Cain His Brother - Anne Perry [152]
“So you opened the cell and allowed Lord Ravensbrook in?” Monk prompted.
“Yes, sir. An’ o’ course I locked it be’ind ’im, the prisoner bein’ charged wi’ a violent crime, like, it were necessary.”
“Of course it was,” Monk agreed. “Then what happened?”
“Nuffink, for ’bout five minutes or so.”
“You waited out here?”
“O’ course.”
“And after five minutes?”
“ ’Is lordship, Lord Ravensbrook, ’e knocked on the door an’ asked ter come out. I thought it was kind o’ quick, but it in’t none o’ my business. So I let ’im aht. But ’e weren’t through.” He was still holding the rolled-up handkerchief at Ravensbrook’s chest, and the blood was seeping through his fingers. “ ’E said as the prisoner wanted ter write ’is last statement an’ ’ad I any paper and a pen an’ ink,” he went on, his voice hoarse. “Well, o’ course I don’t ’ave it in me pocket, like, but I told ’im as I could send for ’em, which I did. I’nt that right, me lord?” He looked down at Ravensbrook for confirmation, but Ravensbrook seemed almost unaware of him.
“You sent for them. Who did you send?” Monk pressed.
“Jimson, the other bloke on watch wi’ me. The feller wot yer sent for the nurse.”
“And you locked the cell door?”
“O’ course I locked it.” There was indignation in his voice.
“And Lord Ravensbrook waited out here with you?”
“Yeah, yeah ’e did.”
“Did he say anything?”
Ravensbrook neither moved on his chair nor made any sound.
“Wot, ter me?” the gaoler said with surprise. “Wot would a lordship talk ter the likes o’ me abaht?”
“You waited in silence?” Monk asked.
“Yeah. Weren’t long, three or four minutes, then Jimson came back wi’ pen an’ paper an’ ink. I gave ’em ter ’is lordship, opened the cell door again, and ’e went in, an’ I locked it.”
“And then?”
The man screwed up his face in concentration. “I’m trying ter think as if I ’eard any think, but I can’t recall as I did. I should ’ave …”
“Why?”
“Well, there must ’a bin summink, mustn’t there?” he said reasonably. “ ’Cos arter a few minutes like, ’is lordship banged on the door an’ shouted fer ’elp, shouted real loud, like ’e were in terrible trouble—which o’ course ’e were.” He took a deep breath, still staring at Monk. “So me an’ Jimson, we both went to the door, immediate like. Jimson unlocked it, an’ I stood ready, not knowin’ what ter expec’.”
“And what did you find?”
He looked over towards the cell door about ten feet away, and still very slightly ajar.
“ ’Is lordship staggerin’ an’ beatin’ on the doors wi’ ’is fists,” he answered, his voice strained. “An’ ’e were all covered in blood, like ’e is now.” He glanced at Ravensbrook, then away again. “The prisoner were in an ’eap on the floor, wi’ even more blood on ’im. I can’t remember wot I said, nor wot Jimson said neither. ’E ’elped ’is lordship out, an’ I went ter the prisoner.” He kept his eyes fixed on Monk’s face, as if to block out what was in his mind. “I knelt down by ’im an’ reached for ’is ’and, like, ter see if ’e were alive. I couldn’t feel nothin’. Although ter be ’onest wif yer, sir, I dunno as ’ow I weren’t shakin’ so much I wouldn’t a’ knowed anyway. But I think ’e were dead already. I never seen so much blood in me life.”
“I see.” Monk’s eye strayed involuntarily towards the half-open cell door. He forced his attention back to the man in front of him. “And then what?”
The gaoler looked at Ravensbrook, but Ravensbrook gave him no prompt whatsoever; in fact, from the fixed expression on his face, he might not even have heard what they said.
“We asked ’is lordship what ’ad ’appened,” the gaoler said unhappily. “Although anyone could see as there’d bin a terrible fight, an’ some’ow the prisoner’d got the worst o’ it.”
“And when you asked Lord Ravensbrook, what did he say?”
“ ’E said as the prisoner’d leaped on ’im and attacked ’im when ’e ’ad the penknife out ter recut the nib, and ’though ’e’d done ’is best ter fight ’im off, in the struggle, ’e’d got ’isself stabbed, an’ it were all over in a matter o’ seconds. Caught the vein in ’is throat and whoosh! Gorn.” He swallowed hard, his concentration