
‘Take him to the station,’ continued the new arrival.
‘Special Branch? I don’t understand?’ said a bewildered Ravenscroft as the blood-stained man was led away.
‘I am part of a special unit that has been established at the Yard to counter the Fenians. Charles Murphy has been one of our chief suspects for quite a while now. Recently we discovered that he had travelled to America to obtain guns and money there. When your telegram arrived at the Yard requesting information regarding Murphy, we knew that he must have arrived back in the country, and that he had evidently been planning some atrocity before his demise. Although your message stated that Murphy was dead, we knew that he had accomplices. We were also aware that Lord Salisbury was speaking here today,’ explained Forbes quickly.
‘Well I’ll be blowed!’ exclaimed Crabb.
‘I decided to travel down to Pershore early this morning and observed you taking a man to the police station for questioning. I then followed you to the inn and overheard your conversation there.’
‘I did not notice you.’
‘That was my intention. We pride ourselves at Special Branch in following our suspects without causing suspicion,’ smiled Forbes. ‘When you set off for Worcester, I followed you as quickly as I could.’
‘So it was you in that cab behind us?’ said Ravenscroft.
‘The gunman goes by the name of Flannigan. He is on our list of Fenian sympathizers.’
‘Well I am certainly glad that you arrived when you did. I do not know if I would have reached that gun before he fired it.’
‘I doubt it. That is why I shot him. The man is only wounded in the arm. We will attend to his wound. Then I will take him back to London for further questioning. He will no doubt recover in time to be hung. You have done good work, Ravenscroft. I will see that the authorities hear about it. I wish you good day, sir,’ said Forbes turning away.
‘One moment, sir. I am still investigating two murders in Pershore. One of the victims was your suspect Murphy, or Jones as he called himself. My chief suspect is a man by the name of Charles Quinton, although he also goes by the name of Cherrington. I have reason to believe that Murphy and my suspect met somewhere in the past, and that Quinton killed Murphy because of that association,’ said Ravenscroft.
‘The names of Quinton and Cherrington mean nothing to me,’ said Forbes dismissively.
‘Nevertheless, Mr Forbes I would like to question your suspect Flannigan. He might be able to provide us with vital information regarding my case,’ said Ravenscroft.
‘I am not sure that will be possible. Flannigan is a dangerous character and we need to question him as soon as possible. He may have important information to tell us regarding the safety of the realm. I intend taking him back to London on the train before nightfall.’
‘I acknowledge your concern, Mr Forbes, but I am investigating a serious case, sir. All I require is a few minutes with your suspect,’ urged Ravenscroft.
Forbes thought deeply for a moment or two. ‘Very well, Ravenscroft. I can give you half an hour, but I insist that I am present during your questioning, and that everything is conducted with the utmost secrecy.’
‘Of course, Mr Forbes. Shall we adjourn to the police station?
* * *
‘So, Mr Flannigan, it seems that we have foiled your attempt to assassinate Lord Salisbury,’ said Ravenscroft addressing the wounded gunman across the table.
The man remained silent, looking down at his tightly clasped hands on the table before him.
‘It will do you no good to remain silent, my man. You have been caught red-handed trying to assassinate the Prime Minister of this country,’ continued Ravenscroft. ‘You know that your accomplice Murphy is dead?’
The man looked up briefly in surprise at Ravenscroft for a moment, before staring down at the floor.
‘You might like to know how Murphy died. He was poisoned, but not before he had received a letter telling him to meet you here today at three o’clock. He was to be your fellow assassin. If your shot failed then possibly Murphy might have had greater success. Do you want to know who killed Murphy?’
‘No concern of mine,’ mumbled the man.
‘Speak up, Flannigan,’ urged Forbes seated at the corner of the table.
‘I said it was no concern of mine,’ snapped Flannigan.
‘Do you know who poisoned him? Well I will tell you. Mr Cherrington, or rather Captain Quinton to give him his proper name. Is he a member of your so called brotherhood?’ asked a hopeful Ravenscroft.
‘Never heard of anyone called Quinton.’
‘Oh, come now my man. The game is over. You will hang when my colleague here has finished with you. It will surely do your cause little harm to tell us about Quinton. Was he one of your members? Did he and Murphy have a falling out sometime in the past?’ asked an anxious Ravenscroft knowing all too well that he was clutching at straws.
‘I tell you I have never heard of this Quinton.’
‘Shall I tell you what I think happened? I think Quinton killed Murphy to stop him talking. Come on, man, admit the truth. You know who this Quinton is,’ said Ravenscroft raising his voice as he knew that he was getting nowhere, and that his time to question this man was quickly running out.
‘I keep telling you, I don’t know who this Quinton is,’ retaliated Flannigan.
‘And I tell you I think you are lying,’ shouted Ravenscroft.
‘Inspector, this is getting us nowhere,’ interrupted Forbes.
‘For goodness sake man, tell us what you know,’ urged a desperate Ravenscroft.
‘Go to the blazes!’ growled Flannigan.
‘That is all, inspector,’ said Forbes standing up abruptly and looking at his pocket watch. ‘If I am to get this man back to London tonight, I will need to leave now to catch the last train. I am afraid I cannot give you any more time. Men, put the cuffs on the prisoner and take him out of the room.’
‘Just another few minutes,’ pleaded Ravenscroft.
‘I’m sorry, Ravenscroft,’ said Forbes as Flannigan and the two policemen left the room. ‘I will certainly let you know if we obtain any relevant information relating to your inquiries when we question Flannigan in London. I must say good day to you.’
Ravenscroft said nothing in reply as Forbes left the room.
‘Damn it, Crabb, if only I could have had more time I’m sure we would have got the truth out of the man,’ sighed Ravenscroft.
‘Never mind, sir. At least we stopped the man
killing the Prime Minister,’ said Crabb attempting to break his superior’s gloomy demeanour.
‘I doubt we even did that. I have the distinct feeling that if we had not stopped that man Flannigan from firing his weapon then Forbes would have stepped in to save the situation, but I suppose we will never know one way or the other.’
‘We still have Turco in custody sir.’
‘You’re right, Tom. I had almost forgotten about him. I wonder what he was doing here in Worcester today? I suppose he could be a part of all this?’
‘Shall I go and fetch him, sir?’
‘If you will.’
As Crabb closed the door behind him, Ravenscroft rose from his chair and began pacing up and down the room. It had been infuriating that he not been given more time to continue with his questioning of the Irish gunman. He kept telling himself that another hour would have secured not only a confession, but also a confirmation of Quinton’s involvement and guilt, but all that had now been snatched away from him by Forbes and his special department at the Yard. Now he would be on his own once more, trying to discover the connection between the three men: Murphy, Flannigan and Quinton, and he was only too aware that time was rapidly running out. Tomorrow his chief suspect would be leaving Pershore, probably for good, and would be taking any solution to the case with him. All that remained now was the Italian musician, Turco. Would he provide the last minute evidence which Ravenscroft so badly needed?
The door suddenly opened and Turco and Crabb entered the room.
‘What is-a this? Why have you done this to Turco?’ cried the distressed man as he sat in the chair indicated by Crabb.
‘What were you doing in Worcester today?’ asked Ravenscroft resuming his seat and speaking directly at the man across the table.
‘I was-a playing my beautiful violin for the people of Worcester,’ replied Turco.
‘Seemed more like begging to me,’ muttered Crabb.
‘No, no! Turco he no beg. He only play his fine melodies. Turco he needs people to listen.’
‘Come now, Count, we saw the hat with the money at your feet. That is not the conduct of a famous violinist who gives recitals in the major concert halls of the land, but I don’t believe that for one minute. Famous men such as that do not eek out a miserable life in a cheap lodging house in Pershore.’
‘Maybe Turco he exaggerate. He sometime play in London,’ admitted the embarrassed musician.
‘And most days on the streets of Worcester?’ suggested Ravenscroft. ‘Unless of course that was just a deception.’
‘A deception? I no understand.’
‘Perhaps you are really a Fenian sympathiser, Count? Were you and Flannigan planning to assassinate the Prime Minister today?’
‘I no understand. Who is this man Flannigan?’ asked a puzzled Turco.
‘Oh come now, Count. You know that Lord Salisbury was speaking here today, and that he is not in favour of Irish independence. That is why you and Flannigan planned to assassinate him, was it not?’
‘What is this? Turco he no plan to kill anyone,’ replied the alarmed violinist.
‘The truth, man,’ said Ravenscroft raising his voice. ‘It looks bad for you. We know that Jones, or rather Murphy, was a member of the Fenian Brotherhood, and that together you were planning to join Flannigan in Worcester today to carry out your evil deed.’
‘I do not understand any of this,’ said Turco shaking his head and looking anxiously at Crabb as if he was expecting some help from that quarter.
‘Don’t deny it, Turco.’
‘This is a silly. Turco he is not a violent man. Turco he no want to kill anyone. Turco is a man of peace not war.’
‘What I want to know is where does Mr Cherrington fit into all this? Was he once a member of your so called brotherhood? Did he and Murphy once argue and fall out? Did Murphy threaten to expose Cherrington? Is that why you and Cherrington decided to kill Murphy?’ said Ravenscroft becoming more and more animated.
‘Please, please!’ said Turco crying into his hands.
‘The truth, Turco!’ demanded Ravenscroft slapping his hand down on the table. ‘We want the truth! Come on, man!’
‘Stop! Stop!’ cried out Turco.
‘Well?’ demanded Ravenscroft.
‘Yes, yes. Turco he no play in concert halls in London and other places. I earn my money by playing on the streets. What is-a wrong with that?’ said the musician looking up at Ravenscroft with tears in his eyes.
‘No, not that, man,’ replied an irritated Ravenscroft. ‘We want to know about you and Quinton, and Murphy.’
‘I tell you I no understand. I have never met either this Quinton or this Murphy before.’
‘What was your part in this plot to kill the Prime Minister?’ continued Ravenscroft becoming increasingly aware that he was not getting anywhere with his line of questioning, but being still reluctant to admit defeat.
‘Plot? I know nothing of any plot. Please you let me go.’
‘You will go when we have finished with you. Why don’t you tell us all about your involvement in this plot. I am sure you will feel much better when you have told us everything,’ urged Ravenscroft.
‘I cannot tell you anything I do not know,’ pleaded Turco.
‘When did you meet Cherrington, or rather Quinton, before he came to Pershore?’
‘I have-a never met this man before.’
‘And Murphy?’
‘I know no Murphy. Please, I have told you everything I know. You let Turco go now?’
‘Were you having a relationship with Miss Martin?’ asked Ravenscroft changing his line of questioning.
‘No! The lady she no interested in Turco, and Turco he is only in love with his violin.’
‘Did you kill her?’
‘No! Turco he no kill.’
‘Very well, Count. You are free to go,’ said Ravenscroft leaning back in his chair.
‘Turco he go?’ asked the perplexed musician.
‘Yes, you may go.’
Turco looked across at Crabb as if expecting that the constable would march over to him at any moment and thrust his hands into the handcuffs, then he stared at Ravenscroft, who nodded, before rising from his chair and walking quickly out of the room.
‘I don’t think there was anything else to be gained,’ sighed Ravenscroft. ‘I believe him when he says that he was not part of this plot today.’
‘Why, sir?’ asked Crabb.
‘You may recall that we found no weapon on him when we arrested him at the rally, and if Turco is a Fenian sympathizer then Forbes would probably have known that, and would have wanted to question him. The fact that Forbes showed no interest in Turco, and allowed us to question him on our own proves my point. Nevertheless I felt I had to push him on this matter, just in case.’
‘He could still have met Murphy sometime in the past.’
‘Possibly, but again I think he was telling us the truth when he said he had never met Murphy or Quinton before they arrived at Talbots’.’
‘So you don’t think that Turco poisoned either Jones or Miss Martin?’
‘It looks that way. I had so hoped that Turco would have broken down and confessed all, but it seems that was a false hope. He will certainly have an interesting tale to relate to the others when he returns to Talbots’ tonight.’
‘What do we do now, sir?’ asked Crabb.
‘It’s late, Tom. It has been a long day. Let us both go home. Tomorrow will be our last chance to arrest Quinton before he leaves the town, and who knows perhaps the mysterious Mr. Claybourne might at last decide to make an appearance,’ said Ravenscroft walking over to the door.
‘Jenny says that you are to dine with us this evening, sir, and that if you refuses she will be most put out,’ smiled Crabb.
‘Then, Tom, it would be ungracious of me to refuse. It will be a pleasure to dine with you and your wife, and to see my little godson, Samuel again. Lead on Tom, I must admit that I have quite an appetite.’
&n
bsp; CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LEDBURY AND PERSHORE
Ravenscroft pushed away his breakfast plate of bread and jam, and looked down again at the two opened letters that lay before him on the parlour table.
The first letter from Lucy telling of the family’s adventures in Weymouth, and urging him to join them as soon as possible, had come as a welcome relief, but had also increased the frustration he felt that his latest case showed little signs of coming to a speedy conclusion. The events of the previous day, rather than offering a satisfactory end to the case, had only sought to cloud the issue even more.
The second letter had plunged him into despair. Written by Robertson in a shaky, sometimes incoherent hand, the words had come as a profound shock—
Ravenscroft,
It was good to see you yesterday.
After you left, I thought long and hard about your present case.
It has long been on my conscience all these years that I may have caused an innocent man a grave injustice. When we arrested Quinton I was convinced that he had poisoned his wife, but the problem was that I was unable to prove it. Then I found the poor woman’s diary. It was clear from reading its contents that the man she had married was a complete charlatan, who preyed on innocent women such as she was, to acquire their fortunes. I saw a way in which we could bring him to justice. I took the diary and wrote in the last entry telling how she knew that her husband was poisoning her. I knew that this was a wrong thing to have done, but I also realized that this would be the only way I could secure a conviction. We had not reckoned that Rawlinson would secure Quinton’s release.
Now you have come face to face with the man again after all these years, and you, like me, believe in his guilt. I have long regretted my actions, and urge you now not to repeat my mistake, however desperate the situation may become. If you are tempted to tread along this path I believe you will regret it for the rest of your life. Do not let your eagerness to bring your case to a satisfactory conclusion cloud your judgement.
I now no longer know whether Quinton did kill his wife or not.
I have lived with the result of my foolish actions for years. Now that I am about to die, I have felt the need to confess all to yourself.
