whispered Crabb taking one of the other chairs.
Ravenscroft looked around the room with its comfortable armchairs, patterned carpet, Regency sideboard and delicate ornaments, and could not help feeling the contrast with the previous room he had just visited. Whereas the Jacobsons’ room had a darkened, almost claustrophobic atmosphere, this room evidenced much light and warmth, and displayed a care and attention to detail of its occupants. A painting of a small Georgian country house, set in woodland, hung in centre place over the fireplace, and the mantel itself was adorned by old photographs of numerous people in ornate silver frames.
‘Now here we are,’ said Arabella Fanshaw returning to the room bearing a large silver tray, closely followed by her sister, after a few minutes had elapsed.
‘Allow me, miss,’ said Crabb standing up and taking hold of the tray.
‘Thank you, constable,’
‘Where would you like me to place it, miss?’
‘On the table over there by the chair, if you will.’
‘You have delightful rooms here,’ said Ravenscroft. ‘You must have been here for quite a while?’
‘Ten years,’ said the younger sister speaking for the first time.
‘Twelve, my dear Clarisa, if I am not mistaken,’ corrected Arabella.
‘So you have not always lived in Pershore?’ asked Ravenscroft glancing across at the painting.
‘No, we came originally from Ireland, near Coleraine,’ offered Clarisa.
‘How do you like your tea, inspector,’ interrupted Arabella turning to face Ravenscroft.
‘Just a little milk and sugar.’
‘And you, constable?’
‘The same miss, thank you’, replied Crabb.
‘Now how can my sister and I be of assistance to you?’ asked Arabella after Ravenscroft and Crabb had been handed their cups. ‘We were given to understand that poor Mr Jones died from eating too much of that dreadful soup that Mrs Talbot cooked for us all. We were both quite ill ourselves in the night.’
‘That is what we first thought, but new evidence has come to light which suggests that Mr Jones was in fact poisoned,’ replied Ravenscroft.
‘Oh, good heavens!’ exclaimed the younger sister with a look of alarm.
‘Now then, Clarisa, do not distress yourself. Go on, inspector,’ said the anxious elder sister.
‘In fact it appears that Mr Jones did not in fact partake of the soup during the dinner. We believe that poison had been placed in his bottle of tawny port.’
‘How perfectly awful,’ said the younger sister turning away.
‘How perfectly dreadful. Who can have done such a terrible thing?’ added Arabella.
‘That is what we would like to know. Can either of you ladies provide us with any information regarding the dead man? Did he ever speak to you, or confide in you perhaps?’
‘No, Mr Jones said very little. Of course, he was only with us for just under two weeks. I don’t think he wanted to talk to anyone very much. Not a sociable kind of person at all. We did try to engage him in conversation, but he expressed little interest,’ replied Arabella with a slight hint of disapproval.
‘Do you recall if he spoke with anyone else in particular?’ continued Ravenscroft.
‘No. There was no one.’
‘Did he ever give any indication what his business was here in Pershore, or where he might have originated?’
‘I think he—,’ began the younger sister.
‘Mr Jones did mention that he would only be with us for a short time,’ interrupted Arabella.
‘Did he say where he might be going to when he left this establishment?’ asked Ravenscroft sipping his tea.
‘He might have mentioned once that he was waiting for a letter which might take him shortly to London,’ offered Arabella.
‘That is interesting – and do you know whether he received such a letter?’
‘I don’t know. If he did, he certainly did not mention it.’
‘Did Mr Jones ever give any indication that he had previously been known to any of the residents of Talbots’?’
‘What a
Ravenscroft looked around the room with its comfortable armchairs, patterned carpet, Regency sideboard and delicate ornaments, and could not help feeling the contrast with the previous room he had just visited. Whereas the Jacobsons’ room had a darkened, almost claustrophobic atmosphere, this room evidenced much light and warmth, and displayed a care and attention to detail of its occupants. A painting of a small Georgian country house, set in woodland, hung in centre place over the fireplace, and the mantel itself was adorned by old photographs of numerous people in ornate silver frames.
‘Now here we are,’ said Arabella Fanshaw returning to the room bearing a large silver tray, closely followed by her sister, after a few minutes had elapsed.
‘Allow me, miss,’ said Crabb standing up and taking hold of the tray.
‘Thank you, constable,’
‘Where would you like me to place it, miss?’
‘On the table over there by the chair, if you will.’
‘You have delightful rooms here,’ said Ravenscroft. ‘You must have been here for quite a while?’
‘Ten years,’ said the younger sister speaking for the first time.
‘Twelve, my dear Clarisa, if I am not mistaken,’ corrected Arabella.
‘So you have not always lived in Pershore?’ asked Ravenscroft glancing across at the painting.
‘No, we came originally from Ireland, near Coleraine,’ offered Clarisa.
‘How do you like your tea, inspector,’ interrupted Arabella turning to face Ravenscroft.
‘Just a little milk and sugar.’
‘And you, constable?’
‘The same miss, thank you’, replied Crabb.
‘Now how can my sister and I be of assistance to you?’ asked Arabella after Ravenscroft and Crabb had been handed their cups. ‘We were given to understand that poor Mr Jones died from eating too much of that dreadful soup that Mrs Talbot cooked for us all. We were both quite ill ourselves in the night.’
‘That is what we first thought, but new evidence has come to light which suggests that Mr Jones was in fact poisoned,’ replied Ravenscroft.
‘Oh, good heavens!’ exclaimed the younger sister with a look of alarm.
‘Now then, Clarisa, do not distress yourself. Go on, inspector,’ said the anxious elder sister.
‘In fact it appears that Mr Jones did not in fact partake of the soup during the dinner. We believe that poison had been placed in his bottle of tawny port.’
‘How perfectly awful,’ said the younger sister turning away.
‘How perfectly dreadful. Who can have done such a terrible thing?’ added Arabella.
‘That is what we would like to know. Can either of you ladies provide us with any information regarding the dead man? Did he ever speak to you, or confide in you perhaps?’
‘No, Mr Jones said very little. Of course, he was only with us for just under two weeks. I don’t think he wanted to talk to anyone very much. Not a sociable kind of person at all. We did try to engage him in conversation, but he expressed little interest,’ replied Arabella with a slight hint of disapproval.
‘Do you recall if he spoke with anyone else in particular?’ continued Ravenscroft.
‘No. There was no one.’
‘Did he ever give any indication what his business was here in Pershore, or where he might have originated?’
‘I think he—,’ began the younger sister.
‘Mr Jones did mention that he would only be with us for a short time,’ interrupted Arabella.
‘Did he say where he might be going to when he left this establishment?’ asked Ravenscroft sipping his tea.
‘He might have mentioned once that he was waiting for a letter which might take him shortly to London,’ offered Arabella.
‘That is interesting – and do you know whether he received such a letter?’
‘I don’t know. If he did, he certainly did not mention it.’
‘Did Mr Jones ever give any indication that he had previously been known to any of the residents of Talbots’?’
‘What a
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