The Railway Detective

‘I’ll try to put it a little more diplomatically than that, sir.’

‘And then what?’

‘It seems that the driver of the train has recovered somewhat, sir, so I intend to visit him to see if he can give us any useful information.’ Colbeck remembered that he would be seeing Madeleine Andrews again. ‘I think that it’s very important for me to question the man.’

Tallis narrowed his eyes to peer at him through the cigar smoke.

‘We are dealing with armed robbery and brutal murder, Inspector,’ he reminded him. ‘What the devil are you smiling about?’

Caleb Andrews was well enough to sit up in bed and sip tea from the cup that his daughter had brought him. Still in pain, he moved his limbs very gingerly. His pugnacity, however, had been restored in full. Now that his mind had cleared, he had vivid memories of the moment when his train was ambushed, and he was anxious to confront the man who had knocked him down with a pistol butt. Madeleine came into the room to see how he was and, as they talked, she tidied the place up.

‘Why are you wearing your best dress?’ he wondered.

‘I always like to look smart, Father.’

‘But you usually save that one for church. Is it Sunday?’

‘You know that it isn’t,’ she said, repositioning the two china dogs on the mantelpiece. ‘Are you sure that you’re well enough to speak to Inspector Colbeck?’

‘Yes, I think so.’

‘I can always send word to Scotland Yard to ask him to postpone the visit. Would you like me to do that?’

‘No, Maddy. I want to see him today. Apart from anything, I want to know if he’s caught anybody yet. Those men deserve to be strung up for what they did to my locomotive.’

‘Frank Pike still has nightmares about that.’

‘I don’t hold it against him.’

‘His wife told me that he’s racked with guilt.’

‘Frank always was a sensitive lad,’ said Andrews, fondly. ‘None of us likes to go off the road like that. It’s the thing a driver hates most.’

‘You forget about your fireman,’ she said, adjusting his pillows to make him more comfortable. ‘All you have to worry about is getting better. Have you finished your tea?’

‘Yes, Maddy.’

‘Then I’ll take the cup downstairs with me.’

‘What time is Her Majesty due to arrive?’

Madeleine was baffled. ‘Her Majesty?’

‘That’s what all of this in aid of, isn’t it?’

‘All what?’

‘Your best dress, tidying up my room, clearing my cup away, putting on something of a show. At the very least, I expect a visit from Queen Victoria.’

‘Stop teasing me, Father.’

‘Then tell me why you’re making such an effort,’ he said with a lopsided grin. ‘You even changed the bandaging on my wounds so that I looked a little better. Why did you do that? Are you going to put me on display at the Great Exhibition?’

Seated in her armchair, Maud Ings received the news without flinching. It was almost as if she had expected it. Colbeck spoke as gently as he could be but he did not disguise any of the salient details from her. It was only when he told her the name of the other murder victim that she winced visibly.

‘And how old was this Kate Piercey?’ she asked.

‘Somewhat younger than your husband.’

‘Is that why he ran off with her?’

‘Does that matter, Mrs Ings?’

‘What was she like?’

‘I did not exactly see her at her best,’ he said.

Colbeck saw no point in telling her that the woman to whom William Ings had first gone was Polly Roach. The widow had enough to contend with as it was. To explain that he had abandoned one prostitute and immediately shared a bed with another would only be adding further to her misery. Bitter and bereaved, Maud Ings nevertheless had some sympathy for the man who had betrayed her. Colbeck did not wish to poison any last, lingering, pleasant memories of their marriage.

‘I’m sorry to be the bearer of such sad tidings,’ he said.

‘It was kind of you to come, Inspector.’

‘This has been a shock for you, Mrs Ings. Would you like me to ask one of the neighbours to come in and sit with you?’

‘No, no. I prefer to be alone. Besides,’ she said, ‘our neighbours were never fond of William. I don’t think many tears will be shed for him in this street.’

‘As long as you are not left alone to brood.’

‘I have the children. They are my life now.’

‘Family is so important at a time like this, Mrs Ings. Well,’ he said, relieved that there had been no outpouring of grief, ‘I’ll intrude no longer. You’ll be informed when the body is ready to be released.’

‘Wait!’ she said, getting up. ‘Before you go, Inspector, I need your advice. I can see that I’ve been living on false hope.’

‘False hope?’

‘Yes. Last night, before I went to bed, a package was put through my letterbox. Inside it was almost two hundred pounds.’

‘Really?’ Colbeck was curious. ‘Was there any note enclosed?’

‘No,’ she said, ‘but there was something written on the paper. I still have it, if you’d like to see it.’

‘I would, Mrs Ings.’ He waited as she lifted the cushion of her chair to take out the brown paper in which the money had been wrapped. When she handed it to him, he read the words on the front. ‘At what time did this arrive?’ he asked.

‘It must have been close to eleven o’clock,’ she replied. ‘I thought at first that William had brought it. But, by the time I had unbolted the door and opened it, there was nobody to be seen in the street. Having the money gave me the best night’s sleep I’ve had since he left.’ Her face went blank. ‘I was misled. From what you’ve told me, it obviously could not have been delivered by my husband.’

‘I fear not. By that time, his body had already been discovered.’

‘Then who could have brought the money?’

‘The person who stole it from Mr Ings.’

She was bewildered. ‘I do not understand, Inspector.’

‘I’m not certain that I do,’ he said, ‘but I can see no other explanation. That money was paid to your husband in return for vital information about the mail train. Somebody was clearly aware of his domestic situation. When your husband was killed, this person somehow felt that his widow was entitled to the money.’

‘So it is not really mine at all.’

‘Why not?’

‘It is money that was made from crime. I’ll have to surrender it.’

‘That’s the last thing you should do,’ advised Colbeck. ‘It was money that your husband earned from a source that has yet to be identified. It was not part of the haul from the train robbery so there is no onus on you to return it. In view of the situation,’ he went on, ‘I believe that you are fully entitled to hold on to that money. Nobody need know how it came into your hands.’

‘Then I am not breaking the law?’

‘No, Mrs Ings. You are simply inheriting something that belonged to your husband. Look upon it as a welcome gift. It may not bring Mr Ings back to you, but it may help to console you in your grief.’

‘I’ll not deny that we need the money,’ she said, looking balefully around the bare room. ‘But I find it hard to accept that the man who murdered my husband and stole money from him should bring it to me.’

‘It is an unusual situation, I grant you.’

‘Why did he do it, Inspector?’

‘It may have been an act of atonement.’

‘Atonement?’

‘Even the most evil men sometimes have a spark of goodness.’

Maud Ings fell silent as she thought about the life she had shared with her husband. It was a painful exercise. She remembered how they had met, married and set off together with such high expectations. Few of them had been fulfilled. Yet, soured as her memories were by his recent treatment of her, she could still think of the dead man with a distant kindness.

‘You are right,’ she said, coming out of her reverie. ‘Evil men sometimes do good deeds. The problem is,’ she added with tears at last threatening to come, ‘that good men – and William was the soul of goodness when I first knew him – sometimes do evil.’

With his arm in a sling, it was impossible for Caleb Andrews to hold the newspaper properly so he had to rely on his daughter to fold it over in such a way that he could grasp it with one hand to read it. It had gone to press too early to carry news of the murder in the Devil’s Acre but there was an article about the train robbery and it was critical both of the railway policemen on duty that day, and of the Detective Department of the Metropolitan Police. Andrews saw his own name mentioned.

‘Have you read this, Maddy?’ he asked, petulantly. ‘It says that Driver Andrews is still unable to remember what happened during the ambush. I can recall exactly what happened.’

‘I know, Father,’ said Madeleine.

‘So why do they make me sound like an invalid?’

‘Because you are an invalid.’

‘My body may be injured but there’s nothing wrong with my mind. This article says that I’m still in a complete daze.’

‘That was my doing.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Some reporters came knocking on our door this morning,’ she explained. ‘They wanted to interview you about the robbery. I told them that you were in no fit state to speak to anyone and that your mind was still very hazy. I was trying to protect you, Father.’

‘By telling everyone in London that I cannot think straight.’

‘I had to get rid of the reporters somehow. I was not going to have them pestering you when you need rest.’

‘Yet you let this Inspector Colbeck pester me,’ he argued.

‘He is trying to solve the crime,’ she said. ‘Inspector Colbeck wants to catch the men who ambushed the train and did this to you. He knows that you were badly injured and will be very considerate.’

Andrews tossed the newspaper aside. ‘If he reads this first, he’ll think that he’s coming to speak to a distracted fool who’s unable to tell what day of the week it is.’

‘The Inspector will not think that at all, Father.’

Gathering up the newspaper, Madeleine put it on the table beside the bed. The sound of an approaching horse took her to the window and she looked down to see a cab pulling up outside the house. After a quick glance around the room, she adjusted her dress and went quickly out. Caleb Andrews gave a tired smile.

‘Ah!’ he said. ‘I think that Queen Victoria has arrived at last.’

Two minutes later, Robert Colbeck was being shown into the bedroom to be introduced to the wounded railwayman.

‘Can I offer you any refreshment, Inspector?’ said Madeleine.

‘No, thank you, Miss Andrews.’

‘In that case, I’ll leave you alone with Father.’

‘There’s no need to do that,’ said Colbeck, enjoying her company too much to lose it. ‘I’m quite happy for you to stay while we talk and, in any case, there’s something that you need to know.’

Madeleine was cheered. ‘You’ve arrested someone?’

‘Not exactly,’ he replied, ‘but we have caught up with one of the accomplices who was involved. His name was William Ings.’

‘Let me get my hands on the devil,’ said Andrews.

‘That’s not possible, I fear. Mr Ings was killed last night.’

‘Killed?’ echoed Madeleine, shocked at the news.

‘Yes, Miss Andrews,’ said Colbeck. ‘It means that we are no longer merely investigating a train robbery. This is now a murder case as well.’

‘Do you have any clue who the killer might be?’

‘Someone employed to make sure that Mr Ings’s tongue would tell no tales. Once we discovered that he was implicated, we were very close to apprehending him. The assassin got to him first.’

‘I wish that I had!’ said Andrews, truculently. ‘If he helped that gang to ambush my train, I’d have throttled him.’

‘Father!’ reproached his daughter.

‘I would have, I swear it.’

‘You are hardly in a position to throttle anyone, Mr Andrews,’ noted Colbeck with a sympathetic smile. ‘Mr Ings, alas, was not alone when he was attacked. The young lady with him also had her throat cut.’

‘How horrible!’ exclaimed Madeleine.

‘It shows you the sort of men we are up against.’

‘The worst kind,’ said Andrews. ‘They destroyed my locomotive. They made Frank Pike drive it off the track.’ He indicated the chair beside the bed and Colbeck sat down. ‘Do you know anything about the railway, Inspector?’

‘I travel by train regularly, Mr Andrews.’

‘But do you know anything about the locomotive that pulls it?’

‘A little,’ replied Colbeck. ‘I’m familiar with the engines designed by Mr Bury; four-wheeled, bar-framed locomotives with haystack fireboxes, and tight coupling between locomotive and tender to give more stability.’

Andrews was impressed. ‘You obviously know far more than most passengers,’ he said. ‘They have no clue how a steam locomotive works. Like many others, I began driving Bury locomotives but they had too little power. We had to use two, three, sometimes four locomotives to pull a heavy train. If there were steep gradients to go up, we might need as many as six to give us enough traction power.’

‘The mail train that you were taking to Birmingham was pulled by a Crampton locomotive – at least, that’s what it looked like to me.’

‘It was very similar to a Crampton, I agree, but it was designed by Mr Allan at the Crewe Works. He’s the foreman there and assistant to Mr Trevithick. Allan locomotives have double frames that extend the whole length of the engine with the cylinders located between the inside and outside frames.’

‘Inspector Colbeck does not want a lecture,’ warned Madeleine.

‘I’m always ready to learn from an expert,’ said Colbeck.

‘There you are, Maddy,’ said Andrews, happily. ‘The Inspector is really interested in the railways.’ He turned to Colbeck. ‘When we used inside cylinders, we were always having crank-axle breakages. Mr Allan was one of the men who began to develop horizontal outside cylinders. He may not be as famous as Mr Bury or Mr Crampton but I’d drive any locomotive that Alexander Allan built.’

‘Why is that?’ prompted Colbeck.

Caleb Andrews was in his element. He got so carried away describing the technicalities of locomotive construction that he forgot all about the nagging pain in his broken leg and the dull ache in one shoulder. Colbeck’s interest was genuine but that was not the only reason he had asked for instruction. He wanted the driver to relax, to feel at ease with him, to trust him. Watching from the other side of the room, Madeleine was struck by the way that the detective gently guided her father around to the subject of the train robbery and coaxed far more detail out of him about the event than she had managed to do. During the interview, Colbeck jotted down a few things in his notebook.

‘Would you recognise the man who attacked you?’ asked Colbeck.

‘I’ll never forget that face of his,’ replied Andrews.

‘Mr Pike gave us a good description.’

‘If my daughter were not present, Inspector, then I’d give you a good description of him – in one word.’

‘We do not wish to hear it, Father,’ scolded Madeleine.

‘That’s what he was, Maddy.’

‘Forgive him, Inspector.’

‘There’s nothing to forgive, Miss Andrews,’ said Colbeck, getting up and putting his notebook away. ‘In view of what happened, your father has been remarkably restrained. He’s also added some new details for me and that was very useful. One last question,’ he said, looking at the driver once more. ‘Is the London and North Western Railway a good company to work for, Mr Andrews?’

‘The best, Inspector.’

‘Are you saying that out of loyalty?’

‘No, Inspector Colbeck – I speak from experience. I hope to see out my time working for the London and North Western. And my link with the company will not end there.’

‘Oh?’

‘I have every hope that my son-in-law will be a driver one day.’

Madeleine blushed instantly. ‘Father!’ she cried.

‘Gideon would make a good husband.’

‘This is not the place to bring up the subject.’

‘The two of you were made for each other.’

‘That is not true at all,’ she asserted, ‘and you know it.’

‘Gideon loves you.’

‘Perhaps I ought to withdraw,’ volunteered Colbeck, seeing Madeleine’s patent discomfort. ‘Thank you for talking to me, Mr Andrews. Meeting you has been an education.’

‘Let me know when you catch up with those villains.’

‘I will, I promise you.’ He moved to the door. ‘Goodbye, Miss Andrews. I can see myself out.’

‘Wait,’ she said. ‘Let me come to the front door with you.’

‘But you clearly have something to discuss with your father.’

‘High time that she discussed it with Gideon Little,’ said Andrews.

Madeleine shot him a look of reproof and followed Colbeck down the stairs. Before she could apologise to him, the detective retrieved his silk hat from the table and opened the front door.

‘Goodbye, Miss Andrews,’ he said, masking his disappointment behind a smile. ‘Allow me congratulate you on your forthcoming engagement.’

It was Victor Leeming’s turn to face the wrath of Superintendent Tallis once more. A night’s sleep had not improved the older man’s temper. He was pacing up and down his room like a caged animal. When Leeming came in, Tallis rounded on him accusingly.

‘Where have you been, man?’ he demanded.

‘Making inquiries, sir.’

‘That is exactly what those jackals from the press have been doing. They almost drove me insane by making their damned inquiries. I had a dozen of them in here this morning,’ he complained, ‘wanting to know why we had made no progress with our investigation into the robbery, and why Inspector Colbeck was also in charge of this latest murder case.’

‘The two crimes are connected, Superintendent.’

‘They could not understand how.’

‘Why not let the Inspector deal with the newspapers in future?’

‘I’d never countenance that,’ affirmed Tallis. ‘My seniority obliges me to take on that particular duty and I have never been one to shun the cares of office. Besides, I want you and the Inspector out there, solving the crime, not getting distracted by a bevy of reporters.’

‘What did you tell them?’ asked Leeming.

‘Enough to give them a story but no more. The information we feed to the press has to be carefully controlled. Give too much away and we alert the very people we are trying to apprehend.’

‘I agree with you there, sir.’

‘The main thing was,’ said Tallis, ‘to ensure that they did not get wind of Mulryne’s role in this whole sorry affair. It was reckless of Inspector Colbeck to use that Irish blockhead in the way that he did.’ He confronted the Sergeant. ‘I presume that you condoned his decision.’

‘Not entirely,’ admitted Leeming, uneasily.

Tallis blenched. ‘You mean that he did not even have the grace to tell you what he was proposing? That is unpardonable.’

‘The Inspector did raise the matter,’ said the other, lying to protect his colleague, ‘and I could see the advantage of using Brendan Mulryne.’

‘What advantage?’

‘He knew where to look for William Ings.’

‘So did the killer.’

‘That’s why we’re making efforts to track down the other suspect, sir. Inspector Colbeck gave me an address that was passed on to him at the Chubb factory in Wolverhampton. It was a locksmith’s where a man called Daniel Slender was supposed to have worked.’ He put a hand in his pocket. ‘I have just returned from the factory.’

‘But this Daniel Slender was not employed there?’

‘No, sir.’

‘I daresay that they never heard of him.’

‘That’s not true,’ said Leeming, taking out a letter to pass to him. ‘When they advertised a post, Daniel Slender was among those who applied for it, as you will see from that letter.’ Tallis began to read the missive. ‘His qualifications are good and he could have expected a strong recommendation from the Chubb factory. Mr Slender was invited to come for an interview.’

‘But?’

‘He never turned up.’

‘Then why apply for the post?’

‘So that he would have written evidence to show to his employers that the position he was after did exist. They believed that he went for that interview,’ said Leeming, ‘and secured the appointment. It meant that his departure aroused no suspicion.’

‘Where is Daniel Slender now?’

‘Here in London, sir.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Because he had always had an ambition to work here. According to the manager at the Chubb factory, he talked of little else. But he was tied to the Midlands by the need to look after his sick mother.’

‘If the woman had stayed alive,’ moaned Tallis, ‘her son would never have got drawn into this conspiracy.’ He waved the letter in front of Leeming. ‘Look at the fellow’s work record. It is admirable.’

‘Those who bribed him must have caught him at a weak moment.’

‘We need to get to him while he is still alive.’

‘Inspector Colbeck feels that we should put out a wanted poster. He came back from Wolverhampton with a good description of Daniel Slender. We should circulate it at once.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Tallis. ‘Have the poster drawn up, Sergeant Leeming. And – quickly! The last thing we need is for this man to finish up on a slab next to William Ings.’

The dog made the discovery. Scampering along the river-bank with his master, he went sniffing at a heap that lay up against a wall. It was covered with sacking and most people had walked past without even noticing it. The little terrier made sure that nobody would ignore it now. With the sacking gripped in his teeth, he pulled hard and exposed a pair of legs, then a body, then a head that was split grotesquely open and crowned with dried blood.

When she saw the corpse, a female passer-by screamed and clutched at her chest, the dog’s owner ran to put the animal on his lead and another man went off in search of help. By the time that he returned, with two policemen in tow, he saw that a small crowd was standing around the body with ghoulish curiosity. The policemen ordered everyone to stand back while they checked for vital signs and, finding none, felt in the dead man’s pockets for clues as to his identity.

The pockets of his immaculate suit were empty but that did not matter. Sewn into the silk lining of the jacket was the owner’s name.

‘Daniel Slender,’ noted one of the policemen. ‘Poor man!’

Inspector Robert Colbeck responded swiftly. The moment he heard about the second murder, he visited the scene of the crime, examined the body and gave permission for it to be moved. Half an hour later, Daniel Slender had been deprived of his new suit, as well as the remainder of his apparel, washed and laid out, beneath a shroud, on a cold slab at the morgue. Victor Leeming joined his colleague to look down at the corpse.

‘Those wanted posters will not be needed now,’ he said.

‘No, Victor.’

‘They closed his mouth for good.’

‘Mr Slender will never enjoy wearing that new suit of his.’

Leeming was thoroughly perplexed. ‘How did they know where to find him, Inspector?’ he asked. ‘That’s what I fail to see. And how did they know where to get hold of William Ings, for that matter?’

‘By using an insurance policy.’

‘Insurance policy?’

‘Yes,’ said Colbeck. ‘The person behind the robbery realised from the start that both these men would have to be killed. They knew too much and, in the event of arrest, lacked the guile to conceal their secrets. My guess is that he paid them some of the money for services rendered, and promised to give them the balance when the crime was successfully committed. To do that,’ he pointed out, ‘Mr Ings and Mr Slender would have had to disclose their whereabouts.’

‘What if there’s a third accomplice?’

‘Then he, too, is likely to be silenced.’

‘My feeling is that he works for the Royal Mint.’

‘Yet there’s no breath of suspicion against anyone there.’

‘Someone told the robbers when gold coin was being moved by train. The only person outside the Mint who knew the relevant date was Mr Shipperley at the Post Office and, as we found out when we spoke to him, he is certainly not involved.’ Leeming gave a mirthless laugh. ‘He’d sooner sell his grandmother to a brothel-keeper.’

‘You have a point, Victor.’

‘The information must have originated from the Royal Mint.’

‘Perhaps you should pay a second visit there.’

‘Yes, Inspector.’

‘I, meanwhile, will visit Bond Street to speak to Daniel Slender’s tailor. He will be able to tell me precisely when the suit was ordered and give me some idea of what manner of man his customer was.’

‘A foolish one.’

‘Mr Slender was offered a large amount of money to create a new life for himself,’ said Colbeck, tolerantly. ‘That would be a temptation for anyone in his position. It was too much for William Ings to resist as well.’

‘Did you speak to his wife, sir?’

‘First thing this morning.’

‘How did she receive the news that she was now a widow?’

‘Very bravely,’ replied Colbeck. ‘Mark you, Mrs Ings does have something to console her in her bereavement.’

‘And what’s that?’

‘The best part of two hundred pounds, Victor. The money was put through her letterbox last night by an anonymous hand.’

‘Two hundred pounds?’ said Leeming in astonishment. ‘That’s a substantial amount. Who is her benefactor?’

‘William Ings.’

‘Her husband?’

‘Indirectly,’ said Colbeck. ‘My feeling is that the money paid to him for providing information was given to his wife after his death. The man who authorised payment clearly knew that Maud Ings would be left destitute by her husband’s demise. He sought to help her.’

‘Murdering her husband is hardly a way to help.’

‘Perhaps he is trying to make amends. Do you see what we have here, Victor? A ruthless killer with a conscience. That’s a weakness.’

‘What about the money paid to Daniel Slender?’

‘That has doubtless been repossessed,’ said Colbeck, ‘because he had no family to whom it could be left. Mr Ings did. However, when I told her where her gift came from, his wife was not at all sure that she should keep it.’

‘Why not?’

‘She thought that it was tainted money.’

‘It could not have come from the proceeds of the robbery.’

‘That’s what I said to her. In the end, I persuaded her that she had every right to keep the money. Incidentally,’ he went on, lowering his voice, ‘this is not something that needs to come to the ears of Mr Tallis. He would be certain to misunderstand and might even argue that the money should be taken from the widow.’

‘That would be unfair.’

‘Then say nothing, Victor. I speak to you in confidence.’

‘It would have been very helpful had you done that before,’ said Leeming, as he recalled his bruising encounter with the Superintendent. ‘You should have told me that you were thinking of employing Mulryne.’

‘You would only have tried to talk me out of it.’

‘I would, Inspector. No question about that.’

‘Brendan has his uses.’

‘With respect, sir, that’s beside the point. You kept me ignorant.’

‘Only as a means of defending you from Mr Tallis.’

‘You did the opposite,’ protested Leeming. ‘You exposed me to his anger. He demanded to know if you’d discussed your intentions with me and I was forced to lie in order to cover for you.’

‘Thank you, Victor. I appreciate that.’

‘I can’t say that I appreciated being put in that position, sir.’

‘You have my profound apologies,’ said Colbeck. ‘I may have expected too much of Brendan Mulryne. I accept the blame for that. But,’ he continued, glancing down at the body once more, ‘let us put that mistake behind us. So far, we have a train robbery and two murders to investigate. What we must try to do is to anticipate their next move.’

‘To kill their source at the Royal Mint?’

‘If there is such a person.’

‘There is, Inspector. I feel it in my bones.’

‘What I believe is that they will not just sit back and enjoy the fruits of their crime. They want more than the money they stole.’

Leeming pointed a finger. ‘Those mail bags.’

‘Exactly,’ said Colbeck. ‘Why go to the trouble of stealing them if there was no profit to be made from their contents? Yes, Victor. I think that it’s only a matter of time before we hear about some of the mail that went astray.’

After luncheon at his club, Lord Holcroft decided to take a walk in Hyde Park for the benefit of his constitution. Accompanied by a friend, he set out at a brisk pace and gave his views on the political affairs of the day. His friend concurred with all that he said. Lord Holcroft was an imposing figure in his dark frock coat, light trousers and silk hat. Now almost sixty, he had the energy of a much younger man and a zest for debate that was indefatigable. He was expressing his reservations about the impending Great Exhibition when someone stepped out from behind a tree to accost him.

‘Lord Holcroft?’ he inquired.

‘Who might you be, sir?’ said the other, glaring at the newcomer.

‘I’d like a quiet word with you about a certain person.’

‘Stand aside, fellow. I never talk to strangers.’

‘Even when he has news about Miss Grayle?’ whispered the other so that Holcroft’s companion did not hear the name. ‘Two minutes of your valuable time is all that I ask.’

Lord Holcroft studied the man. Tall, well-dressed and wearing a full beard, the stranger was in his thirties. He had a look in his eye that was politely menacing. Excusing himself from his friend, Holcroft stepped aside to speak to the newcomer. He tried to browbeat him.

‘How dare you interrupt my walk like this!’ he growled. ‘Who are you and what’s your business?’

‘I came to save you from embarrassment,’ said the man, calmly. ‘A letter has fallen into our hands that casts an unflattering light on your character. It is written by you to a Miss Anna Grayle, who lives close to Birmingham, and it expresses sentiments that are quite improper for a married man such as yourself.’

‘The letter is a forgery,’ snapped Holcroft.

‘We will let your wife be the judge of that, if you wish. Lady Holcroft knows your hand well enough to be able to tell us if you wrote the billet-doux.’

Holcroft reddened. ‘My wife must never see that letter.’

‘Even though it is a forgery?’ teased the other.

‘Miss Grayle’s good name must be protected.’

‘That will not happen if we release the letter to a scandal sheet. Her good name – and your own – would be in jeopardy. I should perhaps tell you, Lord Holcroft,’ he lied, ‘that we have already been offered a sizeable sum for the missive. We did not, of course, divulge your identity but we explained that you were a person of some importance.’

Lord Holcroft was squirming. His temples began to pound.

‘How can I be sure that you have the letter?’ he demanded.

‘Because I brought a copy with me,’ replied the other, taking a sheet of paper from his pocket to give to him. ‘You have a colourful turn of phrase, Lord Holcroft. If what you say in the letter is correct, I also have to admire your stamina.’

After reading the copy, Holcroft swore under his breath and scrunched the paper in his hand. He was cornered. Were his wife to see the letter, his marriage would come to an abrupt end. If his disgrace reached a wider audience, he would never recover from the scandal. There was no point in trying to reason with the stranger. Lord Holcroft was forced into a sour capitulation.

‘How much do you want?’ he asked.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Having worked as a tailor in Bond Street for over thirty years, Ebenezer Trew was inclined to judge everyone by his own high sartorial standards. When he first set eyes on Robert Colbeck, therefore, he took note of the cut and colour of his apparel and saw that he was a man of discernment. Colbeck’s height and well-proportioned frame were a gift to any tailor and his attire served to enhance his air of distinction. Trew was somewhat nonplussed, therefore, to learn that the visitor to his shop that afternoon was a Detective Inspector, and dismayed that he had lost what he hoped would be a potential customer.

Further disappointment followed. Colbeck opened a bag to produce a jacket that the tailor recognised at once. When he saw the bloodstains on the material, Ebenezer Trew winced. He was a short, neat, fastidious man with the hunched shoulders of someone who spent most of his time bent over a work table.

‘You know the jacket, I see,’ observed Colbeck.

‘I could pick out my handiwork anywhere, Inspector.’

‘Do you remember the customer for whom you made the suit?’

‘Very well. His name was Mr Slender.’ He reached out to take the jacket and looked more closely at the stains on the shoulders. ‘This will be almost impossible to remove,’ he warned. ‘Mr Slender was so proud of his suit. How did it come to be marked like this?’

‘Daniel Slender was attacked on the embankment, Mr Trew.’

‘Dear me! Was the assault a serious one?’

‘Extremely serious,’ said Colbeck, ‘I fear that your customer was bludgeoned to death.’ Trew turned pale. ‘If you had not providentially sewn his name into the lining, we might not have identified him.’

‘Mr Slender insisted on that. He told me that he had always wanted his name in a suit made by a Bond Street tailor.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘The clothing he wore when he first came in here was of poor quality. Not to put too fine a point on it,’ he said, ‘it was very provincial – quite the wrong colour for him and made with such inferior material. Frankly, Inspector, I’d not have been seen dead in a suit like that.’ He chewed his lip as he heard what he had just said. ‘Oh, I do apologise,’ he added, quickly. ‘That was a rather tasteless remark.’

Colbeck studiously ignored it. ‘What else can you tell me about Daniel Slender?’ he asked.

‘That he had obviously never been to a place like this before.’

‘Was he shy and awkward?’

‘On the contrary,’ said Trew, ‘he was full of confidence. I’ve never met anyone who enjoyed the experience of buying a suit from us so much. He gave me the impression that he had come into an appreciable amount of money that allowed him to indulge himself in a way that he had never been able to do before.’

‘That fits in with what I know of the man,’ said Colbeck. ‘Until he came here, Daniel Slender worked as a locksmith in Wolverhampton.’

Trew wrinkled his nose again. ‘Those dreadful Midlands vowels travelled with him to London,’ he said with mild disgust. ‘I could make him look like a gentleman but he would never sound like one.’

‘I trust that you concealed your prejudice from him, Mr Trew,’ said Colbeck, irritated by the man’s snobbery. ‘None of us can choose the place where we are born or the accent that we inherit.’

‘Quite so, quite so.’

‘You, I suspect, hail from the West Country.’

‘Yes, I do,’ admitted the tailor, hurt that his attempts to remove the telltale burr from his voice had not been quite as successful as he thought. ‘But I have lived in London since the age of ten.’

‘How many times did you meet Mr Slender?’

‘Three, Inspector. He came in to place the order and returned for a fitting. The third time was to collect the suit.’

‘And to pay for it.’

‘He did that with something of a flourish.’

‘Did he ever tell you why he had moved to London?’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Trew, handing the jacket back to Colbeck. ‘It was an ambition that he had nursed for years but domestic concerns kept him in the Midlands. At long last, he told me, he had a means of escape.’

‘What else did he say?’

‘That he was going to enjoy his retirement.’

‘Not for very long, alas,’ said Colbeck, sadly. He looked around at the various items of clothing on display. ‘Being measured for a suit is usually an occasion for light conversation with one’s tailor. Did you find Daniel Slender a talkative man?’

‘To the point of garrulity, Inspector.’

‘In what way?’

Ebenezer Trew needed no more encouragement. Feeling that he had aroused Colbeck’s disapproval, he tried to atone by recalling snatches of the various conversations he had had with his customer. Most of it was irrelevant but enough was of interest to the detective for him to let Trew ramble on. When the tailor’s reminiscences came to an end, Colbeck seized on one remark made by Slender.

‘He told you that he intended to move in society?’

‘That is what I took him to mean, Inspector,’ said Trew. ‘I think that his exact words were that he would be ‘rubbing shoulders with a different class of person.’ It was one reason why he wanted a new suit.’ He gave an ingratiating smile. ‘Have I been of any assistance?’

‘A little, Mr Trew.’

‘Good. I aim to please.’

‘Did your customer furnish you with an address?’

‘Of course,’ said Trew, seriously. ‘I insisted on that. Had we not known where he lived, we would not have undertaken the work. We are very punctilious about such matters.’ He opened a ledger and leafed through the pages. ‘Here we are,’ he said, stopping at a page and pointing a finger. ‘Mr Slender had lodgings at 74, Delamere Street.’ He offered the ledger to Colbeck. ‘You may see for yourself, Inspector.’

‘There is no need for that, Mr Trew,’ said Colbeck, who knew the street well. ‘It seems that you were not as punctilious as you imagined. The last time that I was in Delamere Street, it comprised no more than two dozen houses. In other words, Daniel Slender was residing at an address that does not exist.’

Trew was shocked. ‘He lied to me?’ he said with disbelief. ‘But he seemed to be so honest and straightforward.’

‘Never judge by appearances,’ advised Colbeck, putting the jacket back into his bag. ‘They can be very misleading.’

‘So I see.’

‘Goodbye, Mr Trew.’

‘One moment, Inspector,’ said the tailor. ‘I am still trying to come to terms with the notion that one of my customers was murdered. Do you have any idea why Mr Slender was killed?’

‘Of course.’

‘May one know what it is?’

‘Not at this stage,’ said Colbeck, unwilling to discuss the details of the crime with a man he found increasingly annoying. ‘Of something, however, I can assure you.’

‘And what is that?’

‘He was not killed for his new suit, Mr Trew,’ said the detective, crisply. ‘Or, for that matter, because he had an unfortunate accent.’

Leaving him thoroughly chastened, Colbeck went out of the shop.

On his second visit, Victor Leeming found the Royal Mint a much less welcoming place. Hoping that the detective had brought good news, Charles Omber was disturbed to hear that no significant progress had been made in the investigation and that suspicions were still harboured about his colleagues. He had defended them staunchly and said that he would take a Bible oath that there had been no breach of security at the Mint. An argument had developed. Omber was determined to win it. Leeming finally withdrew in some disarray.

When he got to Euston Station, he found that Colbeck was already in the waiting room. It was thronged with passengers. The Inspector had suggested they meet there for two reasons. It would not only keep them out of range of the simmering fury of Superintendent Tallis, it would, more importantly, take them back to the place from which the mail train had set out on its doomed journey.

Colbeck saw the jaded expression on the Sergeant’s ugly face.

‘I take it that you found nothing,’ he said.

‘Only that Mr Omber has a very nasty temper when his word is challenged. He refuses to accept that the Mint could be at fault.’

‘Do you believe him, Victor?’

‘No, sir,’ said Leeming. ‘I have this doubt at the back of my mind.’

‘Was Mr Omber deceiving you, then?’

‘Not at all. His sincerity is not in question. In fact, he spoke so passionately on behalf of his colleagues that I felt a bit embarrassed for even suggesting that one of them may have leaked information about the movement of gold coin.’

‘Yet your instinct tells you otherwise.’

‘Yes, Inspector.’

‘Then rely on it, Victor. It rarely lets you down.’

‘Thank you,’ said Leeming. ‘How did you get on in Bond Street?’

‘I met a tailor whom I would never dare to employ.’

‘Why not?’

‘Which of the ten reasons would you care to hear first?’

Colbeck told him about his meeting with Ebenezer Trew and why he had disliked the man so much. He explained what the tailor had said about his erstwhile customer. On one point, Leeming wanted elucidation.

‘Daniel Slender had retired?’ he said.

‘Apparently.’

‘Could he afford to do so, Inspector?’

‘He sold the house in Willenhall, remember, and he would have had a certain amount of savings. Then, of course, there is the money that he would have received from the train robbers.’

‘More or less than William Ings?’

‘More, I should imagine,’ said Colbeck.

‘Mr Ings got the best part of two hundred pounds.’

‘Yet all he did was to tell them that money was being carried by train to Birmingham on a specific day. Mr Slender’s contribution was far more critical,’ he noted. ‘Without those keys and that combination number, they could never have opened the safe so easily. That would have left them with two options – trying to blow it open with a charge of gunpowder or taking the whole safe with them.’

‘That would have entailed the use of a crane,’ said Leeming.

‘And taken far too long. Speed was the essence of the operation and Daniel Slender’s help was decisive. I think that he was paid handsomely in advance with a promise of more to come.’

‘Much more, probably.’

‘Yes,’ said Colbeck. ‘When you do not intend to part with another penny, you can afford to offer any amount by way of temptation. It may well be that Mr Slender was lured to the embankment last night in the hope of receiving the rest of his pay.’

‘Instead of which, his head was smashed in.’

‘They do not take prisoners, Victor.’

‘Mr Slender must have wished that he had stayed in Willenhall.’

‘The attack on him was so ferocious that he had no time to wish for anything. It was a gruesome but quick death. Come with me for a moment,’ he said, putting a hand on Leeming’s shoulder, ‘I want to show you something.’

They walked out of the waiting room and picked their way through the milling crowd. Colbeck stopped when he reached the first platform. A train had just arrived and passengers were streaming off it. Friends were waiting to greet them. On the other platform, a train was about to depart and dozens of people had come to wave off their friends or family members. Porters were everywhere, moving luggage on their trolleys, and several other railway employees were in evidence. The noise of a locomotive letting off steam rose above the tumult.

Colbeck nudged his colleague. ‘What do you see, Victor?’

‘Bedlam, sir.’

‘No, you see a thriving industry. You are looking at visible proof of the way that the railways have transformed our lives. Euston Station is as busy as this every day of the week – and so is Paddington. Everybody has somewhere to get to,’ said Colbeck, indicating the scene, ‘and they choose to travel by rail in order to get there. Why is that?’

‘Because they think it is quicker.’

‘Demonstrably so.’

‘If they travel second or third class, it is certainly cheaper as well.’

‘You’ve missed out the real attraction of the railway.’

‘Have I?’ said Leeming.

‘It is safe. At times, I grant you, it can also be noisy, smelly and a trifle uncomfortable but it is, as a rule, safe. It gets passengers to their appointed destinations in one piece. Railway companies met with great fear and opposition at first,’ Colbeck reminded him, ‘but the public has now come to trust them. This is the Railway Age.’

‘I still prefer to travel by horse.’

‘Then you are behind the times, Victor.’

‘I am not ashamed of that, Inspector.’

‘Nor should you be,’ said Colbeck. ‘But the point I am trying to make is this. The train robbery is a dangerous precedent. It imperils the safety record of the railway companies. If we do not catch and convict those responsible, then they will surely be emboldened to strike again.’

‘And others might be inspired by their example.’

‘Exactly. We must solve these crimes soon, Victor.’

‘How can we when we have so little to go on?’ asked Leeming with a gesture of despair. ‘We still know nothing whatsoever about the man who organised the train robbery.’

‘But we do,’ said Colbeck. ‘We know three crucial things.’

‘Do we?’

‘First, he is a gentleman.’

‘Gentleman!’ exclaimed Leeming. ‘How can you describe someone who is behind such callous murders as a gentleman?’

‘Think what else he did, Victor. He may have seen fit to have William Ings killed but he made sure that the widow inherited her husband’s money. That was the act of a gentleman.’

‘Not in my opinion.’

‘Have you forgotten what the tailor told me about Daniel Slender?’ asked Colbeck. ‘Here was a man from a modest background in the Midlands, suddenly finding himself in London with money in his pockets. And what pleased him most was that he was about to rub shoulders with what he called a better class of person. In short, with gentlemen.’

‘What’s the second thing we know about this fellow?’

‘He was in the army.’

Leeming was surprised. ‘You sound very certain of that, sir.’

‘I’d put money on it,’ said Colbeck, ‘and, as you know, I am not a betting man. The train robbery was no random attack. It was a military operation that was planned and, I daresay, rehearsed very carefully. Only someone who is used to commanding a body of men like that could have brought it off. So,’ he went on, ‘what do we have so far?’

‘An officer and a gentleman.’

‘Add the most telling thing about him, Victor.’

‘He’s a cold-blooded killer.’

‘Cast your mind back to the robbery itself.’

‘It’s as you say,’ conceded the other. ‘He knew when and how to strike and, as a result, got away with the money and the mail bags.’

‘What other part of his plan was put into action?’

Leeming needed a moment for consideration. ‘The locomotive was deliberately run off the track,’ he remembered.

‘Yes,’ said Colbeck, snapping his fingers. ‘Severe damage was inflicted and Caleb Andrews’s beloved engine was put out of action for a long time. What sort of person would do that, Victor?’

‘Someone who hates trains.’

Sir Humphrey Gilzean sat in an open carriage on the Berkshire Downs and watched his racehorses being put through their paces. Bunched together, they thundered past and left a flurry of dust in their wake. Gilzean’s eyes were on the black colt at the front of the group. As they galloped on, its rider used his whip to coax extra speed out of his mount and the colt surged ahead of the others to establish a lead of several lengths. Gilzean slapped his thigh in delight. He turned to his trainer, a big, sturdy man, who sat astride a chestnut mare beside him.

‘That’s what I want from him,’ he declared.

‘Starlight is a fine horse, Sir Humphrey,’ said the trainer.

‘Good enough to win the Derby?’

‘If he loses, it will not be for want of trying. Starlight has a turn of foot to leave most colts and fillies behind. The secret is to bring him to a peak at just the right time.’

‘I rely on you to do that, Welsby.’

‘Yes, Sir Humphrey.’

‘Starlight was certainly expensive enough to win the Derby,’ said Gilzean, as the horses ended their race and trotted back in his direction. ‘I expect a return on my investment.’

‘Naturally.’

‘Make sure that I get it.’

He was about to give some more instructions to his trainer when the distant sound of a train whistle distracted him. Gilzean’s eyes flashed and his jaw tightened. He dispatched the trainer with a dismissive flick of his hand then spoke to the driver of the carriage.

‘Take me home.’

‘Yes, Sir Humphrey.’

‘By way of the church.’

The coachman cracked his whip and the two horses pulled the carriage in a semicircle before setting off across the Downs at a steady trot. It was a large estate, parts of which were farmed by tenants. Some of the land was arable but most was given over to herds of dairy cattle and flocks of sheep. Gilzean found the sight of so many animals grazing in the fields strangely reassuring. There was a timelessness about the scene that appealed to him, an unspoilt, unhurried, natural quality that he had known and loved since he was a small child. It was the English countryside at its best.

Sitting erect in the carriage, Sir Humphrey Gilzean was a striking figure in his late thirties, tall, slim, swarthy of complexion and with finely chiselled features. Dressed in the most fashionable attire, he had the unmistakable air of an aristocrat, allied to the physique and disposition of a soldier. Even at his most relaxed, he exuded a sense of authority. As he was driven past the labourers in the fields, he collected an endless sequence of servile nods or obsequious salutes.

The Norman church stood at the edge of the village. Built of local stone, it was a small but solid structure that had withstood the unruly elements for centuries. Its square tower was surmounted by a little steeple with a weathervane at its apex. The churchyard was enclosed by a low and irregular stone wall, pierced by a wooden lychgate. Members of the Gilzean family had been buried there for generations, and it was their money that had kept the church in a state of good repair. When the carriage drew up outside the lychgate, Gilzean got out and tossed a curt command over his shoulder.

‘Wait here,’ he said to the coachman. ‘I may be some time.’

During an investigation, leisure did not exist for Robert Colbeck. Having worked until late, he was back at his desk early the following morning so that he could collate all the evidence that had so far been gathered and address his mind to it when there was little chance of interruption. He had been at Scotland Yard for almost two hours before he was disturbed by the arrival of a clerk.

‘Excuse me, Inspector,’ said the man, putting his head around the door. ‘There’s a young lady to see you.’

‘Miss Andrews?’ asked Colbeck, hoping that it might be her.

‘No, sir. She gave her name as Miss Woodhead.’

‘Then you had better shown her in.’

When his visitor came into the room, Colbeck got to his feet for the introductions. Nobody could have been less like Madeleine Andrews than the shy, hesitant creature who stood before him in a state of such obvious distress. Bella Woodhead was a short, plump and decidedly plain young woman in nondescript clothing and a faded straw hat. Offered a chair, she sat on the very edge of it. Colbeck could see that her hands were trembling.

‘You wished to see me, Miss Woodhead?’ he inquired.

‘Yes, Inspector. I have something to tell you.’

‘May I know what it concerns?’

She swallowed hard. ‘Mr Ings,’ she murmured.

‘William Ings?’

‘We read the newspaper this morning and saw the report of his death.’ She gave a shudder. ‘We could not believe it at first. When we saw that William – Mr Ings, that is – might actually be connected with this train robbery, we were shocked. It was like a blow in the face.’

‘How did you come to know Mr Ings?’ asked Colbeck.

‘I work at the Post Office.’

‘I see.’

‘Only in a minor capacity, of course,’ she said with a self-effacing smile. ‘I am merely a clerk there. He was far more senior. Mr Ings was well-respected. The Post Office held him in high regard.’

Colbeck could tell from the way that she said the man’s name that she had enjoyed a closer relationship with Ings than any of his other colleagues. Bella Woodhead was too honest and unschooled to disguise her feelings. Stunned by the news of his murder, she had come to make a confession that was clearly causing her intense pain. Colbeck tried to make it easier for her by anticipating what she was going to say.

‘I believe that you were very fond of Mr Ings,’ he suggested.

‘Oh, I was, I was.’

‘And he, in turn, was drawn to you.’

‘That’s what he told me,’ she said, proudly, ‘and it changed my life. No man had taken the slightest interest in me before. For a time, it was like living in a dream.’ Her face crumpled. ‘Now I see that he did not mean a word of it.’ She looked up at Colbeck. ‘Is it true that he was found dead in the Devil’s Acre?’

‘Yes, Miss Woodhead.’

‘In the company of a woman?’

Colbeck nodded and she promptly burst into tears. He came across to put a consoling arm around her shoulders but it was minutes before she was able to speak again.

‘Mr Ings betrayed me,’ she said, finally controlling her sobs and dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. ‘He swore that he loved me. He told me that he would leave his wife and that we would be together. Yet all the time…’

She put both hands to her mouth to stifle another fit of crying. Colbeck could well understand how the relationship with William Ings had developed. His position at the Post Office would have impressed Bella Woodhead and made her vulnerable to any favour that was shown to her. Patently, Ings had exploited her but the detective could not understand why. Since the man’s taste ran to women like Polly Roach and Kate Piercey, why had he turned to someone as virginal and inexperienced as Bella Woodhead?

‘Did he offer to marry you?’ he wondered, softly.

‘Of course,’ she replied with a touch of indignation. ‘Do you think that I would have become involved with him on any other basis? Mr Ings was a decent man – or so I thought at the time. He told me that he would arrange a divorce somehow. All that happened between us, Inspector, was an exchange of vows. I must ask you to believe that.’

‘I accept your word without reservation, Miss Woodhead.’

‘Mr Ings wanted everything to be done properly.’

‘Properly?’

‘He wanted to make me his wife so that we could, in time, live together openly. That was why he insisted on meeting my parents.’

‘Oh?’

‘He knew how protective they were of me – especially my father. At first he was very unhappy about my friendship, but Mr Ings persuaded him in the end. Father and he got on well. In fact,’ she said, ‘when he came to the house, he spent more time talking to my father than he did to me.’ She blew her nose into the handkerchief. ‘Now I know why.’

‘Do you?’

‘Yes. Mr Ings only wanted to hear about Father’s job.’

‘Why?’ asked Colbeck. ‘Where does your father work?’

‘At the Royal Mint.’

It was a warm day but there was nevertheless a fire in the grate. Sir Humphrey Gilzean tossed another bundle of envelopes on to it and, putting one hand on the marble mantelpiece to steady himself, stirred the blaze with a poker. Wisps of black paper went up the chimney.

‘That’s the last of them, Thomas,’ he observed.

‘Good,’ said the other. ‘Such a dreary business, reading through other people’s correspondence.’

‘Dreary but rewarding. How much did Lord Holcroft give us?’

‘Five hundred pounds.’

‘This mistress of his must be a remarkable lady if she is deemed to be worth five hundred pounds. Lord Holcroft would rather lose the money than surrender the charms of Miss Anna Grayle.’

‘All that money for two pieces of stationery.’

‘And not a blow given or a risk taken,’ noted Gilzean. ‘Blackmail is a much easier way to make a living than by robbing trains. Secrecy is a valuable commodity, Thomas. I wish that we had more of it to sell.’

‘So do I, Humphrey.’

They were in the library at Gilzean’s house, an extensive property that overlooked a formal garden of almost three acres. Thomas Sholto was the bearded individual who had accosted Lord Holcroft in Hyde Park with a copy of the compromising letter. Like his friend, he was a man of impressive demeanour and military bearing. Sholto was pleased at their record of success.

‘Mr Blower was a more difficult target,’ he recalled.

‘Remind me who he was.’

‘The financier who was fishing in murky waters.’

‘Ah, yes,’ said Gilzean. ‘Mr Jeremiah Blower. His letter disclosed confidential information about a forthcoming merger. Had his company known how treacherous he was being, they would have dismissed him on the spot. What value did we set on his ill-judged letter?’

‘Three hundred pounds.’

‘Yet he refused to pay up.’

‘Initially,’ said Sholto. ‘He made all kinds of wild threats and was even foolish enough to strike out at me. He soon regretted that. I knocked him flat. And because he had the gall to haggle with me, I put up the price. He ended up paying twice as much as we asked.’

‘What with Lord Holcroft and the others, we’ve made a tidy profit out of this little venture. I told you that we should steal the mail bags as well. Admittedly,’ said Gilzean, watching the flames die down, ‘we had to pick our way through a deal of worthless trivia, but the result more than justified the effort involved. And we learnt a valuable lesson in the process.’

‘Be careful what you commit to paper.’

‘Precisely, Thomas.’

Sholto rubbed his hands together. ‘When do we strike again?’

‘Soon,’ said Gilzean. ‘The important thing was to ensure that there were no loose ends hanging. Thanks to you, the only two people who could have led this Inspector Colbeck to us are now in no position to speak to anyone.’

‘Daniel Slender’s head cracked open at one blow,’ recalled Sholto with a grin. ‘It was all over in less than thirty seconds. Mr Ings had a much harder skull.’

‘Of more use to us was the fact that both of them had soft brains. They foolishly believed that we’d let them live when they knew too much about us. How could they be so naïve?’

‘It served our purpose, Humphrey.’

‘Supremely well.’

‘Killing the pair of them was child’s play,’ boasted Sholto.

‘It should be for a trained soldier like you, Thomas. The beauty of the two murders is,’ said Gilzean, smugly, ‘that they help to confuse this gifted detective who is supposed to be on our trail. Inspector Robert Colbeck will never be able to connect the victims with us. We are free to make our next move.’

Superintendent Edward Tallis was in an even more irascible mood than usual. Apart from the criticism he was receiving in the press, he was troubled by toothache and smarting from the reproaches of the Police Commissioners. Two cigars did nothing to dispel his feeling that he was the victim of unjust persecution. Summoned to his office, Colbeck decided to take Victor Leeming with him, not because he thought there would be safety in numbers but because he wanted his colleague to be given some credit for his intuition.

When Tallis had stopped fulminating, Colbeck said his piece.

‘Valuable information has come into our hands, sir,’ he explained. ‘We have learnt that William Ings befriended a female colleague at the Post Office in order to win the confidence of her father, Albert Woodhead. It transpires that Mr Woodhead is employed at the Royal Mint.’

‘So?’

‘We now know where the other breach of security occurred. An unguarded remark by Mr Woodhead about the transfer of money was seized on by Mr Ings and passed on to the robbers. Victor’s instinct told him that a leak had occurred at the Mint,’ continued Colbeck, turning to his colleague. ‘I believe that he deserves some praise.’

‘Yes,’ said Tallis, grudgingly. ‘I suppose that he does.’

Leeming took his cue. ‘I’ve just returned from my third visit to the Mint, sir,’ he said, ‘where I spoke to the manager, Charles Omber. He confirmed that Albert Woodhead had owned up to his folly. Even though it was not deliberate, he has been suspended from his job.’

‘And is full of contrition,’ said Colbeck. ‘After his daughter came to see me this morning, I called on Mr Woodhead and found him in a sorry state. It is not only his humiliating suspension that is upsetting him. The murder of William Ings has brought to the light the cruel way in which he used Miss Woodhead. Her father feels that, to some extent, he may have condoned it.’

‘This is all very interesting, Inspector,’ said Tallis, brooding behind his desk, ‘but where does it get us?’

‘It explains exactly where the necessary information came from and it absolves the railway company of any blame.’

‘Yes,’ added Leeming. ‘It also tells us why Mr Ings was paid such a large amount of money. He had vital intelligence to sell.’

‘Who bought it from him?’ asked Tallis.

‘We have yet to determine that, sir.’

‘And how much longer do I have to wait before you do?’

‘That depends on what he does next,’ said Colbeck.

‘Next?’ repeated Tallis. ‘Are you telling me that we may expect another train robbery or additional murders?’

‘No, Superintendent. I am simply saying that the man who is behind these crimes will act in character – and that we now have a clear idea of what that character is.’

‘So do I. He is cunning, merciless and able to outwit us with ease.’

‘He has stayed one step ahead of us so far,’ agreed Colbeck, ‘but that will soon change. The aspect of his character that I would point to is his rooted dislike of railways. It amounts to abhorrence. I would not at all be surprised to learn that he is a landowner whose property has been encroached upon by a railway company. Robbing that train and wrecking that locomotive was his way of striking back.’

‘And?’

‘There will be more to come, sir.’

‘Why do you think that?’

‘This man wants blood.’

Since its mail train was ambushed, the London and Birmingham Railway Company had tightened its security. Two policemen now guarded each end of the various tunnels that punctuated the 112 miles of track between the two cities. No risks were taken. Running to almost a mile and a half, the Kilsby Tunnel in Northamptonshire was the longest on the line and by far the costliest to build, taking all of two years to complete. It was the work of Robert Stephenson and a model of its kind. Most people marvelled at its construction but the three men who crept towards it that evening did not share in the general admiration of an outstanding feat of engineering.

The seized their moment. One of the railway policemen on duty was relieving himself behind a bush and the other was stuffing tobacco into his pipe. Both men were overpowered and tied up without offering any real resistance. The newcomers could carry on with their business. After checking their watches to see how much time they had before the next train, they went into the mouth of the tunnel at the Northamptonshire end. A small barrel of gunpowder was rolled against the brickwork. Loose stones were packed around it to keep it firmly in place.

Having lit the long fuse, the three men scampered to a place of safety and thought about the rich reward that they would earn. It was only a matter of time before the explosion occurred.

Returning to his office, Colbeck was both astonished and delighted to see Madeleine Andrews waiting for him there. She gave him a tentative smile.

‘I hope that I am not intruding, Inspector,’ she said.

‘Of course not.’

‘I know how busy you must be.’

‘That’s a hazard of my profession, Miss Andrews,’ he said, indicating the huge pile of papers on his desk. ‘Crimes are committed in London every hour of the day. Being a detective means that one is kept constantly on one’s toes.’

‘Then I’ll not hold you up for long.’

‘At least, take a seat while you are here.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, lowering herself on to a chair and spreading her skirt out. ‘I really called to see if any progress had been made.’

‘A little, Miss Andrews. A little.’

‘The report in today’s newspaper was not very encouraging.’

‘Do not pay too much attention to what you read,’ he counselled. ‘Newspapers do not always have the full facts at their fingertips and some of them appear to take pleasure in baiting us. I can assure you that we have made more headway than they would lead you to believe.’

‘We were horrified to learn that there had been two murders. Is it true that they may possibly be related to the train robbery?’

‘Undeniably so.’

‘Why were they killed?’

‘The murder victims were accomplices who had to be silenced.’

‘How terrible!’

‘Except for the young woman, that is. She was an innocent person who happened to be in the wrong company at the wrong time.’

‘Yet they still cut her throat?’

‘We are dealing with ruthless men, Miss Andrews.’

‘Father discovered that.’

‘How is he, by the way?’

‘He gets better each day,’ she said, brightening. ‘Unfortunately, he also gets angrier and louder. I have difficulty in calming him down.’

‘I refuse to believe that. You know exactly how to handle him.’

His fond smile was tinged with disappointment. Madeleine met his gaze and held it for some time, trying to read the message in his eyes while sending a covert signal in her own. Colbeck was strongly aware of the mutual interest between them but he did not feel able to explore it. His visitor eventually broke the long silence.

‘I had a more personal reason for coming, Inspector,’ she said.

‘Indeed?’

‘Yes, I feel that I owe you an apology.’

‘Whatever for?’

‘My behaviour when you called at our house.’

‘I saw nothing that could warrant an apology, Miss Andrews.’

‘My father spoke out of turn.’

‘He does seem to have an impulsive streak.’

‘It led him to say something that he had no right to say,’ explained Madeleine, ‘and I did not wish you to be misled by it. The person that he mentioned – Gideon Little, a fireman – is a family friend but, as far as I am concerned, he can never be more than that. Father thinks otherwise.’

‘Your private life is no business of mine,’ he said, trying to ease her obvious discomfort. ‘Please do not feel that you have to offer either an apology or an explanation.’

‘I just wanted you to understand.’

‘Then I am grateful that you came.’

‘Really?’

‘Really,’ he confirmed.

Madeleine smiled with relief. ‘Then so am I, Inspector Colbeck.’ She got to her feet. ‘But I must let you get on with your work. What am I to tell my father?’

‘That he has a very beautiful daughter,’ said Colbeck, letting his admiration show, ‘though I daresay that he already knows that. As for the train robbery,’ he went on, ‘I can give him no hope of an early arrest. Indeed, I think you should warn him to brace himself.’

‘Why?’

‘Because the man behind the robbery will be back. In my view, he is conducting a feud against the railway system and he will not rest until he has inflicted more serious damage upon it.’

‘What do you mean?’ roared Sir Humphrey Gilzean, striking the side of his boot with his riding crop. ‘The attempt failed?’

‘It was only a partial success,’ said Thomas Sholto.

‘How partial? Was there no explosion?’

‘Yes, Humphrey.’

‘Then what went wrong?’

‘The gunpowder, it seems, was not in the ideal position. All that it did was to dislodge the brickwork on one side of the tunnel.’

‘It was intended to block the entrance completely.’

‘That did not happen, alas.’

‘Why ever not, Thomas? I gave orders.’

‘They were disobeyed,’ said Sholto. ‘The men decided that they could achieve the same results with a smaller amount of gunpowder than you had decreed. They were proved wrong.’

‘Damnation!’

‘They’ve been upbraided, believe me.’

‘I’ll do more than upbraid them,’ snarled Gilzean, slapping the back of a leather armchair with his crop. ‘I gave them precise instructions. Had they followed them to the letter, the train that was coming from the opposite direction would have crashed into the debris and put the Kilsby Tunnel out of action for a considerable time.’

‘That did not happen, Humphrey. Damage was limited.’

‘I knew that we should have done the job ourselves.’

‘Jukes and the others have never let us down before.’

‘They’ll not get the chance to do so again,’ vowed Gilzean, prowling vengefully around the hall of his house. ‘I know that. Instead of disrupting the railway, we simply gave them a salutary warning. The Kilsby Tunnel will be guarded by an army of policemen from now on.’ He flung his crop onto the armchair. ‘We lost our chance through sheer incompetence.’

‘They did not realise how solid that brickwork was.’

‘Almost as solid as their heads, by the sound of it. I don’t like it, Thomas. This is a bad omen. Until now, everything has gone so smoothly.’

‘Our luck had to change at some time.’

‘Luck does not come into it, man,’ retorted the other. ‘It is merely a question of good preparation and perfect timing. That is what served us so well with the train robbery – discipline. Were I still in the regiment,’ he said, waving a fist, ‘I’d have the three of them flogged until they had no skin left on their backs. Just wait until I see them. Disobey orders, will they?’ he cried. ‘By God, the next time I try to blow up a tunnel, I’ll make sure that each one of those blithering idiots is inside it!’

Madeleine Andrews made no objection this time when he suggested that she might return home in a cab. Shadows were lengthening and Camden began to seem a long way away. As they stood in Whitehall, however, she made no effort to hail a cab and neither did Colbeck. She wished to stay and he wanted her to linger. Their brief conversation in his office had redeemed his whole day. When a cab went past, they both ignored it.

‘I read what the newspaper said about you, Inspector.’

‘Did you?’

‘Yes,’ replied Madeleine. ‘It listed some of the other cases in which you’ve been involved. You’ve had a very successful career.’

‘I am only one of a team, Miss Andrews,’ he said, modestly. ‘Any success that I’ve enjoyed as a detective is due to the fact that I have people like Sergeant Leeming around me.’

‘That face of his would frighten me.’

‘Victor has many compensating virtues.’

‘I’m sure that he has.’ She looked up quizzically at him. ‘How did you come to know so much about locomotives?’

‘They interest me.’

‘Father could not believe that you could tell the difference between a Bury and a Crampton locomotive. That pleased him so much.’

‘Good,’ said Colbeck, studying her dimples. ‘Driving a train has always seemed to be to be an exciting occupation.’

‘Not to those who actually do it, Inspector. Father has to work long hours in all weathers. Standing on the footplate in heavy rain or driving snow is an ordeal. And think of the dirt. His clothing gets so filthy that I have to wash it in several waters to get it clean.’

‘Has he ever wanted to change his job?’

‘No,’ she admitted. ‘He loves it too much.’

‘In spite of what happened to him this week?’

‘In spite of it.’

Colbeck grinned. ‘I rest my case.’

‘Being in a railway family is hard for any woman,’ she said. ‘Talk to Rose Pike. Her husband was the fireman. Rose will tell you how often Frank has come home with burns on his hand from the firebox or a mark on his face where some flying cinders have hit him. When she heard about the train robbery, she was terrified.’

‘Be fair, Miss Andrews. It was a unique event.’

‘That made no difference to Rose.’

Colbeck began to fish. ‘Coming back to what you were saying about a railway family,’ he said, casually. ‘Is it because you were brought up in one that you have no desire to marry a railwayman?’

‘I’ve no desire to marry anyone at present,’ she replied.

‘Yet you have a suitor.’

‘An unwanted suitor.’

‘Because he works on the railway?’

‘No, Inspector,’ she said with a shrug. ‘Because he is not the right husband for me. Gideon Little is a pleasant enough young man and I have always liked him, but that is the extent of my interest in him.’

‘You do not have to account to me for your feelings.’

‘I wanted you to appreciate the true position, Inspector.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Just as I now appreciate your situation.’

‘Is it so transparent, Miss Andrews?’

‘I think so,’ she said, looking him full in the eye. ‘You are married to your work, Inspector. It occupies you completely, does it not? Nothing else in your life matters.’

‘You may be wrong about that,’ said Colbeck with a slow smile. ‘Though I suspect that it may take time to convince you of it.’ The clatter of hooves made him look up. ‘Ah, here’s a cab at last!’ he noted. ‘Shall I stop it or do you reserve the right to hail it yourself?’

‘I accept your kind offer, Inspector. Thank you.’

Colbeck raised an arm and the cab drew up alongside them. He had the momentary pleasure of holding her hand to help her into the cab. There was an exchange of farewells. Madeleine gave an address to the driver and he flicked his reins. The horse trotted off up Whitehall. Colbeck had a sudden desire to sit beside her in the cab and continue their conversation indefinitely but other priorities called. Forcing himself to forget Madeleine Andrews, he went swiftly back to his office.

The dark-eyed young man in the ill-fitting brown suit emerged from the doorway where he had been lurking. Gideon Little set off with long strides in pursuit of the cab.

CHAPTER NINE

Darkness had fallen by the time that news of the explosion in the Kilsby Tunnel finally reached Scotland Yard. Superintendent Tallis was not entirely convinced that it was the work of the same people who had robbed the mail train but Inspector Colbeck had no doubts whatsoever on the subject. He decided to visit the scene of the crime in daylight. Accordingly, early next morning, he and Victor Leeming caught a train that would take them there with a minimum number of stops on the way. Knowing that his companion was a reluctant rail traveller, Colbeck tried to divert him with some facts about their destination.

‘What do you know about the tunnel, Victor?’ he asked.

‘Nothing – beyond the fact that it goes under ground.’

‘It’s a work of art. On my visit to the Midlands, I went through it twice and was struck by the sheer size of it. The Kilsby Tunnel is cavernous. It’s like being in a subterranean kingdom.’

‘I’ll take your word for it, Inspector.’

‘When he undertook the project, Mr Stephenson thought it would be relatively straightforward because they would be cutting their way through a mixture of clay and sand. Unhappily,’ said Colbeck, ‘much of it turned out to be quicksand so the whole area had first to be drained. It was slow and laborious work.’

‘Like being a detective,’ noted the other, lugubriously.

Colbeck laughed. ‘Only in the sense that we, too, come up against unforeseen hazards,’ he said. ‘But our job is far less dangerous than that of the miners who sunk those enormous ventilation shafts or the navvies who dug out all that soil. How many bricks would you say were needed to line the tunnel?’

‘Hundreds of thousands, probably,’ guessed Leeming, unable to share the Inspector’s enthusiasm for the topic. ‘I hope that you are not asking me to count them when we get there.’

‘It would take you a lifetime, Victor.’

‘Why, sir?’

‘Because millions of bricks were used,’ said Colbeck. ‘A steam clay mill and kilns were built on site by Mr Stephenson so that he had a constant supply of 30,000 bricks per day. Imagine that, if you will.’ Leeming stifled a yawn. ‘The original estimate – would you believe – was for a total of 20 million bricks, some of them made from the clay that was excavated from the tunnel itself.’

‘How do you know all this, Inspector?’

‘I took the trouble to do some research on the subject.’

‘In that library of yours, you mean?’

‘Yes, Victor.’

‘I wouldn’t know where to look.’

‘Start with a history of the London and Birmingham Railway,’ said Colbeck. ‘That was the name of the company that operated this line when the tunnel was built. It was only amalgamated into the London and North Western Railway Company five years ago.’

‘Now that’s something I did know,’ said Leeming. ‘Every person I spoke to at the company made a point of telling me.’ He gave Colbeck a meaningful glance. ‘But not one of them mentioned how many bricks there were in the Kilsby Tunnel.’

‘Point taken,’ said Colbeck, smiling. ‘You are not in the mood for a lecture about the railway. Given the choice, I suspect, you would rather be making this journey on horseback.’

‘Or in the comfort of a stage coach, sir.’

‘Either way, you would have been much slower.’

‘Would I?’

‘By the time you got to Northamptonshire, I would have been back at my desk in London. Railways are helping to defeat time.’

When the train passed through Leighton Buzzard Station, they were pleased to see that the wrecked locomotive near the Linslade Tunnel had been removed, leaving deep indentations in the grass where it had come to rest. Though the robbery had been a serious crime with murderous consequences, Colbeck was very conscious of the fact that it had introduced him to Madeleine Andrews. He regarded that as an incidental bonus. His mind was filled with pleasant thoughts of her as they crossed the county border.

Stations flashed pass them at regular intervals then – to Leeming’s obvious relief – the train began to slow down. The detectives alighted at Crick to be greeted by a familiar sight. The hulking figure of Inspector Rory McTurk came along the station platform to give them a blunt reception.

‘What are you doing here, Inspector Colbeck?’ he asked.

‘We wanted the pleasure of renewing your acquaintance,’ replied Colbeck, touching the brim of his hat with courtesy. ‘I’m sure that you remember Sergeant Leeming.’

‘I do,’ grunted the Scotsman.

‘Good morning, Inspector,’ said Leeming.

‘Neither of you is needed here. This is railway business.’

‘Not when it’s related to the train robbery,’ asserted Colbeck.

‘What makes you think that?’

‘I’ll tell you when we have examined the scene.’ The locomotive was starting up again. ‘I see that the line has been reopened.’

‘In both directions,’ said McTurk. ‘A team of men worked through the night to clear the obstruction. Everything is as it should be now.’

‘Were there no policemen on duty at the tunnel?’

‘Two of them, Inspector. They were both overpowered.’

‘What game of cards were they playing this time?’ asked Leeming.

McTurk scowled. ‘Follow me,’ he said.

When the train had departed, they went down onto the track and strolled in the direction of the Kilsby Tunnel. McTurk walked with a proprietary strut. Since he was landed with him, Colbeck tried to make use of the combative Scotsman.

‘The news reached us by telegraph,’ he said. ‘Details were scarce.’

‘Then how can you link this outrage with the train robbery?’

‘I was expecting it.’

‘You expected it?’ said McTurk. ‘Why did you not forewarn us?’

‘Because I had no idea where they would strike, Inspector, only that an attack of some sort was imminent. From what I gather,’ Colbeck went on, ‘you had something of a lucky escape.’

McTurk frowned. ‘Two railway policemen injured and an explosion in the longest tunnel on the line – I fail to see how you can talk about luck. It could have been worse,’ he admitted, ‘much worse, but it is still bad enough.’

He grumbled all the way to the mouth of the tunnel itself. Colbeck and Leeming said nothing to interrupt him. The first thing they noticed was the large pile of rubble to the side of the track that carried up trains to London. Working from ladders and trestles, bricklayers were already trying to repair the damage. Leeming saw an opportunity to air his limited knowledge of tunnel construction.

‘Tell me, Inspector McTurk,’ he said. ‘Do you happen to know how many bricks were used in the Kilsby Tunnel?’

‘Too bloody many!’ came the tart reply.

Leeming chose not to pursue the conversation.

Colbeck went into the tunnel to examine the full extent of the damage. He tried to work out where the gunpowder must have been when it exploded. McTurk came to stand at his shoulder.

‘By the end of the day,’ he said, ‘it will be as good as new.’

‘What about the two men who were attacked?’ asked Colbeck. ‘Are they as good as new, Inspector?’

‘They’re still a bit shaken but they’ll be back at work soon.’

‘Were they able to give a description of their assailants?’

‘No,’ said McTurk. ‘They were grabbed from behind, knocked unconscious and tied up. They didn’t even hear the explosion go off. There’s no point in talking to them.’

‘Perhaps not.’ He felt inside a hole where the brickwork had been blasted away. ‘What was the intention behind it all?’

McTurk was contemptuous. ‘I’m surprised that a man of your experience has to ask that, Inspector Colbeck,’ he said. ‘The intention is plain. They tried to close the tunnel in order to disrupt the railway.’

‘I think that there is more to it than that.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘These people do nothing at random, believe me. The explosion would have gone off at a specific time and for a specific purpose. When was the next up train due to enter the tunnel at the other end?’

‘Not long before the explosion. Fortunately, it was late.’

‘There’s your answer, Inspector McTurk.’

‘Is it?’

‘The tunnel was supposed to collapse just before the train reached it. The driver would have been going too fast to stop. The locomotive would have ploughed into the rubble and the whole train would have been derailed. That was their intention,’ declared Colbeck. ‘To block the tunnel, destroy a train and kill passengers in the process.’

‘But there were no passengers on board the train.’

‘Then what was it carrying?’

‘Goods.’

‘Any particular kinds of goods?’

‘Why do you ask?’

‘Because it may be significant.’

‘I don’t see how,’ said McTurk, irritably. ‘My information is that the wagons were simply carrying huge pieces of glass from the Chance Brothers’ Factory.’

‘Of course!’ cried Colbeck. ‘That explains it.’

McTurk looked blank. ‘Does it?’

‘I’m as mystified as Inspector McTurk,’ confessed Leeming as he joined them. ‘How can some sheets of glass provide the explanation?’

‘Think of where they would be going, Victor,’ advised Colbeck.

‘To the customer who bought them, I suppose.’

‘What’s so remarkable about that?’ said McTurk.

‘The customer in question happens to be Joseph Paxton,’ replied Colbeck, ‘the man who designed the Crystal Palace. And who had the contract for supplying all that glass? Chance Brothers.’

McTurk lifted his hat to scratch his head. ‘I’m still lost.’

‘So am I,’ said Leeming.

‘Then you have obviously not been reading all the advertisements for the Great Exhibition. What is it,’ said Colbeck, ‘but a celebration of British industry? One of the main elements in that is the primacy of our railway system. A number of locomotives will be on display – but only if the structure is finished, and that depends on the supply of the glass panels that were commissioned from Chance Brothers.’

Leeming blinked. ‘They were trying to stop the Great Exhibition?’

‘At the very least, they were doing their best to hamper the completion of the Crystal Palace,’ argued Colbeck. ‘The explosion was contrived by someone who not only wanted to put the tunnel out of action, he also hoped to delay an exhibition in which the steam locomotive will have pride of place.’

‘All I see is wanton damage,’ said McTurk, looking around.

‘Look for the deeper meaning, Inspector.’

‘I’ve tried. But I’m damned if I can spot it.’

‘What happened to the train carrying the glass?’ said Leeming.

‘I told you, Sergeant. It was late. The driver was a mile or so short of the tunnel when the explosion went off. Must have sounded like an earthquake to him.’

‘The noise would have echoed along the whole tunnel.’

‘And well beyond,’ said McTurk. ‘When the driver heard it, he slowed the train immediately. The signalmen at the other end of the tunnel were, in any case, flagging him down.’

‘So the sheets of glass were undamaged?’

‘They were taken on to London as soon as the line was cleared.’

‘Thank you, Inspector McTurk,’ said Colbeck, shaking his hand. ‘You have been a great help. Forgive us if we rush off. We need to catch the next train back to Euston.’

‘Do we?’ asked Leeming. ‘But we have not seen everything yet.’

‘We’ve seen all that we need to, Victor. The man we are after has just given himself away. I know what he will do next.’

Leaving a bewildered Inspector McTurk in his wake, Colbeck led his companion back towards Crick Station. There was a spring in the Inspector’s step. For the first time since the investigation had begun, he felt that he might have the advantage.

It was Gideon Little who told them about the incident. His ostensible reason for calling at the house was to see how Caleb Andrews was faring and to pass on details of the attack on the Kilsby Tunnel. A train on which Little had been the fireman that morning had been as far as Northampton and back. He had picked up all the news. In telling it to Andrews, he was also able to get close to Madeleine once more. She was as alarmed as her father by what she heard.

‘Was anyone hurt, Gideon?’

‘Only the railway policemen on duty,’ said Little, enjoying her proximity. ‘They were ambushed and knocked on the head.’

Andrews was rueful. ‘I know how that feels!’

‘Why would anyone damage the tunnel?’ asked Madeleine.

‘I wish I knew,’ said Little. ‘It’s very worrying. If a train had been coming through at that time, there would have been a terrible crash.’

‘Thank heaven that never happened!’

‘Railways still have lots of enemies,’ said Andrews. ‘I’m old enough to remember a time when landowners would do anything to stop us if we tried to go across their property. Boulders on the line, track pulled up, warning fires lit – I saw it all. And it was not just landowners.’

‘No,’ added Little, mournfully. ‘People who ran stage coaches feared that railways might put them out of business. So did canal owners. Then there are those who say we destroy the countryside.’

‘We are not destroying it, Gideon. Railways make it possible for people to see our beautiful countryside. The many who are stuck in ugly towns all week can take an excursion train on a Sunday and share in the pleasures that the few enjoy. We offer a public service,’ Andrews went on with conviction. ‘We open up this great country of ours.’

They were in the main bedroom and the driver was resting against some pillows. His arm was still in a sling and his broken leg held fast in a splint. An occasional wince showed that he was still in pain. Pressed for details, Little told him everything that he could about the explosion but his eyes kept straying to Madeleine, hoping to see a sign of affection that never materialised. When it was time for him to go, she showed the visitor to the door but did not linger.

‘Goodbye, Madeleine,’ said Little.

‘Thank you for coming to see Father.’

‘It was you that I came to see.’

She forced a smile. ‘Goodbye.’

Madeleine closed the door after him then went back upstairs.

‘Is there anything I can get you, Father?’ she said.

‘A pair of crutches.’

‘The doctor told you to stay in bed.’

‘I’ll die of boredom if I’m trapped in here much longer.’

‘You’ve had plenty of visitors,’ Madeleine reminded him. ‘Frank Pike came yesterday, so did Rose. Today, it was Gideon’s turn.’

‘He’d be here every day if he had some encouragement.’

She inhaled deeply. ‘You know how I feel on that score.’

‘Give the lad a chance, Maddy. He dotes on you.’

‘Yes,’ she said, sadly, ‘but I do not dote on Gideon.’

‘Your mother didn’t exactly dote on me at first,’ he confided with a nostalgic sigh, ‘but she took me on and – God bless her – she learnt to love me in time. I think I made her happy.’

‘You did, Father. She always said that.’

‘I miss her terribly but I’m glad that she’s not here to see me like this. I feel so helpless.’ He peered up at her. ‘Gideon will be a driver one day, Maddy – just like me. You could do a lot worse.’

‘I know that.’

‘So why do you give the poor man a cold shoulder?’

‘I try to be polite to him.’

‘He wants more than politeness.’

‘Then he wants more than I am able to offer,’ she said.

His voice hardened. ‘Gideon is not good enough for you, is that it?’

‘No, Father.’

‘You think that you are above marrying a railwayman.’

‘That’s not true at all.’

‘I brought you up to respect the railway,’ he said with a glint in his eye. ‘It served me well enough all these years, Maddy. Your mother was proud of what I did for a living.’

‘So am I.’

‘Then why are you giving yourself these airs and graces?’

‘Father,’ she said, trying to remain calm, ‘the situation is simple. I do not – and never could – love Gideon Little.’

‘You’ve set your sights higher, have you?’

‘Of course not.’

‘I’m not blind, Maddy,’ he told her. ‘Something has happened to you over the past few days and we both know what it is. Run with your own kind, girl,’ he urged. ‘That’s where your future lies. Why look at a man who will always be out of your reach?’

‘Please!’ she said. ‘I don’t wish to discuss this any more.’

‘I only want to stop you from getting hurt, Maddy.’

‘You need rest. I’ll leave you alone.’

‘Stick to Gideon. He’s one of our own. Be honest with yourself,’ he said. ‘No man in a silk top hat is going to look at you.’

Madeleine could take no more. Her feelings had been hurt and her mind was racing. Holding back tears, she opened the door and went out.

Superintendent Tallis did not even bother to knock. He burst into Colbeck’s office in time to find the Inspector poring intently over a copy of the Illustrated London News. Colbeck looked up with a dutiful smile.

‘Good afternoon, sir,’ he said.

‘Where have you been, Inspector?’

‘To the Kilsby Tunnel and back.’

‘I know that,’ said Tallis, leaning over the desk at him. ‘Why did you not report to me the moment that you got back?’

‘I did, Superintendent. You were not in your office.’

‘I was in a meeting with the Commissioners.’

‘That’s why I came back here to do some work.’

‘Since when has reading a newspaper been construed as work?’

‘Actually,’ said Colbeck, turning the paper round so that Tallis could see it, ‘I was studying this illustration on the front page. I suggest that you do the same, sir.’

‘I do not have time to look at illustrations, Inspector,’ rasped the other, ignoring the paper, ‘and neither do you. Now what did you learn of value in Northamptonshire?’

‘That it really is a charming county. Even Victor was impressed.’

‘Did you establish how the tunnel was damaged?’

‘I did much more than that.’

‘Indeed?’

‘I discovered why they chose that particular target. More to the point,’ Colbeck announced, ‘I believe that I know where they will direct their malign energies next.’

‘And where is that, Inspector?’

‘At this.’ Colbeck tapped the illustration that lay before him. ‘The Lord of the Isles. It’s a steam locomotive, sir.’

‘I can see that, man.’

‘The pride of the Great Western Railway. What more dramatic way to make his point than by destroying this symbol of excellence?’

‘Who are you talking about?’

‘The man who organised the train robbery and who instigated the attack on the Kilsby Tunnel. If you take a seat, Superintendent,’ he said, indicating a chair, ‘I will be happy to explain.’

‘I wish that somebody would.’

As soon as Tallis sat down, Colbeck told him about the visit to the scene of the latest crime and how he had become convinced of where the next attack would be. Tallis had grave doubts.

‘It’s a wild guess, Inspector,’ he said.

‘No, sir. It’s a considered judgement, based on what I know of the man and his methods. He is conducting a vendetta against railways.’

‘Then why not blow up another tunnel or destroy a bridge?’

‘Because he can secure infinitely more publicity at the Crystal Palace. Every newspaper in Britain and several from aboard would report the event. After all, the Exhibition has an international flavour,’ said Colbeck. ‘The whole civilised world will be looking at it. That is what this man craves most of all, Superintendent – an audience.’

‘Why should he pick on the Lord of the Isles?’

‘Because that will set the standard of locomotive construction for years to come, sir. It repeats the design of Daniel Gooch’s Iron Duke, built for the Great Western Railway at Swindon. Other locomotives will be on display,’ he continued, ‘including the famous Puffing Billy and the Liverpool, designed by Thomas Crampton. Our man may choose one of them instead or create an explosion big enough to destroy all the railway exhibits. Inside a structure like the Crystal Palace, of course, any explosion will have a devastating effect.’

‘Only if it were allowed to happen.’

‘That is why we must take preventative measures.’

‘They are already in hand,’ Tallis informed him. ‘I attended a first meeting with the Commissioners about security at the Exhibition in November of last year. We recommended that an extra 1000 police officers were needed.’

‘Yes, but only to control the massive crowds that are expected.’

‘A moment ago, you mentioned the Iron Duke. It may interest you to know that the real Iron Duke, the Duke of Wellington, advocated a force of 15,000 men. I put forward the notion of swearing in sappers as special constables but it was felt – wrongly, in my opinion – that they would be seen as too militaristic.’ He stroked his moustache. ‘As an army man, I believe in the power of the uniform.’

‘The problem is,’ said Colbeck, ‘that a uniform gives the game away. It sends out a warning. Besides, Superintendent, you are talking about security arrangements during the Exhibition. I think that the attack will be made before it.’

‘How have you arrived at that conclusion?’

‘By putting myself in the mind of the man we are after.’

‘But you do not even know his name.’

‘I know his type, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘Like you, he was a military man. He understands that he must use surprise to maximum effect and strike at the weakest point. Look at the train robbery,’ he suggested. ‘The weak points were William Ings and Daniel Slender. Once their loyalty had been breached, the ambush could be laid.’

Superintendent Tallis ruminated. Crossing to the desk, he picked up the paper and looked at the illustration of the Lord of the Isles. After a moment, he tossed it down again.

‘No,’ he decided. ‘Simply because there was an explosion in the Kilsby Tunnel, I do not foresee an outrage at the Crystal Palace.’

‘What if you are mistaken, sir?’

‘That is highly unlikely.’

‘But not impossible,’ reasoned Colbeck. ‘If there is some sort of attack on those locomotives, you will be blamed for not taking special precautions when you had been advised to do so. All that I am asking for is a small number of men.’

‘To do what?’

‘Mount a guard throughout the night. Nobody would be reckless enough to attempt anything in daylight – there would be far too many people about, helping to set up the exhibits.’

‘Are you volunteering to lead this guard detail?’

‘Provided that I have a free hand to choose my team.’

‘It could be a complete waste of time, Inspector.’

‘Then I will be the first to admit that I was wrong,’ said Colbeck, firmly. ‘If, on the other hand, we do foil an attempt to damage the locomotives, you will be given the credit for anticipating it.’

Tallis needed a few minutes to think it over. Inclined to dismiss the idea as fanciful, he feared the consequences if the Inspector were proved right. Robert Colbeck had a habit of coming up with strange proposals that somehow, against all the odds, bore fruit. A man who was ready to endure sleepless nights at the Crystal Palace had to be driven by a deep inner conviction. After meditation, Tallis elected to trust in it.

‘Very well, Inspector,’ he said. ‘Take the necessary steps.’

Thomas Sholto had known him for several years. Educated at the same school, they had been commissioned in the same regiment and served together in India. For all that, he could still be amazed at the dedication that Sir Humphrey Gilzean brought to any project. It was in evidence again when they met that morning to discuss their latest scheme. A large round mahogany table stood in the library at Gilzean’s house. Sholto was astounded to see what was lying on it. As well as a detailed floor plan of the Crystal Palace, there was a copy of the Official Catalogue for the Great Exhibition.

‘How on earth did you get hold of these?’ asked Sholto.

‘By a combination of money and persuasion,’ replied Gilzean, picking up the catalogue. ‘This is the first of five parts but the printers only have this one ready for the opening ceremony on May Day. Did you know that there are over 100,000 separate items on show, sent in from all over the world by individual and corporate exhibitors?’

‘Prince Albert wants it to be a truly unforgettable event.’

‘We will make sure that it is, Thomas.’ He put the catalogue down and scrutinised the plan. ‘Everything on show is divided into four different classes – Raw Materials, Machinery, Manufactures and Fine Arts.’

‘Any mention of the British Army? That’s what made the Empire.’

‘Only a display of Military Engineering and Ordnance.’

‘No bands, no parades, no demonstrations of military skills?’

‘No, Thomas. The emphasis is on industry in all its forms.’ He drew back his lips in a sneer. ‘Including the railways.’

‘Where are the locomotives housed, Humphrey?’

‘Here,’ said Gilzean, indicating a section of the ground floor plan. ‘What we are after is in an area devoted to Machinery for Direct Use.’

‘On the north side,’ observed Sholto. ‘It should not be difficult to gain access there. I took the trouble to have a preliminary look at the Crystal Palace when I accosted Lord Holcroft in Hyde Park. It is a vast cathedral of glass that looks like nothing so much as a giant conservatory. But, then, what else should one expect of a man like Joseph Paxton who is a landscape gardener?’

‘As far as I am concerned, Thomas, his notoriety lies elsewhere.’

‘Yes, Humphrey. He is a director of the Midland Railway.’

‘Had he not been,’ said Gilzean scornfully, ‘he might never have been employed to design that monstrous edifice. I am told, on good authority, that Joseph Paxton came down to the House of Commons last year for a meeting with Mr John Ellis, Member of Parliament and chairman of the Midland Railway, a ghastly individual with whom I’ve crossed swords more than once in the Chamber.’

‘Yes, Humphrey. I recall how you opposed his Railway Bill.’

‘It was a matter of honour. To return to Paxton,’ he said. ‘When our landscape gardener discovered how poor the acoustics were in the House of Commons, he decried the architect, Mr Barry. He then went on to say that those designing the hall for the Great Exhibition would also botch the job – even though he had not seen their plans.’

‘Mr Paxton is an arrogant man, by the sound of it.’

‘Arrogant?’ said Gilzean, scornfully. ‘The fellow has a conceit to rival Narcissus. At a meeting of the board of his railway company, he had the gall to sketch his idea for the building on a piece of blotting paper. That, Thomas, is how this Crystal Palace came into being.’

‘On a piece of blotting paper?’

‘The design was shown to Ellis, who passed it on to someone in authority and, the next thing you know, Paxton is invited to submit a plan and an estimate of its cost. To cap it all,’ said Gilzean through gritted teeth, ‘he is given an audience with Prince Albert himself. His Royal Highness was not the only one to approve of the design. Paxton managed to win the support of no less a personage than Robert Stephenson.’ He arched an imperious eyebrow. ‘The two of them met – appropriately enough – during a train journey to London.’

‘The railway has a lot to answer for, Humphrey.’

‘More than you know,’ returned the other. ‘In the early days, when we were doing our best to oppose the scheme, it looked as if the Great Exhibition might not even take place. It was dogged by all sorts of financial problems. Then in steps Mr Peto, the railway contractor, and offers to act as guarantor for the building by putting down £50,000. Once he had led the way,’ said Gilzean, ‘others quickly followed. Mr Peto also put his weight behind the choice of Paxton as the architect.’

‘At every stage,’ noted Sholto, ‘crucial decisions have been made by those connected with the railways. You can see how they stand to reap the benefit. When the Exhibition opens, excursion trains will run from all over the country. Railway companies will make immense profits.’

‘Not if I can help it, Thomas.’

‘The men are in readiness.’

‘They had better not repeat their failure at the Kilsby Tunnel.’

‘After what you said to them, Humphrey, they would not dare. They are still shaking. You put the fear of God into them.’

‘They deserved it.’

‘I agree,’ said Sholto. ‘Have you chosen the day yet?’

‘Thursday next.’

‘I’ll give them their orders.’

‘No, Thomas,’ said Gilzean, folding up the floor plan, ‘I’ll do that myself. I intend to be at my town house in London this week. I want to hear those locomotives being blown apart.’

‘They’ll take a large part of the Crystal Palace with them. That glass is very fragile. It will shatter into millions of shards.’ Sholto laughed harshly. ‘A pity that it will happen in darkness – it should be a wondrous sight. Farewell to the Great Exhibition!’

‘Farewell to the Lord of the Isles and all those other locomotives,’ said Gilzean, bitterly. I’ll never forgive the railways for what they did to me. My ambition is to act as a scourge to the whole damnable industry.’

The meeting was not accidental. As she came out of the shop, Madeleine Andrews was confronted by Gideon Little, who pretended that he was about to go in. Since he lived half a mile away, and had several shops in the vicinity of his house, there was no need for him to be in Camden at all. After greeting Madeleine, he invented an excuse.

‘I thought of calling on your father again,’ he said, diffidently.

‘He is asleep, Gideon. It is not a good time to visit.’

‘Then I’ll come another time.’

‘Father is always pleased to see you.’

‘What about you, Madeleine?’

‘I, too, am pleased,’ she said, briskly. ‘I believe that any friend of Father’s is welcome at our house, especially if he is a railwayman.’

‘I am not talking about Caleb,’ he said, quietly.

‘I know.’

‘Then why do you not answer my question?’

There was a long and uncomfortable pause. When she walked to the end of the street to buy some provisions, Madeleine had not expected to be cornered by a man whose devotion to her had reached almost embarrassing proportions. She had tried, in the past, to discourage him as gently as she could but Gideon Little had a keen ally in her father and a quiet tenacity that drove him on past all her of rebuffs. Madeleine had the uneasy feeling that he had been lurking outside the house in case she came out.

‘Why are you not at work?’ she asked.

‘I was on the early shift today.’

‘Then you must be very tired.’

‘Not when I have a chance to see you, Madeleine.’ He offered a hand. ‘Let me carry your bag for you.’

‘No, thank you. I can manage.’

He was hurt. ‘Will you not even let me do that?’

‘I have to go, Gideon.’

‘No,’ he said, stepping sideways to block her path, ‘you have walked away from me once too often, Madeleine, and it has to stop. I think it’s time you gave me an answer.’

‘You know the answer,’ she said, seeing the mingled hope and determination in his eyes. ‘Do I really have to put it in words?’

‘Yes.’

‘Gideon – ‘

‘At the very least, I deserve that. It’s been two years now,’ he told her. ‘Two years of waiting, wanting, making plans for the two of us.’

‘They were your plans – not ours.’

‘Will you not even listen to what they are?’

‘No,’ she said with polite firmness. ‘There would be no point.’

‘Why are you so unkind to me? Do you hate me that much?’

‘Of course not, Gideon. I like you. I always have. But the plain truth is – and you must surely realise this by now – that I can never see you as anything more than a friend.’

‘Never?’ he pleaded.

‘Never, Gideon.’

Madeleine did not want to be so blunt with him but she had been left with no choice. Her father’s condition gave Gideon Little an opportunity to call at the house on a regular basis, and he would try to urge his suit each time. The prospect dismayed Madeleine. It was better to risk offending him now than to let him harry her and build up his expectations. Wounded by her rejection, Little stared at her in disbelief, as if she had just thrust a dagger into him. His pain slowly gave way to a deep resentment.

‘You were not always so cruel to me, Madeleine,’ he said.

‘You asked for the truth.’

‘We were real friends once.’

‘We still are, Gideon.’

‘No,’ he said, glaring at her. ‘Since Caleb was injured, something has changed. You no longer have any interest in me. A fireman on the railway is beneath you now.’

‘Let me go past, please.’

‘Not until we settle this. You’ve met someone else, Madeleine.’

‘I have to get back.’

‘Someone you think is better than me. Don’t lie,’ he said, holding up a hand before she could issue a denial. ‘Your father has noticed it and so have I. When you went to see Inspector Colbeck for the second time, I followed you. I saw the way you looked at him.’

Madeleine was furious. ‘You followed me?’

‘I knew that you wanted to see him again.’

‘You had no right to do that.’

‘Caleb told me how you behaved when the Inspector came to the house. He said that you put your best dress on for him. You never did that for me, Madeleine.’

‘This has gone far enough, Gideon,’ she asserted. ‘Following me? That’s dreadful. How could you do such a thing?’

‘I wanted to see where you were going.’

‘What I do and where I go is my business. The only reason I spoke to Inspector Colbeck again is that he is investigating the train robbery in which Father was injured.’

‘Yet you never even mentioned it to Caleb,’ said Gideon, hands on his hips. ‘When I asked him if you had been back to Whitehall, he shook his head. Why did you mislead him, Madeleine?’

‘Never you mind,’ she said, flustered.

‘But I do mind. This means a lot to me.’

Madeleine tried to move. ‘Father will be expecting me.’

‘You told me that he was asleep.’

‘I want to be there when he wakes up.’

‘Why?’ he challenged, obstructing her path. ‘Are you going to admit that you went out of your way to see Inspector Colbeck again because you like him so much?’

‘No,’ she retorted. ‘I am going to tell him that I do not want you in the house again. I’m ashamed of you for what you did, Gideon.’ She brushed past him. ‘I will not be spied on by anyone.’

‘Madeleine!’ he cried, suddenly penitent.

‘Leave me be.’

‘I did not mean to upset you like that.’

But she was deaf to his entreaties. Hurrying along the pavement, she reached her house, let herself in and closed the door firmly behind her. Gideon Little had no doubt what she felt about him now.

On the third night, Victor Leeming’s faith in the Inspector began to weaken slightly. It was well past midnight at the Crystal Palace and there had been neither sight nor sound of any intruders. Leeming feared that they were about to have another long and uneventful vigil.

‘Are you sure that they will come, sir?’ he whispered.

‘Sooner or later,’ replied Colbeck.

‘Let someone else take over from us.’

‘Do you want to miss all the excitement, Victor?’

‘There’s been precious little of that so far, Inspector. We’ve had two nights of tedium and, since the place is in darkness, we cannot even divert ourselves by looking at the exhibits. Also,’ he complained, shifting his position, ‘it is so uncomfortable here.’

Colbeck grinned. ‘I did not have time to instal four-poster beds.’

The detectives were in one of the massive exhibition halls, concealed behind Liverpool, a standard gauge locomotive designed for the London and North Western Railway by Thomas Crampton. Built for high speed, it had eight foot driving wheels and an unprecedentedly large heating surface. Having learnt its specifications, Colbeck had passed them to Leeming in the course of the first night, trying in vain to interest his Sergeant in the facts that the boiler pressure was 120 per square inch and that the cylinders were 18 by 24 inches. All that Leeming wanted was to be at home in bed with his wife, whose total ignorance of locomotives he now saw as a marital blessing.

‘I think that Liverpool has a chance of winning a gold medal,’ said Colbeck, giving the engine a friendly pat. ‘That would really annoy Daniel Gooch at the Great Western.’

‘I think that we deserve a gold medal for keeping watch like this,’ said Leeming, yawning involuntarily. ‘Mr Tallis had a feeling that we’d be chasing shadows.’

‘Try to get some sleep, Victor.’

‘On a floor as hard as this?’

‘In any surveillance operation, you have to make the best of the conditions that you are given. We are, after all, indoors,’ said Colbeck. ‘Would you rather be outside in all that drizzle?’

‘No, Inspector.’

‘Then cheer up a little. We could be on the brink of an arrest.’

‘Then again,’ said Leeming under his breath, ‘we could not.’

‘Go on, Victor. Put your head down.’

‘There’s no point.’

‘Yes, there is. You need some sleep.’

‘What about you, Inspector?’

‘I prefer to stay on duty. If anything happens, I’ll wake you.’

‘And if nothing happens?’

‘In that case,’ said Colbeck, beaming, ‘you’ll be able to tell your grandchildren that you once slept beneath one of the finest locomotives of its day. Good night, Victor. Remember not to snore.’

There were three of them. Having studied the plan that had been obtained for them by Sir Humphrey Gilzean, they were familiar with the layout of the Great Exhibition. Their leader, Arthur Jukes, a big bulky man in his thirties with ginger whiskers, had taken the precaution of visiting the site on the previous night to reconnoitre the area and to look for potential hazards. They were few in number. Security was light and the guards who patrolled the exterior of the Crystal Palace could be easily evaded. As he and his companions crouched in their hiding place, Jukes had no qualms about the success of the operation.

‘We should’ve done it last night,’ said Harry Seymour, the youngest of the three. ‘When it wasn’t so bleeding wet.’

‘This drizzle will help us, Harry. It will put the guards off. They’ll want to stay in the dry with a pipe of baccy.’

‘So would I, Arthur.’

‘You ready to tell that to Sir Humphrey?’

Seymour trembled. ‘Not me!’

‘Nor me,’ said his brother, Vernon, the third of the men. ‘It was bad enough facing Tom Sholto after that mishap at the Kilsby Tunnel. But Sir Humphrey was far worse,’ he recalled with a grimace. ‘I thought he was going to horsewhip us.’

‘He’ll do more than that if we fail,’ said Harry Seymour.

Jukes was confident. ‘No chance of that,’ he boasted, looking to see of the coast was clear. ‘Are you ready, lads?’

‘Ready,’ said the brothers in unison.

‘Then let’s go.’

Keeping low and moving swiftly, Jukes headed for the entrance to the north transept. Harry and Vernon Seymour followed him, carrying a barrel of gunpowder between them in a large canvas bag with rope handles. The three of them reached the door without being seen. Jukes had brought a lamp with him and he used it to illumine the lock so that he could work away at it with his tools. In less than a minute, it clicked open and he eased the door back on its hinges. The three of them went quickly inside. Jukes immediately closed the metal cover on the lamp so that the flame would not be reflected in the vast acreage of glass that surrounded them. Having memorised the floor plan, he knew exactly where to go.

Shutting the door behind them, they paused to take their bearings. In the gloom of the transept, everything was seen in ghostly outline. High above them, under a film of drizzle, was the magnificent arched roof of the transept, so tall that it allowed trees to continue growing beneath it, thereby providing an outdoor element in an essentially indoor space. Ahead of them, they knew, was the refreshment court and, beyond that, heard but not seen, was the first of the fountains that had been built. Harry Seymour remembered something else he had seen on the plan.

‘We go past the exhibits from India,’ he noted.

‘So what?’ said his brother.

‘We could look at that stuffed elephant they got.’

‘I saw enough real ones when we was over there, Harry.’

‘So did I,’ added Jukes, ‘and we’re not here to admire the place. We got orders. Let’s obey them and be quick about it.’

Followed by the two brothers, he swung to the right and took a pathway that led between statues, exhibits and the forest of iron pillars that supported the structure. They did not even pause beside the stuffed elephant with its opulent howdah. Their interest was in the section devoted to Railways and Steam. It was in between an area set aside for Machinery in Motion and one shared by Printing and French Machinery, and Models and Naval Architecture. By the time that the shape of the first locomotive emerged from the darkness, all three of them were feeling a rush of exhilaration. They were about to earn a lot of money.

After peering at the various exhibits, Jukes stood beside one of the biggest on display and ran a hand over it. He was satisfied.

‘This is the one,’ he declared.

‘How do you know?’ asked Harry Seymour.

‘Because I can feel the name with my fingers. This is the Lord of the Isles. Put that gunpowder underneath her, lads, then we’ll blow her to smithereens.’

‘Let me light the fuse this time, Arthur.’

‘Nobody is lighting any fuse,’ shouted Colbeck.

‘Not when I’m in here, at any rate,’ said Brendan Mulryne, popping up in the tender and vaulting to the ground. ‘Now which one of you bastards was ready to send me to my Maker?’

Colbeck marched towards them. ‘All three of you are under arrest,’ he said with Victor Leeming at his side. ‘Handcuff them, Sergeant.’

‘Yes, Inspector.’

But the three men were not going to surrender easily. Swinging the barrel between them, the Seymour Brothers hurled it at Mulryne but he caught it as if it were as light as a feather. He was thrilled that the men were ready to fight. With a roar of delight, he put the barrel down, jumped forward, grabbed them both by their throats and flung them hard against the side of the locomotive. When they tried to strike back, Mulryne hit them in turn with heavy punches that sent them to their knees. Leeming stepped in quickly to handcuff the two captives.

Jukes, meanwhile, had opted to run for it, blundering his way into an area where visitors to the exhibition would be able to see machines in action as they spun flax and silk or made lace. Colbeck went after him. Although he was armed with a pistol, he did not wish to risk firing it inside the glass structure in case it caused damage. Jukes was fast but he was in unknown territory. Colbeck, on the other hand, had visited the Crystal Palace in daylight and had some idea of where the exhibits were placed. While one man collided with heavy items, the other was able to avoid them.

He overhauled Jukes by the rope-making machine, tackling him around the legs to bring him crashing to the ground. Swearing volubly, Jukes kicked him away and tried to get to his feet but Colbeck tripped him up again before flinging himself on top of the man. They grappled fiercely for a couple of minutes, each inflicting injuries on the other. With an upsurge of energy, Colbeck was eventually able to get in some telling punches to subdue his man. Bloodied and dazed, Jukes put up both hands to protect his face from further punishment.

Colbeck snapped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists before getting up. Mulryne came lumbering out of the darkness to join them. When he saw Jukes on the floor, he was disappointed.

‘Why didn’t you leave a piece of him for me, Inspector?’ he said.

CHAPTER TEN

Within the ranks of the Metropolitan Police Force, Richard Mayne had acquired an almost legendary status. A surprise appointment as Joint Commissioner when the force was founded in 1829, he had worked tirelessly to develop effective policing of the capital and, with his colleague, Colonel Charles Rowan, had tried to make London a safer place for its citizens. Since the retirement of Colonel Rowan in the previous year, Mayne had become Senior Commissioner and, as such, made all the important executive decisions.

In the normal course of events, Robert Colbeck had little direct contact with him but, in the wake of the Inspector’s success at the Crystal Palace, Mayne insisted on congratulating him in person. First thing that morning, therefore, Colbeck was summoned to his office along with Superintendent Edward Tallis who, in spite of a tinge of envy, emphasised that the idea of setting a trap at the Great Exhibition had come originally from Colbeck.

‘Well done, Inspector,’ said Mayne, shaking Colbeck’s hand.

‘Thank you, sir.’

‘Both you and your men performed a splendid service.’

‘We could not have done so without the active support of the Superintendent,’ said Colbeck, indicating Tallis. ‘He should have some share of the glory.’

‘Indeed, he should.’

He gave Tallis a nod of gratitude and the latter responded with a half-smile. Turning back to Colbeck, the Commissioner appraised the elegant Inspector.

‘I trust that you did not dress like that last night,’ he said.

‘No, sir,’ replied Colbeck. ‘I would never risk creasing my frock coat or scuffing my trousers in a situation of that kind. More practical clothing was needed. I had a feeling that some violence might occur.’

‘Yet only three of you were on duty.’

‘I reasoned that we would only have to deal with a few men. That is all it would have taken to set up the explosion. Besides, the less of us, the easier it was to conceal ourselves.’

‘I have read your report of the incident,’ said Mayne, ‘and found it admirably thorough, if unduly modest. Why not tell us what really happened, Inspector?’

Clearing his throat, Colbeck gave him a full account of how the arrests were made, praising the work of his two assistants while saying little about his own involvement. The bruising on his face and the bandaging around the knuckles of one hand told a different story. Mayne was enthralled. Irish by extraction, he was a handsome man in his mid-fifties with long wavy hair, all but encircling his face, and searching eyes. As the person in charge of the special police division, raised to take care of security at the Crystal Palace, he had a particular interest in the events of the previous night. Thanks to Colbeck and his men, the reputation of the Metropolitan Police Force had been saved.

‘Had they succeeded,’ observed Mayne, drily, ‘the results would have been quite horrific. You saved the Great Exhibition from utter destruction, Inspector Colbeck. The very least that you may expect is a letter from Prince Albert.’

‘With respect, sir,’ said Colbeck, ‘I would rather His Royal Highness stayed his hand until this investigation is over. All that we have in custody are three members of a much larger gang. Its leader remains at large and, until he is caught, we must stay on the alert.’

‘Have these villains not disclosed his identity?’

‘No, sir. They are very loyal to him.’

‘Army men, all three of them,’ said Tallis, eyebrows twitching in disapproval. ‘It shocked me that anyone who had borne arms for this country should lower himself to such an unpatriotic action as this.’

‘It is disturbing,’ agreed Mayne.

‘The Exhibition has the stamp of royalty upon it. To threaten it in this way is, in my book, tantamount to an act of treason. Left to me, they would be prosecuted accordingly.’

‘The court will decide their fate, Superintendent.’

‘The gravity of this crime must not be underestimated.’

‘It will not be, I can assure you of that.’

‘If you want my opinion –’

‘Another time,’ said Mayne, interrupting him with a raised hand. ‘Would you mind leaving us alone for a few moments, please?’ he asked. ‘I’d value a few words in private with Inspector Colbeck.’

‘Oh, I see,’ said Tallis, discomfited by the request.

‘Thank you, Superintendent.’

Tallis paused at the door. ‘I’ll want to see you in my office later on, Inspector,’ he warned.

‘Yes, sir,’ said Colbeck.

Tallis went out and closed the door behind him. Mayne sat down behind his desk and waved Colbeck to a chair opposite him. Now that the two men were alone, the mood became less formal.

‘The Superintendent is a typical army man,’ observed Mayne, ‘and I say that in no spirit of criticism. Colonel Rowan was another fine example of the breed. He had a wonderful capacity for organisation.’

‘So does the Superintendent, sir,’ said Colbeck, giving credit where it was due. ‘And unlike Colonel Rowan, he does not insist on retaining his army rank. He chooses to be plain Mister instead of Major Tallis.’

Mayne smiled. ‘He will always be Major Tallis to me,’ he said, wryly. ‘But enough of him, Inspector – tell me a little about yourself.’

‘You have my police record in front of you, sir.’

‘I am more interested in your life before you joined us. Like me, I believe, you trained as a lawyer. Were you called to the bar?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Why did you not pursue that career? I should imagine that you cut quite a figure in a courtroom.’

‘Personal circumstances had a bearing on my decision to turn my talents elsewhere,’ explained Colbeck, not wishing to provide any details. ‘In any case, I found the life of a barrister far less fulfilling than I imagined it would be.’

‘I had the same experience, Inspector. Unless one is successful, it can be an impecunious profession.’

‘Money was not that issue in my case, sir. I was disillusioned because I was always dealing with crime after the event, and it seemed to me that, with sensible policing, so much of it could have been prevented from happening in the first place.’

‘Prevention is ever our watchword.’

‘It’s the main reason that I joined the Metropolitan Police Force.’

‘You were far more educated than our average recruit.’

‘Educated in criminal law, perhaps,’ said Colbeck, ‘but I had a lot to learn about the criminal mind. One can only do that by pitting oneself against it on a daily basis.’

‘Judging by your record, you were an apt pupil.’

‘I was fortunate enough to secure an early promotion.’

‘It is we who are fortunate to have you,’ said Mayne, glancing down at the open file on his desk. ‘Though your service record has not been without its minor setbacks.’

‘I prefer to see them as my idiosyncrasies, sir.’

‘That’s not what Superintendent Tallis calls them. He has had to reprimand you more than once. This time, of course,’ he went on, closing the file, ‘he will have nothing but praise for you.’

‘I am not sure about that.’

‘You are the hero of the hour, Inspector Colbeck.’

‘There were three of us involved in that surveillance, sir.’

‘I am well aware of that.’

‘What you may not be aware of is the means by which Brendan Mulryne came to be on the scene. Sergeant Leeming had a perfect right to be there,’ said Colbeck, ‘but there is a slight problem where Mulryne is concerned. To that end, I wonder if I might ask you a favour?’

‘Please do,’ said Mayne, expansively. ‘After your achievements last night, you are in a position to ask anything.’

‘Thank you, sir. The truth is that I need your help.’

After making discreet inquiries, Thomas Sholto repaired immediately to Sir Humphrey Gilzean’s house. He steeled himself to break the bad news. Ashen with cold fury, Gilzean had already anticipated it.

‘They failed,’ he said.

‘Yes, Humphrey.’

‘They let me down again.’

‘Not for want of trying.’

‘With all that gunpowder, they could not even contrive a small explosion. I lay awake in bed, listening – and nothing happened.’

‘That’s not quite true.’

Gilzean stamped a foot. ‘They’ll wish they’d never been born!’

‘You would never get close enough to chastise them,’ said Sholto. ‘The tidings are worse than you feared. Jukes and the Seymour brothers walked into an ambush at the Crystal Palace.’

‘An ambush?’

‘All three are taken, Humphrey.’

‘What!’ exclaimed Gilzean.

‘They are in police custody. From what I can gather, this Inspector Colbeck laid a trap for them and they walked into it.’

‘But how could he possibly know that they would be there?’

‘I think that he is much cleverer than we imagined.’

Gilzean’s fury changed to concern. Dropping into a high-backed leather armchair, he became pensive. The house was in Upper Brook Street, close enough to Hyde Park for him to hear any explosion that occurred in the Crystal Palace. Long before dawn had broken, he realised that the mission had been unsuccessful but it had never crossed his mind that his men had been arrested.

‘We have one comfort,’ said Sholto. ‘They will not betray us.’

‘They have already done so, Thomas.’

‘How?’

‘By getting themselves caught,’ said Gilzean. ‘If this Inspector is clever enough to apprehend them, it will not take him long to find out that all three served in our regiment. That will set him on a trail that leads directly to us.’

‘Perhaps we should quit London and go into hiding.’

‘No, Thomas. There is no danger yet.’

‘But there soon will be.’

‘Only if we let things take their natural course.’

‘What else can we do, Humphrey?’

‘Divert them,’ said Gilzean, getting to his feet. ‘At every stage, we have relied on the slowness and inefficiency of the police. We have out-manoeuvred them with comparative ease. Until now, that is. It seems that we underestimated them, Thomas. They have one man within their ranks who has a keen intelligence.’

‘Inspector Robert Colbeck.’

‘What do we know about him?’

‘Only what we have read in the newspaper.’

‘Find out more,’ said Gilzean. ‘We need to identify his weakness. Is he married? Does he have children? Who are the loved ones in his life? If we have that information in our hands, we can distract him from his investigation and buy ourselves some valuable time.’

‘Supposing that he is a bachelor with no family ties?’

‘Every man has someone he cares about,’ insisted Gilzean, dark eyes gleaming. ‘All you have to do is to find out who it is.’

Madeleine Andrews was pleased when the visitor arrived. Still in his working clothes, Frank Pike had called on his way home from Euston Station and he had brought plenty of gossip to share with his friend. After all this time, the fireman was still blaming himself for the injury to Caleb Andrews and he began with another battery of apologies. Madeleine hoped to leave the two men alone in the bedroom but her father decided to use Pike as a court of appeal.

‘What do you think, Frank?’ he asked.

‘About what?’

‘Gideon Little.’

‘I think he’ll be a driver before I am,’ said Pike, honestly. ‘Gideon may be younger than me but he learns faster. I think that he’s one of the best fireman in the company.’

‘There you are, Maddy,’ said Andrews, pointedly.

‘I never doubted his abilities,’ she replied.

‘Gideon has a bright future ahead of him. All that he needs is a loving wife to support and cherish him.’

Pike grinned. ‘Is there an engagement in the wind?’ he asked.

‘No,’ said Madeleine.

‘Not yet, anyway,’ said Andrews.

‘Father!’

‘You may come to your senses in the end, Maddy.’

‘It would make Gideon the happiest man on the railway,’ said Pike, ‘I know that. He never stops talking about you, Madeleine. Some of the others tease him about it.’

She was roused. ‘So my name is taken in vain, is it?’

‘No, no.’

‘You and the others are having a laugh at my expense.’

‘I’d never do that, Madeleine,’ said Pike, overcome with remorse, ‘and I’m sorry if I gave you that idea. No,’ he went on, ‘I promise you that nobody would dare to mock you.’

‘They’d have me to answer to, if they did,’ said Andrews.

‘Gideon is the only one they tease.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘About me.’

‘About…being the way that he is.’

‘Besotted with my daughter,’ observed Andrews. ‘You cannot stay single for ever, Maddy. Choose the right person and marriage is the most wonderful institution ever invented. Am I right, Frank?’

‘Yes, Caleb.’

‘Do you wish that you were still a bachelor?’

‘Not for a moment,’ said Pike, chuckling merrily. ‘Rose has made me very happy and she seems to be content with me.’

Andrews cackled. ‘Heaven knows why!’

‘Getting married changed my life for the better.’

‘You hear that, Maddy?’

‘I can recommend it,’ said Pike.

‘So can I,’ said Andrews. ‘How much longer do we have to wait?’

Madeleine did not trust herself to reply. She was fond of Frank Pike and did not wish to have a quarrel with her father in front of him. More to the point, she did not want to deal with an issue that, as far as she was concerned, had finally been settled. Hounded for a decision, Madeleine had told Gideon Little the painful truth. What she had not admitted was that her affections had been placed elsewhere. For a woman like her, Robert Colbeck might be unobtainable but that only served to increase his attraction.

‘I’ll make some tea,’ she said, and went out abruptly.

Since a window had been opened to admit fresh air, the office was free from the stink of cigar smoke for once yet the atmosphere remained unpleasant. Superintendent Edward Tallis was spoiling for a fight. He stood inches away from Inspector Colbeck.

‘Whatever did you think you were doing?’ he yelled.

‘Taking the necessary steps to achieve an objective, sir.’

‘Brendan Mulryne was supposed to be in custody.’

‘Arrangements were made,’ said Colbeck.

‘What sort of arrangements?’

‘I looked more closely at the charges against him, Superintendent. There are several witnesses at The Black Dog in the Devil’s Acre, who will swear that Mulryne did not start the affray. He was not even there when it flared up. Mulryne is paid to quell such outbursts. Those he knocked out during the brawl certainly have no complaint against him. They made the mistake of taking on a stronger man. As for the damage he caused to a window,’ he revealed, ‘nobody is prepared to bring a charge against him on that account.’

‘That Irish gorilla assaulted four policemen,’ said Tallis.

‘Only because they provoked him, sir,’ replied Colbeck, ‘and they now admit that. I spoke to the custody sergeant. Since he’s been behind bars, Mulryne has been a model prisoner. He’s even made his peace with the four men who tried to arrest him.’

‘Turning on that blarney of his no doubt!’

‘Mulryne was one of them, remember. In his heart, I suspect, he would still like to be.’

‘Not as long as I have anything to say about it!’

‘I raised the matter with Mr Mayne earlier on.’

Tallis was horrified. ‘You tried to get Mulryne reinstated?’

‘No,’ said Colbeck, ‘that would have been asking too much and, in any case, it’s too late for that. No, Superintendent, I wanted to discuss a point of law with him.’

‘When it comes to law, you only need to know one thing with regard to Brendan Mulryne. He’s on the wrong side of it.’

‘Technically, he’s not.’

‘He resisted arrest.’

‘The four officers involved see it rather differently now.’

‘They cannot change their minds about a thing like that.’

‘According to Mr Mayne,’ said Colbeck, levelly, ‘they can. If, on mature reflection, they feel that their report of the incident was slightly inaccurate, they can amend it when they give their statements in court. Like me, Mr Mayne agreed that Mulryne should get off with a small fine.’

‘A small fine!’ roared Tallis.

‘I will be happy to pay it on his behalf.’

‘Inspector, he attacked four policemen.’

‘I prefer to remember the two villains whom he took on last night, sir. Both were armed but Mulryne squared up to them nevertheless. All that Sergeant Leeming had to do was to snap on the handcuffs.’

‘Mulryne had no right to be there in the first place.’

‘You said that I had a free hand to choose my men.’

‘I assumed they would be from inside the police force.’

‘Nobody else could have done what Mulryne did last night.’

‘That does not exonerate him, Inspector,’ said Tallis, sourly. ‘Or you, for that matter.’

Colbeck met his glare. ‘Mr Mayne felt that it did, sir,’ he pointed out, calmly. ‘Since you feel so strongly about it, perhaps you should take it up with him.’

Tallis was halted in his tracks. Whatever else he did, he could not countermand the orders of his superior. Colbeck not only had the Police Commissioner on his side, he had, by effecting the three arrests at the Crystal Palace, earned the admiration of the whole department. A vital breakthrough had at last been made in the investigation. To harry him after such a triumph would be seen as sheer vindictiveness. Tallis retreated to the safety of his desk and took out a cigar from its case. Inhaling deeply as he ignited it, he watched Colbeck through the smoke.

‘I will remember this, Inspector,’ he said, sternly.

‘It is all a matter of record, Superintendent.’

‘What do you intend to do now?’

‘Question the three men in custody,’ said Colbeck. ‘They may not give us the name that we want but we can still squeeze some information out of them. Arthur Jukes is their leader. I’ll start with him. To be frank, I hoped that you might join me, sir.’

‘Me?’

‘You know how to speak to an army man.’

‘That’s true,’ said Tallis, slightly mollified, ‘though all three of them are a disgrace to their regiment. If they were still in uniform, they’d be court-martialled.’

‘Make that point to them,’ advised Colbeck. ‘If I introduce you as Major Tallis, it will increase your authority. Do you agree, sir?’

Tallis straightened his back. ‘Yes, Inspector. I think that I do.’

‘And we will need the services of an artist.’

‘An artist?’

‘To draw sketches of the three men,’ explained Colbeck. ‘I want to see if Caleb Andrews recognises any of them. Since he is unable to come here to identify the prisoners, we will have to take a likeness of them to him. He might pick out the man who assaulted him.’

‘The fireman can do that – what was his name?’

‘Frank Pike.’

‘Arrange for him to call here.’

‘I will, sir,’ said Colbeck, smoothly, ‘but I think that Mr Andrews is entitled to have a first look at these three men. After all, he was the real victim.’

‘True enough.’

‘He also deserves to know that we have taken such an important step forward in the investigation. When we finish questioning the prisoners, I’ll go across to Camden to apprise him of the situation. I have more than one reason for wishing to see him,’ he added, thinking of Madeleine. ‘Please put an artist to work as soon as you can.’

Thomas Sholto moved swiftly. In the space of a few hours, he had gathered sufficient information about Robert Colbeck to take back to the house in Upper Brook Street. Sir Humphrey Gilzean was waiting for him. When his manservant showed the visitor into the drawing room, Gilzean got to his feet with urgency.

‘Well?’ he said.

‘I arrived just in time, Humphrey.’

‘In what way?’

‘When I got to Scotland Yard, there was a crowd of reporters waiting to hear details of the arrests. I mingled with them.’

‘Did you get inside?’

‘Yes,’ said Sholto, ‘I pretended that I worked for a provincial newspaper. Nobody paid any attention to me, tucked away at the back.’

‘Who gave the statement? Inspector Colbeck?’

‘No, it was Superintendent Tallis. A military man, by the look of him. He introduced us to the Inspector but would not let him answer any questions. Tallis has taken some severe criticism in the press,’ explained Sholto. ‘He wanted to make sure that he was seen in a better light this time. That’s why he stole all the attention.’

‘So what exactly did take place at the Crystal Palace last night?’

‘Three men lay in wait near the locomotives. When Jukes and the others gained entry, they were promptly arrested.’

‘Three against three? Why did they not fight their way out?’

‘They tried, Humphrey, but they were soon overpowered.’

‘Inspector Colbeck is a brave man,’ said Gilzean, ‘but he took a foolish risk when he fought on equal terms. He is obviously no soldier or he would have had a dozen policemen at his back.’

‘Nevertheless, he got the better of Jukes and the Seymours.’

‘How on earth did he come to be there in the first place? Was it a complete coincidence or a case of inspired guesswork?’

‘Neither,’ replied Sholto. ‘According to the Superintendent, they realised that the shipment of glass for the Great Exhibition was the intended target of the Kilsby Tunnel explosion. That led them on – at least, it led Inspector Colbeck on – to the conviction that the locomotives on display at the Crystal Palace were in potential danger. Last night was the third during which he kept vigil.’

‘A patient man, clearly.’

‘And a powerful one. It seems that he tackled Arthur Jukes on his own and beat him into submission – even though he had to take a few blows himself.’

‘Jukes is a tough character. He would have fought like a tiger.’

‘The tiger has now been caged.’

Gilzean nodded soulfully. It had given him pleasure to organise the train robbery, to inflict damage on a railway company and to outwit the detectives who were put in charge of the case. The murders of William Ings and Daniel Slender had been necessities rather than sources of enjoyment, though they had also been carried out in order to muddy the waters of the investigation. Someone, it now transpired, was able to see clearly through muddy waters and it was troubling.

‘What manner of man is this Robert Colbeck?’ he asked.

‘A positive dandy.’

‘Yet able to acquit himself well in a fight.’

‘I’d not like to take him on, Humphrey.’

Sholto went on to give of description of Colbeck’s appearance and behaviour. Since the Inspector was clearly known to the other reporters, Sholto had taken the trouble to talk to as many of them as possible, picking up all kinds of anecdotes about Colbeck. He retailed them to Gilzean, who assimilated all the facts he had been given.

‘Tall, handsome, single,’ he noted. ‘He must be a ladies’ man.’

‘Apparently not.’

Gilzean was curious. ‘Are you telling me that he seeks exclusively male company?’

‘No,’ said Sholto. ‘I would never accuse him of that.’

‘Then he must have a social life of some kind.’

‘One of the reporters told me that Colbeck is something of a mystery. He trained as a lawyer, went to the bar, then, for some inexplicable reason, chose to become a policeman.’

‘There’s no such thing as an inexplicable reason, Thomas. A man would only make such a radical change of direction if he were prompted by just cause. It would help us if we knew what it was.’

‘There was one rumour.’

‘Go on.’

‘Someone told me that there had been an incident in his past,’ said Sholto, ‘involving a broken engagement.’

‘Now we are getting somewhere!’

‘It was some years ago, apparently.’

‘Who was the lady in question?’

‘I did not get a name.’

‘See if you can discover what it is, Thomas,’ said Gilzean. ‘We may be able to use it as a lever. Inspector Robert Colbeck must have some human contact, surely. No parents still alive, no brothers or sisters, no close friends – I do not believe it. There has to be someone.’

‘How can we find out?’

‘By having him followed.’

‘That will not be easy.’

‘He does not spend twenty-four hours a day at Scotland Yard. And when he leaves, I doubt if he always goes home to an empty house. Have him followed, Thomas,’ he instructed. ‘We’ll soon unravel the mystery of Robert Colbeck.’

When she finally had some time to herself, Madeleine Andrews chose to read the newspaper cuttings that she had kept since the train robbery. Her father’s injuries were mentioned but the name that she paid most attention to was that of Robert Colbeck, wondering how she could manage to meet him again without seeming forward. Madeleine recalled their last conversation and smiled. She was still annoyed that she had been followed to Scotland Yard by Gideon Little but that did not prevent her feeling a pang of sympathy for him. If he were so obsessed with Madeleine that he would shadow her across London, he had to be pitied. She hoped that he would find someone else to whom he could transfer his stifling affections.

There was a loud knock at the door. Fearing that it might be Gideon Little, she was minded to ignore the caller at first but her father’s yell from upstairs made that impossible. It might well be another visitor for him and she was grateful for anyone who could offer him some distraction. Putting the cuttings away in a drawer, therefore, she went to open the front door.

‘Oh, my goodness!’ she cried.

Her exclamation blended pleasure with sheer fright. While she was overjoyed to see Colbeck standing there, she was shocked at the sight of the bruising on his face.

‘Hello, Miss Andrews,’ he said, raising his hat.

‘What happened to you?’ she asked with concern.

‘That is what I came to tell you.’

She noticed the bandage. ‘And your hand is injured as well.’

‘A minor problem. Is it convenient for me to come in?’

‘Yes, yes,’ said Madeleine, backing away and wishing that she had known that he was about to call. ‘Forgive my appearance.’

‘I see nothing whatsoever wrong with it.’

‘This is my working dress, Inspector.’

‘And very charming you look in it, Miss Andrews.’

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Do you wish to see Father?’

‘Yes, please. I have some good news for both of you.’

She led him up the staircase and he watched her hips swaying entrancingly to and fro in front of him. Stepping into the bedroom, he was greeted by a look of surprise from Caleb Andrews.

‘Have you been fighting, Inspector?’ he said, staring at his face.

‘A light scuffle, Mr Andrews,’ replied Colbeck. ‘Nothing more. My injuries pale beside yours even though we may possibly have come up against the same man.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Three arrests were made last night. The men were all members of the gang involved in the train robbery.’

‘At last!’ said Madeleine.

‘We still have to round up the others, of course, but we feel that we are definitely closing in on them now. Last night was a turning point.’

‘Tell us why, Inspector,’ urged Andrews. ‘We want the details.’

Without even saying that they had been acting on his initiative, Colbeck told them about the successful ambush at the Crystal Palace and gave them the names of the three men in custody. Madeleine clapped her hands together in delight but her father shook his head.

‘Those names mean nothing to me,’ he said.

‘Perhaps their faces will, Mr Andrews.’

‘You’re going to bring the rogues here for me to see them?’

‘I already have,’ said Colbeck, taking some sheets of paper from inside his coat and opening them out. ‘These are only sketches, mark you, but I think that the artist caught the salient features of each man. Here,’ he went on, passing the first sketch to Andrews, ‘this is Harry Seymour. Do you recognise him?’

‘No,’ said Andrews, squinting at the paper. ‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘What about his brother, Vernon?’

‘Let me see.’ He took the second sketch then shook his head. ‘No, this is not the man either. He was bigger and with an uglier face.’

‘Perhaps it was Arthur Jukes, then,’ said Colbeck, showing him the last drawing. ‘Ignore the black eye,’ he advised. ‘That’s what I gave him when he had the temerity to fight back. Those whiskers of his are ginger, by the way.’

‘It’s him!’ asserted Andrews, waving the paper. ‘This is him!’

‘Are you certain?’

‘As certain as I am of anything. This is the devil who hit me.’

‘Then that’s one more charge for him to answer.’

‘Frank Pike was there as well,’ recalled Madeleine. ‘He probably got a closer look at this man than Father.’

‘I intend to call on Mr Pike to show him these sketches,’ said Colbeck. ‘If he agrees with your father that Jukes is the man, he can come and see him in person, just to make sure.’

‘Take me along as well, Inspector,’ said Andrews.

‘No, Father,’ said Madeleine. ‘You must stay here.’

‘I want to tell that villain what I think of him, Maddy.’

‘Mr Pike will surely do that on your behalf,’ said Colbeck, taking the sketches back and slipping them into his pocket. ‘Well, I’m delighted that we have such a positive identification.’

‘How many other men are involved?’ wondered Madeleine.

‘That has yet to be determined, Miss Andrews, but we intend to hunt down each and every one. Apart from the robbery, there are two murders and an explosion at Kilsby Tunnel to be laid at their door.’

‘And an attempted outrage at the Crystal Palace.’

‘Blowing up those wonderful locomotives?’ said Andrews, still appalled at the idea. ‘That’s worse than a crime – it’s downright evil.’

‘They were all saved for the visitors to enjoy them,’ said Colbeck. ‘And what amazing machines they are! After spending three nights lying beneath Liverpool, I got to know her extremely well. Mr Crampton is a brilliant man.’

‘A genius, Inspector.’

‘I only wish that I could persuade Sergeant Leeming of that. He hates trains, I fear, and being forced to sleep under a locomotive did not endear him to the notion of rail travel.’

‘Who is Sergeant Leeming?’ said Andrews.

‘Your daughter will explain – she’s met him. Well,’ said Colbeck, ‘now that I’ve passed on the glad tidings, I’ll be on my way.’ He smiled at the invalid. ‘I’m pleased to see that you’re looking somewhat better, Mr Andrews.’

‘I can’t say the same about you, Inspector.’

‘That’s not very tactful, Father,’ said Madeleine.

‘It’s an honest comment, Maddy.’

‘It is,’ agreed Colbeck. ‘When I saw myself in the shaving mirror this morning, I had quite a shock. It looks far worse than it feels.’

After trading farewells, he went downstairs and made for the front door. Madeleine was at his heels, determined to have a word with him alone. When he let himself out, she stood on the doorstep. Colbeck kept his top hat in his hand while he talked.

‘I hope that the news will act as a tonic for your father,’ he said.

‘It will, Inspector. It has certainly cheered me.’

‘I have the feeling that he can be a difficult patient.’

‘Quite impossible at times.’

‘Fretful and demanding?’

‘Only on good days, Inspector.’

They shared a laugh and he watched her cheeks dimple again. She had a way of putting her head slightly to one side that intrigued him. For her part, she noticed the sparkle of interest in his eyes. It implanted a distant hope in her breast.

‘Where are you going now?’ she asked.

‘To call on Frank Pike,’ he replied. ‘After that, I have to go straight back to Scotland Yard.’

‘Do you never rest, Inspector?’

‘Not when I am in the middle of an investigation.’

‘Your family must miss you terribly.’

‘I live alone, Miss Andrews,’ he said, glad of the opportunity to reveal his circumstances. ‘My parents died some years ago and I have never felt it entirely fair to invite anyone to share the life of a detective.’ He pointed to his face. ‘What wife wishes to see her husband coming home like this, especially after he has been absent from the marital couch for three nights?’

‘Some wives have to put up with a lot more than that, Inspector.’

‘By choice?’

‘Of course,’ she said, earnestly. ‘If a woman really loves her husband, then she will happily endure all the disadvantages that his job might bring. I know that that was my mother’s attitude. Being the wife of a railwayman has many drawbacks, believe me.’

‘Is that why you spurned the opportunity yourself?’

‘Not at all.’

‘But I understood you to say that you had rejected your suitor.’

‘Only because he was not the right man for me,’ she explained. ‘It was nothing to do with his occupation. If Gideon had been the husband of my choice, it would not have mattered whether he were a railwayman or a road sweeper.’

‘I see that you are a romantic, Miss Andrews.’

‘I have always thought of myself as a practical woman.’

‘Even a practical woman can have romantic inclinations,’ he said, holding her gaze for a long time. ‘However,’ he added, putting his hat on, ‘I must not keep you talking out here in the street. You have things to do and I have somewhere to go. Goodbye, Miss Andrews.’

‘Goodbye, Inspector.’

She offered her hand in the expectation that he would shake it but Colbeck instead brought it to his lips and planted a gentle kiss on it. Madeleine was thrilled and he was pleased with her reaction. The tender moment between them did not go unobserved. Seated in a cab a little way down the street was a man who had followed Colbeck all the way from Scotland Yard. Watching the two of them in conversation, he felt that he would have something of great interest to report.

Superintendent Tallis could not believe his eyes. As he stepped into the corridor, he saw Brendan Mulryne walking jauntily towards him, a broad smile covering his battered face. The Irishman offered his hand.

‘Good day to you, Superintendent,’ he said, cordially.

‘What, in the name of Christ, are you doing here?’ demanded Tallis, declining the handshake. ‘You should be locked up.’

‘I’ve been released on bail.’

‘On whose authority?’

‘Mr Mayne himself,’ said the Irishman. ‘I’ve just spoken to him. He wanted to congratulate me on the help that I gave at the Crystal Palace. I’m moving up in the world,’ he went on, chuckling. ‘I never thought that I’d get to meet a Police Commissioner face to face.’

‘You should not have been at the Crystal Palace in the first place.’

‘Inspector Colbeck wanted me there.’

‘He was exceeding his authority.’

‘What does it matter, sir?’

‘It matters a great deal, Mulryne,’ said Tallis, acidly, ‘as you should know. A police force is run on discipline. It was a lesson that you never learnt when you were in uniform.’

‘There were too many rules and regulations.’

‘You managed to break each and every one of them.’

Mulryne beamed. ‘I never was a man for half-measures.’

‘You were an embarrassment to all of us.’

‘Inspector Colbeck doesn’t think so. Neither does Mr Mayne. By the way, Superintendent, did you know that we had something in common – me and the Police Commissioner, that is?’

‘Beyond the fact that you both happen to be Irish,’ said Tallis, superciliously, ‘I can’t see the slightest affinity.’

‘That’s because you don’t know my background, see. It turns out that Mr Mayne’s father was one of the judges of the Court of King’s Bench in Dublin. In short,’ said Mulryne, cheerily, ‘he must have been the same Judge Mayne that sent my father to prison for three years for a crime that he didn’t commit.’

‘I should have guessed that you’re the son of a convicted criminal.’

‘It was the reason I wanted to be a policeman.’

‘Old habits die hard, Mulryne.’

‘Yes,’ said the other, ‘so I notice, Superintendent. You still have a habit of smoking those foul cigars.’ He sniffed Tallis’s lapel. ‘Sure, I can smell the stink of them in your clothes.’

Tallis pushed him away. ‘Get off, man – and get out of here!’

‘Is there any chance of a word with Inspector Colbeck first?’

‘No, the Inspector is busy.’

‘I don’t mind waiting.’

‘I’ll not have you on the premises. Besides,’ he said, ‘Inspector Colbeck may be some time. He is about to question one of the men who was arrested last night.’

‘Have they given you the names of their accomplices yet?’

‘Unfortunately, they have not.’

‘Then you should let me talk to them,’ offered Mulryne, pounding a fist into the palm of the other hand. ‘Put me in a cell with one of them and I’d have him talking his head off inside two minutes.’

‘We do not resort to violence.’

‘A crying shame!’

‘In any case, even you would not be able to beat a confession out of them. I have been interrogating criminals for several years but I could not break down their resistance.’

‘Maybe you asked the wrong questions.’

‘Inspector Colbeck is seeing one of the men for the second time,’ explained Tallis. ‘He feels that he now has a means of opening the man’s mouth a little.’

Frank Pike had no hesitation in identifying the man. When he saw Arthur Jukes through the bars of his cell, he picked him out immediately as the person who had clubbed Caleb Andrews to the ground and forced the fireman to drive the locomotive off the track. Pike also recognised the Seymour brothers as having been involved in the robbery. Robert Colbeck’s problem was to get the fireman out of there. Confronted with the man who had held a pistol on him, Pike wanted retribution and, denied the opportunity to attack the man, he yelled abuse at Jukes through the bars. Jukes replied in kind and the air was blue with ripe language. Colbeck needed the help of Victor Leeming to hustle the visitor out of the area.

When Pike had left, the detectives questioned Jukes in a room that contained nothing beyond a table and three chairs. Still handcuffed, Jukes was surly and withdrawn.

‘You have been formally identified as the man who assaulted the driver of that train,’ said Colbeck. ‘Do you admit the crime?’

‘No,’ replied Jukes.

‘Mr Andrews himself identified the artist’s sketch of you.’

‘So?’

‘We have two eyewitnesses, Mr Jukes.’

‘Had Mr Andrews died from his injuries,’ said Leeming, ‘you might now be facing a charge of murder. That’s a hanging offence.’

‘Mr Jukes might still have the opportunity to mount the gallows,’ Colbeck reminded him. ‘The murders of William Ings and Daniel Slender have yet to be accounted for. Were you responsible for those, Mr Jukes?’

‘No,’ asserted the other.

‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m no killer, Inspector Colbeck.’

‘Yet the army taught you how to take a man’s life.’

‘That was different.’

‘Did you kill anyone when you were in uniform?’

‘Only in combat.’

‘You have admitted something at last,’ said Colbeck, watching the prisoner’s eyes. ‘We are starting to make progress.’

‘What about the explosion at the Kilsby Tunnel?’ asked Leeming. ‘I suppose that you were not party to that either.’

‘No,’ said Jukes. ‘This is the first I’ve heard about it.’

‘I think that you are lying.’

‘You may think what you wish, Sergeant.’

‘Since we caught you with a barrel of gunpowder at the Crystal Palace, it’s logical to assume that you caused the earlier explosion. You and your accomplices are obviously experienced in such work.’

Jukes was stony-faced. ‘Are we?’

‘Let me ask you another question,’ said Colbeck, changing his tack. ‘Why did you leave the army?’

‘Because I only enlisted for a certain number of years.’

‘What occupation did you take up?’

‘That’s my business.’

‘Discharged soldiers often find it difficult to get employment.’

‘I managed,’ said Jukes, uneasily.

‘Even though you had no trade to follow?’

‘One of the Seymour brothers told us that he worked as a slaughterman in an abattoir,’ said Leeming. ‘Is that the sort of job you were forced to take, Mr Jukes?’

‘Of course not,’ snarled the prisoner.

‘You must have done something,’ argued Colbeck. ‘When you were arrested, you were wearing a wedding ring. I remember feeling it when you punched me,’ he said, rubbing his chin. ‘That means you have a wife to support, Mr Jukes. How did you do it?’

‘Leave my wife out of this!’

‘Do you have children, by any chance?’

‘My family do not go short.’

‘But they will suffer now, won’t they?’ Jukes scowled at him before turning his head away. ‘What I am trying to suggest to you,’ said Colbeck, gently, ‘is that you may have been earning a paltry wage – or, perhaps, were actually out of work – when you received the invitation to take part in a train robbery. You are not, by instinct, a criminal, Mr Jukes. What drove you to break the law was the desire to do better for your family.’

‘Is that true?’ pressed Leeming.

‘Does your wife know where all that money came from?’

‘Did you tell her what you were going to do at the Crystal Palace?’

Jukes said nothing but his silence was eloquent. As he stared unseeingly in front of him, there was a deep sadness in his eyes. The detectives noted how tense the prisoner’s whole body had become.

‘There is only one way to help yourself,’ advised Colbeck, ‘and that is by cooperating with us. Any assistance you give will be looked upon favourably by the judge.’

‘It could well lead to a reduction in your sentence,’ said Leeming.

‘So tell us, Mr Jukes. Who organised the train robbery?’

‘Was it someone you met in the army?’

‘Or someone you were introduced to by the Seymour brothers? We will catch the man before long, Mr Jukes,’ said Colbeck, ‘make no mistake about that. But you are in a position to save us time and trouble. Now, then,’ he went on, leaning forward across the table, ‘why not think of your own plight and seek to ease it? Give us his name.’

‘Never,’ retorted Jukes.

‘Your loyalty is mistaken.’

‘You’re the one who’s mistaken, Inspector. You may have had the luck to catch us but that’s as far as you’ll get. Harry and Vernon are like me. We’d sooner hang than tell you the name you want. As for catching him before long,’ he added with a mocking laugh, ‘you are in for a big surprise. He can run rings around the Metropolitan Police Force. You’ll never catch him in a month of Sundays.’

It happened in broad daylight. Madeleine Andrews had just made her father comfortable in bed next morning when she heard a knock at the front door. She glanced through the bedroom window and saw a uniformed policeman below. Thinking that he might have brought more news, she hurried downstairs to open the door. The policeman, a bearded man with a polite manner, touched the brim of his hat.

‘Miss Madeleine Andrews?’ he inquired.

‘Yes.’

‘I have come with a request from Inspector Colbeck. He wonders if you could spare an hour to call on him at Scotland Yard.’

Madeleine was taken aback. ‘Now?’

‘I have a cab to take you there,’ said the other, ‘and it will bring you back to your house.’

‘Did the Inspector say why he wished to see me?’

‘No, Miss Andrews, but it must be a matter of some importance or he would not be summoning you like this.’ He made to leave. ‘I can see that it is not convenient. I’ll tell Inspector Colbeck that he will have to meet you another time.’

‘Wait,’ she said. ‘I can come with you. I just need to tell my father where I am going first. Please excuse me.’

‘Of course.’

Madeleine went back upstairs, explained the situation to her father and promised that she would not be long. She went quickly into her own bedroom to look at herself in the mirror and to adjust her clothing and hair. When she reappeared at the door, she was wearing a hat.

‘This way, Miss Andrews,’ said the policeman.

He escorted her to the waiting cab and helped her up into it. As soon as he sat beside her, however, his manner changed abruptly. One arm around Madeleine to restrain her, he used the other hand to cover her mouth with a handkerchief.

‘Do as you’re told,’ ordered Thomas Sholto, ‘or you’ll never see your precious Inspector Colbeck again.’

The cab was driven away at speed.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Arthur Jukes gave nothing away. No matter how much pressure they applied, the detectives could not get the answers that they required. They interrogated the other prisoners separately but with the same negative result. Vernon Seymour was openly defiant and his younger brother, Harry, boasted that they would not stay under lock and key for long. He seemed to have a naïve faith that someone would come to his rescue and confound the forces of law and order. When all three men were back in their cells, Robert Colbeck adjourned to his office with Victor Leeming. The Sergeant was not optimistic.

‘It’s like trying to get blood out of a stone,’ he moaned.

‘We need to be patient, Victor.’

‘We failed. I thought it was a brilliant idea of yours to let Mr Tallis loose on them but even he, with his military background, could not frighten them into revealing the name of their paymaster. Why are they so loyal to this man?’

‘I think it’s a combination of loyalty and fear,’ said Colbeck. ‘They know just how ruthless he can be. Even if they were not directly involved in the murders of William Ings and Daniel Slender, they would surely be aware of them. If they betray their leader, they are afraid that they will be signing their own death warrants.’

‘But they are in police custody.’

‘I regret to admit it, Victor, but there are ways of getting to people even when they are in the most secure prisons. No,’ said Colbeck, ‘there’s little chance that any of them will volunteer the name that we seek. All that we can do is to remain calm, question them at intervals and hope that one of them makes a slip.’

‘Which one?’

‘Harry Seymour would be my choice. He’s the youngest.’

‘He’s convinced that he is about to be rescued.’

‘That proves my point. Whoever has been employing the three men has persuaded them that he is invincible, and that he has the power to get them out of any situation. In other words, he must be a man of considerable influence.’

‘Nobody is above the law,’ said Leeming.

‘This man obviously believes that he is.’

‘Where do we go from here, Inspector?’

Colbeck rested against the edge of his desk and pondered. Having caught the three men in the act of committing a heinous crime, he had hoped that they had taken a giant stride forward in the investigation but they had suddenly come to a halt. Evidently, Arthur Jukes and the Seymour brothers had been taught how to behave in the event of arrest. In taking them out of action, Colbeck and his men had performed a valuable service but the rest of the gang was at liberty and there was no simple way of identifying them. What was certain was that the failure of his plot to blow up the locomotives at the Crystal Palace would enrage the man who had set it in motion. Colbeck feared reprisals.

‘First, we must find out which regiment they served in,’ he said.

‘They refused to tell us.’

‘We have their names, Victor. It is only a question of checking the records. I leave that to you.’

‘Where do I start?’ asked Leeming, over-awed by the task.

‘With regiments that have served in India.’

‘India?’

‘You saw the complexion of those three men,’ said Colbeck. ‘They have clearly spent time in a hot country. Also, Harry Seymour made his first slip. The custody sergeant told me that he had the gall to ask when tiffin would be brought to his cell.’

‘Tiffin?’

‘It’s an Indian word for a midday meal.’

‘The bare-faced cheek of the man!’ said Leeming, angrily. ‘What does Harry Seymour expect – a dozen oysters and a pint of beer, with apple pie to follow? He’ll be asking for a butler next.’

‘My guess is that all three of them were in an infantry regiment. The brothers would certainly have served together and they treat Jukes with that mixture of jocularity and respect that soldiers reserve for a corporal or a sergeant. When people have been in the army for any length of time,’ observed Colbeck, ‘they can never entirely shake off its effects.’

‘You only have to look at Mr Tallis to see that.’

Colbeck smiled. ‘Major Tallis, please.’

‘Did he have any idea which regiment they might have been in?’

‘Not his own, anyway – the 6th Dragoon Guards. None of them would have lasted a week in that, according to the Superintendent. He had a very low opinion of them as soldiers.’

‘Someone obviously values their abilities.’

‘The most likely person,’ said Colbeck, ‘is an officer from the same regiment, someone whom they would instinctively obey. When you find where they served in India, make a list of any officers who have retired from their regiment in recent years.’

‘Yes, Inspector.’

‘After that, I have another assignment for you.’

Leeming grimaced. ‘I thought that you might.’

‘Visit all of the slaughterhouses within the London area,’ suggested Colbeck. ‘If Vernon Seymour used to work in one of them, they’ll remember him and might even provide an address.’

‘Regiments and slaughterhouses.’

‘That should keep you busy.’

‘This job never lacks for variety.’

‘The more we can find out about those three men, the better.’

‘What about Jukes? He’s the only one who has a wife and family.’

‘So?’

‘Should we not try to track them down, sir?’

‘No need of that, Victor. You saw the fellow earlier on. The one moment he looked vulnerable was when we touched on his marriage.’

‘Yes,’ recalled Leeming. ‘He obviously cares for his wife.’

‘Then she will doubtless love him in return,’ said Colbeck. ‘When he’s been missing long enough, she’ll become alarmed and turn to us for help. All that we have to do is to wait.’

‘I’ll make a start with those regimental records.’

‘The Superintendent will be able to offer guidance. I daresay that he’ll reel some of the names straight off.’

‘I was banking on that, sir.’ He opened the door. ‘This may take me some time – well into tomorrow, probably. What about you, sir?’

‘Oh, I’ll be here for hours yet. It will be another late night for me.’

‘At least we do not have to spend it underneath a locomotive.’

Colbeck laughed and Leeming went out. Three nights without sleep were starting to take their toll on both of them but the Inspector drove himself on. There was no time to rest on his laurels. The man he was after was still in a position to make further strikes against railways and Colbeck was determined to get to him before he did so. Sitting behind his desk, he took out his notebook and went through all the details he had gathered during his interviews with the three prisoners. What stood out was the similarity of their denials. It was almost as if they had agreed what they were going to say even though they had deliberately been kept in separate cells. Someone had drilled them well.

An hour later, Colbeck was still bent over his desk, working by the light of the gas lamp that shed a golden circle around one end of the room. When there was a tap on the door, he did not at first hear it. A second and much louder knock made him look up.

‘Come in!’ he called. A clerk entered. ‘Yes?’

‘Someone wishes to see you, Inspector.’

Colbeck’s hopes rose. ‘A young lady, by any chance?’

‘No, sir. A man called Gideon Little.’

‘Did he say what he wanted?’

‘Only that it was a matter of the utmost importance.’

‘Show him in.’

The clerk went out and left Colbeck to speculate on the reason for the unexpected visit. He remembered that Little was the suitor whom Madeleine Andrews had chosen to turn down. Colbeck wondered if the man had come to blame him for the fact that he had been rejected, though he could not imagine why. As soon as he saw Gideon Little, however, he realised that his visitor had not come to tax him in any way. The man was hesitant and agitated. Dressed in his work clothes, he stepped into the room and looked nervously around it, patently unused to being in an office. Colbeck introduced himself and offered him a chair but Little refused. Taking a few tentative steps towards the desk, he looked appealingly into Colbeck’s eyes.

‘Where is she, Inspector?’ he bleated.

‘Who?’

‘Madeleine, of course. She came to see you.’

‘When?’

‘This morning.’

‘You are misinformed, Mr Little,’ said Colbeck, pleasantly. ‘The last time that I saw Miss Andrews was yesterday when I called at the house. What gave you the idea that she was here?’

‘You sent for her, sir.’

‘But I had no reason to do so.’

‘Then why did the policeman come to the house?’

‘He was not there on my account, I can promise you.’

‘Caleb swore that he was,’ said Little, anxiously. ‘Madeleine told him that she had to go out for a while to visit you but that she would not be too long. That was the last her father saw of her.’

Colbeck was disturbed. ‘What time would this have been?’

‘Shortly after eight.’

‘Then she’s been gone for the best part of the day.’

‘I only discovered that when I finished work, Inspector,’ said Little. ‘I stopped at the house on my way home and found Caleb in a dreadful state. It’s not like Madeleine to leave him alone for so long.’

‘You say that a policeman called?’ asked Colbeck, on his feet.

‘Yes, sir. A tall man with a dark beard.’

‘Did you actually see him?’

‘Only from the corner of the street,’ explained Little, suppressing the fact that he had been watching the house for the best part of an hour. ‘I was going past on my way to work when I noticed that Madeleine was getting into a cab with a policeman. They went off at quite a gallop as if they were eager to get somewhere, so I was curious.’

‘Is that why you went to the house and spoke to her father?’

‘Yes, I let myself in. The door was on the latch.’

‘And what did Mr Andrews tell you?’

‘That you wanted to see her at Scotland Yard and had sent a cab to bring her here.’ Gideon Little wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. ‘If he was not a policeman, who could that man be?’

‘I wish that I knew,’ said Colbeck, sharing his concern.

‘Do you think that she could have been kidnapped?’

‘I sincerely hope that that is not the case, Mr Little.’

‘Why else would she disappear for so long?’

‘Could she have visited relatives?’

‘I doubt it.’

‘Or called on friends, perhaps?’

‘Not when her father is stuck in bed all day like that,’ said Little. ‘Madeleine is very dutiful. She would never desert Caleb.’

‘No,’ said Colbeck, his brain spinning as he saw the implications of the news. ‘The only thing that would keep her away from home is that she is being held against her will.’

‘That’s our fear, Inspector. Find her for us – please!’

‘I’ll not rest until I’ve done so, Mr Little.’

‘I know that she’ll never be mine,’ said the other, quivering with apprehension. ‘Madeleine made that obvious. But she’ll always be very dear to me. I cannot bear the thought that she is in danger.’

‘Neither can I,’ admitted Colbeck, worried that he might somehow be responsible for her abduction. ‘Thank you for coming, Mr Little. I only wish that you’d been able to raise the alarm sooner.’

‘So do I, Inspector. What am I to tell Caleb?’

‘That we’ll do everything in our power to find his daughter. I will take personal charge of the search.’ He thought of the injured driver, stranded in his bedroom. ‘Is there anyone to look after him?’

‘A servant who comes in three days a week. She’s agreed to stay.’

‘Good,’ said Colbeck. ‘You get back to Mr Andrews and give him what support you can. I, meanwhile, will institute a search.’ He shook his head in consternation. ‘Taken away in a cab – wherever can she be?’

Madeleine Andrews was stricken with quiet terror. Locked in an attic room at the top of a house, she had no idea where she was or why she was being kept there. It had been a frightening ordeal. When the policeman had called for her, she had looked forward to seeing Robert Colbeck again and was so lost in pleasurable thoughts of him that she was caught off guard. Once inside the cab, she realised that she had been tricked. The man who overpowered her had slipped a bag over her head so that she could not even see where they were going. The last thing she recalled about Camden was the sound of a train steaming over the viaduct.

She cursed herself for being taken in so easily. The policeman’s voice had been far too cultured for an ordinary constable, and his manner too courteous. What had misled her was that he had behaved more like Colbeck than a typical policeman. That had appealed to her. His demeanour had changed the moment they were in the cab. He had threatened her with physical violence if she tried to resist or cry out, and Madeleine knew that he was prepared to carry out his threat. All that she could do was to submit and hope that she would somehow get out of her predicament.

The room was small and the ceiling low but the place was well-furnished. Under other circumstances, she might even have found it snug. There were bars across the window to discourage any hope of escape over the roof, and she had been warned that, if she dared to shout for help, she would be bound and gagged. Madeleine spared herself that indignity. A manservant had twice brought her meals in the course of the day and, on the second occasion, had lit the oil lamp for her. Though the food was good, she had little appetite for it.

Fearing for her own safety, she was also distressed on her father’s behalf. He would be alarmed by her disappearance and, unable to stir from his bed, would be completely frustrated. Madeleine felt that she was letting him down. The other person about whom she was concerned was Robert Colbeck. During her abduction, she had been ordered to obey if she wished to see the Inspector again. Did that mean his life was in danger or merely her own? And how had the counterfeit policeman known that she was fond of Colbeck? It was baffling. As she flung herself down on the couch, she was tormented by one question. What were they planning to do to her?

Sir Humphrey Gilzean believed in dining in style. When he was staying in London, therefore, he always made sure that his cook travelled with him from Berkshire. Over a delicious repast that evening, washed down with a superior wine, he mused on the ironic coincidence.

‘You know how much I detest railways, Thomas,’ he said.

‘They are an abomination to you.’

‘So why do you bring a railwayman’s daughter to my house?’

‘Madeleine Andrews is the chink in Colbeck’s armour.’

‘Can this really be so?’ asked Gilzean. ‘The only way their paths could have crossed is as a result of the train robbery. There has been very little time for an attachment to develop.’

‘Nevertheless, Humphrey, I was given to believe that it has. The gallant Inspector was seen to take a fond farewell on her doorstep. And while she may only be a railwayman’s daughter,’ said Sholto with a well-bred leer, ‘she is a fetching young woman. I’d hoped that she’d struggle more so that I could have the pleasure of manhandling her.’

Gilzean was strict. ‘She must be treated with respect.’

‘Am I not even allowed a little sport?’

‘No, Thomas.’

‘But she might like some company in the middle of the night.’

‘Miss Andrews must be unharmed,’ insisted Gilzean, filling his glass from the port decanter. ‘I draw the line at molestation.’

‘Where women are concerned,’ teased Sholto, ‘you were always inclined to be too soft.’

‘I behave like a gentleman, Thomas. So should you.’

‘There are times when courtesy is burdensome.’

‘Not to me.’

Sholto laughed. ‘You really are the strangest creature, Humphrey,’ he said. ‘Who else would send me off to murder a man then insist that I leave a substantial amount of money with his widow?’

‘Mrs Ings needed it – we do not.’

‘I always need money.’

‘Even you must be satisfied with what we have accrued.’

‘It only makes me want more.’

‘Apart from what we gained in the robbery, there were the profits from blackmail. In total, it amounted to almost three thousand pounds. We are in a position to be generous.’

‘Giving money to that woman was unnecessary.’

‘It salved my conscience and appealed to my sense of fair play.’

‘Fair play?’ echoed the other with a derisive laugh. ‘Having her husband killed hardly constitutes fair play.’

‘He betrayed her for that money, remember,’ said Gilzean. ‘He abandoned his wife and family to live with a whore in the Devil’s Acre. I have no sympathy for him – but I did feel that Mrs Ings deserved help.’

Sholto was disdainful. ‘I do not believe in charity.’

‘Cultivate a little benevolence, Thomas.’

‘Oh, I have plenty of that,’ said the other, ‘but I put it to different uses. You see a grieving widow and tell me to put money through her letterbox. When I see a female in distress – Madeleine Andrews, for example – I have the urge to comfort her in a more intimate way and offer my full benevolence.’

‘Miss Andrews is only a means to an end.’

‘My belief, entirely.’

‘I am serious,’ said Gilzean, forcefully. ‘When she is under my roof, she is under my protection. Dismiss any thoughts you may have about her, Thomas. Miss Andrews is here for a purpose.’

‘How long will we keep her?’

‘As long as we need her.’

‘What about the elegant Inspector?’

‘He will surely be aware of her disappearance by now,’ said Gilzean, sniffing his port before tasting it, ‘and, if he is as enamoured as you believe, he will be extremely fretful. That was my intention – to give Inspector Colbeck something to occupy his mind.’

Robert Colbeck slept fitfully that night, troubled by dreams of what terrible fate might have befallen Madeleine Andrews. The news that she had been kidnapped aroused all of his protective instincts and he came to see just how fond he was of her. It was no passing interest. His affection was deep and intensified by her plight. The thought that she was in great danger left him in a fever of recrimination. Colbeck felt responsible for what had happened. She had been taken, he believed, as a way of striking at him. Because he had arrested three men, Madeleine had become a hostage.

He woke up to the realisation that his efforts to find her had, so far, been fruitless. In the wake of the visit from Gideon Little, he had sent police officers to Camden to question all the neighbours in her street in case any of them had witnessed the abduction. One had remembered seeing a policeman outside the door of Madeleine’s house, another had watched the cab setting off, but neither could add to what Colbeck already knew. He had nothing to help him. Madeleine could be anywhere.

Rain was scouring the streets when he stepped out of his house, making London seem wet and inhospitable. Colbeck had to walk some distance along John Islip Street before he found a cab, and his umbrella was dripping. He was glad to get to Scotland Yard. Although it was still early, Superintendent Tallis had already arrived to start work. Colbeck met him in the corridor outside his office. Having been informed of the crisis, Tallis was eager to hear of developments.

‘Any news, Inspector?’ he asked.

‘None, sir.’

‘That’s worrying. Miss Andrews has been missing for the best part of twenty-four hours. I would have expected contact by now.’

‘From whom?’

‘The people who abducted her,’ said Tallis. ‘In cases of kidnap, there is usually a ransom demand within a short time. Yet we have heard nothing. That bodes ill.’

‘Not necessarily, Superintendent.’

‘It could mean that the poor woman is no longer alive.’

‘I refuse to believe that,’ said Colbeck. ‘If the object were to kill Miss Andrews, that could have been done more easily. Nobody would go to the trouble of disguising himself as a policeman so that he could lure her into a cab, when he could dispatch her with one thrust of a dagger.’

‘That’s true, I suppose.’

‘Look what happened to William Ings and Daniel Slender, sir. They were both killed with brutal efficiency – so was Kate Piercey.’

‘You are still making the assumption that this abduction is the work of the train robbers.’

‘Who else would kidnap Miss Andrews?’

‘She lives in Camden, Inspector. It’s not the most law-abiding area of the city. Any woman who is young and pretty is potentially at risk.’

‘Of what?’

Tallis was sombre. ‘Use your imagination,’ he said. ‘When we get reports of abductions, young women – sometimes mere girls – are always the victims. They are dragged off to Seven Dials or the Devil’s Acre and forced into the sort of life that Kate Piercey lived.’

‘That is certainly not the case here.’

‘It’s something that we have to consider.’

‘No, Superintendent,’ said Colbeck. ‘You have obviously not seen the house where Mr Andrews and his daughter live. It’s a neat villa in the better part of Camden and the neighbours can be trusted. If that were not so, Miss Andrews would never have gone out and left the door on the latch. And there’s something else,’ he continued. ‘On the two occasions when she visited me here, Miss Andrews walked all the way to Whitehall. If she found Camden a source of peril, she would never have ventured abroad on her own like that.’

‘You know the young lady better than I do.’

‘Miss Andrews is very practical and level-headed. She knows how to take care of herself. Only a man in police uniform could have won her confidence. That, after all,’ Colbeck pointed out, ‘was how her father was deceived. One of the robbers who flagged the train down was dressed as a railway policeman.’