Railway to the Grave

CHAPTER NINE

Madeleine Andrews was thrilled to receive the letter from Colbeck but her delight was tempered by disappointment when she heard that he might be away from London for a considerable time.

‘It could take us an eternity,’ admitted Leeming.

‘Do you have no clues at all, Sergeant?’

‘Well, I certainly don’t – but I think that the inspector does. That’s not unusual, mind you. No matter how puzzling a case, he always manages to find a way to solve it in the end.’

‘What sort of a place is South Otterington?’

‘It’s a pretty little village with countryside all round it. That’s why I couldn’t wait to get back here. I didn’t take to it at all.’

‘Why ever not?’ she asked. ‘It sounds rather attractive.’

‘It’s a bit too quiet for my liking, Miss Andrews. It’s too isolated and nothing ever happens there.’

Madeleine smiled. ‘You’ve had a murder and a suicide in just over a fortnight. What else do you want?’

‘I’d like more action,’ said Leeming, ‘and we get that every day here in London. Yes, there’ve been two violent deaths, I grant you, but that’s exceptional in a backwater like South Otterington. It might never happen again for years. When I was walking my beat in uniform, we’d have a murder at least once a week, not to mention a string of other serious crimes.’

They were in the house in Camden and Leeming had a cab waiting for him outside. Madeleine was very fond of him. Though they’d met infrequently, she liked the way he’d accepted her and was touched by his habit of talking so affectionately about his wife and two children. Leeming was also very discreet. If it became known that Madeleine had actually taken part in some criminal investigations, Superintendent Tallis would have gone berserk. He believed that women had no place at all in law enforcement. Colbeck thought otherwise and Leeming had been grateful for the contribution Madeleine had made in some of the cases they’d handled.

For his part, the sergeant felt honoured to have been the first person to know of their engagement. It had pleased him beyond measure. Over the years he’d worked very closely with Colbeck and had noticed the subtle changes brought about in the inspector by his friendship with Madeleine Andrews. Now that the friendship would blossom into marriage, Leeming knew that, in Madeleine, he’d be acquiring a new colleague, albeit one whose work behind the scenes had to be kept secret. The thought contented him.

‘I have to go,’ he said. ‘I must report to the superintendent.’

‘I don’t suppose…’

Madeleine’s voice tailed off but he read the question in her eyes.

‘No, Miss Andrews – the superintendent still hasn’t been told of your betrothal. So far Inspector Colbeck hasn’t managed to find him in a receptive mood.’

‘I know that Mr Tallis has a jaundiced view of marriage.’

‘That’s because he’s never experienced its joys,’ said Leeming. ‘I only started to live properly when Estelle and I wed. Until then, my life had been narrow and selfish. It had no real purpose. Suddenly, everything changed. I knew where I was going and what I wanted to do. And when the children came along, that made it perfect.’

Madeleine said nothing. She harboured dreams of becoming a mother one day but that time, she’d realised, might be distant. She envied Leeming and his wife. They’d married within months of meeting each other and were parents within a year. She and Colbeck were destined to have a longer engagement. Madeleine understood why Tallis had not yet been told.

‘The superintendent will never approve of me,’ she said.

‘Any normal man would approve of you, Miss Andrews,’ said Leeming with clumsy gallantry. ‘It’s just that Mr Tallis takes a strange view of these things. It’s not personal. If the inspector announced that he was about to marry a royal princess, Mr Tallis would still try to talk him out of it. And in my view,’ he went on, emboldened to pay a second compliment, ‘you are the equal of any princess.’

She almost blushed. ‘Thank you, Sergeant.’

‘In any case, now is not the time to raise the topic.’

‘No?’

‘Look at what’s happened,’ he told her. ‘The one marriage that the superintendent held up as a success was that between Colonel Tarleton and his wife. Yet both of them died in the most frightful ways. Now, that’s hardly likely to endear Mr Tallis to the institution of holy matrimony, is it?’

Colbeck arrived at the house to find that Eve Doel was being consoled by Agnes Reader. Introduced to the bereaved daughter, he hoped that she’d be more forthcoming than her brother. On the journey there in the trap, Adam Tarleton had been less than helpful. All that interested him were the details of his inheritance. After giving his sister a brief description of his visit to Northallerton, he went off upstairs and left the two women alone with Colbeck. All three were comfortably ensconced in the drawing room.

‘How did you come to hear of the latest development, Mrs Reader?’ asked Colbeck.

‘My husband sent me a note from the bank,’ she replied. ‘He’d been informed by Mr Everett, the lawyer, who, in turn, had been told by Mr Froggatt, the undertaker. In a town like Northallerton, news will spread like wildfire.’

‘So I see.’

‘You actually unearthed the body, I gather?’

Giving them an attenuated account of what had occurred, Colbeck kept one eye on Eve to make sure that the details were not disturbing her. In fact, she remained calm and unruffled throughout. When he finished, it was she who pressed for information.

‘Would she have suffered in any way, Inspector?’

‘No, Mrs Doel – death would have been fairly quick.’

‘What about her handbag and her jewellery?’

‘They’d been buried with her. This wasn’t the work of a thief.’

‘Then who could it have been?’

‘Was it some random act of violence?’ asked Agnes.

‘There’s no suggestion of that, Mrs Reader,’ said Colbeck. ‘The one thing I can say with certainty is that calculation was involved. The murder was carefully planned. That points to someone local.’

Eve trembled. ‘What a dreadful thought!’ she cried. ‘I shan’t be able to sleep properly, knowing that the villain is still out there.’

‘I’m hoping that you may be able to help me find him. You, too, Mrs Reader,’ he continued, turning to Agnes. ‘You know the people and the area. I’m a complete stranger.’

‘I left years ago, Inspector,’ said Eve.

‘But you corresponded regularly with your mother.’

‘Yes, I did, and her letters were full of news.’

‘Did she ever mention falling out with someone?’

‘Mother would never have fallen out with anybody.’

‘I can endorse that,’ said Agnes. ‘Miriam was far too nice a woman to have enemies. It was impossible not to like her. In all the years we knew her, I don’t believe I once heard her raise her voice.’

‘Oh, she did,’ countered Eve. ‘Mother raised her voice to me when I broke a mirror by accident and she had to reprove Adam all the time when he was young. But Agnes is right. By and large, she went out of her way to get on with people.’

‘What about your stepfather?’ asked Colbeck. ‘According to your brother, he could cause offence without realising it.’

‘He did have a gruff manner, Inspector, I concede that. And he did try to order people about.’

‘Can you think of anyone in particular he might have upset?’

‘No, I can’t.’

‘I think I can,’ volunteered Agnes. ‘I know that he had a fierce row with Eric Hepworth, the railway policeman. Hepworth’s daughter had worked here and been dismissed. He felt that the girl should be reinstated and told the colonel so to his face. I remember Miriam recounting the story to me. Hepworth was very angry, it seems.’

‘I’ve met Sergeant Hepworth,’ said Colbeck. ‘He told us that his daughter, Ginny, had worked here but there was no mention of an argument with the colonel.’

‘It certainly took place,’ confirmed Eve. ‘Mother wrote to me about it. She felt that Hepworth should’ve shown more respect.’

‘Is there anyone else who crossed swords with your father?’

‘I can’t think of anybody, Inspector.’

‘What about the stationmaster?’ suggested Agnes.

‘What about him?’

‘He and your stepfather had words about something or other. I remember it well. When Bertram and I came to play cards here that same evening, Aubrey was still seething. Apparently, he threatened to have the man dismissed for insolence.’

‘Are we talking about Mr Ellerby?’ asked Colbeck.

‘That’s the man, Inspector – Silas Ellerby.’

‘He didn’t strike me as the argumentative type.’

‘Men can change when drink is taken. I’ve seen it happen.’

‘So have I, Mrs Reader,’ said Colbeck, ruefully. ‘Alcohol causes more crime than almost anything else. It removes inhibitions. When a man has too much beer inside him, he surrenders to his demons.’

‘And he forgets the need for deference,’ complained Agnes. ‘My husband has encountered that at the bank. He had to dismiss one of his clerks last year for being drunk and unruly.’

‘Coming back to the colonel, you’ve given me two names so far.’

‘I can’t add to them,’ said Eve with a shrug.

Colbeck looked at Agnes. ‘Mrs Reader?’

There was a long pause as Agnes wondered if she should offer another name. Consideration for Eve told her to say nothing but she felt that the incident ought to be out in the open. At length, she reached her decision, prefacing her words with a warning.

‘I don’t want you to imagine for a second that this person is even remotely connected with the crime,’ she began, ‘because that is frankly impossible. But there is someone with whom Aubrey was at loggerheads for a time.’

‘And who was that?’ pressed Colbeck.

‘It was the rector, Mr Skelton.’

‘I never heard about any dissension between them,’ said Eve.

‘Your mother was too embarrassed to tell you. After all, the rector is your godfather. You looked up to him. Miriam didn’t want to alarm you with tales of a rift.’

‘What caused the rift, Agnes?’

‘It was some trifling matter over a donation to the church. It blew up out of all proportions. Bertram tried to intercede and pour oil on troubled waters but his efforts were in vain.’

Eve was shaken. ‘I knew none of this,’ she said. ‘It might explain why the rector told me at the inquest that my stepfather was not welcome in his churchyard. He refuses to have him buried there.’

‘He said the same to me,’ explained Colbeck, ‘but I shouldn’t let it upset you, Mrs Doel. The church is in the diocese of York so there’s a court of appeal in the person of the archbishop. I fancy that he’ll rap the rector over the knuckles about this.’

‘All the same, it’s very unnerving.’

‘Mr Skelton can be very unchristian at times,’ observed Agnes.

‘It was certainly a shock when he confronted me yesterday.’

‘You have my sympathy, Mrs Doel,’ said Colbeck. ‘It was both wrong and inconsiderate of him to accost you at a time like that. A man whose profession involves comforting the bereaved should know better. I hadn’t realised that personal animus came into it.’

‘No more did I,’ said Eve.

Casting the conversational net wider, Colbeck got them to talk about friends and acquaintances of the Tarletons in other parts of the county. It emerged that they had a relatively wide social circle but that, as time passed, several of their friends had fallen away. Neither Eve nor Agnes could offer any explanation for this beyond the fact that the colonel might inadvertently have upset them by being too brusque. When he felt that he’d drawn all he could out of them, Colbeck had a request to put forward.

‘When we first called here,’ he said, ‘the housekeeper showed us the colonel’s arsenal. It’s a fearsome assembly of weapons. I wonder if I might have a look at them again?’

‘Of course, you may,’ said Eve. ‘Mrs Withers will take you there. Are you looking for anything in particular, Inspector?’

‘Yes,’ replied Colbeck. ‘I’m searching for inspiration.’

Leeming had long ago learnt an important lesson about Edward Tallis. The worst time to enter his room was when you were the bearer of bad tidings. Knowing that he was about to cause distress to the superintendent, Leeming hovered outside the door for minutes before finally plucking up the courage to knock.

‘Come in!’ roared an unwelcoming voice.

Leeming opened the door. ‘Good day to you, sir.’

‘What on earth are you doing here, Sergeant?’

‘I was told to deliver a report in person. The body of Mrs Tarleton was found during the night.’

Tallis sat up with interest. ‘How and where?’ he demanded. ‘Close the door, man, and sit down. I want to hear all the details. What state was the body in?’

‘I’ll come to that, sir,’ said Leeming, shutting the door and perching on the edge of a chair. ‘What happened was this.’

On the train journey back, he’d spent a considerable time rehearsing what he was going to say and, on Colbeck’s advice, had made some notes so that he had the sequence of events in order. Faced with Tallis, however, and hit by a steady stream of questions from the hectoring superintendent, he faltered. Forgetting certain details, he repeated others unnecessarily and beads of sweat began to break out on his forehead. He expected a reprimand for being so confused but Tallis had no criticism to offer. Grateful that the news had been delivered to him, he rose to his feet.

‘I’ll return to the village this very evening,’ he declared.

‘That’s the last thing you must do, sir.’

‘Now that we have a body, the investigation has moved on.’

‘And it will move on even further if Inspector Colbeck and I are allowed to continue on our own. We are impartial observers. You are not, sir. You suffered the agonies of one inquest,’ said Leeming. ‘Do you really wish to endure a second one?’

Tallis pondered. ‘Probably not, if I’m honest,’ he conceded.

‘Then spare yourself, sir. Put your trust in us.’

‘I just feel that I should be there.’

‘That means you’d want your room at the Black Bull,’ thought Leeming, moaning inwardly. ‘I’m not going back to the Swan. I’d rather sleep in a tent than put up with that place again. It was unhealthy.’ He saw the pile of papers on the desk. And spoke aloud. ‘You look as if you’re busy, sir.’

‘I am,’ said Tallis. ‘We’ve had assaults, robberies, damage to property and a case of arson to investigate. Then there’s an alleged rape in Hyde Park.’ His voice became a whisper. ‘When Miriam – Mrs Tarleton, that is – was examined, was there any evidence of sexual interference?’

‘There was none whatsoever, sir.’

‘Thank heaven for that!’

‘And nothing was stolen from her.’

‘Apart from her life, of course – that’s the most monstrous theft of all.’ Tallis stared at the mound of papers. ‘By rights, I should stay here to supervise the investigation of these crimes. But I feel that I have an obligation to some dear friends.’

‘The only obligation you have is to see the colonel’s name cleared and to make sure that his wife’s killer is caught. The best way you can do that,’ Leeming went on, amazed at the confidence now surging through him, ‘is to leave everything to us. As long as you’re there, you’ll be holding us up without meaning to do so.’

‘There may be some truth in that, Leeming.’

‘Does that mean I can go back there alone?’

‘Yes, it does. Here, I’m desperately needed; there, I’ll be nothing but a handicap.’ He sat down again. ‘I’ll stay. But I’ll want regular reports,’ he warned, ‘even if you have to send them by telegraph.’

Leeming got up. ‘We’ll keep you fully informed, sir.’

‘Thank you. I appreciate your coming here like this.’

‘It was no trouble at all,’ said the sergeant as something jogged his memory. ‘By the way, did you know that there’s a village in the North Riding that’s named after me? It’s called Leeming.’

Tallis scowled. ‘Does this have anything to do with the case in hand?’ Leeming shook his head. ‘Then get out of here and don’t introduce irrelevant material into a police report again. I don’t care if there’s a herd of sheep named after you. It’s beside the point.’ He banged the table. ‘Well, don’t just stand there, man. Clear off.’

As he fled through the door, Leeming gave a smile of relief. The superintendent was back to something like his old self. His anger was reassuring. Tallis might not be interested in a village called Leeming but the sergeant knew someone at home who would be. When he left Scotland Yard, he was brimming with joy.

Margery Withers led him to the room for the second time and took the opportunity to gather information from Colbeck.

‘Is it true that nothing will now be confiscated?’ she asked.

‘That’s right,’ said Colbeck. ‘When a verdict of suicide while the victim is non compos mentis is reached, no seizure is exercised on his property. Everything will pass to his heirs.’

‘Oh, I’m so pleased to hear that.’

‘The evidence given was honest and compelling. On the basis of that, the correct verdict was unavoidable. Unhappily, that’s not always been the case at inquests.’

‘What are you talking about, Inspector?’

‘Fraud, Mrs Withers, the impulse in some people to tell the most outrageous lies in order to get every penny left behind by a deceased relative. No family wants to admit that any member of it was so unhappy with his or her life that suicide was the only option left to them. It would be a terrible stigma,’ said Colbeck. ‘So they’ll go out of their way to convince a jury that someone who’s perfectly sane was, in fact, completely mad. That way, they gain sympathy and lose nothing of the inheritance.’

‘That’s criminal, Inspector.’

‘It’s the way of the world, I fear.’ He looked around. ‘This really is a fine collection. Some of it should be in a museum.’

‘Young Mr Tarleton has talked of selling some items.’

‘What’s that you’re saying about me, Mrs Withers?’ asked Adam Tarleton, coming into the room. ‘And why are you in here?’

‘It was at my request, sir,’ explained Colbeck.

‘And what could possibly interest you in this place?’

‘I wanted to see the firearms again.’

‘I have the keys if you wish to open any of the cabinets,’ said Mrs Withers. ‘The colonel entrusted them to me.’

Tarleton laughed. ‘What she means,’ he said, ‘is that he told her where they were hidden. I wasn’t supposed to know, you see. The shotguns were out of bounds to me. My stepfather thought that I was too irresponsible to be given a loaded weapon.’

‘Did you mind that?’ asked Colbeck.

‘I minded very much, Inspector. It was one of the many ways in which he sought to keep me down. Will you require the keys?’

‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘There you are, Mrs Withers,’ said Tarleton, rounding on her. ‘You can leave them in their hiding place – but only until I ask for them.’ He waved a hand. ‘Off you go.’

‘Yes, sir,’ she said, withdrawing quickly.

‘So, Inspector, what did you wish to see?’

‘Those boxes behind you, sir,’ said Colbeck, pointing to the shelf. ‘It looks to me as if your stepfather was very methodical. Everything seems to have been clearly marked.’

‘He was obsessed with order. Even little things annoyed him. If any of the knives and forks were not perfectly aligned on the dining table, for instance, he’d castigate one of the servants for hours.’

‘Yes, you had more of them in the old days.’

‘In the old days,’ echoed Tarleton, ‘we had money.’

‘Where did it all go?’

‘I’m hoping to find that out myself, Inspector.’ He moved aside. ‘But don’t let me come between you and your interest in those boxes of ammunition.’

‘It’s only one box that I want to examine, sir.’

‘Is there any special reason?’

‘There are two of them,’ said Colbeck, opening a hand to show him the spent cartridges he was holding, ‘and here they both are. I recovered these from the shallow grave in which your mother was buried.’

Tarleton was startled. ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘I didn’t realise that you were here as part of your investigation. What are you trying to prove?’

‘I just want to satisfy my curiosity, sir. On the day that your mother went missing, your stepfather was carrying a shotgun.’ He indicated one of the cabinets. ‘In all likelihood, it was that Purdey with his initials carved on it. I gather that it was his favourite. Major Tallis, as he was known here, told me that he’d seen the colonel take this particular weapon out regularly so it’s logical to assume that he had it with him on the day in question. Thanks to the way he’s marked these boxes,’ he went on, reaching to take one off the shelf, ‘we know that this is the correct ammunition. Would you care to open the box for me, sir?’

‘I will if you insist, Inspector.’ Taking the box, Tarleton opened it. ‘What am I supposed to do now?’

‘Put one of the cartridges into my hand.’

Colbeck extended an empty palm and Tarleton placed a shotgun cartridge into it. For the first time since he’d arrived back at his old home, he’d lost some of his arrogance. He watched as the inspector put the two spent cartridges beside the other one.

‘Well?’ said Colbeck.

Tarleton blanched. ‘It’s a perfect match.’

‘And what do you deduce from that?’

‘The old rogue killed my mother!’

‘That’s not what I see, sir.’

‘Open your eyes, man. It’s so obvious.’

‘It’s rather too obvious for my liking. What you see is proof of your stepfather’s guilt. What I see, however,’ said Colbeck, looking at the cartridges, ‘is clear evidence that he was completely innocent of the crime. Colonel Tarleton did not commit murder.’

When he got back from work that evening, Caleb Andrews found his daughter hunched over the table with a pen in her hand. Taking off his cap and his coat, he hung them on a peg.

‘Who are you writing to, Maddy?’ he asked.

‘Who else would I write to but Robert?’

‘Do you know his address?’

‘I know more than that,’ she said, looking up. ‘I even know which room he’s staying in at the Black Bull. I had a letter from him, delivered in person by Sergeant Leeming.’

‘Is he the ugly one with a face like death?’

‘I think he has a rather kind face.’

‘You wouldn’t think that if it jumped out of an alleyway at you on a dark night. Anyway, what did the inspector say?’

‘That he’s going to be away for some time.’

‘Well, you can tell him that your father wants to know when the wedding is going to be.’

‘I’ll tell him nothing of the kind.’

‘There are times when a man needs prodding along.’

‘Living with you has taught me that,’ said Madeleine, signing the letter before folding it to put it in an envelope. ‘You need to be prodded more or less every day.’ She sealed the envelope. ‘There – it’s all done.’

‘Aren’t you going to address it, Maddy?’

‘I don’t need to. I have a courier.’

‘Oh…and who’s that?’

‘It’s Sergeant Leeming, of course.’

‘I’d never trust a man with a face like that.’

‘He’s the most trustworthy man you could find, Father.’

‘Is he going back to Yorkshire, then?’

‘Yes,’ said Madeleine, ‘he’s leaving tomorrow on the early train. That brings me to your breakfast. You’ll have to eat it on your own when you get up. It will be set out for you.’

‘Where will you be?’

‘I’ll be walking to King’s Cross, of course.’

‘Won’t the sergeant pick up the letter from here?’

‘He doesn’t even know that I’ve written it. But since he told me which train he’d be on, I’ll be able to intercept him and use him as my courier. My letter will go speeding to Robert.’

‘Does it mention that I was thinking of looking for a bride?’

Madeleine blinked. ‘Are you really serious about that, Father?’

‘Of course,’ said Andrews, chortling, ‘and you should use that fact to give the inspector a good, hard prod. Otherwise, you could be getting yourself a stepmother before you have a husband.’

Eve Doel and Agnes Reader were stunned by the information that the cartridges found in the shallow grave matched those used by the colonel in his favourite shotgun. They reached the same devastating conclusion as Adam Tarleton. Holding her stomach as if she were about to be sick, Eve shook her head in disbelief.

‘He simply couldn’t have done it,’ she said.

‘Oh, yes, he could,’ asserted her brother. ‘The more I think about it, the more certain of it I am. Our stepfather was a killer.’

Agnes was dazed. ‘I find it hard to accept that, Adam.’

‘The only shotgun that uses those particular cartridges is the one with his initials on it. He used to boast how it’d been made specifically for him with features that no other gun possessed. That’s why he committed suicide,’ he argued. ‘He felt so guilty over Mother’s death that he took his own life.’

‘No, no!’ cried Eve, ‘I simply don’t believe it.’

‘You don’t have to believe it, Mrs Doel,’ said Colbeck, ‘because it just isn’t true.’

The four of them were in the drawing room. Tarleton had burst in and told the women that the name of the killer had been revealed at last. It was none other than that of his stepfather.

‘Don’t listen to the inspector,’ advised Tarleton. ‘He didn’t know him the way that I did. I saw the swirling anger that was just below the surface. I was the victim of that black rage of his many times. It was scary. When he lost his temper, he was capable of anything. After all, he was a soldier – he used to kill for a living.’

‘Stop and think for a moment, sir,’ counselled Colbeck. ‘The first thing apparent about this case was that the killer was not acting on impulse. This crime wasn’t perpetrated in a fit of temper. He looked ahead. Knowing that the route taken by your mother that day would be searched with a fine-toothed comb, he moved the body miles away. It was only by sheer chance that it was actually found. The killer even allowed for that eventuality.’

‘In what way, Inspector?’ asked Agnes.

‘He left these by the body.’ He opened his palm to show off the two spent cartridges. ‘Now ask yourselves this. Why would a man shoot his victim in one place then take these some distance away so that he could bury them with the corpse? As far as I can see, there’s only one explanation.’

‘I fail to see it,’ confessed Eve.

‘So do I,’ said Agnes.

‘Permit me to explain,’ said Colbeck. ‘The killer deliberately wanted to incriminate someone else. Cartridges are important clues. He knew that. By planting them with the body, he could point the finger of suspicion at the colonel and thereby avoid culpability himself. How convenient it would be for the real killer if we all believed that the man who murdered Mrs Tarleton was already dead.’

‘I still think it was him,’ maintained Tarleton.

‘Then you have to provide a motive, sir.’

‘He and Mother fell out.’

‘That’s not true, Adam,’ said Eve, passionately. ‘If it had been, I’d have heard about it.’

‘Would you consider the colonel to have been an intelligent man?’ asked Colbeck.

‘Yes, Inspector, he was very intelligent.’

‘He was intelligent but pig-headed,’ said her brother.

‘Then picture this situation,’ suggested Colbeck. ‘If an intelligent man wishes to dispose of his wife, would he be stupid enough to be seen walking alone with her and carrying his shotgun? In short, would he advertise the murder in advance?’

‘No,’ said Eve, firmly, ‘of course not. Even you must agree with that, Adam.’

‘I suppose so,’ said her brother, sourly.

‘And look at the colonel’s behaviour afterwards,’ Colbeck went on. ‘Had he been the killer and tormented by guilt, he wouldn’t have committed suicide. He’s much more likely to have confessed the crime and faced execution. Do you know one of the things that drove him to do what he did?’

‘He received poison-pen letters,’ replied Agnes.

‘That’s quite right, Mrs Reader.’

‘Aubrey told my husband about them. He said they were so vile that he asked Mrs Withers to burn them.’

‘Not all of them, as it happens,’ said Colbeck. ‘We still have the last letter sent to him. It not only accuses the colonel of murder, but of other unspeakable crimes as well.’ He produced the letter from his coat. ‘I wouldn’t dare let any of you read it but I’d like you to examine the handwriting on the envelope to see if you recognise it.’ He gave it to Tarleton. ‘It was written by somebody from the area. Have you ever seen that hand before, sir?’

‘Never,’ said Tarleton, passing it to his sister.

‘I don’t recognise it either,’ said Eve scrutinising it. ‘What about you, Agnes? Does it look familiar to you?’

Agnes looked at the calligraphy and shook her head. ‘No, I’m sorry. I can’t tell you who wrote that, Inspector.’ She gave it back to him. ‘But it was someone with a warped mind.’

‘He’s not the only one. Other people sent poison-pen letters. Who knows? The killer may have been one of them, trying to put the colonel under intolerable strain that would lead him to take his own life.’ He glanced at Tarleton. ‘Even now, I fear, there are still people making the cruel assumption that the colonel was a killer.’

‘The real murderer must be very cunning,’ decided Agnes. ‘He seems to have worked out everything in advance.’

‘That’s because he underestimated us, Mrs Reader. He thought that, if the body were to be discovered, the presence of the cartridges would be proof positive to everyone that Colonel Tarleton was the villain of the piece. In my humble opinion,’ said Colbeck, ‘he most assuredly was not. The killer’s ruse has therefore failed. In setting it up, he gave himself away.’

Eve was astounded. ‘You know who he is, Inspector?’

‘I know where to start looking for him, Mrs Doel.’

‘And where’s that?’

‘Among the small group of people who ever joined a shooting party with the colonel. That’s how they’d be able to pick up his spent cartridges. You see,’ he added, displaying the ammunition again, ‘I don’t believe that these were used in the murder at all. Your mother was shot by a different weapon altogether.’