The Droitwich Deceivers (17 page)

‘We don’t know where they have gone,’ replied the
newspaperman
. ‘Perhaps they may return in a few minutes. If we were to wait for them, all may not yet be lost.’

‘Gone to canal,’ interrupted the boy. ‘Going away. Not coming back. Like other one.’

‘Like which other one?’ asked Lucy anxiously.

‘Babby. He not come back,’ replied the boy staring into his benefactor’s eyes.

‘Oh my God!’ exclaimed Lucy. ‘She means to drown the baby!’

‘Begging your pardon ma’am, but you don’t know that,’ said the policeman.

‘Where is the canal?’

‘Turn left at the end of the road and follow it down to the bottom of the hill,’ replied the constable.

‘We must be quick. Mr Shorter, will you come with me?’ asked an agitated Lucy.
‘Of course, my dear Mrs Ravenscroft.’

‘Constable, will you look after the boy until we return.’

‘Certainly, ma’am.’

‘Quickly, Mr Shorter. I fear she intends to drown the baby. Pray God we will be in time to prevent her!’ said Lucy running out of the house, closely followed by Shorter.

Reaching the corner of the road, Lucy paused for a moment.

‘This way, my dear lady,’ indicated Shorter.

They ran quickly down the cobbled street.

‘There is the canal,’ shouted a breathless Shorter pointing ahead of him.

‘We must save the child!’ said Lucy fearing the worst.

A few hundred yards bought them to the water’s edge.

‘Oh my God! I can’t see them,’ cried Lucy frantically looking all around her. ‘Which way have they gone?’

‘Over there!’ shouted Shorter. ‘In the distance. See that figure. That could be the woman.’

‘Quickly Mr Shorter, we must reach them,’ said Lucy running along the towpath of the canal. ‘It is her, I’m sure. See, she is pushing a perambulator. Pray God we are in time!’

As they approached the figure, it seemed to Lucy that it turned, looked hesitantly in their direction, before
quickening
its pace.

‘Stop!’ shouted Lucy attempting to run faster. ‘We must not let her get away. She has the child.’

‘Fear not, my dear lady, she is no match for us,’ gasped Shorter.

Suddenly the figure stopped and turned to face them. Dressed in a black coat, shawl and bonnet, Lucy recognized her as Mrs Drew.

‘You!’ exclaimed the woman. ‘You came to my house in
Worcester. Deceitful little hussy with your fancy tale. You sought to entrap me. What do you want with me?’

‘Give me the child,’ demanded Lucy.

‘Not yours to have, my dear,’ replied Mrs Drew in mocking tone.

‘We have found the boy,’ said a breathless Shorter. ‘He is safe from your clutches.’

‘The boy is mine. You have no right. Just as this baby is mine. Given to me by his parents for me to look after,’ said the woman adopting a lofty tone.

‘We know what you do,’ protested Lucy.

‘And what is that, my dear?’

‘You’re a common criminal. You take payments from vulnerable young mothers in exchange for their children.’

‘And what if I do? That is a good Christian thing to do, is it not?’

‘What happened to the other baby?’ asked Lucy. ‘What have you done with the other baby?’

‘What other baby?’

‘The child given to you by Miss Belinda Parkes, the
housemaid
in Droitwich,’ said Shorter recovering his breath.

‘Died, my dear. It was sickly. I did all I could for it, but the good Lord chose to take her away from us,’ smiled Drew.

‘What about the girl who died in Worcester?’ asked Lucy.

‘I’m sure I don’t know what you are talking about, my dear.’

‘The girl whose body my husband found under the stairs,’ said Lucy feeling the desperation in her own voice.

‘I know nothing about the girl,’ said the woman defiantly. ‘Now if you will excuse me.’

‘Where is Mildred Chilton? What have you done with her?’ asked Lucy.

‘Don’t know what your talking about,’ repeated Drew.

‘Where is Mildred Chilton?’ repeated Lucy.

‘Madam, I urge you to give up that child,’ demanded Shorter.

‘By what authority do you speak?’ sneered the other.

‘The police, ma’am. I speak on behalf of the police,’ replied Shorter forcefully.

‘You lie!’ retorted Drew.

‘I suggest you hand over the child, or you will answer for your crimes, to our readers, inside the pages of the Droitwich Guardian!’ said Shorter drawing himself up to his full height.

‘I have nothing to fear from you, you little newspaperman, and your silly newspaper,’ laughed Drew.

‘If you have nothing to fear, return with us now to the police station,’ implored Lucy taking a step forwards.

‘Keep away! I warn you to keep away!’ shouted the woman.

‘Give me the child. She has done you no harm. Her mother is waiting for her. I beg you,’ said Lucy tears beginning to well up in her eyes.

‘I warn you, keep away!’ said Drew pushing the
perambulator
to the edge of the path, and balancing its front wheels over the edge of the waters.

‘No!’ shouted Lucy. ‘For God’s sake have mercy!’

‘Mercy! You ask for mercy,’ taunted Drew.

‘Not for me. For the child,’ cried Lucy. ‘Give us the child.’

‘For pity’s sake, woman,’ said Shorter moving closer to the woman and the pram.

‘If you want the child, then you shall have her,’ laughed the woman as she thrust the perambulator over the edge of the path.

‘Oh, my God!’ exclaimed Lucy as the black vehicle began to sink into the muddy water. ‘The child!’

‘Fear not my good lady,’ said Shorter quickly discarding his coat and glasses, and throwing them onto the ground, before plunging into the murky waters of the canal.

Lucy let out a desperate cry as first the perambulator disappeared from view, and then this was closely followed by the journalist.

‘Oh my God! Please save them!’ shouted Lucy noticing that a group of men were running along the towpath in her
direction
.

‘I have her!’ spluttered Shorter suddenly emerging from the water and holding up a bundle. ‘I have her!’

‘Well done, Mr Shorter. Make your way over to the side and pass me the child,’ instructed Lucy kneeling down on the path and stretching out her hands.

Shorter passed over the bundle.

‘I pray God we are not too late,’ said Lucy laying the bundle on the side of the path and quickly turning back the wet shawl.

‘You all right, squire?’ asked one of the men rushing to the side of the bank and pulling out a sodden Shorter.

‘The child. It is the child, I recognize the red shawl!’ cried out Lucy.

‘Are we in time?’ asked a gasping soaked Shorter.

‘Please God, let it be alive,’ said a frantic Lucy pulling back the tightly bound wet outer layers of the bundle.

‘Can I help you, ma’am?’ asked one of the men.

‘I see her face. She does not appear to be breathing. No, no!’ cried out Lucy drawing the child to her and frantically rubbing its back. ‘Please, please, let the baby live!’

Suddenly the child let out a loud cry.

‘Praise be!’ exclaimed a relieved Shorter. ‘It’s alive!’

‘Oh, Mr Shorter, we were just in time,’ said Lucy tears of joy flowing down her face.

‘Capital. Capital, my dear lady,’ said a smiling Shorter laying a wet hand on Lucy’s shoulder and peering over at the crying child.

‘She must be very cold. We must take her indoors as soon as possible. I thank God that we were just in time. Thank you, Mr Shorter. Thank you.’

‘All in a day’s work my dear Mrs Ravenscroft. This will make fine copy. What a story to tell all our readers. We have had nothing like this for years in the Droitwich Guardian. Such excitement! Such endeavour!’ said an excited Shorter looking around for his discarded spectacles.

‘Indeed, Mr Shorter. Where is that awful woman?’ asked Lucy. ‘Where has she gone?’

Shorter looked all around him. ‘I fear our Mrs Drew has taken advantage of our inattention to secure her own
disappearance
. The bird has flown from the soiled nest. Alas, the condemned woman has escaped the hangman! She is nowhere to be seen!’

‘Then where is Mildred Chilton?’

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Droitwich

‘G
ood day, Sir Charles,’ said Ravenscroft, as he and Crabb entered the study of Hill Court later that morning. ‘I trust you will have no objection if Mr Russell and Miss Petterson join us as well?’

‘I have the greatest objection, my dear sir. That man is not welcome in my house,’ retorted the landowner eyeing the younger man.

‘I can assure you, Sir Charles, that I have no desire to be here either, but Inspector Ravenscroft was most insistent that I should be present,’ said Russell casting a fleeting
sideways
glance in the governess’s direction.

‘What the deuce is this all about, Ravenscroft? I still cannot see why these individuals need to be present,’ growled Sir Charles.

‘It is about your daughter, sir. I believe that each one of us may have important information. If we are to secure the release of Miss Chilton it is important that we are all present for this discussion today. I believe we are very close to securing your daughter’s release from her captor,’ said Ravenscroft in a forthright manner.

‘Oh very well then,’ said a reluctant Chilton seating
himself behind his desk. ‘I must insist however that Brockway remains here.’

‘Of course, Sir Charles. In fact I think it is most crucial to our deliberations that Mr Brockway be present,’ said Ravenscroft looking across at the lawyer, who turned quickly away. ‘And I would be obliged if Mr Jukes would remain also.’

‘Yes sir,’ replied the butler looking somewhat confused.

‘Well get on with it, man. I have an important meeting to attend in Birmingham later today,’ said Chilton lighting one of his cigars and blowing the smoke out into the room.

Russell and the governess seated themselves together on the sofa, whilst Crabb and the butler stood by the door.

‘Since we began our investigations into the abduction of Mildred Chilton, we have been cruelly deceived by most of you here today,’ began Ravenscroft, realizing that if he were about to unravel the truth he would need to proceed with care and attention. ‘Miss Petterson lied to us when she stated under questioning, that she had only entered the church for only five minutes to see which hymns had been chosen for Sunday service. You, Mr Russell, lied to us when you declared that you had not visited the church on that day, when in fact both of you had been meeting there in secret for several weeks.’

‘Had they, by God!’ exclaimed Sir Charles. ‘This is
interesting,
Ravenscroft. Carrying on under my very nose, were they! We will soon have an end to that.’

‘Miss Petterson is now in my protection,’ said Russell placing his hand on the lady’s arm.

‘It’s as well she is, sir, because she is in no way welcome here anymore,’ replied Chilton, as the governess looked down at the floor.

‘Then there is you, Mr Brockway. You lied to me when you
said you did not recognize the man who was seen at the railway station with Miss Chilton,’ continued Ravenscroft.

‘I have told you I do not know the man,’ protested the lawyer avoiding Ravenscroft’s stare.

‘And you, Sir Charles, have deceived us the most, as will be made plain presently.’

Chilton said nothing as he looked down at some papers on his desk.

‘Let us begin by examing the events of the day that Miss Chilton went missing. You, Miss Petterson, took your charge to the churchyard and entered the church where your lover, Mr Russell was waiting. You remained in the church for approximately fifteen minutes, plenty of time for Miss Chilton to be abducted by the man with three fingers. At first it would appear that she had been taken against her will, but the station master at the station saw no forced abduction, only two persons talking quietly together on the platform.

‘I believe that Miss Chilton knew the person who took her, because they had spoken before that day, in that churchyard, and on at least one other occasion, when you, Miss Petterson, and you Mr Russell, had kept your weekly rendezvous in the church. Mildred was not abducted, she went willingly. We then have to ask ourselves why did she go with this man – and who was he?’

‘This is all very interesting, Ravenscroft, but is it getting us anywhere?’ protested Sir Charles leaning back in his chair and blowing out more smoke into the room.

‘Let us now turn to the identity of this man, for he is the key to the entire mystery. When I described the man to the servants and to other local people no one could identify him a man with three fingers; only you, Mr Brockway, clearly knew his identity. When I visited the asylum in Worcester earlier today I learnt of a man called Martin—’

‘You what, sir!’ interjected Chilton.

‘Please let me continue,’ said Ravenscroft firmly. ‘This man Martin had been in the asylum for at least six years, and probably for much longer than that, for so long in fact that everyone had quite forgotten about him. Three years ago he lost a finger in an accident in the kitchens. That was why no one here could identify him, because his injury had been a recent one. However you, Mr Brockway, knew of the man’s injury because you visited the asylum each year to make payments for Martin’s upkeep, and it was on one of these visits that you learnt of this accident. Is that not so, Mr Brockway?’

‘Say nothing, Brockway, the man does not know what he is talking about,’ said Chilton, as the lawyer sighed and looked downcast.

‘There was of course one other person who witnessed the abduction of Miss Chilton, and that was Old John. He was in the churchyard that day, and saw the couple meet and leave together. Furthermore he recognized the man and that of course was why he was silenced. Now let us turn to the events of ten years ago.’

‘What on earth for?’ protested Chilton. ‘What have the events of ten years ago to do with the disappearance of my daughter? She had not even been born then.’

‘That was when your brother Peter died quite suddenly I believe, on a business trip to London,’ continued Ravenscroft ignoring Chilton’s protestations.

‘Yes, and we buried him in the churchyard here at Dodderhill.’

‘That is what everyone thought at the time. After all, had not you Sir Charles, and Old John travelled to London when you heard the news, and did you not both bring back the body for burial here?’

‘Yes, yes, but where is all this leading?’ asked Sir Charles impatiently.

‘Then you would not object if I applied for an exhumation order to open up the tomb and examine the body?’

‘The deuce you will!’ protested Chilton.

‘Oh, I think you will find that I have the authority to order such an exhumation, Sir Charles. Of course I would not expect your brother’s body to be there. In fact Peter Chilton is very much alive. For the past ten years he has been locked away in the asylum at Worcester, or he was until a month ago, when he escaped. You see, your brother Peter Chilton, and Martin – the three fingered man – are the same person!’ said Ravenscroft pausing for effect.

‘Master Peter alive!’ exclaimed Jukes.

‘This is all nonsense, Ravenscroft. Pure conjecture. My brother died ten years ago. I buried him myself,’ declared Chilton.

‘I do not think so. Certainly the burial service took place. I have no doubt of that. The church records state as much.’

‘Well there you are then,’ pronounced Chilton.

‘But I believe that the coffin you buried was empty. I believe that you were profoundly jealous of your brother, Sir Charles. After all he stood to inherit the family business, besides being engaged to an attractive woman, whom you no doubt desired, whereas you stood to gain nothing once your father had died. So a plan was formulated. You and Old John overcame your brother, when he was away from home, and had him incarcerated in the asylum, no doubt telling the authorities there that your brother was mad, and that he was not to be released under any circumstances. I am sure that he tried to tell his keepers there that a gross mistake had taken place, but they of course took no notice, believing him to be deranged—Or were they paid to make sure that he did
not escape? The years went by. The payments continued to ensure that he would never be released. They even gave him a new name – Martin, in an attempt to take away his previous identity,’ continued Ravenscroft anxious to press home his advantage.

‘Pure fantasy!’ protested Chilton. ‘This is all nonsense!’

‘When you had safely secured your brother in the asylum, you told everyone that Peter had died. You and Old John bought back the weighted coffin, making everyone believe that Peter had died quite suddenly of a fever in London – and so you buried him in the churchyard. Then you had to get rid of Old John, as he knew too much. Whilst John was still a hired hand here there remained the possibility that one day he would talk too much and tell others what had really happened, and so you dismissed him from your employment. Old John was half mad anyway, and if he did tell anyone the truth, it would be doubtful that he would have been believed. People would have just dismissed such ramblings, believing that an embittered man was merely trying to get his own back. And then of course you were free to inherit the family salt business, when your father died shortly afterwards, and you were also free to marry the woman who had been betrothed to your brother.’

‘This is all utter nonsense – pure fabrication!’ scoffed Chilton. ‘Take it to a court of law, sir, and see how far you will get. I will see that you are ruined, Ravenscroft, if you insist on continuing with this nonsense.’

‘Is it really all fabrication as you claim, Sir Charles? Here is the exhumation order,’ said Ravenscroft taking out a sheet of paper from his coat pocket and holding it aloft. ‘Shall we now see who is telling the truth?’

‘For goodness sake, Sir Charles, tell them the truth—’ began the lawyer.

‘Be quiet, Brockway!’ threatened Chilton. ‘Have a care sir, if you value your position.’

‘Ah Sir Charles, this is the man you sent to the asylum every year, to pay the authorities enough money to ensure your brother would never be released!’ exclaimed Ravenscroft waving the paper. ‘And now you have sent your poor wife to the asylum. I wonder why? Has she suddenly learnt the truth after all these years, that you falsely imprisoned the man she once loved? Is that why she has been taken to that awful place, where she can speak to no one and where she will be ignored for the remainder of her days?’

‘Get out of my house, Ravenscroft, before I call the servants!’ said an indignant Sir Charles stubbing out his cigar and rising from his chair.

‘For goodness sake, Charles, tell them the truth,’ called out Brockway. ‘We cannot go on like this.’

‘Have a care, sir, I repeat again, have a care, if you wish to remain in my employ,’ sneered Chilton turning on the lawyer.

‘I will not be silenced anymore. It is all true, Inspector, every word of it. Sir Charles imprisoned his brother in the asylum, and I was sent there every year to make the payments to see that he did not leave. And now he has sought to imprison poor Lady Chilton. I cannot remain silent. I will not stand idly by why you continue with these outrages,’ said Brockway confronting his employer.

‘You will confirm all this, Mr Brockway, in a court of law?’ asked Ravenscroft realizing that the advantage was now his.

‘You have my assurance of that, sir,’ said Brockway.

‘Damn you sir, damn you!’ muttered Chilton as he sank back into his chair.

‘Thank you, Mr Brockway. I appreciate that you were an unwilling partner in this business,’ said Ravenscroft.

‘Forgive me, Inspector, but none of this helps us to find Mildred,’ said Miss Petterson.

‘On the contrary it helps us a great deal, for once I had learnt that Martin and Peter Chilton were one and the same, I knew where Miss Chilton could be found.’

‘How? I don’t understand,’ said Russell.

‘It was Mrs Greenway who provided me with that answer.’

‘Mrs Greenway, sir?’ asked a startled Jukes.

‘Yes, Mrs Greenway, the cook. That morning when we met in the garden, she told me that Master Peter had been close to his old nanny, Nanny Jones, who had retired many years ago to her cottage in the nearby village of Elmbridge. When Peter escaped from the asylum he had to go somewhere. He could not return here, for he knew that he would be taken back to the asylum, but he remembered his old nurse, Nanny Jones, and made his way there. No doubt the old woman was delighted to see him. Peter then learnt that his brother had married the woman he loved, and had taken over the business, and so he decided that he would seek his revenge by abducting Mildred. He may also have believed that Mildred was perhaps his own daughter. He came back to Dodderhill, and watched and waited until the time was ripe. He
discovered
the liaison between you, Miss Petterson, and you Mr Russell, and your clandestine meetings in the church, and introduced himself to Mildred, gradually establishing a
relationship
with the girl, and no doubt telling her that he was really her father, and swearing her to secrecy.

‘They arranged to go away together and so they met again on that fateful afternoon when they left the churchyard together. On the way to the railway station, Peter dropped Mildred’s handkerchief in the canal, to make us believe that they had left the town on one of the canal boats. He purchased two single tickets for Birmingham, hoping that if
their footsteps were later retraced by others, this too would throw pursuers off the scent. They then alighted at the next station – at Bromsgrove – which is but a short distance away from Nanny Jones’s cottage at Elmbridge,’ said Ravenscroft pausing for his words to take effect.