‘Yes?’ said the clerk appearing from the inner office. ‘Oh, it’s you again.’
‘We require some more information,’ said Ravenscroft.
‘We’re closing in five minutes,’ sniffed the clerk.
‘Then there is just time for you to bring me the Birth Registers, for the years 1881 and 1882, if you please.’
‘Might take me longer than five minutes,’ grumbled the clerk.
‘We are content to wait. I’m sure it will not take you long to find them,’ insisted Ravenscroft.
‘Better if you came back tomorrow.’
‘I don’t want to come back tomorrow.’
‘Suit yourselves then.’
‘Now look here, we are on urgent police business which can’t wait until tomorrow,’ said Ravenscroft, remembering his previous encounter with the clerk and becoming annoyed.
‘Better tomorrow,’ repeated the clerk, giving another long sniff.
‘See here, if you do not bring me the registers within the next five minutes, you will find yourself facing a charge of hindering the police in the pursuance of their duty. I need not remind you of the seriousness of this offence. You would almost certainly lose your employment as a result of facing such a charge. I trust I make myself clear?’ said Ravenscroft leaning over the counter in a slightly menacing way.
The clerk said nothing as he shuffled away.
‘Why do we need to look at the registers, sir?’ asked Crabb.
‘I hope we can find details relating to the birth of Ruth Weston’s child.’
The clerk returned bearing two ledgers which he banged down on the table. ‘Closing in two minutes!’
‘You take 1881, I’ll take 1882. Look for an entry for Weston,’ instructed Ravenscroft, ignoring the clerk.
The two men busied themselves in turning over the pages as the clerk stood in the corner of the room shuffling his feet, and giving the occasional sniff.
‘Here we are!’ exclaimed Crabb, after a few minutes.
‘Well done,’ said Ravenscroft, leaning over his shoulder. ‘Christian names — Arthur, Granville, Sackville, Boscawen, Griffiths. Name of father left blank. Name of mother — Ruth Weston. Informant — Ruth Weston.’
‘I’ve seen those Christian names before,’ said Crabb.
‘So have I. If I recall correctly, you discovered from your research in the library that Arthur, Granville, Sackville, and Boscawen were all Christian names of Sir Arthur Griffiths. Ruth gave her son not only all those names but also Griffiths as well. It was as though she was telling anyone who came after her, that Sir Arthur Griffiths was the boy’s father, although she felt compelled not to name him as such on the birth certificate,’ whispered Ravenscroft, so that the clerk would not hear.
‘And that is why Sir Arthur did not dismiss her,’ said Crabb.
‘Exactly! He may have had some feelings for the mother and child, but could not admit publicly that he was the father. That is why Ruth took the boy on to the green every day, before she went to work, and why she said to me that one day her son would live in that house. She hoped that eventually Sir Arthur would acknowledge his son, and that the boy would assume his rightful place. The Arthur and Ruth embroidered on the cloth does not stand for Ruth and her son, they represent Ruth and Sir Arthur!’
The clerk let out a loud sneeze.
‘I’m sorry we have detained you,’ said Ravenscroft, closing the ledger.
‘Got what you came for?’ muttered the clerk.
‘Yes, thank you, my man. You can lock up now.’
‘Trust you won’t be needing anything else?’ said the clerk picking up the ledgers.
‘At this moment, I do not believe so — but you can never tell,’ said Ravenscroft, smiling.
The clerk scowled as he locked the door behind them.
‘Well, this puts a new face on the case,’ said Crabb, as they walked along Foregate Street.
‘Maybe. If Sir Arthur is the boy’s father — and the evidence would tend to suggest that is the case — then we need to confront him with our findings. Do you know, Crabb, I am beginning to find that this case is becoming more and more like an onion every day,’ said Ravenscroft.
‘An onion?’
‘As we uncover another layer of the truth, so we near the centre of the onion where the solution promises to be found. The only problem is — our onion is quite a large one, and has many skins.’
Ten minutes later the two men found themselves standing outside the home of Sir Arthur Griffiths.
‘I don’t think he will be too pleased to see us when he hears what we have to say,’ said Crabb.
The maid opened the door.
‘Is Sir Arthur in residence today?’ asked Ravenscroft.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘It is very important that we have words with him.’
‘If you would both care to wait in the hall, sir. The master has someone with him at the moment, but I will inform him of your arrival.’ Ravenscroft and Crabb stepped inside, as the maid knocked on the door of the drawing-room, and disappeared from view.
‘I must admit that I am not looking forward to this interview,’ said Ravenscroft, walking up and down the hallway.
‘My dear Ravenscroft, good to see you again. I hear you have apprehended the felon who killed poor Miss Weston,’ said Sir Arthur opening the door suddenly and striding out into the hall. ‘Well done. I always knew you were the man for the job.’
‘Unfortunately the man was killed before he could tell us anything,’ replied Ravenscroft.
‘Does that matter?’ asked Sir Arthur. ‘After all you must have been sure of your evidence.’
‘Indeed, Sir Arthur. However, the case has not been completely solved. There have been some recent developments that I need to discuss with you.’
‘I see. Well, you’d best come into the drawing-room,’ replied the politician leading the way.
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘May I introduce you to Mrs Marchmont?’ said Sir Arthur.
Ravenscroft paused momentarily: the lady sitting on one of the drawing- room chairs was the last person he had expected to encounter that day.
‘This is Inspector Ravenscroft, my dear. He has been investigating the death of my servant, Ruth Weston.’
‘Mrs Marchmont,’ said Ravenscroft, recovering his composure and giving a slight bow in the lady’s direction.
‘Inspector Ravenscroft,’ said the lady, whom Ravenscroft had known as Mrs Kelly.
‘You two look as though you have met somewhere before,’ said Sir Arthur.
‘No. I don’t believe Inspector Ravenscroft and I have ever spoken together,’ smiled Mrs Marchmont.
‘Well, Ravenscroft, what’s all this about? You said there had been some developments in the case?’ asked Sir Arthur.
‘My news is of a rather delicate, personal nature,’ said Ravenscroft, giving a sideways glance at Mrs Marchmont.
‘I see. I wonder, my dear, if you would excuse us for a few minutes?’ said Sir Arthur.
‘Of course, Sir Arthur. It is time I was returning home. If you will excuse me, gentlemen?’ said Mrs Marchmont smiling.
‘Then let me see you out, my dear lady,’ offered Sir Arthur.
‘Good day to you, Inspector.’
‘Good day to you, Mrs Marchmont,’ said Ravenscroft stepping to one side of the room, ‘Perhaps we shall meet again sometime in the future.’
‘I have no doubt of it, Inspector,’ replied Mrs Marchmont, with a certainty that Ravenscroft found unnerving, and she left the room accompanied by Sir Arthur.
The door closed behind them. ‘That’s twice we have seen your lady in black here,’ whispered Crabb.
‘More than a coincidence?’ remarked Ravenscroft, straining to hear what was being said beyond the closed door.
‘They seem to be on good terms with one another,’ suggested Crabb.
The door opened and Sir Arthur strode in once more. ‘Now then, Ravenscroft, take a seat. What can I do for you?’