As he made his way along the towpath, he passed a number of boats, the occupants of whom were busily engaged in unloading various cargoes, and transporting the sacks and boxes to a large warehouse on the side of the quay. He then walked beneath the shadow of the cathedral until he reached a set of steps, which he knew would almost certainly take him up to the precincts of the building. Ravenscroft paused and looked out across the river. This must have been where Evelyn had made his way that night before he had met with his unfortunate death — but which way had he then turned after he had walked down from the cathedral? If he had taken the route back towards the bridge, he might then have made his way up towards the town, but if this had been his intention, Ravenscroft concluded, it would surely have been quicker to have turned into the town from the cathedral in the first place. The more he considered the possibilities, the more it seemed probable that Evelyn would have gone in the other direction, taking the path that led away from the cathedral and the town. If that was the case, where was it that Evelyn was going at such a late hour?
Ravenscroft decided to follow the towpath. After a while the outer stone walls of the cathedral precincts ended and he passed an inn overlooking the river. Perhaps Evelyn had met someone there that night?
He continued on further, passing a number of derelict buildings and one or two fine houses on his way, until he reached the entrance of the Birmingham to Worcester Canal, where a boat was awaiting its turn to enter the lock gate. Could Evelyn have met with someone on one of the boats perhaps? The possibilities appeared to be endless. Whoever it was who Evelyn had met that night, had killed the poor man and thrown his body into the Severn. As Ravenscroft looked down at the murky waters, he resolved that he would send Crabb to call at the inn, and also to make enquiries at the lock gate, to see whether anyone could remember seeing Evelyn that night.
He decided it was time to return to the cathedral and, after retracing his steps along the bank of the river, he made his way back up to the Close.
Finding a seat on the green, he sat down and looked at the range of buildings that ran round the cathedral precincts. There was the house where the Tovey sisters lived, and Touchmore’s imposing residence as befitted his status as the Dean of Worcester Cathedral.
Deep in thought, he suddenly felt something running into his leg, and looking down found a metal hoop at his feet. He picked up the object. A small boy, not more than six or seven years of age was running towards him, closely followed by a woman who was endeavouring to keep up with him.
‘Please, sir, can I have my hoop back?’ asked the boy looking across at him with appealing eyes.
‘Of course you can,’ smiled Ravenscroft. The boy reminded him of another, younger boy he had seen the previous year. That child had been playing with his toys, and had a mother to care for him.
‘I’m so sorry, sir. Will you please forgive my son?’ The speaker was evidently the child’s mother. Ravenscroft observed that she was simply dressed, plain in appearance and in her mid-twenties. ‘Of course, it is no problem, I can assure you. It is good to see the little fellow enjoying himself,’ he replied.
‘I bring him here, as there is more space for him to play. Where we live, near the Cornmarket, there is nowhere he can go and play, and it’s too dangerous by the river. We usually manage to come here every day for a few minutes, before I start work.’
‘Please take a seat,’ offered Ravenscroft, sensing that he might be able to gain some local information from the woman, ‘I’m sure your boy will manage to entertain himself, while you recover your composure.’
‘That is most kind of you, sir. I don’t think I have seen you here before?’
‘No. I live in London.’
‘London! My word, I’ve always wondered what London must be like. I imagine all the people there are very busy, and very rich,’ said the young woman taking her place on the seat.
‘Well, everyone is certainly busy, but not many people there are rich,’ smiled Ravenscroft.
‘The Queen, she lives there. She must be very rich?’
‘She is indeed.’
‘Have you seen the Queen, sir?’
‘I saw her once, and only briefly. She came by in her carriage.’
‘My! I should like to have seen her,’ said the woman sadly. ‘She must be very grand. And what brings you to Worcester? Oh, I’m sorry. People say I am always asking questions about things that don’t concern me.’
‘I don’t mind answering your question. I’m a detective. I have come down here to investigate the disappearance of the librarian at the cathedral.’
‘Oh!’ exclaimed the woman.
‘You knew Mr Evelyn?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘Why yes, sir. He lives in the same lodging-house as me and my boy. We have rooms on the ground floor, and he has rooms on the top floor. He is always good and kind to us, sir. Whenever he sees my boy he often pats him on the head and gives him a farthing.’
‘That is very good of him.’
‘And now everyone says he’s missing.’
‘You have not seen him since the night he disappeared?’
‘No. Be careful, Arthur. Don’t go to near the houses!’ she cried out to
the boy.
‘Did Mr Evelyn mention that he was going away?’
‘No. He said nothing to me about going away.’
‘Did he ever say anything about a book called the Whisperie?’ asked Ravenscroft leaning forward.
‘Whisperie. My, that’s a funny name. No, I don’t think Mr Evelyn ever mentioned anything about a Whisperie.’
‘Was he in the habit of receiving visitors to his rooms?’
‘Oh no, sir; he always kept very much to himself. We used to laugh and say you could set your watch by the time Mr Evelyn went out to work. He always left at half past eight in the morning, and came home at exactly half past six in the evening. Six days a week; it was always the same.’
‘Did he ever go away, to stay with friends perhaps, to travel, or go on holiday?’
‘No. I don’t think so. He always seemed to be there. He didn’t seem to go out much in the evenings either.’
‘He seems to have lived a very lonely life.’
‘Yes, I suppose he did, but you speak as though something has happened to him.’
‘You mentioned that you come here every day,’ said Ravenscroft, changing the subject and leaning back in his seat.
‘Yes, before I start work.’
‘And you always sit on this seat?’
‘Yes,’ replied the woman, a puzzled expression on her face.
‘When you have been sitting here, have you ever seen Mr Evelyn perhaps talking with someone?’
‘No, I don’t think so. He was always at work by then, I suppose.’
‘And where do you work?’ enquired Ravenscroft, curious to know more about the woman he had engaged in conversation.
‘At that house over there, across the Green,’ she replied, pointing at one of the large imposing buildings. ‘I’m a parlour maid. I work for Sir Arthur Griffiths. He is the Member of Parliament for the town. He is a very important man,’ she added proudly.
‘I’m sure he is — and you must consider yourself fortunate that you work in such a fine house.’
‘I do indeed. Sir Arthur is often away in London, but when he is here, he always seems to be busy, entertaining and such like. We are kept very occupied.’
‘You have worked there long?’
‘For about eight years, sir.’
‘You must like it.’
‘Yes, there is always plenty to do. Sir Arthur lives there with his only daughter, Miss Griffiths, she has charge of the house.’
‘It is a pleasant residence, overlooking the cathedral. I would certainly like to live in such a house,’ said Ravenscroft smiling.
‘One day my son will live in such a house,’ she replied looking away. Ravenscroft thought he could detect a note of sadness in her voice. ‘Well, sir, you will have to excuse me. It is time I took my son to school, before I commence my duties for the day.’