The Inspector Ravenscroft Mysteries Box Set

by Kerry Tombs

  Pausing to regain his breath, he looked up towards the summit of the Raggedstone Hill, where the blind man had stood but a few minutes previous, and the longer he stared at the hill top the more it seemed to Ravenscroft that he was imagining the man still standing there, pointing down at him — and almost mocking his failure.

  And then he suddenly realised, that although the rain had cleared and the sun was shining brightly, the shadow of the Raggedstone had fallen not only upon the old deserted cottage — but upon himself as well!

  CHAPTER SIX

  Ravenscroft drove quickly away from the cottage, anxious to escape from the shadow of the hill, seeking the sun so that his wet clothes might dry and so that some warmth might return to his aching body.

  As he entered the grounds of the inn, at the clearing below the British Camp, he found that Crabb had preceded him.

  ‘There you are, sir. I’ve sent three men up onto the hills. If he comes this way, we will surely have him.’

  ‘Then let us go and join them,’ said Ravenscroft, tying the reins of the trap to a post. ‘I best go into the inn first and explain our presence here. Poor Gladwyn is there in the back of the trap.’

  ‘I’ve done that already, sir. They have also sent three of their hands from the inn onto the hills to assist us in our search.’

  ‘Good thinking, Crabb,’ replied Ravenscroft, sneezing and blowing his nose.

  ‘You could do with getting in the dry, sir,’ suggested Crabb.

  ‘It is of no concern, Crabb. The sun and the breeze will soon help to dry me out.’

  The two men began to make their way up the slopes of the hill and after a steady climb found themselves on the summit. From here, they looked out onto the many fields of the three counties, which spread out before them like a patchwork quilt. Ravenscroft was glad that they had reached the end of their climb and could feel his heart pounding, and his breathing coming in short gasps.

  ‘He could be coming this way, sir,’ said Crabb. He gestured to the range of hills that stretched into the distance. ‘Our men and the servants from the inn are making their way along the top of the hills as well as searching the lower slopes. I’ve also sent word to Ledbury and asked them to send some men to make their way up from the Eastnor side, in case he decides to go that way. It’s only a matter of time before we have him, sir.’

  ‘I sincerely hope so,’ gasped Ravenscroft. He wiped his wet face and spectacles with his handkerchief.

  ‘My word you look bad, if you don’t mind my saying so, sir.’

  ‘It’s just the wet and the climb, Crabb,’ replied Ravenscroft coughing. ‘We’ll just rest here for a time, before we go on. I’ll be alright in a little while. It certainly is a grand view.’

  ‘Over there is Malvern with Worcester beyond,’ said Crabb pointing. ‘And there is the River Severn in the distance. Behind us is Ledbury and they do say you can see Hereford on a fine day, and half of Wales as well, if your luck holds.’

  ‘Let’s go on, Crabb. The sooner we catch this fellow the better it will be for all of us.’

  They began to make their way gradually along one of the ridges that ran alongside the top of the hill. Despite the temporary shelter from the wind, Ravenscroft began to find that his whole body was beginning to shake from the cold and wet. ‘Damn it, Crabb. I don’t feel that I can go on for much longer,’ he said sneezing again.

  ‘You look decidedly ill, sir. Perhaps you are going down with a chill? May I suggest that you go back to the inn and wait there? I’ll inform you if there are any developments,’ suggested Crabb.

  ‘I think I will take your advice. If I hear nothing from you, I’ll come and re-join you later,’ replied Ravenscroft.

  Clutching the collar of his wet coat with one of his hands, he made his way back down the slippery slope, until he eventually found himself in the clearing once more. He paused at the entrance to the inn, coughing to clear his lungs from the congestion that threatened to engulf him.

  ‘My word, sir, you look as though you could do with a drink. Sit yourself down there, sir, in front of the fire, and I’ll bring you some of our finest ale,’ said the landlord as he entered the bar.

  Ravenscroft thanked the man, walked over to the log fire, removed his wet overcoat, cleaned his spectacles and warmed his hands near the welcoming flames.

  ‘There you are, sir. I could bring you some bread and cheese, and a slice of meat pie if you would like, sir.’

  ‘That is an offer I cannot refuse,’ replied Ravenscroft, coughing and then blowing his nose. He took a welcome swig of the ale, and stood before the fire attempting to dry out his wet clothes but although he could feel the heat from the flames on his hands, he found that his body was still shaking with the coldness that had seemed to enter his very bones.

  The landlord returned presently bearing a plate of food which he placed on the table near to Ravenscroft. ‘No luck catching that ruffian yet then?’ he asked.

  ‘Crabb and the men are searching the hills,’ replied Ravenscroft, slicing a piece of cheese. ‘I hope we may be able to apprehend the fellow before dark. You may know the man. Tall, blind, wears a long, ragged overcoat. Perhaps he has been in here?’

  ‘I knows the man you mean, and no mistake. He ain’t been in here, but I have seen him a few times on the hills. Locals call him Old Penny.’

  ‘Old Penny?’ enquired Ravenscroft, eating a piece of bread.

  ‘Folks call him that, on account of him not havin’ two pennies to rub together like. They says he lives wild on the hills, although some folk says he lives in some old cottage out near Hollybush, while others swear they have seen him living in some old cave or other. Always seemed harmless enough, but now he’s gone and killed our Doctor Gladwyn, so your constable says.’

  ‘It would seem highly likely. He was certainly seen in the vicinity of the crime. We will know more when we catch him. My word this cheese is good,’ said Ravenscroft.

  ‘If you thinks that’s good, sir, wait until you has tried the meat pie,’ said the landlord, cheerfully leaving the room. ‘I’ll bring you a slice of wife’s apple pie as well, in a few minutes.’

  Ravenscroft settled down to enjoy his lunch and gradually began to feel his strength returning. After consuming the meat pie and then the apple pie, and downing another tankard of ale, Ravenscroft stood in front of the fire and felt the steam rising from his damp clothes. He took out his pocket watch. One thirty. They would have another four or five hours of daylight left; long enough, he considered, to make their arrest. After all, the man was blind and could not have gone far. Soon he would need to make his way back up the hill and join in the search, but first he would spend a few more minutes warming his aching limbs before the flames. He drew up the chair in front of the crackling log, and gazed into the flickering flames, thinking he saw the features of the blind man in the red glow there. He let a loud yawn, stretched out his legs, and gradually felt his eyelids growing heavy as his head fell on his chest.

  He awoke suddenly with a start. He must have fallen asleep. The fire had burnt down to its embers and the new log which had recently been placed there was gently hissing. He reached for his pocket watch and found he had been asleep for three hours. Cursing his own negligence, he looked out of the window. The sun had disappeared, and the skies looked grey and threatening.

  Ravenscroft rose from his seat and stretched his aching limbs. His forehead felt wet and clammy to the touch, his cough as persistent as it had been previously. Crabb and the men would be wondering where he had got to. He must re-join them as soon as possible. He reached for his coat, left some money on the counter for his host, and made his way out of the inn.

  Slowly he made his way up the same path he had climbed that morning, pausing every so often to ease his congested lungs, and wipe the sweat away from his brow. He had been instructed by his superior to take a holiday, a rest cure, and now here he was struggling up a lonely hill, on the edge of civilization, feeling as though he was but an inch away from
dying of a fever brought on by the morning’s awful weather, and wishing that he could be somewhere warm and comfortable where he would not have to worry about catching criminals ever again.

  After what seemed like an eternity, he reached the summit of the hill and as he looked up at the sky, he fought to clear his head from the dizziness that he felt would overwhelm him. Feeling alone and dejected on the top of the great hill, he peered into the distance and was relieved when he thought he detected a group of figures standing on the next hill in the range. He started to walk towards the group and as he drew nearer, he saw Crabb raising his hands in the air and frantically beckoning him to join them. He increased his pace. Perhaps they had been successful in tracking down their quarry? As he clambered down the slope of the hill, towards the lower hill, Crabb came forwards to meet him.

  ‘We’ve got him, sir.’

  ‘Well done, Crabb.’

  ‘It’s not all good news though. Follow me, sir.’

  Ravenscroft followed his constable along the path that ran along a kind of plateau high up between the two hills.

  ‘One of the men found him down there,’ said Crabb, pointing below them, towards a clump of trees.

  The two men scrambled down the side of the hill. There, lying on the ground, was the body of the blind man.

  ‘He must have lost his footing on the path above and rolled all the way down here, hitting his head on the rocks as he fell, until this clump of trees halted his fall,’ said Crabb.

  The other policemen and searchers began to gather around, as Ravenscroft knelt by the side of the body. ‘He doesn’t seem to have any possessions on him,’ he said, after examining the man’s pockets.

  ‘There appears to be a kind of cave up there, sir, where he may have lived. He must have been making his way back there, when he fell.’

  Ravenscroft made his way back up the slope and followed Crabb into a small cave that had been made on the side of the hill.

  ‘It’s a bit smelly and wet, sir. I don’t think I would like to live here,’ said Crabb.

  ‘Me neither, Crabb,’ replied Ravenscroft, searching through a pile of old rags that lay on some straw bedding in one corner of the cave. ‘Looks as though this is the remains of his breakfast,’ he said, turning over some crusts of bread and a half-eaten apple with his foot, and sneezing violently as he did so.

  ‘Poor chap,’ muttered Crabb.

  ‘A pity we didn’t have chance to speak with him before he died. Well, this looks like all we can do here. It will be dark soon, and in another half hour we will have difficulty making our way down off these hills. Get the men to pick up the body and we will all make our way back to the inn,’ instructed Ravenscroft, attempting to stifle his cough with his hand.

  The policemen recovered the body of the blind man, and the silent group began to make its way slowly down the sides of the hill, Ravenscroft leading the way and Crabb bringing up the rear.

  Upon their return to the inn, Crabb instructed the men to place the body of the dead man into the rear of the police cart, then transferred Gladwyn’s body to the same vehicle before telling them to set off for Malvern and the mortuary with their load. Ravenscroft thanked the landlord for the loan of his men, before he and Crabb climbed into Gladwyn’s trap.

  ‘I think that is all we can do today, Crabb. It will be dark before we get back to Malvern. If you could drop me off at the Tudor on the way, I would be obliged to you,’ said Ravenscroft.

  ‘If you don’t mind my saying so, you look quite terrible. I should see Doctor Mountcourt when you get in,’ said Crabb, looking at his superior with a degree of concern.

  ‘I’ll be alright, once I’ve got out of these wet clothes and had a good night’s rest. I’ll see you at nine tomorrow. It’s been a long day, Crabb, a very long day.’

  * * *

  Upon returning to the Tudor, Ravenscroft instructed Stebbins that on no account was he to be disturbed until the morning. He removed his damp clothes, put on his night attire and was relieved to find his aching body sinking into the comfort of a warm, dry bed. Within a few minutes he began to feel himself drifting off into a deep sleep.

  He slept badly. At first he thought he saw again the figure of the blind man mocking him from the summit of the Raggedstone, then the hill seemed to fall in on him, and he felt himself suffocating in the damp cold earth as it engulfed him. A range of faces now thrust themselves before him — the bearded features of Armitage, laughing at him for his failure to catch him; then the crooked smile, snarling leer and scar on Troutbridge’s face as he let go of his howling dogs; then the stern features of Doctor Mountcourt and his attendant pushing him under the swirling waters in a large bath; before the scene gave way to Clifford peering and smiling over his maps and tearing a newspaper into tiny pieces, which he flung into the air; finally, Touchmore nodding his head from side to side, pushing his way through piles of ledgers covered in ancient cobwebs, before thrusting him forwards towards an open grave. As he fell into the grave, he saw again the bloody faces of Pitzer, Sommersby and Gladwyn staring up at him, beckoning him to join them. He struggled to climb out of the grave as they clung onto his legs. He lashed out with his feet as he heard their laughter, until he suddenly broke free. Now he found himself falling into an icy river and his body shaking with the intense cold. He desperately wanted to cry out and let someone come to his aid, but he found himself strangely unable to do so, and he knew then that there was no one there to save him. He seemed to be entering a dark tunnel, which appeared to have no end; his whole body began to burn intensely, and a feeling of helpless rejection came over him as he knew that he was nearing the end. But then a bright light began to shine dimly before him and he saw the dark veil of his lady come into view. Feelings of relief swept over his body, but as he reached out to pull back the veil, the light faded and with it all hope of salvation.

  The terrible journey seemed to have no end. Then he saw the smart little cottage in Ledbury and he was overcome with a great longing to enter its door and find there the relief and calm he now so desperately needed, and for which he had always yearned, but before he could make his way up the path, between the rows of flowers, the scene began to fade, and the harder he struggled to reach the door, the further away it slipped from his view. A strange warm glow washed over him and he saw again the intimate, bright room in Crabb’s cottage, from where there was food, warmth, and the laughter and joy of children — and he knew that his long journey had come to its end.

  ‘Now then, Mr Ravenscroft, just you take it easy now.’

  He looked up at the smiling features of Jennie Crabb.

  ‘Where—’

  ‘It’s all right now, sir. You’ll be fine,’ said the voice of Crabb.

  ‘Have I been ill?’ Ravenscroft enquired, in a voice barely audible.

  ‘More than ill, sir, you was quite despaired of,’ said Jennie, wiping his brow with a cool flannel.

  ‘How long have I been ill for?’ asked Ravenscroft, attempting to raise himself up from the bed.

  ‘Best part of two days, sir. We thought something was up, when you didn’t appear yesterday morning, so I persuaded young Stebbins to let me in here,’ said Crabb.

  ‘Now just you lie back there, sir,’ said Jennie, gently pushing the sick man down onto the bed.

  ‘And you have taken care of me since then?’

  Crabb and his wife smiled. ‘Least we could do, sir.’

  ‘Then you are good, true friends.’

  ‘Now, sir, don’t you go embarrassing me all again,’ said Jennie blushing. ‘Here’s some beef gruel I’ve prepared for you. Try and drink some of this, Mr Ravenscroft.’

  ‘Have you up on your feet, in no time, will my Jennie’s beef gruel,’ said Crabb proudly.

  Ravenscroft sipped the liquid and then lay back on the bed.

  ‘Now you have a nice quiet sleep Mr Ravenscroft,’ said Jennie. ‘Sleep will do you a power of good. We’ll drop by later and see how you are.’

  ‘Yes.
You are quite right. Sleep,’ said Ravenscroft, closing his eyes.

  Within a minute or two he had fallen asleep, but this time he felt only warmth and reassurance, as his body became relaxed, and his thoughts became at peace with the world.

  When he awoke again, he found the room empty, with warm sunlight pouring in through the windows. He eased himself upwards and reached for a glass of water that had been left by his bedside. As the liquid ran down his throat, he felt a strange feeling of contentment come over him, as if he had just been on a long journey and had reached his destination, unscathed and fulfilled.

  The door opened and Crabb walked in. ‘Glad to see you looking a lot better, sir,’ he said in his usual happy, optimistic way.

  ‘I feel a lot better, Crabb. What on earth has happened to me?’ he enquired, taking another sip of the water.

  ‘You must have caught a fever or a chill of some kind, being out on those hills, in all those wet clothes for so long. I’ve had Stebbins dry them all off and had them pressed so they are fit to wear again, sir.’

  ‘Thank you, Crabb, you have thought of everything. I think my condition was probably bought on more by Doctor Mountcourt’s prescribed hot and cold baths, rather than being caught out in the rain near the Hollybush! But thank your good wife for looking after me. I will always be in your debt.’

  ‘No problem, sir. To tell you the truth, my Jennie likes caring for those who are sick and less fortunate than herself, and welcomed the opportunity to do so.’

  ‘You are a fortunate man indeed, Crabb, to have such a wife.’

  ‘I know, sir, and I thank the Lord for it.’

  ‘Tell me, what has happened regarding the case during my illness?’ asked Ravenscroft.

  ‘Well, sir. Both Doctor Gladwyn and that Penny fellow have been taken to the mortuary. We have received a letter from no less a person than the Superintendent in Worcester, congratulating us on catching the villain who caused all these outrages, even if he is dead, and in fact several prominent people have called into the station to thank us for all our work in catching such a murderous fellow. Sorry, sir, I can see that you are still tired. Why don’t I get Stebbins to bring you something to eat, and I’ll call by at ten in the morning.’