by Craig McNish
“Look over this man's ledger for me; there is some evidence to suggest a long-outstanding debt that the debtor refuses to pay. Can you tell me if this is the case?”
“If it is a well-kept book then it should take only minutes. Might we go into the house and get a light, as this man suggests?”
“This way” said Cutter, sound miserable, defeated. “All of your men should come inside; a brandy will help warm them, and the fire should still be going.” The snow was falling again, though not yet in any great amount, and the tired troops were glad for the opportunity to rest their weary legs awhile.
“If these accounts are correct” said Office Cadet Anthony Raphaell after he had perused the pages of the ledger “Then there is a debt of three hundred and twelve pounds, eleven shillings and fourpence to be paid. I have looked at the numbers twice to be sure.”
“Thank you, Raphaell. Go warm yourself by the fire, lad.” Hodgson's words were obeyed with an “aye, sir” and Elinor Cutter, who was sat across the room with Margaret Brass at her side, had heard every word and cried. They were not just tears of despair, but also of anger. She could scarcely believe her husband had been so irresponsible.
“How many times have I told you that avarice would be your undoing, Robert Cutter? Well, now it has happened and we find ourselves in a torrid state of affairs. You have brought shame on both of our families, all for the sake of a couple of pounds. Well now the wealth has gone, along with all we have around us here and now. Soon we will not have a roof over our heads, and there is nowhere for us to go.”
“But all of this is because of William's idea, woman! I did not think it up!”
“And since when did William become the man of the house? Maybe it was his idea, but you were the one who made it anything else but talk. My father taught me and my brothers and sisters as children that we should never be with debt, for we would end up doing the bidding of another. So unless you want to end up thrown in prison find some way to pay Mister Ridgway, but do not rely on John and Margaret to settle this for you.”
“I have seen men go to prison for much smaller sums owed than here” said Hodgson, which did nothing to calm Cutter's nerves any. He was almost relieved then when there was a number of loud thuds at the front door, like a man was trying to take it off its hinges. Judith Lawsonn, who had been dozing in a chair not far away, was shocked by the rude awakening and scrambled to answer so that the pounding might cease. She recognised who was stood there as she looked through the crack it was opened.
“Andrew Mills? Why, you were knocking loud enough to raise the dead! I should take a broom to you and give you a hiding for making such a racket at this hour!”
“Enough, woman! I need to talk with Mister Brass. Is he still here? There has been trouble at the farm.” Lawsonn lit a candle and raised it in front of her face; Mills looked to be in some distress.
“Then wait here and I will fetch him.” Lawsonn had not even invited Mills into the passageway and asked him to sit. He pushed open the door and barged his way past her, much to her annoyance.
“Mister Brass! Mister Brass!” he called out over and again. Then he heard a number of voices coming from a nearby room and stumbled inside to see a great many people stood there, waiting to see what all of the fuss was about. He ignored the looks of the soldiers and also the ladies and addressed John Brass directly.
“There has been trouble at the farm, Mister Brass – it was robbers. I heard them while I was feeding the oxen. They were shouting 'kill all, kill all!' Two men, I think. I went into the house to find them. I went upstairs. The children...the children...” John Brass went over to Mills, put his hands on the servant's shoulders.
“Slow down, lad! What you are saying makes no sense. You say there was robbers, at the farm?”
“Yes.”
“And they were shouting 'kill...all'?”
“Yes.”
“And what of the children?”
“Dead, Mister Brass. I went into the house and chased them. They had been upstairs in the rooms. I went into one bedroom, where I thought they had run from, and there were the children. It was a terrible sight. I know they were dead – they never moved, not an inch, and their bodies were badly beaten. Such a terrible sight.” John Brass felt his head starting to spin. He thought he might fall over, so took a chair.
“And what of my Lizzie?” asked a distressed Margaret Brass. “What of her fate?” Mills said nothing, shook his head and looked at the floor. “Also dead” he said finally, in a whisper.
“And this has just happened, not long ago?” said Hodgson.
“Maybe an hour, maybe two – I do not remember. But it happened recently, yes.” Margaret Brass had been watching the servant since his unexpected arrival, and noticed some things; his clothes, his speech, but most of all what she saw in his eyes.
“You are telling lies!” she screamed at Mills. “Your clothes are dishevelled and look to be smeared with blood, but it is all in your eyes – I see you are lying. Villain, none but thou has murdered my children! How could you do such an evil thing?” And then Margaret Brass wept in the arms of Elinor Cutter, who now cared little for her own plight.
“I did not – it was robbers!” Mills persisted, though Hodgson now had some doubt as to whether he was hearing the truth.
“Then we should go back to the farm and investigate, but first it would do us all some good to try and prove whether Mills here is telling the truth. Bates! Urpith! Come and take a hold of this man while I search him proper.” And so Mills was restrained by a soldier either side of him while the Lieutenant went through his pockets. An inside coat pocket was reached into, and a knife produced.
“Is this your knife, Mills?”
“It is.”
“It seems to be covered with blood, as are your clothes. What say you?”
“It is the blood of one of the robbers. When I saw they were attacking the Brass children, I knew I had to do something to fend them off. I grabbed my knife and stabbed one of them here, and then here.” Mills pointed to at first the top of his right arm, and then just below his ribs on his right side.
“And they both ran off when you did this?”
“Yes sir, they did. I think they knew I had the best of them because of where they were stood. There was nowhere for them to run and hide, see? So rather than fight with me they pushed their way past and bolted for the door. I think I stabbed one of them once more as they went past, but I cannot be sure.” Hodgson regarded the servant for a minute or so without speaking.
“I have to say, Mills, I find your telling of things very unlikely. You would have us believe you chased off two robbers who were killing three children on your own, with only this knife and not a single scratch on you? But we need to be sure. Mister Brass, might we go and search your home for clues as to whether Mills is either telling the truth or lying?”
“Of course.”
“Then we will go there now. It seems there is much to deal with here, what with Mister Cutter and all. Bates...Urpith...you will stay here and keep a watch on Mister Cutter. Make sure he does not leave this house or do anything untoward. Knagge, you should go and fetch the coroner; tell him there has been murders at Brass Farm, and that we might have a suspect. The rest of us will go there now and see what is to be done.” The soldiers went about their assigned tasks while everyone else readied themselves to leave. A crowd of people had gathered outside, curious as to why there was soldiers in the Cutter house and also about the noise Mills had made on his arrival. When it became apparent there had been killings – and of children at that – every man and woman who was there made their way to Brass Farm.
*
George Bancks had just gathered courage enough to go up to the farm house when he heard voices. Not just two or three, but ten or maybe even twenty. They were all discussing something that Bancks could not even begin to guess at, but when a large group of silhouetted figures started up the path to Brass farm he knew it could not have been good. He crou
ched at the edge of the field, in the shadows. Ridgway was there; Bancks knew this for certain – it was impossible to mistake the man's size and gait for anyone else. The apprentice had also heard someone say it would be best for Mister Brass to stay with his wife in the living room while the rest of the house was searched. But searched for what? Bancks wondered. If he had any bad feeling about what was waiting to be found, he did not want to believe it. Frozen to the bone from standing in the bitter cold for three hours and more, Bancks decided to head back to Ridgway's shop and get himself warmed through. He would find out the details when the blacksmith returned later.
When the front door to the house was opened, Priscilla Farrowe was stood at the bottom of the staircase and in a terrible state. Her eyes were shot through with tears and she could not utter a single word when John Brass asked her what had happened. Margaret Brass comforted her some and then the maid felt able to speak.
“All three kiddies have been killed, Mrs Brass. Up in the bedroom, they are. All mangled and bloodied – an awful sight. I only came across them when I was woken by what sounded like the front door to the house slamming closed. My first thought was for the kiddies, so I went upstairs to check if they were safe, and I saw...” She paused to take a breath. “They did nothing to deserve to die like that. I see Mills came out to find you; I was so exhausted from my day I slept through the whole thing. How can you ever forgive me, Mistress Brass? If I were awake then maybe they would still be alive.”
“They did not die by your hand, Priscilla, and so it is not your fault. You work your fingers to the bone for many hours a day – it does not surprise me you would sleep so soundly. Besides, we have already found the killer.”
“You have? Thank the Lord! I assume he has been taken to prison?”
“Not yet, but soon. This is our murderer right here.” Margaret Brass pointed to Mills, who looked about to protest his innocence once more but must have thought better of it and known his words would not be believed.
“Andrew Mills – you murdered these children?”
“No, Priscilla, I did not! Their deaths was the work of robbers, I tell you!”
“We shall see soon enough” said Hodgson. “Would you be good enough to take me to where the bodies lie, Miss?” he asked Farrowe. She nodded and led the way up the staircase. Hodgson indicated that Cadet Officers Smith and Adamson should go with him, and so they did. It was only minutes before they came back down the stairs, all four looking sombre and morose.
“The oldest girl got the worst of it, I would reckon” Hodgson reported to crowd massed in the hallway. “She was beat around the head good and proper, and her clothes are red with blood. There are too many stab wounds to count. A vicious kill, and one without mercy.
“The lad is over by the window – had his brains dashed out with a hatchet. It still lies beside his body. Maybe he put up a fight though because his shirt is torn and trinkets have been knocked from the dressing table.
“But the puzzling thing is that the little one doesn't look half as bad as the others. She took a beating, but there was a pillow over her face and so she isn't as badly marked. I think he did her quick because he knew the crime was a terrible one. He had no wish to look at her while he was doing the killing, but had no wish for her to live either. Mister Brass, I suggest you make the young 'uns look more respectable before Mistress Brass sees them – it would do no good to view them like they are now.”
“I understand. Thank you, Lieutenant. So from what you saw, do you think it was robbers like Mills says or could it be he has committed this crime himself?” Hodgson did not even take a second to answer the question put to him.
“I am of the opinion from all I have seen and heard that the killer is Andrew Mills.”
“Then I want for him to be arrested, so he might pay for his crimes. How could you carry out such an unspeakable act, Mills? You have destroyed my family, and I will see you hang for it! Lieutenant, do you think a few of your men would be good enough to take him to the gaol this minute? I know you have all had a long day, and they will be rewarded for their help.”
“We will take him there now. And as there has been no agreement from Mister Cutter to settle his debt with Mister Ridgway, we will take Cutter with us also. Maybe a night locked up with a dozen criminals will do much to change his mind about paying his debts.” In the midst of what was happening here and now, Cutter had been largely forgotten about. To those who had gathered outside of Cutter's house when Mills had first shown up there, it was a great surprise to learn of these events; they seemed keen to go back there and see Cutter marched off to prison, as they left quickly. John Brass bolted the door after the last of the soldiers had left before retiring to the living room with his wife and the maid. He poured them all a brandy before going off alone to ready the corpses of his three beloved children for his wife to see.
*
Many lives were taken on the cold winter's night of the twenty-fifth day of January, much more than the three children of John and Margaret Brass. For all it was only those three who were now sleeping with the angels and would never wake, it felt for others like they had no soul left inside their own bodies. It would take a long time to recover, if it were ever possible.
When Ridgway arrived back at his shop in the early hours of the morning, he was cold, hungry and tired. Such a long and painful day, with many a shock to be had. The news of the demise of the Brass children was known by many now to be absolute truth, yet it seemed such a thing could never be possible. There was people who were known to be callous and cruel, but to kill in cold blood three young, innocent and upstanding children from good stock, and who had not a quarrel with one single person? It defied belief. Ridgway was glad of the warmth that had stayed trapped in his shop from the damped-down forge; it instantly made him feel like sleeping.
“What news from the farm?” asked someone of Ridgway from off in the shadows. The blacksmith knew it immediately to be his apprentice. “I left after I saw the crowd approach and a soldier told Mister Brass and his wife to wait downstairs while the house was searched. I have me the strongest of hunches that something terrible has occurred, but I need to hear it said by someone else.”Ridgway was heartbroken to be the one who had to pass on the grim news, but maybe it was better for Bancks to hear it from him rather than a tale being told in the street.
“Yes, something terrible has happened” Ridgway started out. “Although I saw nothing with my own eyes, I can say it is the truth that the three children of Mister Brass and his good lady wife are no longer with us. They have been killed. Murdered. As for why, I do not know, but the Lieutenant tells us they were shown no mercy. It is a sad day indeed when three innocent children are murdered in their own home. This is a crime of which Ferryhill has never known the likes, nor will it ever again.”
“I knew it had to be something bad to keep Jane away. I had just made up my mind to go to the house and try to speak with her when someone came out from the darkness and ran down the pathway to the main road. Maybe it was the murderer. If I had only got my courage earlier then she might still be alive. So I suppose I am to blame here as well.”
“Nonsense, man! I won't have any of that talk from you, George Bancks! If a man is able to slay a ten year-old lass without even blinking an eye, he would have wasted no time putting a knife through your chest. There is nothing you could have done to change things, save gotten yourself killed if you had went up there. And a suspect has already been found, so justice will soon be served.”
“A suspect already? Do we know who it is?”
“Andrew Mills” said Ridgway, scarcely believing what he was saying. “He came to Cutter's house just after twelve. Ranting and raving, he was; started to go on about how there had been robbers at the farm and how they killed the young 'uns. Mills reckons he fought them off but Lieutenant Hodgson searched him and found a bloodied knife. Then he searched the farm with a couple of his men and said from what he saw that Mills is likely the killer.”
&
nbsp; “This is Mills' doing? Why, I'll do him in myself with my bare hands! I always knew the man was not to be trusted! Tell me where he is and I'll...”
“Enough, Bancks! I understand your desire for revenge – maybe I even share it – but it will do no good to take such matters into your own hands. It will be dealt with, and Mills will have his day with the hangman's noose, that much is certain. Just be glad he has been removed to gaol and cannot harm another soul. The young 'uns are to be buried around noon today; we should rest so that we might go and pay our respects. Have no worry about Mills, for if he is truly guilty like Hodgson believes then there is no man better than Nicholas Crawfoote to see justice done.” Bancks said nothing, but looked to Ridgway and nodded his head just a single time.
*
After hearing the tragic news of murder, the arrest of Robert Cutter was proving to be something of an amusing spectacle for those who were stood by, looking on with great interest. Like any other man, Cutter had no intention of going quietly; he darted this way and that, skilfully avoiding the clutches of Hodgson, Bates and Adamson, with all four men slipping and sliding on the packed-down snow that had turned into a sheet of ice. Elinor Cutter was stood by the front of her house with two of her daughters, Grace and Hannah, and they were pelting the soldiers with snowballs to try and ward them off, with many of the missiles finding their mark. But at last Cutter was captured and overpowered, forced to the ground with his hands held behind his back until a pair of wrist irons was acquired and fastened in place. As the gathered crowd made for their homes, they could hear Cutter loudly cursing the day that William was born and how the soldiers had no right to arrest him, the great Robert Cutter. By three in the morning, Ferryhill was all quiet again.
“This one is a murderer” said Hodgson to Tom Laxe, the gaoler at Saddler Street gaol, in Durham's centre. He pushed forward Andrew Mills, who said not a word. “And this one my men are bringing in behind me is a debtor – owes over three hundred pounds to the blacksmith in Ferryhill.” And Robert Cutter was still protesting over his treatment when he was bundled into the gaol. Mills couldn't believe his ears when he heard the name, nor his eyes when he looked round and saw the face, and began to laugh without any sign of remorse for Cutter or indeed his own predicament.