Ticket to Oblivion

CHAPTER ELEVEN

When they finally got back to Burnhope Manor, the detectives first went round to the stables. An ostler came to meet them and took the reins of the horse from Colbeck. The bay mare whinnied in farewell as she was led away. Leeming was relieved to part from the animal. Before they could leave the stable yard, the landau returned with Vernon Tolley on the box seat. It described a semicircle then came to a halt beside the well. The coachman jumped down and hurried across to them.

‘Might I have a word, good sirs?’ he asked.

‘Of course you may,’ said Colbeck.

‘I’m fair frightened to death by what’s been going on.’

‘So am I,’ murmured Leeming, glancing after the bay mare.

‘I fear for the lives of the two ladies.’

‘That’s only to be expected, Mr Tolley,’ said Colbeck, ‘but I believe that they are still alive. As long as they are unharmed, they can be traded by the kidnapper. He will doubtless try to strike a bargain once more.’

‘I couldn’t help listening to what was being said when I drove Sir Marcus and the others into Worcester. They seemed to think they’d been hoodwinked.’

‘We were,’ admitted Colbeck.

‘What if the kidnapper tries to hoodwink you again?’

‘That’s unlikely. We’ve learnt our lesson — and so has he.’

‘The inspector might even have caught him if it hadn’t been for Mr Tunnadine thinking that he could do our job for us,’ said Leeming, resentfully. ‘He deserves to cool his heels behind bars for a long time.’

Tolley’s laugh was hollow. ‘There’s no chance of that, Sergeant.’

‘Why not?’

‘The magistrate released him on bail.’

Leeming gasped. ‘But the man committed a murder.’

‘That’s not how the magistrate saw it,’ said the coachman. ‘They were in his house for little more than five minutes. When they came out, Mr Tunnadine had a grin on his face. He was taunting your superintendent.’

‘Then he’s a braver man than I am,’ muttered Leeming.

‘Where is Mr Tunnadine now?’ asked Colbeck.

‘He’s catching the next train to London, sir. After I dropped the others off here, I took him to the railway station. He was still smiling to himself.’

‘I don’t know that I’d be smiling if the woman I was intending to marry was being held by a ruthless criminal. Mr Tunnadine seems to be more interested in escaping incarceration than in the fate of his beloved.’

As he thought of Rhoda Wills, the coachman nodded soulfully.

‘What will you do now, Inspector?’ he asked.

‘We’ll wait until we are contacted for the second time.’

‘I pray that it may be very soon.’

‘I fancy that it will be, Mr Tolley. Let me give you a word of warning, however,’ Colbeck went on. ‘What I’ve told you is in confidence. I don’t want it spread among the servants. Enough rumours are circulating here as it is. Don’t add to them. I’ve only spoken freely to you because I’m aware that you have a special interest in the case.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ said the other, shaking his hand. ‘My lips are sealed.’

‘Good man.’

‘You’ll find Rhoda for me, won’t you?’

‘I’ll do my utmost.’

‘I’m sure you will, sir.’

‘You’ll have to excuse us,’ said Colbeck. ‘We must send someone into Worcester to instruct an undertaker to go out to the cottage where the body was taken. The sooner it’s removed, the better for the wife and daughter.’

He exchanged a nod with the coachman then took his colleague away. Tolley watched them go with fresh hope stirring. As soon as the two men went around the angle of the building, Win Eagleton scuttled out from a door to the kitchen. She tripped across the yard and arrived panting.

‘I saw you through the window, Vernon. You talked to those detectives.’

‘What of it?’

‘Tell me what they said.

‘Nothing,’ he replied, stonily. ‘They said nothing at all.’

None of them could remember the last time they were alone together. Emma Vaughan was the only one who’d been a constant resident at the college. Her younger brother had fled to London in search of fame as an artist and her elder brother had more or less disappeared into the Gloucestershire countryside. It was thrilling to see them both again but distressing to think that it took a crisis in their cousin’s life to bring them under the same roof once more. They were in the drawing room. George Vaughan was stretched out languidly on the chaise longue while his brother perched on the edge of an armchair. Emma was on the sofa between them.

‘What can we do?’ she asked in despair.

‘We must pray for their deliverance,’ said her elder brother.

‘I’ve already been doing that, Percy.’

‘Never underestimate the power of supplication. Later on, we’ll all pray together in the college chapel.’

‘Don’t include me in the service,’ said his brother, tossing his hair back. ‘I’ve seen the light and turned my back on religion.’

‘That’s an appalling thing to say!’ chided Emma.

‘It’s the truth.’

‘It’s your version of the truth, George,’ said Percy Vaughan, ‘and it’s based on a misapprehension. What you claim to reject is Christianity but all that you’ve done is to replace it with an alternative religion, one that is founded on vice and cupidity.’

‘That’s quite right, Percy,’ agreed his brother, cheerfully. ‘I follow a different god now and he’s far less austere than yours. We are opposites, dear brother. You are the Reverend Vaughan and I am the Irreverent Vaughan.’

‘Beware what you say in front of Emma,’ warned the curate.

‘Oh, I don’t believe all this nonsense about his life of wild abandon,’ she said with a giggle. ‘George is simply trying to shock us.’

‘He’s certainly shocked our father. His letters to me are full of tales about my dissolute brother. The stories cannot all be invention.’

‘What stories?’ asked Emma. ‘I’ve heard none.’

‘It’s best that you don’t.’

‘But I love George. I want to know about his life in London.’

‘It’s the capital city of corruption.’

‘Well,’ said his brother, sitting up, ‘it certainly has more temptations than a village like North Cerney could ever offer. But let’s forget about my supposed descent into unbridled wickedness, shall we?’ he continued. ‘Imogen should occupy our thoughts now — and that jolly maid of hers. I liked Rhoda. All three of us have spoken to a detective. Let’s pool our knowledge and see what we’ve learnt between us.’

‘That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said since I got here,’ said the curate, approvingly. ‘Let Emma go first.’

‘I spoke with Inspector Colbeck and Sergeant Leeming,’ she said.

‘I only met the sergeant,’ explained her younger brother. ‘He was an unsightly creature but I took him for an upright fellow.’

‘It’s reassuring to know that you can still recognise virtue in a human being,’ said the curate, tartly. ‘Now, don’t interrupt our sister.’

Emma recalled the interview with the two detectives, teasing out every detail from her memory with one striking omission. She was too embarrassed to confess that she had told them about Percy Vaughan’s love for his cousin. Her younger brother also chose to forget certain things that occurred during Victor Leeming’s visit to his studio. Dolly Wrenson was painted discreetly out of the picture. Having listened to his siblings with great interest, the curate talked about Colbeck’s visit to the parish church in North Cerney. What he suppressed was the fact that he’d firmly believed Imogen and her maid to be dead. The news about the ransom demand had convinced him that both of them were still alive, albeit in serious danger.

‘Inspector Colbeck surprised me,’ he confessed. ‘I never expected a policeman to be quite so intelligent. In younger days, he was an undergraduate at Pembroke College. Having read law at Oxford, he’s now committed to its enforcement.’

‘Having read almost nothing here,’ interjected his brother, ‘I’m committed to a life of pure — or impure — enjoyment.’

‘Be serious for once, George,’ urged Emma.

‘I was never more so.’

Comparing their respective experiences had proved to be a useful exercise. Each one of them had learnt something new about the investigation. As a result, Emma was deeply troubled and her elder brother moved to sit beside her so that he could console her. It was George Vaughan who grasped at a stray memory.

‘Wait!’ he said, rising to his feet. ‘Emma remembers telling the detectives about a soldier on the platform at Oxford station. That could be significant.’

‘I don’t see why,’ she said. ‘I only saw him for a second.’

‘Think back. Didn’t you and Imogen once have an encounter with a soldier?’

‘That was over a year ago, George. In fact, it might have been eighteen months. I don’t see that it’s at all relevant.’

‘It was relevant to our cousin at the time. I recall her telling me about it.’

‘What’s this about Imogen and a soldier?’ asked the curate, anxious to learn any detail about his cousin. ‘Why was I not told about it?’

‘It wasn’t that important,’ argued Emma.

‘I should let the detectives decide that,’ said the artist.

‘But we never saw that soldier again, George.’

‘You might not have seen him — what about Imogen?’

Having watched the comings and goings from an upstairs window, Cassandra Vaughan waited until her sister had dozed off again, then descended the stairs at speed, determined to learn exactly what had happened. When she barged into the library, she made no apology for disturbing the four men there. Tallis, Colbeck and Leeming rose politely from their seats but Sir Marcus showed her no such respect. He strode across to her, intent on ushering her out of the room again.

‘I’m not a cat, Marcus,’ she warned. ‘I’ll not be shooed away.’

‘This is a private conversation, Cassandra. You are interrupting us.’

‘I’m staying until someone finally tells me what’s going on.’

‘I’ll be pleased to do so, Mrs Vaughan,’ said Colbeck, indicating a seat. ‘You haven’t met Superintendent Tallis, have you?’

‘No, Inspector, I’ve not had that pleasure,’ she said, acknowledging Tallis with a nod before sitting down. He responded with a pale smile. ‘Now, who is in charge?’

‘I am, Mrs Vaughan,’ said Tallis.

‘Then tell me where you all charged off to earlier.’

Tallis hesitated and Sir Marcus was a block of granite. Colbeck stepped in.

‘The facts are these,’ he began. ‘A ransom note was received by Sir Marcus. In receipt of a certain amount of money, your niece and her maid were due to be released today. Unfortunately, the kidnapper chose to deceive us. He wanted the ransom without having to surrender his captives.’

‘What about the man who tried to take the money from you, Inspector?’ asked Leeming. ‘Tell Mrs Vaughan what Mr Tunnadine did.’

‘Be quiet, man!’ hissed Tallis.

‘But it’s a crucial part of the story.’

Cassandra was curious. ‘What’s this about Mr Tunnadine?’

‘We should never have let him come with us.’

‘I’d agree with the sergeant there,’ said Colbeck, easily, ‘but let’s keep Mr Tunnadine out of this for the time being. Mrs Vaughan is now in possession of the salient facts. How much of them she decides to pass on to her sister is for her to decide.’

‘Tell her nothing,’ ordered Sir Marcus. ‘My wife is too ill to cope.’

‘Paulina is stronger than you think,’ said his sister-in-law.

‘I forbid you to pass on this information, Cassandra.’

‘She must be told something.’

‘Then give her a version of the truth,’ suggested Colbeck. ‘We are convinced that both of them are still alive and we hope — nay, expect — to rescue them very soon. There’s no need to go into detail.’ He shot a glance at Leeming. ‘And there’s certainly no need to bring Mr Tunnadine’s name in.’

‘What will happen next?’

‘That’s what we were trying to discuss before you forced your way in here,’ said Sir Marcus, testily. ‘If you’ll be so good as to leave us in peace, we can formulate our plans.’

‘I would have thought we’d already reached a conclusion,’ said Tallis. ‘My feeling is that we should follow Inspector Colbeck’s advice. I’ll return to London with the sergeant who can make contact with Mrs Vaughan’s son. Out of courtesy, the young man should be informed of the latest developments. He must be worried stiff.’

Cassandra bristled. ‘Why is George being kept informed while I am not? Am I not worthy of the same courtesy, Superintendent?’

‘Indeed you are, dear lady.’

‘Tell that to my brother-in-law.’

‘I believe that Sir Marcus accepts your right to be told.’

‘Where will Inspector Colbeck be when you go off?’

‘He will remain here until the kidnapper gets in touch again. Sir Marcus has kindly offered him a bed for the night.’

Cassandra was satisfied. Having achieved her objective — partially, at least — she left the room and went back upstairs. Tallis rose to his feet and went out. Sir Marcus made for a decanter of brandy and poured himself a glass. Leeming seized the opportunity of a quiet word with Colbeck.

‘Do I have to go back to London, sir?’ he asked.

‘I thought you’d want to see Estelle and the children.’

‘Oh, I do. But I’d hate to travel on the train with the superintendent.’

Colbeck smiled. ‘I can arrange a loan of that bay mare, if you prefer.’

‘You know what he’s like, Inspector.’

‘I do, Victor, and I sympathise. Remember that he’s still smarting over the release of a man who should have been remanded in custody. Whatever you do,’ counselled Colbeck, ‘don’t mention the name of Mr Tunnadine.’

Lucinda Graham hoped that she would not be seeing him for some time. She still had the bruises from his last visit and wondered why he’d been so unnecessarily rough with her. In the past, she’d been able to flatter and cajole him in order to get what she wanted. Those days were gone, it seemed. Clive Tunnadine’s imminent marriage was a watershed. It was no use fooling herself that, after the wedding, they would continue exactly as before. Their relationship would change abruptly. The way she’d been treated on his previous visit was a warning. Lucinda might be able to stay at the house for another month, perhaps more, but she was wise enough to prepare for the inevitable.

To that end, she went from room to room and gathered up all the items she treasured. Jewellery came first, then ornaments and then the gifts that he’d showered upon her in the early stages of their romance. Lucinda put them all together in one chest of drawers, planning to move them out in stages so that he was unaware of their disappearance. She expected no more expensive gifts from Tunnadine. They would be reserved for his wife. Lucinda felt sorry for the woman. She’d be entering a hollow marriage with a man who would never wholly commit himself to a wife. There would always be someone like Lucinda Graham in the shadows.

She was examining a silver locket he’d given her when she heard the key turn in the lock downstairs. Tunnadine had returned. The maid gave him a dutiful welcome but all he did was to stuff his hat into her hands. Pounding up the stairs, he came into the room where Lucinda had just hidden the locket away. Tense and throbbing with anger, he began to take off his clothes. Lucinda immediately did the same thing, afraid to speak or to contradict him in any way. When he was ready, Tunnadine grabbed her remaining underwear and tore it off her. She didn’t dare to protest as he lifted her up and threw her onto the bed. There had been times, especially at the start, when he’d taken care to give as well as to take pleasure. He was in no mood to caress and excite her now. Driven by lust, he simply kissed, groped and rolled on top of her until he was ready to thrust deep inside her. She winced at the sudden pain.

It was even more of an ordeal than on his previous visit. All that she could do was to grit her teeth and run her hands up and down his back. The one consolation was that it did not last long. When he reached the height of his pleasure, he let out a cry of satisfaction and pumped away even harder. Lucinda could smell the whisky on his breath. He seemed heavier than ever and she began to feel smothered. All at once, it was over. Tunnadine pulled out of her and sat up on the bed, shaking his head as if trying to clear it. When he realised where he was, he ran an absent-minded hand across her breasts as a vague token of gratitude.

Lucinda was in pain and quietly terrified. She had, in effect, been ravished and there’d been nothing whatsoever that she could do about it. Tunnadine owned her. Having enjoyed all the advantages of being his mistress, she was now suffering the disadvantages. She felt sick, unprotected and violated. Was this how he intended to treat his wife?

It was a disturbing thought.

Tunnadine got up, dressed and left without saying a single word.

A train journey in the company of Edward Tallis could never be a source of enjoyment but it was far less of a trial than Victor Leeming had imagined. On the first stage of their return to London, he listened patiently to the superintendent’s lengthy fulminations against the way that Clive Tunnadine had escaped justice. The sergeant was treated to a lecture on the sanctity of the law and made to feel, at one point, that he was the malefactor. Their arrival in Oxford terminated the lecture. It was never continued because Tallis fell asleep almost as soon as the second train was in motion. Leeming was able to review the day’s events in comparative safety before he, too, was lulled into a deep slumber. It was only when the train squealed to a halt in Paddington that the two detectives woke up.

Tallis hailed a cab and headed for Scotland Yard. Leeming, meanwhile, was driven at a comforting trot towards John Islip Street so that he could deliver the letter that Colbeck had written to Madeleine. After a few pleasantries with her, Leeming took the cab on to Chelsea. All that he had to do was to tell George Vaughan what had happened in the Worcestershire countryside that day, then he could go home to his family. When he reached the crumbling old house, he was admitted by the landlady and allowed to walk up the interminable stairs to the attic. He knocked on the door of the artist’s studio. After a few seconds, it was flung open by Dolly Wrenson. A welcoming smile congealed on her face and disappointment filled her voice.

‘I thought it was George, coming back at last.’

‘It’s only me — Sergeant Leeming.’

‘Nothing terrible has happened to George, has it?’ she asked, seizing him by the shoulders. ‘If he’s been in an accident, tell me the truth. I’ll go to him instantly.’

‘Mr Vaughan has not been hurt in any way. I came here to see him.’

‘He went off to Oxford and left me all alone. I’ve been so lonely, Sergeant.’ Her smile slowly came back into view. ‘I’m a woman who likes company.’

‘Can I leave a message for Mr Vaughan?’

‘You can do more than that,’ she said, pulling him into the attic and shutting the door behind them. ‘I need your opinion and I want you to be honest.’ She released her hold. ‘By the way, do you have a Christian name?’

‘It’s Victor — Victor Leeming.’

‘Then it looks as if the spoils go to the victor.’

‘I don’t understand.’

She giggled. ‘You will. Come over here.’

Dolly guided him across to the easel and lifted off the tattered sheet from the portrait. Before he could stop himself, Leeming was gazing at her nude body. When he tried to look away, she held his head between her hands and forced him to study the canvas. His cheeks were crimson and his mind in turmoil.

‘What do you think, Victor?’ she asked.

‘You look … very nice,’ he croaked.

‘But I have no arm. George should have given me an arm before he left. It was cruel of him to leave me looking like that. I have lovely arms.’ She turned him to face her. ‘Don’t you think they’re beautiful?’

‘Yes, yes, I do.’

‘But you haven’t seen them properly.’

‘I’ll take your word for it.’

‘You can take more than that,’ she said, slipping her robe off one shoulder to reveal a naked arm of exquisite loveliness. ‘George needs to be punished. Will you help me to punish him, Victor?’

Leeming was nonplussed. Wanting to leave, he somehow felt rooted to the spot. He was hopelessly unequal to the situation. It was odd. When he’d been a uniformed constable on the beat, he’d been offered favours by any number of prostitutes and turned them down without embarrassment. He always felt sorry that they’d been reduced to selling their bodies. Most of the ladies of the night had either been sad young creatures with cosmetics daubed liberally over their pinched faces or raddled older women bearing the telltale marks of their profession. Dolly Wrenson fitted into neither category. She was young, wholesome and very alluring. Leeming was not so much tempted as horrified. Her smile broadened.

‘If you’re a policeman,’ she cooed, ‘you must be big and strong. Are you?’

‘All I wish to do is to deliver a message,’ he said, backing away.

‘Tell me afterwards.’

‘The two women have been kidnapped. We received a ransom note.’

‘You’ve seen my arms, Victor, now you can feel them wrapped around you.’

He inched towards the door. ‘I’m afraid that I have to go.’

‘The night is young.’

‘Please pass on the message to Mr Vaughan.’

‘A gentleman should never reject a lady.’

Leeming was beyond the point of rejection. He was in a complete panic. As Dolly lunged towards him, he evaded her grasp, opened the door and fled down the stairs as if the house was on fire. He didn’t stop running until he was three streets away. It was an incident he wouldn’t mention to his wife, yet it would lodge in his memory a very long time.

Ordinarily, Sir Marcus Burnhope would never have dreamt of inviting a detective to dine with him but Colbeck was different from the normal run of policemen. He was astute, well educated and clearly dedicated to the task in hand. Cassandra had chosen to dine with her sister, leaving the two men to discuss the case freely. They were still reconstructing the events of the afternoon when wholly unexpected visitors arrived at Burnhope Manor. Believing they might have useful information to impart, Emma and George Vaughan had caught the train to Worcester and hired a cab to bring them to their uncle’s house. Sir Marcus was surprised to see them. While giving Emma a cordial greeting, he felt less hospitable when he saw her brother’s startling attire and long hair. He caught a decided whiff of dissipation. Colbeck was far more tolerant. Pleased to see Emma, he was delighted to meet the artist about whom Leeming had spoken. By the same token, George Vaughan was glad to meet the inspector.

On hearing that two of her children had arrived, Cassandra came downstairs to embrace her daughter and to scold her son for his disreputable appearance. All five of them adjourned to the drawing room and found a seat.

‘Whatever brought you here?’ asked Cassandra.

‘We have something to tell the inspector,’ replied the artist. ‘It could have a bearing on the case.’

‘On the other hand,’ said Emma, ‘it might be irrelevant. I have my doubts.’

‘I don’t.’

‘Be quiet, George,’ said his mother. ‘Let your sister tell her tale.’

Emma looked around the ring of faces and began to lose her confidence. It took some prompting from her mother and some gentle persuasion from Colbeck to get her to speak. She plunged in.

‘Some time last year,’ she said, ‘Aunt Paulina and Imogen came to stay with us in Oxford. I think it was February or March because there was snow on the ground. Imogen and I went for a walk one day in Christ Church Meadow. It was a glorious morning with the sun turning everything bright and shiny.’

‘We don’t need to hear that,’ complained her brother.

‘Don’t interrupt,’ said Cassandra, sharply.

‘But Emma needs to get to the point.’

‘Let her proceed at her own pace,’ said Colbeck. ‘There’s no hurry.’

‘I think that there is,’ grumbled Sir Marcus. ‘If Emma has any information that will help us in the search for Imogen’s kidnapper, I want to hear it now.’

‘Then you shall, Uncle,’ said Emma, spurred on by the rebuke. ‘We were enjoying our walk when this ruffian suddenly leapt out from some bushes to accost us. He demanded money. Imogen was so frightened that she was ready to hand over some coins just to get rid of him. He was a fearsome man, old, dirty, bearded and wearing tattered clothing that looked as if he’d slept in it. Also, he gave off the most noisome stink.’

‘Why did you never mention this incident to me?’ demanded Cassandra.

‘Now who’s interrupting?’ said her son, smirking.

‘We thought it would alarm you, Mother,’ explained Emma, ‘and it would certainly have upset Aunt Paulina. We were afraid that you’d stop us going out alone together and we didn’t want that.’

‘It’s a fair assumption,’ observed Colbeck. ‘How did this business end?’

‘A soldier came to our rescue, Inspector. He grabbed hold of the man and pitched him back into the bushes. Then he introduced himself and insisted on escorting us back to the safety of the college.’

‘What happened then?’

‘Nothing,’ said Emma. ‘We went into the college and never saw him again.’

‘You never saw him again,’ her brother reminded her. ‘What about Imogen?’

‘I can’t believe that she had any further contact with him. If she had, then Imogen would certainly have told me.’

‘She’d have told her mother as well,’ declared Sir Marcus. ‘Our daughter has been brought up properly. She’d never encourage the interest of some stranger she met in a chance encounter, especially if he was a mere soldier. What was his rank?’

‘He was a captain, Uncle. The name he gave us was Captain Whiteside.’

‘Would you recognise him if you saw him again?’ asked Colbeck.

‘Oh, yes, Inspector — he was very dashing.’

‘But he was not the soldier you saw on the platform at the station?’ Emma shook her head. ‘What about the second soldier, the one who got off the train.’

‘I didn’t really take much notice of him.’

‘We were too busy looking out for Imogen,’ said Cassandra.

Sir Marcus was sceptical. ‘None of this sounds remotely germane to the kidnap,’ he decided. ‘It was all of eighteen months ago and Imogen has probably forgotten all about it.’

‘That’s what I did,’ volunteered Emma. ‘Being pounced on by that ruffian was so distressing that I tried hard to put it out of my mind.’

‘I was the one who dug it out again,’ boasted her brother. ‘You should have saved yourself the trouble, George,’ said his uncle.

‘I’m glad to hear about the incident,’ added Cassandra. ‘One thinks of Oxford as a seat of learning but we have plenty of vagabonds in our midst as well. You should be more careful where you walk, Emma. Male company is always advisable.’

‘I believe that Emma and her cousin were entitled to be on their own,’ said the artist. ‘The presence of a man — even one as sensitive as me — would only serve to inhibit their conversation. What happened was unfortunate but they survived intact.’ He turned to Colbeck. ‘I felt that it was important for you to hear about the incident, Inspector,’ he went on. ‘Were we justified in making the effort to get here?’

‘I’m not entirely sure about that, Mr Vaughan,’ said Colbeck, ‘but I’m grateful that you came and I’m very glad to make your acquaintance.’

Convinced that they had something crucial to report, George Vaughan was downcast. Colbeck’s lukewarm response had also upset his sister. Emma was self-conscious about the fact that she’d described an event that she’d have preferred to stay hidden. Not only had it been more or less dismissed as irrelevant, it had given her mother ammunition to use against her. Emma’s freedom to come and go from the college would henceforth be supervised more closely.

Colbeck was sorry to upset the two of them. Privately, he was delighted to hear about the encounter and certain that it was directly related to the kidnap. In admitting that, however, he would be alerting Sir Marcus to the possibility that his daughter had had a clandestine friendship with Captain Whiteside. If and when Imogen was released, it would sour relations between father and daughter and Colbeck was very keen to protect her.

‘There has to be a connection,’ emphasised George Vaughan. ‘A soldier came to their rescue and a soldier was seen waiting at Oxford station.’

‘There’s a regiment stationed near the city,’ said Sir Marcus, dismissively. ‘It’s not surprising that redcoats appear from time to time at the station.’

‘Exactly,’ said Colbeck, endorsing the remark. ‘What we’ve been told was very interesting but of no practical value. The fact that a soldier greeted the train that day is pure coincidence.’