He now knew that Pitzer had been poisoned at six thirty that evening, and that whoever had written the letter arranging the meeting had not only sworn Pitzer to secrecy, but had also been careful to remove the same letter before he had hurriedly left the scene of the crime.
It looked to Ravenscroft that he would be staying in Malvern for a while longer. The case looked a challenging one, and he was now resolved to solve it. The pleasures of Brighton would have to wait for a while longer.
As he approached The Tudor he suddenly became aware of his own hunger, and realised that he had not eaten since lunch time. Perhaps if he was fortunate, Stebbins would still be up at such an hour, and be able to procure him a dish or two from the kitchens, before he retired for the evening.
CHAPTER THREE
A loud banging on the outside of his bedroom door woke Ravenscroft from the deep sleep into which he had finally fallen during the second half of the night.
‘Go away Stebbins! Leave me alone!’ He turned over on his side and buried his face in the pillow.
‘Can’t do that sir. Orders is orders. Doctor says yer must have your bath, and the bath you shall have,’ said the youth entering the room, throwing open the curtains, and reaching for Ravenscroft’s robe.
‘Why are you always so damn cheerful Stebbins?’
‘No time to be miserable sir.’
‘And where were you last night when I got back to the Tudor? I hadn’t eaten all evening and could have done with a morsel or two before retiring,’ grumbled Ravenscroft rising from his bed.
‘Say no more, sir. Stebbins is yer man. After yer bath sir, how about I arrange for a nice juicy leg of lamb and a lump of cheese to be brought to yer room?’
‘Stebbins, I see that we might be friends yet. Here is a shilling.’
‘Thank you sir,’ said the smiling youth biting on the silver coin with his crooked teeth.
The prospect of finally satisfying his deepening hunger encouraged Ravenscroft to make his way to the bath house where he forced himself to give even the attendant a brief smile. Returning to his room, after his treatment, he found the food and a jug of ale waiting for him on the table at the side of his bed.
After consuming the contents of his unexpected breakfast, he dressed quickly and began to make his way slowly up the hills towards St.Ann’s well house. Pausing half way up the winding path, he wiped his brow and stood admiring the view below him, where the Priory Church could be seen nestling within the confines of the town. Duty required him to present himself for his three containers of spring water when he arrived at the well house, but he also hoped that he might find his mysterious travelling companion again. In this he was disappointed. There was no sign of the black veiled woman. His curiosity on that score would have to wait for another day. There were only three persons present — the attendant, a young boy playing with his hoop and his nurse.
Ravenscroft raised his hat to the nurse, smiled at the child, and then went over to the old woman who poured him a container of water.
‘Perhaps you might care to read the local paper sir?’
‘Thank you. That would be most kind.’
Ravenscroft accepted the newspaper from the old woman and made his way across to one of the seats.
The Malvern News contained little to interest him — reports of Temperance Meetings, lists of important people visiting the town, the previous week’s Council meetings, advertisements for patent medicines and wine cellars — until a certain article caught his attention -
THE SHADOW OF THE RAGGEDSTONE.
ANCIENT MALVERN CURSE
Our readers will be interested to know that the ancient legend of the curse of Raggedstone Hill has been revived in a new novel written by Doctor Charles Grindrod. ‘The Shadow of the Raggedstone’ is based on the old monkish legend and the curse upon its shadow. Many of our older readers may recall the legend of the dying monk who had been turned out of his dwelling by the local people, and who before dying on the slopes of the Raggedstone Hill cursed all that would for ever fall beneath its shadow. Whilst we can inform our readers that there is little evidence to support the truth of the legend, we know of several of our more elderly readers who swear that they would never go anywhere near the hill. This reporter however can reassure his readers that he has walked both on the hill, and beneath its shadow, on a number of occasions, and that to date he has never met with any misfortune — .
‘Good morning to you, sir.’
Ravenscroft looked up from his reading, to see the figure of Doctor Mountcourt standing before him.
‘I see you are studying our local paper.’
‘I was just reading about the curse of the Raggedstone Hill.’
‘Stuff and nonsense, sir! A mere folk tale written to scare the feeble minded away from the hills. Good to see you taking the waters before breakfast Ravenscroft. Keep up the good work.’
Before Ravenscroft could reply, Mountcourt had resumed his walk, striding along the path, his cane tapping the ground at his side as he did so.
The doctor slowly disappeared from view. Ravenscroft continued reading the Malvern News before handing the paper back to the attendant.
‘Thank you for the newspaper. I have just been reading about Raggedstone Hill and the old curse. Where is the Raggedstone?’ he asked drinking his second beaker of water.
‘Over there,’ replied the old woman jerking her thumb in the air.
‘Do you believe in such things?’
The well woman said nothing, but turned quickly away, and made her way back inside the building.
Ravenscroft downed his beaker of water before retracing his steps down towards the town.
Later that morning he met Crabb outside the Tudor.
‘Good morning to you Mister Ravenscroft,’ said the constable in a cheerful manner.
‘And to you Master Crabb. Where are we going first?’
‘I thought you might want to speak first with Doctor Sommersby at Malvern College. If you would care to follow me sir, you will find it to be about ten minutes on foot. That’s the trouble with Malvern — all hills. Easy enough going downhill; not so easy coming up.’
‘So I have observed.’
‘I have had a word with my superiors, Mr. Ravenscroft, and they are more than pleased that you have taken an interest in this case. We are quite a small station here in Malvern and welcome any help we can receive.’
As the two men walked, Ravenscroft recounted his meeting with Susan the maid from the night before. Presently they approached a large austere building which bore the name ‘Malvern College’ and followed the winding path until they reached the entrance doorway. Crabb rang the bell and the door was opened by a uniformed servant.
‘Good day, my man. We are here to see Mr. Sommersby if you please,’ said Crabb stepping into the hall.
‘Please follow me gentlemen.’
The two policemen followed the servant across the wide hallway, and along a cloister like corridor, until they reached a large oak door.
‘If you would care to wait here, I will see that Doctor Sommersby is informed of your arrival.’
Ravenscroft and Crabb found themselves in what appeared to be a large library. Books adorned not only the shelves that ran around the walls of the room, but also occupied a number of tall book cases which stood in its centre.
‘Lord me! They certainly likes their books here! Don’t think I have ever seen so many books before. Wonder they has time to read them all,’ said Crabb walking around the room. Ravenscroft looked through the leaded windows out towards the quadrangle and wondered why he had never been sent to such a school as this in his youth.