by Kerry Tombs
‘I would be obliged,’ said Ravenscroft feeling somewhat deflated by the butler’s reply. ‘May I speak to Lady Chilton?’
‘I am afraid not, sir. Lady Chilton is not well, and we have all been given strict instructions to admit no one into her presence. I am sorry sir. You may see Mr Brockway, should you wish. I believe he is in the study.’
‘Then Mr Brockway it shall be,’ sighed Ravenscroft.
‘If you will come this way, sir.’
Jukes tapped on the door of the study and, receiving a reply from within, opened the door. ‘Inspector Ravenscroft to see you sir.’
‘Ah, Ravenscroft,’ said Brockway rising from behind the desk and coming forward to meet the detective as he entered the room. ‘I’m afraid Sir Charles is out at the moment. You have news of Miss Chilton?’
‘We have yet to discover her whereabouts, but we now have a description of the man whom we believe abducted the young lady.’
‘Indeed. That is progress indeed. Please take a seat, Inspector. That will be all, Jukes.’
‘Miss Chilton was seen leaving the railway station in Droitwich on Tuesday afternoon. She was accompanied by a tall, middle aged man,’ said Ravenscroft as Jukes left the room.
‘I see,’ said Brockway resuming his seat behind the desk.
‘I wonder if you could place the man for us?’
‘I will try, Inspector.’
‘He was quite shabbily dressed, and was described as having a wild, haunted look about him.’
‘I cannot recall such a person.’
‘He was also missing a finger from his left hand,’ continued Ravenscroft.
Brockway leaned back suddenly in his chair and covered the bottom part of his face with his hand.
‘You know of such a man?’ asked Ravenscroft eagerly.
‘No. No. Missing a finger on his left hand? No, I know of no such man.’
‘Forgive me, Mr Brockway, but you seem quite overcome?’
‘It is the heat in here. This room often becomes warm in the late afternoon. I am always telling the servants to open the windows, but somehow they often seem to forget,’ said Brockway rising from his chair, and walking quickly over to the window.
‘Then you have never seen such a man? Perhaps Sir Charles has had dealings with such a man?’ suggested Ravenscroft.
‘I do not believe so, but I will mention this matter to Sir Charles upon his return, you may rest assured. Now if you will excuse me, Inspector, I have an urgent meeting to attend in Bromsgrove. Sir Charles will be expecting me to attend,’ said Brockway crossing over to the door and opening it for the detective.
‘Of course sir. I will not detain you longer,’ said Ravenscroft rising from his seat and shaking the extended hand of the business man.
‘Good day to you, Inspector.’
As Ravenscroft made his way down the corridor to the kitchens, he was now hopeful that his search for the missing girl would soon be over. He now had a description of the man who had taken her — but more importantly, he now knew that Brockway had lied to him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
DROITWICH
As Ravenscroft stood alone in the churchyard, he found his thoughts returning yet again, as they had done so many times earlier that day, to the house in Worcester and to the young girl whose remains he and Crabb had found beneath the stairs. Had the woman Drew killed the girl, or had she died of natural causes? The doctor had been unable to say one way or the other, but he felt that the former was the more likely. The fact that she had been buried so hastily under the stairs of that awful house strongly suggested that the Drew woman had been instrumental in her demise.
Then Ravenscroft remembered his own sister, Anne, she who had died suddenly at a similar age to the young girl, shortly before he himself had been born; the sister he had never known, but who had been remembered in their tiny household; the sister who had always been in his thoughts, and he knew would always be a part of his own life.
At least his own sister had been loved and cared for. The girl under the stairs had died a lonely death. Once she had been someone’s child, perhaps even someone’s sister. How, and why, had she ended her days in that dismal house in Inkerman Street? How long had she been in the custody of strangers? Why had she been shut up and seldom seen by even the closest of neighbours? Questions that would perhaps remain unanswered, unless he could apprehend the Drew woman. She had been yet another unwanted child; whose poor mother had been forced to relinquish her, no doubt anxiously seeking to escape from penury or disgrace. She’d been farmed out for a few guineas to be forgotten for ever. And this last was the worst thing of all and the point which Ravenscroft found most difficult to accept — for the young girl who had been left behind, who had known no love, had no name, and had no other means of identification would, in her death, leave no remembrance for others to recall and mourn — the more he thought about her forlorn fate the angrier he became.
Now it seemed that Mildred Chilton had been taken by the same people and, unless Ravenscroft found her soon, he knew that she would in all probability meet the same fate as the poor unknown girl in Worcester.
He found his mind returning to the events of later in the day: the visit that he and Crabb had made to the railway station; how they had learnt that Mildred and her abductor had left the town that same afternoon, and the vivid description of her kidnapper he’d been given. At first he had been optimistic that someone at Hill Court would have been able to put a name to this man, but then as he questioned all the servants and labourers over the following two hours, he found that none of them had been able to place the stranger. He became increasingly depressed, and now as he watched the rain falling from the porch of the church, the lowering skies seemed to match his mood of deepening despair. And yet he knew that Brockway had lied to him. When he had given him the description of the man, Brockway had at first been visibly shaken, but had then quickly changed the subject and had been anxious to bring their conversation to a speedy conclusion.
If Brockway knew this man, then perhaps Sir Charles knew him as well? Perhaps the man had been someone they had previously done business with? But if this were the case, why had Brockway not acknowledged the identity of the man? Could it be that Brockway himself was behind the abduction of his employer’s daughter? If so, what would have been the lawyer’s motives? To extract money from Sir Charles, or was there some kind of personal revenge behind all this?
The servants had said that Sir Charles and Brockway would return before dark. All Ravenscroft had to do now was to wait upon their return, when he would confront the landowner and lawyer with the man’s description.
Just who was this man? Apparently his appearance and manner had not frightened the girl. The railwayman had said that they had been talking quietly on the seat while they awaited the arrival of their train. Was he connected in some way with the Drew woman? After all, they had found the remains of that poor girl in Worcester, and she must have been the same age as Mildred Chilton. Perhaps the man was in the habit of kidnapping young girls and then selling them on to Drew? Was that how he earned his living? And yet, and yet, Brockway had known his identity, and Old John certainly had, and that was why he had been silenced — but how had he known him?
‘I’ve come back for you, sir!’
He was startled by the sudden arrival of Crabb, who had darted into the porchway.
‘Tom, how are you?’
‘Bit wet, sir. They said at the house that you would be here,’ replied Crabb brushing the rain away from his wet tunic.
‘How did you get on, Tom?’
‘I’ve sent out all the telegrams as you said, sir. Some replies have come back from the various station masters, but as yet no one can recall either the man or girl alighting from the train. Similarly in Worcester, the men have made extensive enquiries, but no one can recollect seeing the Drew woman and the others after they had left the house. They have even questioned the cab drivers again, but still no one can recall taking such a
fare from the woman wanting to leave the city. She must have been met by someone, or perhaps they had their own transport. The woman just seems to have vanished into thin air. I just don’t know what—’
‘Stop, Tom! What was that you said?’ said Ravenscroft suddenly.
‘That the Drew woman must have vanished into thin air,’ answered a puzzled Crabb.
‘No, not that — when you first arrived here, just now?’
‘Can’t remember sir, something like, “I’ve come back for you”.’
‘“I’ve come back for you.” That’s what you said. Crabb, do you remember when we encountered Old John in this churchyard?’
‘Lead us a merry dance he did, jumping from behind one tombstone to another.’
‘Exactly, and do you remember that suddenly he pulled up short before one of the old vaults.’
‘Looked as though he had seen a ghost,’ added Crabb.
‘Then he cried out — “He’s come back for me! He’s come back for me! He shan’t take Old John.”’
‘Terrified he was.’
‘Quickly Tom, do you remember which vault he stopped at?’
‘That one over there, I think,’ replied Crabb pointing at a large family vault lower down the path on the left hand side.
‘I believe that was the one. Let’s go and see who it belongs to, although I think I know the answer already,’ said Ravenscroft leading the way out of the porch and into the rain.
The two men made their way down the path. Ravenscroft pulled some of the ivy away from one of the sides of the vault. ‘Just as I thought Tom, it’s the Chilton family vault. See here, Sir Christopher Chilton, the present Sir Charles’s father, and yes, see round this side, Peter Chilton the elder brother who died so unexpectedly ten years ago.’
‘But why was Old John afraid of an old vault like this?’ asked Crabb through the pouring rain.
‘He certainly knew both Sir Christopher and Peter Chilton. He had worked for both of them. When I spoke to Mrs Greenway in the kitchen garden, she said that Old John and Peter had been very close, going out riding together and such like, and that Old John had even brought back Peter’s coffin from London with Sir Charles, for burial here.’
‘Perhaps he was afraid of ghosts of the dead Chiltons; thought that one of them had come back for him, and that shortly it would be his time to join them?’
‘And in that he was proved right. Within a day or so he was brutally murdered and had his corpse thrown into the canal. Perhaps the answer to this mystery has been here all the time? Let’s get back in the dry, Tom.’
The two men ran back into the porch of the church.
‘What I don’t understand, is the fact that Old John spent most of his time in this churchyard, apparently he even slept here; he would hardly have done that if he had been afraid of ghosts. Then suddenly on the day we saw him, he runs all-round the churchyard, until he reaches the family vault where he becomes frightened out of his wits, before flying off as quickly as he could. I wonder why? I don’t believe in ghosts, Tom,’ said Ravenscroft wiping his wet spectacles on his handkerchief.
‘They all said he was as mad as a March hare,’ said Crabb.
‘I think he had some kind of premonition that he was about to die,’ suggested Ravenscroft deep in thought.
‘It is probably not wise to give too much weight to what Old John said, and how he behaved.’
‘You could be right, Tom. Anyway, enough of this damp porch. It will soon be dark. Let us go back to Hill Court and see if Sir Charles has returned yet? He and Brockway have some questions to answer.’
* * *
As Ravenscroft and Crabb ran towards the main door of Hill Court they became aware of a horse-drawn carriage standing near the entrance.
‘It appears Sir Charles has returned,’ said Ravenscroft walking up to the door and ringing the large bell pull.
‘Good evening sir,’ said Jukes opening the door.
‘I see that Sir Charles is at home,’ said Ravenscroft about to make his way through the entrance door.
‘I’m afraid it is not convenient at the moment, sir,’ said the butler barring his way.
‘Who the devil is that, Jukes?’ shouted a familiar voice from within.
‘Inspector Ravenscroft, sir,’ replied the butler, appearing ill at ease.
‘Damn the man! Tell him to come back in the morning. It’s damned inconvenient just now,’ cried out the voice of Sir Charles Chilton.
‘I’m sorry, sir. There is nothing more I can do. You must return in the morning,’ said Jukes beginning to close the door.
‘Whatever is that noise? I heard a disturbance inside,’ protested Ravenscroft.
‘It is nothing sir. One of the servants has upset the dinner, that is all.’
‘Jukes! Tell Ravenscroft to come back in the morning!’
‘I’m very sorry sir,’ said Jukes abruptly closing the door in Ravenscroft’s face.
‘Well sir, that’s a fine state of affairs. What on earth is going on inside?’ said Crabb.
‘Come Tom, let us leave as quickly as we can,’ said Ravenscroft walking briskly away from the front entrance of the house and round to the side of the building.
‘I could hear someone crying,’ said Crabb following on behind.
Ravenscroft stopped quickly and looked around him in the thickening gloom. ‘I think we are now unobserved. Follow me into those bushes.’
Crabb followed Ravenscroft into the undergrowth.
‘Good, we won’t be observed here. There’s something going on in that house tonight. I have a feeling that someone is about to leave in that waiting carriage, and that Sir Charles does not want us here to witness the event,’ said Ravenscroft hastily.
‘What shall we do sir?’
‘Well, Tom, if you do not mind this rain for a few more minutes, I think we will make our way back up here in this undergrowth, until we are able to observe what is about to take place.’
The two men made their way up the side of the garden, until Ravenscroft had a clear view of the carriage and the front door.
‘This will do fine. Somehow I don’t think we will have too long to wait,’ said Ravenscroft.
Suddenly the front door was flung open, and a woman’s voice could be clearly heard. ‘No, no! You will not make me go!’
‘That’s Lady Chilton’s voice if I am not mistaken,’ whispered Ravenscroft.
‘Not go! I shall not be brooked, woman! Staples, if you please, escort your patient, Lady Chilton, into the carriage,’ said Sir Charles stepping out into the night air.
‘I shall not go! I shall not go without Mildred,’ retorted Lady Chilton appearing with Jukes and the doctor.
‘Madam, it is the best for all concerned. Staples, have a care for your charge,’ snapped Chilton.
‘Sir Charles, I beg you to think again,’ said an anxious Brockway joining the others.
‘Do not cross me sir, if you value your position!’ shouted Chilton. ‘Staples!’
‘Come, Lady Chilton. Calm yourself, my good lady. All will be well,’ said Staples pushing a crying Lady Chilton into the waiting carriage.
‘Please Sir Charles, this is not right,’ pleaded Brockway. ‘I ask you to reconsider man.’
‘I pray you be silent, sir!’ retorted Chilton slamming the door of the carriage behind the doctor and his patient. ‘Away with you coachman!’
The man cracked his whip and the coach made a quick traverse of the circular lawn in front of the property, before disappearing from view down the drive. Sir Charles, Brockway and Jukes returned to the inside of the house, the latter closing the door behind them.
‘Well sir, what was all that about?’ asked Crabb.
‘I don’t know, Tom, but I do know that if we are quick we can collect our trap from outside the church, and we may then be in time to follow the carriage,’ replied Ravenscroft making his way out of the undergrowth and walking quickly down the path towards the church.
The two men clamber
ed into the trap; Tom cracked the whip and the horse set off at a brisk trot down the lane.
‘Pull up the horse here,’ instructed Ravenscroft. ‘Let us hope that Sir Charles’s carriage will be making its way down the main drive, and will come this way, rather than take the other direction towards Bromsgrove. I trust we are in time. I am anxious to see where they are taking Lady Chilton. Yes, there it is. Quickly Tom, follow on!’
Crabb cracked the whip once more, and the small trap turned the corner and followed the carriage as it made its way down the hill towards the town.
‘We appear to be travelling out towards Worcester,’ said Ravenscroft a few minutes later as the vehicles left the lights of the town. ‘Not too close, Tom. We don’t want to arouse suspicion. It is important that they do not know that they are being followed.’
‘No fear of that sir. He’s keeping up a good pace,’ replied Crabb.
Their journey took them across the Heath and into the outer suburbs of Worcester.
‘They must be taking her somewhere in Worcester,’ said Ravenscroft straining to see in the wet, darkened streets of the city.
‘We seem to be heading towards the cathedral, sir,’ shouted Crabb through the rain.
‘No, I think we are going across the bridge,’ replied Ravenscroft. ‘I guess that the cab’s destination is nowhere here,’ said Ravenscroft as the carriage continued on its way. ‘I wonder where Staples and Lady Chilton are going to at this time? The poor woman clearly had no desire to go on such a journey at this late hour and in such conditions.’
A few minutes later the carriage suddenly turned left off the road, and disappeared from view down a long drive.
‘Stop the horse here, Tom,’ instructed Ravenscroft. ‘Tie him up to that tree.’
The two men alighted from the trap and, after Crabb had secured the horse, they made their way towards the front gates to the driveway.
‘See there, Tom,’ said Ravenscroft pointing at the large range of buildings at the bottom of the drive. ‘Quite an imposing residence. Fortunately some of the rooms are lit. We have often passed this place, and I have always wondered who owns it.’