‘Could be the keys to the library, sir,’ suggested Crabb.
‘Almost certain I would say. You take charge of them, and when we return to Worcester we will see if they fit. There seems to be nothing else of interest on his person. No sign of the book.’
‘Could have fallen out of his pocket?’
‘If that is the case, the Whisperie is now lying on the bed of the River Severn!’
‘Then we shall never recover it, sir.’
‘I don’t think we should reconcile ourselves to that assumption just yet. We know that Evelyn in all probability took the book, and that when he left the cathedral he walked down the steps to the river. Why go down there at that time of night? I fancy that he must have been going to meet someone — in which case he could have given the book to the person whom he had arranged to meet,’ replied Ravenscroft, deep in thought.
‘Then that person killed him and threw him into the river,’ added Crabb, after a moment or two.
‘Perhaps — or he lost his footing on the way back and fell in the water.’
‘Poor fellow,’ said Crabb mournfully. ‘To have worked in the cathedral for forty years and to have met his end like this seems a great shame.’
‘What we need to find out, Crabb, is who it was that Evelyn was meeting that night. Then we might be able to find out why Evelyn took the book, and who now has it.’
‘I think we should go and pay our respects to Superintendent Henderson, sir,’ suggested Crabb.
‘Of course, over there you say?’
The two men made their way over to the old timber-beamed inn situated a few yards further along the towpath. As they neared the building they were met by the sound of laughter and loud voices.
‘I should go steady, sir,’ said Crabb looking, down at the ground sheepishly.
Ravenscroft gave Crabb a perplexed look, before pushing open the door to the inn. Five or six men were standing round the bar.
‘-and I said to the snotty-nosed corporal, clean your bloody rifle or the damned Russians will roast you alive!’
The speaker was a late-middle-aged man of military bearing, dressed in a long overcoat, who was leaning on the bar with one elbow, whilst holding a glass of whisky in his other hand. His companions burst out laughing at his last remark.
‘-and so this silly idiot of a man turns to me, puffs himself up like an overblown melon and says who the bloody hell is giving me orders?’
More laughter ensued from the group.
‘And who the devil might you be, sir?’ said the speaker, suddenly noticing Ravenscroft’s arrival. ‘We have no comment to make to the papers at this stage,’ he said, turning away to the bar.
‘I’m not from the local newspaper; I’m Inspector Ravenscroft from the Yard. I’m looking for Superintendent Henderson of the Worcester Constabulary.’
‘Are you indeed? Well, you have found him: I’m Henderson,’ said the speaker, giving his companions an amused glance.
‘I am pleased to make your acquaintance, sir,’ said Ravenscroft, stepping forward.
‘So you’re Ravenscroft. All the way from London, you say. Can’t see why they should have sent for you. We are more than capable of dealing with the case.’
‘I was asked to come down here by the cathedral authorities.’
‘Were you, by Wellington! Dammed insult I call it. It’s a bad reflection on the local force when they have to call in outsiders. Dammed rude of you to have started your investigations before paying your respects,’ snapped Henderson, his moustache bristling.
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ said Ravenscroft, looking down at the floor of the bar.
‘Er, still, I suppose it is not your fault. I expect you were only obeying orders, as they say. Got to do what the Yard tells you. Well seeing as you are here, you might as well join me in a tincture, Ravenscroft.’
‘Not while I am on duty, sir, thank you.’
‘That’s high and mighty of you, Ravenscroft!’
‘We’ll see you later, Reggie,’ said one the drinkers, making his excuses and preparing to leave.
‘No need to go, gentlemen. That fellow we pulled out of the river ain’t going anywhere.’
‘Nevertheless, Reggie, time we were going,’ said another of the group.
‘See you later, gentlemen. The inspector and I will resume our conversation outside,’ replied Henderson, clearly irritated by his junior’s arrival.
Ravenscroft stepped out of the inn where he was confronted by an anxious Crabb. ‘I see you have met with the superintendent then,’ whispered the constable, before standing to attention, as the door of the inn opened once more and Henderson stepped forth.
‘You’ve had a look at the body then, Ravenscroft?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Well, what do you make of it?’ asked the superintendent, in an annoyed tone of voice, and walking back briskly towards the body on the side of the river-bank.
‘He has obviously been in the water for a few days. Whether he was murdered, or just lost his footing-’ began Ravenscroft, attempting to keep up with his superior.
‘If you ask me, Ravenscroft, I’d say the fellow probably had too much to drink, lost his footing and fell in the river.’
‘We found a set of keys on him, which would suggest that he is Evelyn, the librarian.’
‘I see,’ said Henderson approaching the body. ‘I see. Did you find the book on him?’
‘Afraid not, sir.’
‘Not surprising. It looks to me as though someone just broke into the library and stole the book. Smashed the case; no consideration!’
‘Have you come up with any information that might lead us to the culprit, sir?’ asked Ravenscroft, as tactfully as he could.
‘No, we have not!’ snapped Henderson. ‘That’s your job. The force has plenty of more important things to deal with at the moment than to spend our time trying to recover some old religious book! I’ve got the races to organize on Pitchcroft next week. You get on with it. Find out who took the book, Ravenscroft.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And keep me fully informed. I want to be kept up to date with progress in this case. Can’t afford to offend the cathedral.’
‘Yes, sir, of course.’
‘And you, Constable, see that the undertaker is called. Can’t have this fellow lying here all day! Damn sightseers will be arriving soon! Good day to you, Ravenscroft.’
‘Good day, sir.’
Ravenscroft and Crabb watched their superior officer stride off across the grass towards his waiting cab.
‘So that was Superintendent Henderson,’ remarked Ravenscroft, breathing a sigh of relief.
‘I tried to warn you, sir. Apparently he used be a major in the army before he was elevated to the local constabulary. They say he fought in the Crimea. The men are not all that keen on him, by all accounts.’
‘Oh, why is that?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘Rather too fond of the bottle,’ said Crabb, rubbing the side of his nose.
‘I take your meaning, Crabb. Well, I think that is all we can do here for today. Time I returned to Worcester to try the fare at the Cardinal’s Hat. We’ll meet again in the Cathedral Close at nine in the morning.’
Ravenscroft slept badly. The unfamiliar surroundings, a particularly unappetizing supper, and the sounds of a late night drunken reveller outside the hostelry all conspired to keep him awake until the early hours of the morning. He rose at seven and, after dressing and partaking of some early morning refreshment, he set off to explore the streets of the town.
He retraced his steps of the previous day, back along Friar Street and the Shambles, and through the main thoroughfare, until he reached the railway station. He then turned down one of the side roads to his left, and eventually found himself on the towpath on the banks of the Severn.
He looked along the river-bank, past the bridge and the warehouses, towards the mighty cathedral. To Ravenscroft, the building seemed to tower over all that was before it, declaring its importance and dominance over the affairs of the town. He began to wonder what events it had witnessed down through the centuries, and what secrets it retained within the confines of its walls.