by Kerry Tombs
Quickly regaining the river-bank, he began to retrace his steps towards the city. A feeling of immense relief began to overwhelm him as he realized that he had completed his mission, and tears again began to form in his eyes. He had kept his side of the agreement. Now perhaps his life would be given back to him — he could begin again. God had given him a second chance. He would be redeemed.
‘Nicholas!’
The voice startled him, but before he could turn around, he felt a sudden pain on the back of his head. He cried out as he fell towards the ground.
He tried to look up at his attacker, to see who had carried out this act of brutality, to learn who had violated his person, but before he could do so, he became aware that someone had taken hold of his legs and was dragging his body along the ground.
He knew then what was about to happen: that he would be unable to prevent it. Nevertheless as he neared the edge of the tow path, he made a frantic effort to cry out, in the hope that someone might yet come to his rescue and that his life would be spared.
But then the icy waters of the river seemed to open up to receive his body, and he felt himself falling into a quieter, darker world, from which he knew there would be no return.
At first he struggled, but as the waters closed over him, and as the blackness took him down into the bitter, unknown depths, Nicholas Evelyn became resigned to his fate, and uttered a last prayer to his Maker begging forgiveness for all his past sins — and asking that his life might be better in the next world.
CHAPTER TWO
LONDON — SEPTEMBER 1888
‘Call Samuel Ravenscroft!’
‘Call Samuel Ravenscroft!’
Ravenscroft made his way into the number two court of the Old Bailey, and took his place on the witness stand.
‘Please take the Bible and repeat the words on the card,’ instructed the usher.
Ravenscroft cleared his throat and uttered the familiar words.
‘You are Samuel Ravenscroft?’ asked the prosecuting counsel. ‘I believe you are an inspector in the Whitechapel Division of the London Constabulary?’
‘I am.’
‘Speak up! The court cannot hear you,’ said the judge, leaning forward and peering over his glasses at the middle-aged, untidily dressed figure who stood before him.
Ravenscroft cursed his bad luck to be giving evidence before old Winslow yet again — deaf as a post, and irritable and sour to boot. He had a bad feeling about the outcome of this case. ‘I am sorry, your honour. I will endeavour to speak louder for your honour,’ he replied, as laughter broke out from the gallery.
‘Silence!’ shouted the judge. ‘May I remind those present that this is a court of law, not a place of music hall entertainment. Proceed.’
‘Thank you, your honour. Now Inspector Ravenscroft, would you care to tell us what happened on the night of 23 July last?’ enquired the prosecutor.
Ravenscroft took out his notebook, and after adjusting his spectacles, addressed the court.
‘Following information I had received earlier in the day, I took up my position that evening outside the house of Mr Charles Roberts in Shoreditch. At ten thirty precisely I observed the accused, Nigel Makepeace climbing into one of the downstairs windows of the property. Approximately ten minutes later I saw him making his way out of the window and I immediately raised the alarm.’
‘What did he say?’ asked the judge holding his ear.
‘I think the inspector said that he raised the alarm when he saw the accused leaving the property, your honour.’
Winslow nodded. ‘Well, go on then!’ he demanded, a look of annoyance creeping over his face.
‘The accused ran off and myself and two of my officers set off in pursuit. We shortly apprehended Makepeace and conveyed him to the local police station.’
‘Did you make a search of his person?’ enquired counsel.
‘I did indeed, sir, and found two watches in his inside pocket. The same two watches which you have in court today,’ replied Ravenscroft looking up from his book, and realizing that his left hand was shaking.
‘Did Mr Makepeace then confess his guilt, Inspector?’
‘He did not, sir.’
‘But you were confident that you had arrested the right man?’
‘There was no doubt about it, sir. We had caught him red handed with the goods upon his person.’ Ravenscroft tried to sound as confident as possible, for he knew what to expect next. Opposite him the accused was looking up casually at the ceiling.
‘Thank you, Inspector, you have been most helpful.’
The prosecuting barrister resumed his seat and as the counsel for the defence, Mr Sefton Rawlinson, rose to his feet. Ravenscroft’s heart sank.
‘Inspector, how long have you been a member of the London Constabulary?’
Ravenscroft knew that Rawlinson always began with the same question, smiling as he did so, ever seeking to ingratiate himself with the court. It was just unfortunate that the slippery old brief was on the defending side yet again.
‘Fifteen years, sir.’
‘Fifteen years, Inspector. Well, well.’
Always the same response, Rawlinson seeking to belittle his age and experience as usual. He would need to be on his guard. It would not look good at the Yard if he were to lose this one.
‘You say you took up your position outside Mr Roberts’s house. Remind the court as to the time, Inspector?’
‘Ten thirty in the evening.’
‘What time did he say?’ asked the judge, to yet more laughter from the spectators.
‘I think Inspector Ravenscroft said ten thirty in the evening, your honour.’
‘Thank you, Mr Rawlinson.’
‘A pleasure, your honour. Now, Inspector, you say you took up your station at ten thirty. When did you see someone climbing in through the downstairs window?’
‘Eleven-ten precisely,’ replied Ravenscroft, trying to sound as convincing as possible.
‘Eleven-ten precisely, you say,’ repeated the barrister brandishing a sheet of paper. ‘How can you have been so sure of the time? Was it not dark then?’
‘There was some light from the lamp behind us, which enabled me to read my pocket watch.’
‘You say there was some light behind you. So there was no light on the front of the house?’
‘No—’ began Ravenscroft.
‘Quite! So the front of the house was in complete darkness. Tell me Inspector, how was it that you could possibly identify my client either climbing in or out of the property when it was so dark?’ asked Rawlinson leaning forward eagerly.
‘There was some light,’ protested Ravenscroft, feeling his neck becoming hot under his collar, and beginning to wish he was elsewhere.
‘Ah, but according to you, Inspector, you stated that only light visible that night was from the lamp behind you. I put it to you that it was so dark, you could not make a positive identification that the man climbing into the property was my client. It could, in fact, have been anyone!’
‘I am sure it was the accused.’
‘Really, did you see his face?’ asked Rawlinson, a note of sarcasm in his voice.
‘No, but I knew it to be him.’
‘How can you have been so sure?’
‘I have known the accused for the past ten years and have arrested him on a number of occasions during that—’
‘Ah, now we have it. Because you had arrested my client in the past, you assumed that it was him whom you saw on that night entering and leaving the house?’
‘I knew it was Makepeace,’ protested Ravenscroft.
‘Even though you were unable to see my client clearly in the darkness? I think not. Now let us turn to what happened next. You say that after you saw the thief leaving the premises you and two of your constables gave chase.’
‘That is so,’ replied Ravenscroft coughing and shuffling uneasily in the witness stand.
‘How long were you chasing this thief?’
‘For
some time.’
‘For some time,’ sneered Rawlinson. ‘Can we be more precise? Was it a few seconds?’
‘No, it was longer than that,’ replied Ravenscroft conscious that he was falling into the trap and aware that he could do little to prevent it.
‘Was it a minute, perhaps ten minutes, maybe an hour — or possibly even the next day?’ joked his adversary.
Laughter broke out from several parts of the court.
‘Silence!’ bellowed the judge.
‘It was probably about three minutes,’ muttered Ravenscroft.
‘What was that?’ asked the judge.
‘I think the inspector said three minutes, your honour,’ smiled Rawlinson.
‘Proceed, Mr Rawlinson,’ sighed Winslow.
‘Thank you, your honour. Now, Inspector, I would like you to think very hard before you answer this next question, as the innocence of my client will depend upon the accuracy of your reply. During those three minutes whilst you and your colleagues were chasing the thief, did you have him in your sights all of the time?’
‘Not all the time—’ began Ravenscroft, coughing again.
‘I see. So there were times during this supposed chase when you lost all sight of the man you were following?’
‘I suppose that was quite possible,’ he answered, feeling his confidence slowly ebbing away.
‘Would you speak up, Inspector? I’m sure your reply could not be heard by certain sections of this court.’
‘I said that it was quite possible,’ replied Ravenscroft, after clearing his throat.
‘Quite possible! I put it to you, that it certainly was, very possible. You and your officers lost sight of the person you were following. You could have been pursuing anyone for all this court knows. Inspector, it may come as a surprise to you to learn that my client was going about his lawful business when the real thief collided with him, dropping the two watches from his hands as he did so before running off into the crowd. Mr Makepeace then picked up the watches and, being a law-abiding citizen was about to hand them into the authorities when he was suddenly apprehended by you and your officers!’
Ravenscroft looked down at his feet, as the laughter reverberated around the court.
‘Silence! I will not tolerate such frivolity in this court. I will remove the public if such an outbreak occurs again,’ said the judge, beginning to look increasingly bored by the proceedings.
Ravenscroft let out a deep sigh. To have been allocated both Mr Justice Winslow and Mr Sefton Rawlinson on the same day, was a double misfortune indeed.
‘Let us turn to another matter. Did you not say to my client when you apprehended him, for a crime which he had not committed: “got you again, Nigel. You won’t escape justice this time. You are going down for a very long time, my old friend, and you will never see daylight again.” Do you remember saying those words, Inspector?’
Ravenscroft knew that Rawlinson was enjoying himself at his expense and wished that he could get the wretched business over with as soon as possible. He looked across at Makepeace, who was grinning up at the gallery. ‘I cannot remember exactly what I said.’
‘Come now, Inspector, did you, or did you not say, “Got you again Nigel. You are going down for a very long time and will never see daylight again”?’
‘I don’t remember saying he was going down for a very long time—’
‘I put it to you, Inspector, that you had already made up your mind that my client was guilty of the crime you had just witnessed, and that your judgement in this case was severely flawed,’ glared Rawlinson.
‘That is not so,’ protested Ravenscroft, coughing once more.
‘In fact, you wanted to put my client away for a very long time and you did not care how you did it!’ shouted Rawlinson.
‘That is incorrect—’
‘This so called information, that you say you received and acted upon,’ said the barrister, suddenly changing his line of questioning, ‘what information was that?’
‘I cannot say.’
‘Cannot say — or won’t say?’
‘The information was given to us in confidence. I cannot divulge my source,’ protested Ravenscroft.
‘Come now, Inspector. Are you trying to make us believe that you had inside knowledge that this offence was about to take place? I think the court will conclude that this is all nonsense. I put it to you that there never was any inside information, and that you were so anxious to send my client to prison for a very long time, that you did not care how you achieved that objective?’
‘That is just not so,’ said Ravenscroft, shaking his head, and feeling as though he had just fallen down a large well and was unable to see any daylight that might aid his escape.
‘Your honour,’ said Rawlinson, drawing himself up to his full height and addressing the judge, ‘Your honour, I put it to you, that there is simply no case for my client to answer. Inspector Ravenscroft has stated that he could neither see who entered or left the premises where the burglary took place, and that he and his men lost sight of the thief during the following chase. In fact, he has admitted that the man he arrested may not have been the real thief at all! Furthermore, he is clearly prejudiced against my client and is prepared to go to any lengths to ensure an unsafe conviction. I would submit to your honour that there is only one action that you should—’
‘Yes, yes, Mr Rawlinson. You have made your point,’ said Mr Justice Winslow, with annoyance, ‘Case dismissed! The prisoner is free to go.’
Cries broke out from the gallery, as a smiling Makepeace shook hands with his brief.
A dejected Ravenscroft stepped out of the witness box.
‘Next case!’ ordered the judge.
‘Crown versus Norrice!’ shouted the usher.
As Ravenscroft began to leave the court, he made way for a small boy who was being escorted towards the dock.
‘George Norrice you are charged with having a silver crown in your possession. How do you plead?’ yelled the usher above the ensuing noise.
‘I ain’t guilty, sir. It were the lady who gave it me….’
Ravenscroft closed the door of the court behind him and, avoiding the collection of criminals, barristers and onlookers who thronged the corridors of the Old Bailey, stepped out into the bright sunshine, and sought to distance himself from the events of the morning as quickly as possible, striding forth into the streets of London.
Later that afternoon, Ravenscroft made his way slowly up the old creaking staircase that lead to his superior’s office. A note had arrived at lunchtime stating that he was to present himself there at 3.30 precisely. No doubt the Yard had heard about the events of the morning. He was not looking forward to the next few minutes.
Reaching the landing, he paused to recover his breath and to prepare himself for the ordeal ahead, before knocking purposefully on the door.
‘Enter!’
Ravenscroft made his way into the room.
‘Ah, Ravenscroft, it’s you. Take a seat, man.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ he replied, trying to sound optimistic.
‘Heard about this morning, Ravenscroft; a shambles from start to finish.’
‘We were unfortunate—’ he began, knowing that the commissioner would not be interested in his excuses.
‘It does not look good if the Yard is made to look like fools. I am far from pleased. You should have been sure of your evidence before it went to court, man.’
‘We were up against Mr Sefton Rawlinson, sir.’
‘All the more reason to have ensured that your case was watertight. Not the first time this has happened, Ravenscroft. No, don’t interrupt, when I’m speaking. This is the third time this year when your evidence has been thrown out of court. This incompetence just won’t do. It brings the Yard into disrepute and does not convey the right image that we are seeking to establish.’
‘No, sir,’ said Ravenscroft, looking down at the floor and recalling the other times when he had sat in this same dre
ary old room being rounded on by his superiors.
‘I’ve also been having a look at your crime figures. They leave a lot to be desired, I can tell you. Since you came back from Malvern last year, your performance seems to have taken quite a tumble, not that your success rate was all that good then, or indeed for the year before. Perhaps this is all becoming too much for you? Quite frankly, I am beginning to wonder if it’s not about time you retired. Have you ever considered retiring, Ravenscroft?’
So that was what all this had been leading up to. The Yard obviously wanted to ease him out, to make way for a younger man.
‘Never considered it, sir,’ he lied, seeking to sound as convincing as possible.
‘Between you and me, Ravenscroft, I can tell you that there are plans, well advanced, to pass an act through Parliament in the next year or so, allowing for those officers who want to take early retirement to do so. On fairly reasonable terms as well, I believe. I think you would be seriously advised to consider taking up such a generous offer when it becomes into operation.’
‘I’ll consider my options, sir, when the time comes. Will that be all, sir?’ he said, beginning to get to his feet and seeking to escape the claustrophobic confines of the room as quickly as possible.
‘Not quite,’ said the commissioner, studying a sheet of paper before him.
Ravenscroft wondered what he was going to be reprimanded for now; what lack of enterprise on his part had they now unearthed to chastise him with.
‘Had a letter from the Dean of Worcester Cathedral; gentleman who goes by the name of Touchmore or Touchstone. Can’t read his signature, but apparently you met him when you went to Malvern last year and cleared up those murders. Speaks very highly of you; can’t imagine why. Apparently someone has run off with one of their priceless books from the cathedral library. Librarian has also gone missing. Asks if we could spare you to go down there and solve the case.’
‘Surely the local police will have carried out investigations?’
‘Seems some work has been done, but they have failed to make any headway. This Touchmore fellow thinks that you are the man for the job.’