The Ledbury Lamplighters (15 page)

The group continued on their journey through the darkened, overgrown wood, which to Ravenscroft seemed to have no end, but after nearly another hour the search party finally left the wooded area as a gentle path led them steadily downwards across some fields, towards a distant light that signified that they were about to
enter the village of Eastnor. Passing by the side of a church, Ravenscroft knocked on the door of a nearby cottage and made enquiries concerning the youth.

‘The fellow there says that he saw a young gentleman of Rupert’s description late yesterday afternoon crossing the road in the direction of the hills,’ said Ravenscroft, returning to rejoin his companions.

‘That would seem to confirm what Leewood told us,’ said Catherwood.

‘Mr Rivers, can you lead us up towards this obelisk? I have asked the man in the cottage to wait for our constables to return and instruct them to remain here.’

‘Right, Mr Ravenscroft. Follow me, you men,’ instructed the gamekeeper.

The group, although tired and cold, nevertheless set off at a brisk pace across the snowy landscape, knowing that their journey might shortly be reaching its climax. Rivers held the torch high above his head, lighting the way, as Catherwood sought to restrain his dog as it pulled anxiously on its leash. Ravenscroft could feel his chest tightening and his breath coming in short gasps as he fought against a cold wind that seemed to blow directly into his face.

Their journey took them steadily upwards across open parkland until they again entered more woodland. ‘Not far now, gentlemen!’ shouted Rivers, as Catherwood’s dog suddenly slipped its leash and disappeared from view.

‘There are some footprints in the snow!’ exclaimed Ravenscroft.

‘The dog’s picked up something!’ said Catherwood, breaking into a run, the rest of the group following suit.

Ravenscroft and his companions quickly found themselves on a piece of high, open ground, as a tall obelisk gradually came into view, silhouetted by the moon’s glow against the whitened landscape.

Catherwood’s dog began to bark loudly as the men ran towards the edifice. ‘The dog’s found something!’ shouted Catherwood.

The searchers came to a halt as they reached the monument. Ravenscroft could just make out the outline of a figure slumped at the base of the obelisk.

‘It’s Master Rupert!’ exclaimed Rivers, approaching the figure.

‘Pray God we are not too late,’ said an anxious Catherwood,
pulling back his dog.

Suddenly the figure moved.

‘He’s alive!’ shouted one of the farm labourers.

‘Master Rupert, it’s Rivers!’ called out the gamekeeper.

‘Keep back, all of you!’ shouted Rupert, lifting up a pistol that had evidently lain at his side and aiming it at the group.

‘It’s all right, Master Rupert, it’s Rivers come to look for you. Don’t be afraid, you’ll be all right now. We’ve come to take you home.’

‘Stand back, I say,’ said the agitated youth. ‘One more step and I’ll blow my brains out. Leave me alone to die in my own time.’

‘He’s been out too long in the cold,’ whispered Catherwood, moving slowly forward.

‘Keep back! I mean it. If you come any closer I’ll end it all now,’ said Rupert, raising the pistol to his temple.

‘You don’t want to do that, lad,’ said Catherwood in a reassuring tone. ‘We are here to help you.’

‘I warn you. If you come another step nearer, I’ll do it. There’s no point in going on. Nobody cares if I live or die. My father hated me!’ said Rupert, crying and waving the pistol around his head.

‘Come now, lad. There’s folk that cares for you. All these people have come out here tonight to look for you. Don’t end it all like this. Give me the pistol,’ said Catherwood in a sympathetic, reassuring voice as he inched towards him.

‘Nobody loves me! Keep back!’

‘Come, lad, give it to me. Nothing we can’t sort out in the morning,’ said Catherwood, extending his hand out towards the weapon.

‘Why can’t I end it all?’ cried the distraught youth.

‘Because you know that would be wrong. You’re young, you have everything to live for. Give me the pistol, lad,’ said Catherwood firmly.

Rupert dropped the pistol to the ground and sobbed uncontrollably. Ravenscroft quickly recovered the weapon as Doctor Andrews placed a comforting arm around the forlorn figure.

A few minutes later, the search party made its slow progress back through the wood and down the path to Eastnor, where Ravenscroft was relieved to see that his men had returned with two
horsedrawn vehicles. As they journeyed back to Ledbury, the men, weary and cold after their exertions, sat with bowed heads in silence, the only sounds being that of the wheels on the frozen road and the occasional sob from Rupert Montacute.

Eventually the vehicles came to a halt outside The Gables. ‘I’ll take Mr Montacute inside and put him to bed. He will no doubt see things differently in the morning,’ said Andrews, alighting from one of the conveyances.

‘Thank you, Doctor – and, you Mr Rivers, and all you men for your assistance,’ said Ravenscroft as the group began to go their separate ways. ‘Mr Catherwood, perhaps you would care to accompany me back to the town?’

Ravenscroft and Catherwood walked back in silence for a while before Ravenscroft finally spoke. ‘That was a very brave thing you did tonight, Mr Catherwood. The lad could have shot you at any moment.’

‘That’s as may be.’

‘Why did you come with us tonight? You have no obligation towards the Montacute family.’

‘I think you know the answer to that question, Ravenscroft – unless of course you are a complete fool, which I very much doubt.’

‘That Rupert Montacute … is your son?’

Catherwood said nothing but gave a brief smile before turning away and striding purposefully in the direction of his house.

The Brothers of the West Kensington branch of the Freemasons Society took their places around the large oak table, as the flickering light from the oil lamp placed in the centre of the room cast fleeting shadows on the portraits of their illustrious predecessors.

The eldest member, and more senior of the group, cleared his throat. ‘Gentlemen, apologies for the brief notice given to you all for the convening of this meeting this evening, but I have just received a report from our Brother in Ledbury which contains some rather disturbing news.’

‘Please go on, Brother,’ said one of the gathering.

‘I received the communication from Brother 127 of Ledbury late this afternoon. In this letter he states that he believes the papers are located in the offices of one Midwinter, Oliphant and Burrows, Solicitors of the town. It seems likely that the man Robertson deposited the package there before his untimely death at the hands of our agent Major Monk.’

‘It should be an easy task for Major Monk to retrieve the package and bring it to us,’ interjected a high-pitched voice from lower down the table.

‘That apparently is what Monk endeavoured to do yesterday evening, but unfortunately he was thwarted in his enterprise by the local constabulary and had to leave empty-handed. A trap had evidently been laid to arrest the good major,’ continued the main speaker.

‘That is rather unfortunate. Do we know who is in charge of the police there?’ asked another of the group.

‘A man by the name of Ravenhill or Ravenscroft, I believe,’ replied the speaker, looking down at the letter which lay before him on the table.

‘Not one of our number, I suppose?’

‘Unfortunately not. Furthermore a police guard has been placed in the offices of the solicitors to prevent any further attempts to retrieve the papers.’

‘This is most unwelcome news, Brother,’ muttered the questioner.

‘I have also received a communication from Major Monk in which he acknowledges that the case presents difficulties but stating that he knows of another way to recover the papers and that he is confident that they will be in our hands by the end of the week.’

‘I do not like this, Brother. Monk has twice failed us in his attempts to secure the papers. Why should we expect his next attempt to succeed?’ wheezed a stout, elderly Brother.

‘In the present circumstances there would appear to be little that we can do, Brothers, other than trust that Major Monk is successful in his recovery,’ replied the senior member.

‘Cannot Brother 127 of Ledbury recover the papers for us?’ interjected one of the group who had spoken earlier.

‘No one in the town knows the identity of Brother 127. It is important for the Brotherhood that he retains his secrecy. If Brother 127 was to make an attempt to recover the papers then his position would be compromised, and at present there is nothing to suggest that he might be any more successful than our man Monk,’ continued the elder.

‘What do you propose then, Brother?’

‘I suggest that we write back to our Brother in Ledbury tonight instructing him to keep a close watch on our Major Monk. Once Monk has fulfilled his task, then Brother 127 should eliminate the major and destroy the papers at the same time.’

‘Would it not be better if the papers were returned to us?’

‘We cannot take that risk. Someone else could intercept and acquire the papers between their passage from Ledbury to London. For every hour that those papers survive, the risk becomes greater
that they will fall into the wrong hands. Far better that Brother 127 acts. Once he has destroyed the papers, there would be no evidence to support anyone who might seek at some future date to bring the issue into the public domain. No, gentlemen – let our Brother in Ledbury see that the papers are burnt.’

‘You can trust Brother 127 to carry out this task?’ asked the high-pitched voice.

‘I have known the Brother personally for a number of years. He can be entirely trusted to carry out our orders. He shares our beliefs and will do anything to uphold the ambitions of the Brotherhood.’

The six members talked quietly amongst themselves for a few seconds before the senior member spoke once again. ‘Gentlemen, do I have your agreement? Does anyone dissent? Then we are all agreed. I will write to our Brother in Ledbury tonight. Let us all hope that this matter can be brought to a quick and satisfactory conclusion.’

‘Gent to see you, sir.’

‘Thank you, Constable. Show him in.’

It was the following morning, and Ravenscroft had arrived at the police station to interview Leewood.

The constable opened the door. An elderly gentleman, dressed in working clothes and adorned with a snowy white beard, shuffled into the room.

‘Good morning, what can I do for you?’ asked Ravenscroft, looking up from his papers.

‘The name’s Sanderson, Albert Sanderson. I am one of the lamplighters,’ replied the visitor.

‘Ah yes, Mr Sanderson, I thought I recognized you. You were present at the Lamplighters’ Ball if I recall.’

‘That’s what I’ve come about. Got something to tell yer.’

‘Then you best take a chair, Mr Sanderson,’ instructed Ravenscroft.

His elderly visitor accepted the seat. ‘Yer must excuse me, sir, if I appears to look at yer in a funny way. It’s on account of me being boss-eyed, like.’

‘Boss-eyed?’

‘Me squint. I were born with it. I comes from a family of squinters. Me dad and his dad before him were all boss-eyed. Me brother, he were a squinter as well. Can’t do much about it.’

Ravenscroft wondered what the condition of the man’s eyesight had to do with the case he was now investigating. ‘Please continue,
Mr Sanderson. You have some information for me?’

‘I were there that night that Mr Montacute were done in. I might have seen who done it,’ said the old lamplighter, pausing for the effect of his words to register with Ravenscroft.

‘Yes, go on,’ urged Ravenscroft.

‘When we arrived at the Feathers, after putting out lamps, the others went on ahead, I followed them up the stairs shortly after. It were then that I saw her,’ said Sanderson, leaning forward and looking in Ravenscroft’s direction.

‘Her?’

‘Standing at the top of the stairs she were, just along from the room.’

‘Who was standing outside the room?’ asked Ravenscroft, wishing that his visitor would come to the point.

‘I didn’t get much of a look at her. Her head and face were covered in a long shawl, like. I’d say she were quite old though. Almost bent double she were.’

‘And what precisely was this woman doing?’

‘She weren’t doing nothin’. She were just standing there, like, outside the room.’

‘Do you remember anything else about this old woman?’

‘No, except she had a nasty bussack.’

‘Bussack?’ asked a bewildered Ravenscroft.

‘Bad cough, like,’ replied Sanderson, demonstrating the cough. ‘Real bad it were. She must have had it for a long time. Likes it will carry her off real soon. Folks is always getting bussacks in Ledbury.’

‘Oh, why is that?’ enquired Ravenscroft before realizing that he was encouraging the old man to digress from the matter in hand.

‘It be the weather, like. Damp no good for the bussacks. Folk in Hereford don’t have so many bussacks as we do here in Ledbury.’

‘Tell me, Mr Sanderson, did you notice if this woman, who had the bad cough, actually went into the room where the ball was being held?’

‘Don’t know. I just passed her and went into the room. Then we went round snuffing out all the lights.’

‘So after you entered the room, you did not see her again?’

‘That’s correct, sir,’ replied Sanderson, leaning back in the chair with a look of satisfaction on his face.

‘So she may have entered the room when the lights went out or she may have just gone on her way? Perhaps she was intending coming into the room once the New Year was announced, like they do in Scotland?’

‘Oh, she wouldn’t be doing that, sir.’

‘Why not?’

‘We has a saying in these parts that it is bad luck to have New Year let in by a woman or child. Has to be a man that do that.’

‘So she would not have been loitering around outside the ballroom ready to make some kind of entrance when the New Year began? Perhaps she was hoping that the guests would give her something once they began to leave?’ suggested Ravenscroft.

Sanderson nodded his head. Ravenscroft was beginning to feel uneasy trying to look the old lamplighter directly in the face, and turned away. ‘Tell me, Mr Sanderson, you know that we have been investigating this case for some days now. Why have you waited all this time to come forward? This information could have helped us a great deal had we learned of it earlier.’

‘I been staying with me aunt in Hereford. She’s a bit craiky and needs looking after.’

‘Craiky?’

‘Bit weak, on account of her being old,’ said the old man, stroking his long beard and winking one eye. ‘Hereford folk live to an old age, but they is always craiky. Her husband he were very craiky. Been like that for years. Could hardly get out of bed in a morning.’

‘I see. So you have been away in Hereford for a few days, looking after your aunt, and that is why you have not come forward until now?’ said Ravenscroft, anxious to break into the lamplighter’s flow of words.

‘She been a-faltering of late. Bit giddling on her feet. Not likely to see next Gooding Day.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ replied Ravenscroft, attempting to suppress a smile.

‘Well, that be all, sir. I’d best be on my way,’ said the old lamplighter, struggling to his feet.

‘Thank you for coming in, Mr Sanderson. It is much appreciated. If you remember anything else unusual about the evening, please don’t hesitate to come and see me again,’ said
Ravenscroft, standing up and shaking the old man’s hand.

‘I wish you a heart-well new year, sir.’

‘And to you, Mr Sanderson. Mind how you go.’

The old man left the room, leaving Ravenscroft deep in thought. Who had been the mysterious old woman who had been seen by the lamplighter outside the ballroom shortly before Montacute had been killed? Had she played any role in his death? If not, what had she been doing there on that night – and furthermore had she seen anyone either leave or enter the room when the lights had been extinguished? If so, the woman could have valuable evidence to impart. Ravenscroft knew that before any of these questions could be answered, he would have to discover the identity of the woman. Sanderson had mentioned that the elderly woman had been coughing a great deal. He had recently encountered one such person who seemed to fit the bill. After a minute or two of further deliberation, he rang the bell on his desk and instructed the constable to bring Leewood up from the cells.

‘Sit down, Leewood,’ instructed Ravenscroft.

The prisoner threw Ravenscroft a scowl before seating himself reluctantly on the chair.

‘Now then, Leewood, I have a few questions to ask you before I send you back to Hereford gaol. It will be in your best interests to answer them as honestly as you can. I will know if you are lying, and if that is the case you will face further charges of police obstruction. The best thing you can do now is to tell us all you know. If I tell the prison governor that you have been co-operative, then things may not go so badly for you. I trust you understand what I am saying?’ said Ravenscroft, speaking slowly and with determination.

‘I didn’t harm that lad, Mr Ravenscroft,’ protested Leewood, leaning forward and eager to accept the offer that had been made to him.

‘No one said that you did.’

‘I just saw him in the wood. I had nothing to do with him.’

‘I believe you. Now, Leewood, when you escaped from prison you decided to make your way back to Ledbury?’

The prisoner nodded and looked down at the floor.

‘Why did you return to the town?’

‘To see my wife – and me mother. That’s why I escaped from Hereford.’

‘And did you see them?’

‘Saw my mother. Wife had left and gone off with another. Taken babby with her, the ungrateful harlot.’

‘That’s where you got the bread and cheese from – your mother?’

The convict nodded again.

‘You have been living in the hut in the woods since your return to the town?’

‘Yes.’

‘You couldn’t expect to stay there for ever, could you?’ asked Ravenscroft, leaning forward.

‘No. I just wanted to see my family, Mr Ravenscroft. That’s all I wanted to do. I was going to give myself up today anyway. Honest I was. You have to believe me,’ replied Leewood in a pleading voice.

‘Tell me about Mr Nathaniel Montacute,’ said Ravenscroft, ignoring the convict’s last remarks.

‘What do you want to know about him for? He was the beak that sent me down!’

‘You protested your innocence at the time?’

‘Yes, and that were right, Mr Ravenscroft. I never did it.’

‘Mr Montacute thought otherwise, and when he passed sentence you made a disturbance, and said that one day you would get even with him.’

‘I might have said something like that,’ admitted Leewood reluctantly.

‘I assure you that you were quite vocal in your threats.’

‘Yes, well, I suppose I was angry at the time. Wouldn’t you be, if you had been sent down for a crime that you didn’t commit?’

‘And did you get even with him?’

‘Who?’

‘Nathaniel Montacute. Did you set out to kill him, upon your return to Ledbury?’

‘No! No, I never laid a hand on him,’ said Leewood, crying out.

‘Well, someone did. He was poisoned at the Lamplighters’ Ball. Did you poison Mr Montacute?’

‘No! I ain’t seen him since I were sent to gaol.’

‘We only have your word for that.’

‘You have to believe me!’ protested Leewood. ‘I didn’t mean no harm to the gent when I said those words. I never hurt anyone in my life. Where could I have got poison from?’

‘Perhaps your mother procured the poison for you – and then on the night of the Lamplighters’ Ball you slipped into the ballroom of the Feathers and dropped the poison into the old banker’s glass when the lights went out, whilst your mother kept watch outside?’

‘No. I don’t know what you are talking about. My mother has nothing to do with this,’ replied the agitated convict, staring into Ravenscroft’s eyes. ‘I didn’t kill anyone. You have to believe me.’

The two men looked at one another in silence; Leewood desperate to express his innocence, Ravenscroft unsure whether the felon was telling him the truth.

Suddenly Ravenscroft sprang to his feet. ‘That will be all for now. Constable, will you take the prisoner back to the cells.’

‘You have to believe me. I didn’t kill Montacute. I’m innocent,’ pleaded the convict.

‘Constable, escort the prisoner from the room,’ instructed Ravenscroft, turning away and staring out of the narrow window.

‘I tells you, I didn’t do it! Why don’t you believe me?’

A few minutes later, Ravenscroft paused at the entrance to Smoke Alley. Now that he had spoken with Leewood, it was time to question the mother again. He was convinced that it had been Mrs Leewood who had been seen by Sanderson the lamplighter, loitering outside the ballroom of the Feathers shortly before the lights had been exstinguished, and he was anxious to learn why she had been there that night, what part she had played in the banker’s death and whether she had acted alone or in conjunction with her son. Perhaps the mystery of Montacute’s death was at last about to be revealed.

After taking a deep breath, he strode down the darkened passageway.

‘Give us another coin, governor!’ cried out the boy he had encountered on his previous visit, eagerly running up towards him.

Ravenscroft brushed the lad aside, marched into the courtyard and, after briefly banging his fist on the wood, pushed open the door and entered the room.

‘Thought you would be back,’ muttered the voice of the old woman somewhere in the darkness. Ravenscroft briefly recoiled from the same damp, fetid smell that assailed his senses.

‘Mrs Leewood, I have some news for you,’ he said, seeking to
adjust his eyes to the gloom of the room, as the cat at his feet let out a loud squawk.

‘Suppose you’ve caught him?’ coughed the old woman.

‘We found your son up in Coneygree Wood. He was hiding out in an old hut that used to belong to the woodmen,’ Ravenscroft answered as he neared the chair and looked down at the old woman. The cat moved to a corner of the room, glaring at the intruder and hissing as it did so.

‘You’re going to send my boy back to Hereford then?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘My lad has done nothing. He should never have been put away in the first place.’

‘Mrs Leewood, what were you doing at the Feathers on New Year’s Eve?’ said Ravenscroft, ignoring the last remark and anxious to confront her with the knowledge he had just gained that morning.

The old woman let out a loud laugh before being convulsed by a series of deep coughs.

‘Can I get you some water?’ asked Ravenscroft.

‘Don’t need no water.’

‘Has Doctor Andrews been to see you?’

‘Sent him packing! What need have I for a doctor? Nothing any doctor can do for me. I ain’t long for this world,’ grumbled Mrs Leewood.

‘What were you doing at the Feathers on New Year’s Eve?’ repeated Ravenscroft.

‘I heard you the first time!’ The woman scowled. ‘What would I be doing at the Feathers? Feathers is only for the toffs. What use would I have for such a place?’

‘You were seen, standing on the landing, outside the ballroom, shortly before midnight when Mr Montacute was poisoned.’

‘It’s a lie! Who says I was there?’

‘Never mind who saw you. I have a reliable witness who can state quite clearly that he saw you standing outside the ballroom. It will be best for both you and your son if you come right out with the truth. What were you doing there?’ asked Ravenscroft, adopting a more forceful tone.

‘Curse you!’

‘Were you waiting for your son to arrive, so that you could slip
him the poison that you had procured?’

‘Eh? What are you talking about? I had nothing to do with any poison.’

‘Or perhaps you did the deed yourself, creeping into the room when the lights went out, pouring the poison into the glass, before making good your escape?’

The woman began a coughing fit again as Ravenscroft continued with his questioning. ‘You certainly had cause to hate Mr Montacute. It was him, after all, who had sent your son to prison for a crime which you believed he had not committed. You must have been waiting for the right opportunity to get your revenge. How you hated Mr Montacute! Planning all the time how you would do the deed. Then you suddenly heard about the Lamplighters’ Ball, and you remembered how they extinguished the lights to see in the New Year. What a wonderful opportunity to creep into the room. No one would be sure to see you, and you could be away again before the lights were relit. It must have been quite easy to have committed such a crime?’