Silhouetted against the full moon, its squat bulk made it look formidable. The ground floor was solid wall. The gaol’s small windows were highly placed in its forbidding walls, and they reflected the moonlight like a set of black mirrors.The ostler at the coaching inn who had given him directions had told him that Hexham was the first purpose-built gaol in England. Originally built to imprison the Border reivers four hundred years ago, the building was still as bleak and inhospitable as it had been in the fourteenth century. Lavender pulled his scarf around his nose, trying to protect himself from the overpowering stench of urine, faeces and unwashed bodies, as he leapt up the worn steps to rap at the heavy, studded door.A nervous gaoler finally let him enter when he showed him his silver-topped tipstaff from Bow Street. ‘Ay, I’ve heard you were in the area,’ he said. ‘Theys sed you might turn up ’ere when they brought Carnaby in.’ The man had an appalling case of acne. He ran a filthy hand through his long, greasy hair and stared uncertainly at the detective.Behind him, Lavender could see a long ladder leaning against the rough stones of the wall and a large rectangular hole in the flagged floor.
