The Droitwich Deceivers Read Free Page B

trot.
    ‘How did he know who we were?’ asked Crabb.
    ‘I suppose Sir Charles assumed that we would arrive by train, rather than making our own way by road at this time of night,’ replied Ravenscroft.
    ‘Can’t quite see where we are going,’ said Crabb staring out of the window as they passed along the darkened streets of the town.
    Presently the cab made its way up a steep hill before turning sharply to its left.
    ‘I think I can see the lights from the house,’ said Ravenscroft leaning out of the window as their conveyance made its way up a long diveway.
    ‘Looks as though it could be a residence of some importance,’ suggested Crabb.
    The vehicle swung abruptly to the left before coming to a rest in front of a fine Georgian building. An elderly, grey-haired servant holding a lantern came forwards to meet them. ‘Good evening sir. Welcome to Hill Court. If you would care to enter, Sir Charles is waiting for you in the entrance hall,’ said the man opening the cab for the two policemen.
    Ravenscroft made his way through the large open doorway observing, in passing, the ornate pillars and cornice which together framed the entrance.
    ‘Ah Ravenscroft, good of you to come,’ announced the squat middle-aged man, whom Ravenscroft found himself facing; this character sported a large, ginger handlebar moustache and mutton chop whiskers, and was smoking a massive cigar, dressed in evening attire.
    ‘I came as soon as I received your telegram, Sir Charles. This is Constable Crabb, my assistant,’ replied Ravenscroft.
    ‘This is my solicitor and associate Mr Brockway. Thought it best if he were here.’
    Ravenscroft nodded in the direction of the tall, elderly, grey-haired man who stood nervously by Sir Charles’s side.
    ‘Oh Mr Ravenscroft, I am so glad you have come,’ called out a woman’s voice from within one of the nearby rooms.
    ‘This is my wife Ravenscroft, Lady Chilton,’ said Sir Charles, as the lady in question entered the hallway.
    ‘How-do-you-do, Lady Chilton,’ said Ravenscroft observing the look of anxiety in the new arrival’s face.
    ‘You must help us, Mr Ravenscroft. It is all so terrible! We do not know whom to turn to,’ said the woman grasping hold of Ravenscroft’s hand and staring vacantly into his eyes.
    ‘Now my dear. You best leave this to Brockway and I to deal with’, said Sir Charles taking hold of Ravenscroft’s shoulder and steering him in the direction of the study.
    ‘But … but I should so like … I think it important …’ began the woman, her voice full of concern as her words trailed away.
    ‘I will tell Inspector Ravenscroft all he needs to know. Best if you retire, Mary,’ said Chilton in a firm raised voice. ‘Ravenscroft, after you.’
    Ravenscroft and Crabb entered the book-lined study. Chilton and Brockway followed after them, the former closing the door behind the party.
    ‘You must excuse my wife, Ravenscroft, this affair has distressed her somewhat. Not good for her nerves. Sure you will understand. Well take a seat, man,’ said Chilton indicating that Ravenscroft should take the large leather armchair that was positioned at the side of the marble fireplace.
    ‘Thank you sir,’ replied Ravenscroft accepting the seat. Chilton seated himself at the other side of the large oak desk which seemed to take centre stage in the room. Brockway took the other chair at the side of the desk. Crabb took up position by the closed door and took out his note book from the top pocket of his tunic.
    ‘You’re probably wondering what all this is about,’ said Chilton pausing to take a pull on his cigar as he stared at the middle-aged, balding, bespectacled detective seated before him.
    ‘You said it was a matter of great importance,’ said Ravenscroft feeling slightly uncomfortable in his new surroundings, as he glanced at the old master paintings that hung between the bookcases on the walls of the study.
    ‘And so it is, man; it is of the gravest concern.