Later that evening, Ravenscroft mounted the cab that Stebbins had arranged for him, and set off in the direction of Malvern Wells. After leaving the Tudor, the cab took him past a number of fine buildings until the road opened out into more open countryside. A lamplighter was busying himself with his work, and the ornate iron structures seem to cast pockets of light on either sides of the road. Ravenscroft could make out the contours of a large hill on his right, whereas the land on his left sloped gently away into the far distance. Small isolated gleams of light could be seen shining out from the interiors of the houses, which appeared to cling perilously to the sides of the hills.
Suddenly his driver swung the cab round to their left and they found themselves travelling up a long driveway towards a large imposing house.
‘Pitzers!’ announced the man, bringing the vehicle to a halt.
Ravenscroft alighted from the cab and after giving his driver some coins, he pulled the wrought iron bell handle at the side of the door. As the light from the cab sped away into the distance, he could hear the sound of the bell ringing from inside the building.
‘Good evening sir. You must be Mr. Ravenscroft. We are expecting you.’
He stepped into the hallway and handed his coat and hat to the maid. ‘If you would care to follow me sir, I will tell Mrs Pitzer that you have arrived.’
Ravenscroft admired the fine furniture and paintings, as the maid lead the way across the hall.
‘Mister Ravenscroft madam,’ announced the maid after opening a large door at the end of the hallway.
‘Mister Ravenscroft, so good of you to come and join us.’ The speaker was a tall elderly lady, elegantly attired in a blue velvet evening gown.
‘It was very good of your husband to invite me, especially as I only made his acquaintance yesterday.’
His hostess smiled. ‘My husband is detained at the moment on urgent business, but will join us presently. May I introduce you to our two other guests. Doctor Sommersby is the Assistant Master at our fine Malvern College, and the Reverend Touchmore is the vicar of our splendid Priory Church in Great Malvern.’
Ravenscroft shook hands with both men. The former was an elderly gentleman of slender build, whose thin long nose accommodated a pince-nez; the latter a well built, bald headed gentleman whose red face sported a set of expansive side whiskers.
‘So Mister Ravenscroft, how do you find our town?’ asked Touchmore, resuming his seat.
‘I find it well sir, what little I have seen of it.’
‘You must visit our Priory church.’
‘I did so today sir. One of your guides was kind enough to show me around the interior. I found it a most interesting building.’
‘You are here to undertake the water cure I believe? May I ask where you are residing?’ asked the cleric brushing an imaginary hair from one of his trouser legs.
‘I am staying at the Tudor.’
‘An admirable choice if I may say so. Doctor Mountcourt has only been at the Tudor for three years but has already built up a significant reputation. I am sure you will be most comfortable there. We accommodate many esteemed visitors who come to Malvern to take the waters. Many of them come back time and again.’
‘The cure is not all that effective then?’ replied Ravenscroft light heartedly.
‘You live in London sir?’ interjected Sommersby leaning forwards in his seat, and peering over his pince-nez at Ravenscroft. ‘And what line of work are you engaged in?’
‘I am engaged in work in the city,’ replied Ravenscroft beginning to wish that perhaps he had been unwise to have accepted the dinner invitation.
‘The city! I have had the misfortune of finding myself in the metropolis on a number of occasions, and have always been glad of my safe return to Malvern.’ said his questioner in a dry tone.
Ravenscroft moved uneasily in his seat and looked away, sensing that the two men had decided that their new arrival had little to contribute to the conversation.
‘We must consider at our next meeting, how we are to raise the requisite funds for the improvements to the church roof,’ said Sommersby turning towards the clergyman.
‘I must confess that the problem had caused me a number of unsettled nights,’ replied Touchmore.
Ravenscroft took the opportunity of being ignored by sitting back in his chair and studying the contents of the room, which contained many fine items of furniture. A large upright piano was to be found in one corner of the room, the top of which was adorned with a number of framed photographs of his host and hostess. There were a number of paintings of rural rustic scenes on the walls, and the large quantity of leather bound volumes which filled the bookcases suggested that Jabez Pitzer was a man of conservative and refined taste.
‘We hope that your husband will be able to present the prizes for us at the College at the end of term.’ Sommersby was speaking to his hostess.
‘I am sure that my husband will be delighted.’
‘Your husband must be a busy man these days, my dear lady. We all expect him to be elected Mayor quite soon,’ said Touchmore.
Their conversation was interrupted by the opening of the door.
‘Please m’am. Cook says dinner will be served in five minutes,’ announced the maid standing in the doorway.
‘Thank you Susan. Would you be so good as to inform the master. He should still be in the study.’
‘Very well m’am.’
The maid closed the door behind her.
‘That must be for the Council to decide,’ said Mrs Pitzer addressing the cleric.
‘I’m sure you will have no problems on that account. Your husband has done most valuable service to the town and its inhabitants over the past twenty or thirty years, and it is only his just reward that he should be recommended by the members of our Council for the highest position in Malvern. And I might add my dear lady that you will make an admirable mayoress.’
Ravenscroft was beginning to find his mind wandering onto other matters, when suddenly the door was thrown open.
‘M’am something terrible has happened! It’s the master!’ shouted the maid in some distress.
‘Calm yourself Susan. Whatever is the matter?’
‘The master — I think, I think — he’s dead!’
Sommersby was already on his feet, and quickly followed by Touchmore, rushed from the room. Ravenscroft and Mrs. Pitzer followed them across the hallway and into the study.
‘Touchmore, see to Mrs. Pitzer,’ instructed Sommersby walking over to the desk. Ravenscroft saw their host slumped in his chair, his head and outstretched hand lying across the desk in front of him. ‘It looks as though poor Pitzer has had a stroke or a seizure of some kind.’
‘Is he — ’ began Touchmore.
‘I’m afraid he’s dead,’ announced Sommersby, shaking his head, after taking Pitzer’s hand and feeling his pulse.
Mrs Pitzer let out a loud scream.
‘Susan, take your mistress quickly into the drawing room. Touchmore go and fetch Gladwyn,’ instructed Sommersby.
‘Come now ma’m,’ said the maid as she and her mistress left the room.
‘Should we not call for the local constabulary?’ broached Ravenscroft casting a glance around the study.
‘Whatever for man? Poor Pitzer has clearly had a seizure. Anyone can see that. There is little the police can do,’ said Sommersby clearly becoming annoyed that someone else should question his authority.
‘Nevertheless I do think — ’ began Ravenscroft, but he was cut short by Touchmore. ‘I think our guest is correct. There is a correct procedure to be followed Sommersby, in these cases.’
The schoolmaster glared at the clergyman. ‘Oh, very well then, have it your own way, Touchmore. You go and inform the constabulary, and I will go and fetch Doctor Gladwyn. Perhaps our guest would attend to Mrs. Pitzer?’