The Railway Viaduct

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Robert Colbeck never enjoyed having to spend a night under the same roof as Edward Tallis; he did not find it an uplifting experience. He slept fitfully, tormented by the thought that the whole investigation could be endangered by the precipitate action of his superior. The arrival of the superintendent could not have come at a worse time. It had taken Colbeck by surprise and undermined his position completely. It had also exposed the ambiguous involvement of Brendan Mulryne in the exercise, thereby alarming Thomas Brassey and driving Tallis into a rage that three consecutive cigars had failed to soften. It was doubtful if a night's sleep would improve the superintendent's temper.

When he came down for breakfast in the cottage where they were both staying, Colbeck did not even know if he was still employed in the Detective Department at Scotland Yard. Tallis had made all sorts of veiled threats without actually dismissing him. Colbeck's career was definitely in the balance. As they sat opposite each other at the table, there was a distinct tension in the air. It was Tallis who eventually broke it.

'I think that we should cut our losses and withdraw,' he said.

'That would be a ruinous course of action, sir,' protested Colbeck. 'Having come so far, why pull out now?'

'Because the investigation has not been run properly.'

'We are on the point of capturing the villains.'

'One of whom is Brendan Mulryne.'

'No, Superintendent. He is working for us.'

'He's not working for me,' said Tallis, angrily, 'and he never will. Setting a thief to catch a thief has never seemed to me to be wise advice. A criminal will always have more affinity with criminals than with those trying to catch them. We have a perfect example of that here. Instead of working as an informer, Mulryne has sided with his natural allies because the rewards are greater.'

'You malign him, sir.'

'I know him of old.'

'And so do I,' said Colbeck. 'That's why I picked him.'

'A singularly unfortunate choice.'

'You would not think that if you'd spoken to him yesterday.'

Tallis scowled. 'Nothing on God's earth would persuade me to dress up as an engine driver in order to converse with a man who was drummed out of the police force for using excessive violence. And that was only one of his glaring defects. You've had successes in the past, Colbeck,' he went on, chewing his food noisily, 'but this time, you have bungled everything.'

'I resent that, sir.'

'And I resent your attempt to deceive me with regard to the use of that incorrigible Irishman, Mulryne.'

'This railway line is being built by incorrigible Irishmen. Only someone like Mulryne could mix easily with them. He's done everything I asked of him.'

'You mean that you incited him to commit a crime?'

'No, sir.'

'Then how much licence did you grant him?'

'I told him to do whatever was necessary.'

'Even if that entailed wrecking a number of wagons?'

'It worked, sir,' insisted Colbeck. 'Don't you realise that? He's now part of their gang. Brendan Mulryne is in a unique position.'

'Yes, he can inflict even more damage on the railway.'

'He can bring the vandalism to an end.'

'He's much more likely to increase it. The kindest thing we can do for Mr Brassey is to haul Mulryne out of France altogether and take him back to whatever squalid hovel he lives in.'

'We must allow him to finish his work.'

'It is finished – as from today.'

'Even Mr Brassey thought that we should wait.'

'He's a contractor,' said Tallis, finishing his cup of coffee, 'not a policeman. He doesn't understand the way that a criminal mind works. I do. Brassey still finds it difficult to believe that he could be employing callous villains on this project.'

'That's because he has a paternal attitude towards his men, sir. Because he treats them so well, he cannot accept that they would betray him. Thomas Brassey is famed for the care he shows to anyone he employs,' said Colbeck, 'and you must bear in mind that, at any one time, he could have as many as 80,000 men on his books. If any one of them finds a particular job too onerous, Mr Brassey will not simply dismiss him. He's more likely to assign him to an easier task. That's how considerate and benevolent he is. It's the reason his men think so highly of him.'

'The law of averages comes into play here. In every thousand good men, you are bound to have a tiny minority of blackguards. Some of them are employed here,' Tallis continued, 'and they think so highly of the benevolent Brassey that they're prepared to do anything to stop this railway from being built. I'm sorry, Inspector. You may admire the way that he operates,' he said, dismissively, 'but I think that Brassey is too naive.'

'He's a shrewd and hard-headed businessman, sir. You do not achieve his extraordinary level of success by being naive.'

'If he has problems here, it is up to him to sort them out.'

'But there is a direct link with the murder of Gaston Chabal.'

'So you keep telling me,' said Tallis, 'but we will not find it by unleashing Mulryne on this railway. All that he will do is to muddy the waters even more.'

'Give him time,' implored Colbeck.

'We are returning to England today.'

'But that would leave Mr Brassey in the lurch.'

'He can call in the French police.'

'Then we'll never find the man who killed Chabal.'

'Yes, we will,' said Tallis. 'If we hunt for him in the country where he resides – England.'

Further argument was curtailed. Tallis got up from the table and stalked off to his room to collect his bag. Colbeck thanked the farmer's wife who had given them such a tasty breakfast and paid her for accommodating them. It was not long before he and Tallis were on their way to the site to take their leave of Thomas Brassey. During the drive, Colbeck made repeated attempts to persuade Tallis to change his mind but the superintendent was adamant. Activities in France had to be brought to an immediate halt. As a courtesy to the contractor, Tallis undertook to explain to him why.

Colbeck was faced with a dilemma. If he wanted to remain as a detective, he had to obey orders and return to London. If, however, he wanted to pick up a trail that led eventually to the killer, he had to remain in France until the information came to light. He was still wrestling with the dilemma when they arrived. Alighting from the trap, they walked towards Brassey's office. Before they could knock on the door, however, it was opened for them. The contractor had seen them through the window.

'I'm glad that you came, Inspector,' he said. 'She'll speak to nobody but you.'

'She?' said Colbeck.

'A young Frenchwoman. She seems quite agitated.'

'Then I'll talk to her at once.'

Colbeck went into the office and closed the door behind him. Tallis was annoyed at being left outside but he took the opportunity to explain to Brassey why they would be leaving the country that very day. Colbeck, meanwhile, was introducing himself to the barmaid from the village inn, who had befriended Mulryne and spent some of the previous night with him. Because they had got on so well, she had been entrusted with an important message but she would not pass it on until she was convinced that she was speaking to Inspector Robert Colbeck. Only when he had shown her identification, and explained that he was a good friend of Brendan Mulryne, did she trust him.

'Cette nuit,' she said.

'Vous etes certaine, mademoiselle?'

'Oui.'

'Merci. Merci beaucoup.'

Colbeck was so delighted that he wanted to kiss her.

Luke Rogan knew where to find him that late in the day. Sir Marcus Hetherington was at his club, whiling away the evening by conversing with friends about the merits of certain racehorses on which they intended to place a wager. When the steward brought him Rogan's card, Sir Marcus detached himself from the group and retired to a quiet corner to receive his visitor. After crossing the Channel again when the waves were choppy, Rogan was looking distinctly unwell. He refused the offer of a whisky, vowing to touch neither food nor drink until his stomach had settled down. He lowered himself gingerly into a chair beside Sir Marcus.

'Well?' said the old man.

'It was as I told you, Sir Marcus – no need to fear.'

'You saw the men?'

'I spoke to their leader.'

'What did he tell you?'

When Rogan repeated the list of incidents that had occurred on the railway line, Sir Marcus gave a smile of satisfaction. His money had not, after all, been squandered. He now understood why none of the destruction that had been wrought had been reported in the French newspapers.

'This is all very gratifying,' he said.

'To you, Sir Marcus, but not to me.'

'What are you talking about?'

'Taking that boat when the waves were so high,' said Rogan, holding his stomach. 'It fair upset me, Sir Marcus. I feel ill. I went all that way to find out something that I knew already. You should have trusted me.'

'I trust you – but not your friends.'

'Oh, they're not friends of mine.'

'Then what are they?'

'I'd call them the scum of the earth,' said Rogan with a sneer, 'and the only reason I employ them is that I can rely on them to do what they're told. Pay them well and they do your bidding. But you'd never want to call any of them a friend, Sir Marcus. They're ruffians.'

'Even ruffians have their uses at times.'

'Once this is over, I wash my hands of them.'

'That brings us to the crux of the matter,' said Sir Marcus.

'When will this finally be over? What they have accomplished so far is a series of delays and I willingly applaud them for that. Delays, however, are mere irritations to a man like Brassey. He's indomitable. He'll shrug off temporary setbacks and press on regardless. When are your friends – your hired ruffians, I should say – going to make it impossible for him to carry on?'

'Soon.'

'How soon?'

'Within a day or two, Sir Marcus,' said Rogan, confidently. 'That's what I was told. They're going to make one last strike before getting away from the site for good.'

'One last strike?'

'It will be much more than a simple delay.'

'Why?'

'They're going to burn down Mr Brassey's office and destroy all the surveys that people like Gaston Chabal prepared for him. Without anything to guide them, they simply won't be able to go on with the work. But there's more, Sir Marcus,' said Rogan, grinning wolfishly, 'and it will give them the biggest headache of all.'

'Go on.'

'They're going to steal the big safe from the office. It not only contains valuable documents that cannot be replaced, it holds all the money to pay the navvies.'

'So they'll get no wages,' said Sir Marcus, slapping his knees in appreciation. 'By George, this is capital!'

'No money and thousands of angry men to face.'

'Come pay day and Brassey will have a veritable riot on his hands. I take back all I said, Rogan,' the old man added with a condescending smile. 'I should never have doubted your ability to pick the right men for the job. Ruffians or not, these fellows deserve a medal. They'll have brought the whole enterprise to a juddering halt.'

There were five of them in all. One of them, Gerald Murphy, was employed as a nightwatchman so he was able to tell them exactly where his colleagues were placed and how best to avoid them. Another man, Tim Dowd, drove one of the carts that took supplies to various parts of the site. Pierce Shannon, Liam Kilfoyle and Brendan Mulryne completed the gang. When they slipped out of the inn after dark, their leader noted that someone was missing.

'Where's Brendan?' he said.

'Saying farewell to his lady love,' replied Kilfoyle with a snigger. 'He's probably telling her that he'll see her later when, in fact, he'll be on the run with the rest of us.'

'Go and fetch him, Liam.'

'Never come between a man and his colleen.'

'Then I'll get the bastard.'

Shannon turned on his heel but he did not have to go back into the building. Mulryne was already walking towards him, still savouring the long, succulent kiss that he had just been given in the privacy of the cellar. He beamed at the others.

'Ah, isn't love a wonderful thing?' he announced.

'Not if it holds us up,' said Shannon, brusquely. 'Forget about her, Brendan. After tonight, you'll have enough money to buy yourself any pair of tits you take a fancy to.'

'I'm sorry, Pierce. What must I do?'

'Shut up and listen.'

Keeping his voice low, Shannon gave them their orders. Murphy was to act as their lookout and he rehearsed a whistle he would give them by way of a warning. Dowd was to bring his horse and cart to the rear of Brassey's office. Kilfoyle was charged with the task of creating a diversion by burning down Aubrey Filton's office. When all the attention was fixed on that, Shannon himself would start a fire in the contractor's office.

Mulryne was baffled. 'What do I do, Pierce?' he asked.

'The most difficult job of all,' said Shannon.

'And what's that?'

'Lifting the safe on to the wheelbarrow that Tim will bring.'

'Oh, that's easily done.'

'It won't be,' warned Kilfoyle. 'I've seen it. That safe will be a ton weight, Brendan.'

'I'll manage it,' boasted Mulryne. 'If it's full of money, I'll make sure that I do. Though it'd be a lot bleeding quicker if we blow open the safe there and then. We can just grab the money and run.'

'That's too dangerous,' said Shannon. 'You can't control an explosion. Besides, we've no more gunpowder left. It's far better to steal the fucking safe and take it away on the cart. By the time they discover it's gone, we'll be miles away.'

'Counting out our share of the money,' said Kilfoyle.

'I'll do that, Liam. You only get what I give you.'

'That's fair,' agreed Mulryne. 'Pierce has done all the hard work, planning everything. It's only right that he should get a little more than the rest of us.'

Shannon looked around them. 'Are we all ready, lads?'

'Yes,' they replied in unison.

'Then let's kill this fucking railway line once and for all!'

Robert Colbeck had been rescued at the last moment. The information passed on by the French barmaid had persuaded Superintendent Tallis to stay for one more day. He accepted that it might, after all, be possible to catch the men who had caused so much disruption on the railway and, in doing so, discover who their English paymaster was. Along with Thomas Brassey and a group of his most trusted men, Tallis was in hiding not far from the contractor's office. All but Brassey were armed with cudgels or guns. Nobody expected that the Irishmen would give up without a fight.

Determined to be at the heart of the action, Colbeck had put on an old coat and hat so that he could replace the nightwatchman who normally patrolled the area. He carried a lantern in one hand and a stout wooden club in the other. He followed the identical routine as his predecessor so that it would look as if the same man were on duty. When the raid came, he knew, it would take place when he was at the farthest point from the designated target. The first hint of trouble came when he heard a horse and cart approaching. At that time of night, all the drivers should have been fast asleep while their horses were resting in their makeshift stables. Pretending to hear nothing, Colbeck turned away from Brassey's office and began a long, slow, methodical walk to the edge of the camp.

The attack was imminent. He sensed it. As soon as he reached the outer limit of his patrol, therefore, he did not amble back at the same pace. Blowing out his lantern, he ran back towards the office in the dark. Colbeck did not want to miss out on the action.

Everything seemed to have gone to plan. Murphy's whistle told them that the nightwatchman was some distance away from the office. Dowd's horse and cart were in position and he had trundled the wheelbarrow up to the others. Shannon gave the signal, smacking Kilfoyle on the back so that the latter went off to stand by Filton's office, then leading Mulryne and Dowd towards their target. The door of the office had two padlocks on it but Shannon soon disposed of them with his jemmy, levering them off within seconds before prising the door open. Holding a lantern, he went across to the safe. Mulryne followed and Dowd came in with the wheelbarrow.

'Jesus!' said Dowd when he saw the size of the safe. 'I'll never be able to wheel that bloody thing away.'

'Leave it to Brendan,' said Shannon. 'That's why he's here.'

Mulryne bent down and got a firm grip on the safe. When he felt its weight, he lifted it an inch off the floor before putting it down again. He spat on both hands then rubbed them together.

'This is not really heavy,' he boasted. 'Hold up that lantern, will you, Pierce? I need all the light I can get.'

Shannon responded, lifting the lantern up until his whole face was illumined. Mulryne seized his moment. Pulling back his arm, he threw a fearsome punch that connected with Shannon's chin and sent him reeling back. He was unconscious before he hit the floor. Coming into the office, Colbeck had to step over the body. It took Dowd only a moment to realise that they had been duped. Escape was essential. Running at Colbeck, he tried to buffet him aside but the detective was ready for him. He dodged the blow and used his club to jab the man in the stomach. As he doubled up, Colbeck hit him in the face and made him stagger backwards into Mulryne's bear hug.

'Timothy Dowd,' said Mulryne, lapsing back into his days as a constable, 'I'm arresting you on a charge of attempted burglary.'

'You double-crossing bastard!' howled Dowd.

But it was the last thing he was able to say because Mulryne tightened his hold and squeezed all the breath out of him. Kilfoyle came running to see what had caused all the commotion. When he burst in, he almost tripped over Shannon's body.

'What happened to Pierce?' he demanded, bending over his friend. 'Who hit him?'

'I did,' replied Mulryne, triumphantly. 'He'll be out for ages, Liam. I caught him a beauty.'

Kilfoyle let out a roar of anger and pulled out a knife. Before he could move towards Mulryne, however, Colbeck stepped out to block his way. Kilfoyle waved his knife threateningly.

'Who the fuck are you?'

'The man who's here to disarm you,' said Colbeck, hitting him on the wrist with his club and making him drop his weapon. 'You must be Liam Kilfoyle.'

'What of it it?'

'I'm a friend of Victor Leeming.'

'That dirty, treacherous, lying cunt!'

'He asked me to pass on a message,' said Colbeck, tossing the club aside so that he could use his fists. 'Attacking people from behind is unfair. This is how you should do it.'

He pummelled away at Kilfoyle face and body, forcing him back by the sheer power of his attack. The Irishman tried to fight back at first but he was soon using both hands to protect himself. When Colbeck caught him on the nose, Kilfoyle stumbled back into the arms of Superintendent Tallis as the latter came into the office.

'Have we got them all?' asked Tallis, holding his man tight.

'Hello there, sir,' said Mulryne, effusively, as if encountering a favourite long-lost relative. 'How wonderful it is to see you again, Superintendent, even if it is on foreign soil. Forgive me if I don't shake hands but Timothy here needs holding.'

'How many of you were there, Brendan?' said Colbeck.

'Five, including me.'

'We've three of them here – that leaves one.'

'He was caught as well,' said Tallis. 'We've got the whole gang.'

'And you saved me the trouble of trying to pick up this bleeding safe,' said Mulryne, giving it a kick. 'It weighs three ton at least.'

'It shouldn't.' Colbeck picked up the fallen lantern and walked across to the safe. He opened the door to show that it was completely empty. 'Thanks to your warning, Brendan, we took the precaution of removing everything of value out of it.'

The interrogation took place in Thomas Brassey's office. It was obvious that Kilfoyle, Dowd and Murphy had no idea who had sponsored their work from England. They were mere underlings who obeyed orders from Pierce Shannon. Accordingly, the three of them were taken away and held in custody. On the following morning, they would be handed over to the French police. Shannon sat in a circle of light provided by a number of oil lamps. Colbeck and Mulryne were present but it was Edward Tallis who insisted on interrogating their prisoner. Hands behind his back, he stood over Shannon.

'Who paid you?' he asked.

'Nobody,' replied the other, rubbing his aching jaw.

'Don't lie to me. Somebody suborned you. Somebody told you to bring this railway to a halt. Who was it?'

'Nobody.'

'So you did everything of your own volition, did you?'

'What's that mean?'

'That it was all your own idea, Pierce,' explained Mulryne.

'Yes, that's right.'

'So why did you do it?' said Tallis.

Shannon gave a defiant grin. 'Fun.'

'Fun? Is it your notion of fun to cause extensive damage to the property of the man who is employing you? Is it your notion of fun to put the thousands of men on this site out of work?'

'Yes.'

'He's a bleeding liar, sir,' said Mulryne.

'Keep out of this,' ordered Tallis.

'But I know the truth. Liam told me. That's Liam Kilfoyle. He's the scrawny one that fell into your arms like an amorous woman when you came in here. Liam reckons this man met up with Pierce and offered him money to wreck this railway – a lot of money. Enough to let them all retire.'

'And who was this man?'

'Liam didn't know.' He pointed at Shannon. 'But he does.'

'Shut your gob!' snarled Shannon.

Mulryne laughed. 'Compliments pass when the quality meet.'

'If I'd known you were a fucking traitor, I'd have killed you.'

'You're in no position to kill anyone,' Tallis reminded him. 'Now stop playing games and answer my questions. Who paid you and why did he want this railway to be abandoned? He's the man who dragged you into all this? Do you want him to get off scot-free?'

'Yes,' said Shannon.

'Who paid you, man?'

'Nobody.'

'Tell me, damn you!'

'I just did.'

'Give me a name.'

'Pierce Shannon. Would you like another? Queen Victoria.'

'I'd like you to tell me the truth.'

'I have.'

'Who is behind all this?'

'Nobody.'

Shannon was beginning to enjoy the situation. Resentful at being caught, and infuriated by Mulryne's part in his capture, he was at least getting some pleasure out of frustrating Tallis. No matter how hard the superintendent pressed him, he would volunteer nothing that could be remotely helpful. Tallis kept firing questions at him with growing vexation. Eventually, Colbeck stepped in.

'Perhaps I could take over, sir,' he suggested.

'It's like trying to get blood from a stone,' said Tallis.

'Then let me relieve you.'

'If you wish.'

Tallis withdrew reluctantly to a corner of the room and watched.

Colbeck brought a chair and placed it directly in front of Shannon. He sat down so that he was very close to him.

'When I first came to France,' he told Shannon, 'I brought my assistant with me – Sergeant Victor Leeming.'

'I knew he was a bleeding copper,' said the other with derision. 'I could smell him. I enjoyed beating him up.'

'I'm glad you mention beating someone up because that's the subject I was just about to raise with you. Would you describe your friends – Kilfoyle, Dowd and Murphy – as violent men?'

'They're Irish – they like a decent brawl.'

'The same goes for me,' said Mulryne, happily.

'I'm only interested in Mr Shannon's friends,' said Colbeck. 'At least, they're his friends at the moment. That, of course, may not last.'

Shannon was guarded. 'What are you on about?'

'The contents of your pockets.'

'Eh?'

'When we searched you earlier, you were carrying a large amount of money. A very large amount, as it happens. Where did it come from, Mr Shannon?'

'That's my business.'

'No,' said Colbeck, 'it's our business as well. And it's certainly the business of your three friends. We searched them as well, you see, and they had substantially less money on them. Even allowing for the fact that they had spent some of it on drink, they were clearly paid far less than you for any work that they did.' He turned to Mulryne. 'How much were you paid for tipping over those wagons?'

'A week's wages,' replied Mulryne.

'Mr Shannon had over two years' wages in his pocket, Brendan. Unless, that is, Mr Brassey has been particularly philanthropic. What this all indicates to me is that one person held on to most of the money he'd been paid while the other three were deprived of their fair share. That's robbery. What do you think the others would do to Mr Shannon if they knew the truth?'

'Break every bleeding bone in his body, Inspector.'

'That's the least they'd do, I should imagine.'

'I earned that money,' insisted Shannon. 'I had the brains to plan things. The others are all fucking boneheads.'

'I'll pass on that charming description of their mental powers when I talk to them,' said Colbeck, smoothly, 'and I must thank you for admitting that you were, after all, paid by someone else.' He flicked a glance at Tallis. 'Our first trickle of blood from the stone.'

Shannon sat up. 'I'm not saying another fucking word.'

'Then you're throwing away any hope of defending yourself. When we hand you over to the French police, you'll be charged under their law and in their language. When you get into court,' Colbeck went on, 'you won't understand a single word of what's going on so you'll be unable to offer anything by way of mitigation.'

'What's that?'

'It's a way of shortening the sentence you're likely to get. If you claim – as you did earlier – that everything that happened was your idea, then you'll face several years in prison. If, on the other hand, you were simply obeying someone else's orders – and if you tell us who that someone is – your sentence might be less severe. In fact, I'd make a point of telling the French police how helpful you've been.'

'And he'd tell them in French,' said Mulryne, proudly. 'He speaks the lingo. Doesn't he, Superintendent?'

'Yes,' said Tallis.

'What about you, sir? Do you speak French?'

'I'd never let it soil my lips.'

'To sum up,' said Colbeck, bestowing a bland smile on Shannon, 'it's a pity that you've elected to hold your tongue. You might need it to plead for mercy when we lock you up with your friends and tell them about the monetary arrangements you decided upon. When you get to court, however,' he went on, 'you can talk all you like to no effect because they won't bother to hire interpreters for someone who was caught red-handed committing a crime. Expect a long sentence, Mr Shannon – after your friends have finished with you, that is.' He stood up. 'Let's take him over there, Brendan.'

'With pleasure,' said Mulryne.

'Wait!' cried Shannon, as they each laid a hand on him. 'There was someone who put us up to this.'

'Now we're getting somewhere,' said Colbeck.

'But I don't know his name.'

'Do you expect us to believe that?'

'It's true, Inspector – I'd swear on the fucking gospel.'

'There's no need for blasphemy!' shouted Tallis. 'Keep a civil tongue in your head.'

'You must have known who this man was,' said Colbeck. 'How did he get in touch with you in the first place?'

'I was in a police cell,' admitted Shannon. 'Only for a week or so. There was an affray at a tavern in Limehouse and I got caught up in it by mistake. Anyway, this man read about it in the paper and saw that I was a navvy. He came to see me and asked me if I'd ever worked for Tom Brassey. That's how it all started.'

'Go on,' invited Colbeck.

'He tested me out then decided I might be his man.'

'What name did he give?'

'None at all,' said Shannon, 'but I did hear one of the coppers calling him "Luke" – you know, as if they were friends. I called him by that name once and he swore blue murder at me.'

'How did he pay you?'

'He waited until I'd got a job with Mr Brassey and settled in here. Then he told me what to do first so that I could prove myself. Once I'd done that,' said Shannon, 'he paid me the first half of the money so that I'd have enough to take on people I could trust.'

'And cheat easily,' said Mulryne.

'It's their own bleeding fault for being so stupid.'

Colbeck's ears pricked up. 'You say that you had the first half of the money?' Shannon nodded. 'When would you get the other half?'

'When we brought the railway to a standstill.'

'But how would you get in touch with Luke?'

'He gave me an address in London,' said Shannon. 'I was to leave a message there, saying what we'd done. Once he could confirm it, he promised to leave the second half of the money for me to collect it. And – as God's my witness – that's the fucking truth!'

'We'll need that address,' said Colbeck.

'As long as you don't tell the others about the money.'

'We don't bargain with criminals,' said Tallis.

'It's a reasonable request, sir,' Colbeck pointed out, 'and, now that he appreciates the predicament that he's in, Mr Shannon has been admirably cooperative. Some reward is in order, I believe.'

'Thanks,' said Shannon with great relief.

'We'll need that address, mind you.'

'I'll give it to you, Inspector.'

'There you are, Superintendent,' said Mulryne, hands on his hips. 'You should have let the Inspector question him from the start. He's a genius at getting blood from a bleeding stone.'

Luke Rogan was working in his office when he heard the doorbell ring insistently. He looked out of the front window to see Sir Marcus Hetherington standing there while a cab waited for him at the kerb. Rogan was surprised. The only place they ever met was in the privacy of the Reform Club. If he had come to the office, Sir Marcus must have something of prime importance to discuss. Rogan hurried along the passageway and opened the door. Sweeping in without a word, Sir Marcus went into the office and waited for Rogan to join him.

'What's the matter, Sir Marcus?' asked Rogan.

'This,' said the other, thrusting a newspaper at him. 'This is what is the matter, Rogan. Look at the second page.'

'Why?'

'Just do as I say.'

'Very well, Sir Marcus.'

Rogan opened the newspaper and scanned the second page. He soon realised why his visitor had come. What he was looking at was a report of the arrest of four men who were accused of trying to disrupt work on the railway that was being built between Mantes and Caen. Rogan recognised one of the names – that of Pierce Shannon – and assumed that the others were his accomplices. The name that really jumped up at him, however, was not that of the prisoners but of the man who had helped to capture them.

'Inspector Colbeck!' he gasped.

'Read the last paragraph,' instructed Sir Marcus. 'The much-vaunted Railway Detective believes that he now has evidence that will lead him to the person or persons responsible for the murder of Gaston Chabal. In short,' he said, hitting the top of the desk hard with his cane, 'evidence that points to you and me.'

'But that's impossible!'

'So you assured me.'

'Shannon didn't even know my name.'

'He's obviously told them enough to steer them towards you.'

'He couldn't have, Sir Marcus.'

'Then how do you explain this report?'

'Colbeck is bluffing,' said Rogan, trying to convince himself. 'He's done this before. He pretends to be in possession of more information than he really has in the hope of making someone fly into a panic and give themselves away.'

'The newspaper certainly gave me a sense of panic,' confessed Sir Marcus. 'My wife thought I was having a heart attack when I read that – and I almost did.'

'He knows nothing, Sir Marcus.'

'Then how did he manage to arrest four men in France?'

'Pure luck.'

'Colbeck never relies on luck. He believes in a combination of tenacity and cold logic. He's been quoted to that effect more than once. I do not want his tenacity and logic to lead him to me.'

'That's out of the question, Sir Marcus.'

'Is it?'

'I'm the only person that knows you were my client.'

'Do you keep records?' asked the other, glancing down at the desk. 'Do you have an account book with my name in it?'

'Of course not. I know how to be discreet.'

'I hope so, Rogan.'

'Colbeck will not get within a mile of us.'

'What can he possibly have found out?'

'Nothing of value.'

'He must have squeezed something out of those Irishmen.'

'Shannon was the only one I had dealings with. The others don't even know that I exist. And all that Shannon can do is to give them a rough description of me.' Rogan showed snaggly teeth in a grin. 'That means he'd be describing thousands of men who look just like me.'

Sir Marcus relaxed slightly. He removed his top hat and sat down on a chair, resting his cane against a wall. Rogan took the unspoken hint and went to a small cupboard. Taking out a bottle of whisky, he poured two glasses and handed one to his visitor.

'Thank you,' said the old man, tasting the whisky. 'I'd hoped to toast our success but our plans have obviously gone awry.'

'We can try against at a later date, Sir Marcus.'

'This was our chance and we missed it.'

'Bide our time, that's all we have to do.'

'Until a certain detective comes knocking on our doors.'

'That will never happen,' said Rogan, airily. 'The one thing that Shannon knows is an address where he was to leave a message. Nobody at that address knows my name or where I live. It was simply a convenient way of paying Shannon the second half of his fee when his work was completed.'

'But it was not. He failed and you failed.'

Rogan was hurt. 'You can't put the blame on me.'

'You selected this idiot.'

'With the greatest of care, Sir Marcus. I asked a friend about him before I even went near him. He told me that Shannon was full of guile and quite fearless. That's the kind of man we wanted.'

'Then why has he let us down so badly?' asked Sir Marcus. 'And why is Inspector Colbeck coming back to England with such apparent confidence to hunt down Chabal's killer?'

'He's trying to frighten us.'

'He frightened me, I can tell you that.'

'You're as safe as can be, Sir Marcus,' Rogan assured him, taking a first sip of his whisky. 'So am I. London is a vast city. He could search for fifty years and still not find us. Colbeck has no idea where to start looking.'

'There's that address you gave to Shannon.'

'A dead end. It will lead him nowhere.'

'Supposing that he does pick up our scent?'

'I've told you. There's no hope of him doing that.'

'But supposing – I speak hypothetically – that he does? Colbeck has already come much farther than I believed he would so we must respect him for that. What if he gets really close?'

'Then he'll regret it,' said Rogan, coolly.

When he got back from work that evening, Caleb Andrews found a meal waiting for him. Since he had good news to impart about the murder investigation, he surrendered his paper to Madeleine and drew her attention to the relevant report. She was thrilled to read of Robert Colbeck's success in France. Her faith in him had never wavered and she had been disturbed by the harsh criticism he had received in the press. Public rebuke had now been replaced by congratulation. He was once again being hailed for his skill as a detective.

When the meal was over, Andrews was in such an ebullient mood that he challenged his daughter to a game of draughts. He soon repented of his folly. Madeleine won the first two games and had him on the defensive in the third one.

'I can't seem to beat you,' he complained.

'You were the one who taught me how to play draughts.'

'I obviously taught you too well.'

'When we first started,' she recalled, 'you won every game.'

'The only thing I seem to do now is to lose.'

He was spared a third defeat by a knock on the front door. Glad of the interruption, he was out of his chair at once. He went to the door and opened it. Robert Colbeck smiled at him.

'Good evening, Mr Andrews,' he said.

'Ah, you're back from France.'

'At long last.'

'We read about you in the paper.'

'Don't keep Robert standing out there,' said Madeleine, coming up behind her father. 'Invite him in.'

Andrews stood back so that Colbeck could enter the house, remove his hat and, under her father's watchful eye, give Madeleine a chaste kiss on the cheek. They went into the living room. The first thing that Colbeck saw was the draughts board.

'Who's winning?' he asked.

'Maddy,' replied Andrews, gloomily.

'This game was a draw, Father,' she said, eyes never leaving Colbeck. 'Oh, it's so lovely to see you again, Robert! What exactly happened in France?'

'And why did you have to solve crimes on their railways? Don't they have any police of their own?'

'They do, Mr Andrews,' replied Colbeck, 'but this was, in a sense, a British crime. It was almost like working over here. British contractors have built most of their railways and French locomotives are largely the work of Thomas Crampton.'

'I'm the one person you don't need to tell that to, Inspector,' said Andrews, knowledgeably. 'In fact, there are far more Cramptons in France than here in England. Lord knows why. I've driven three or four of his engines and I like them. Shall I tell you why?'

'Another time, Father,' said Madeleine.

'But the Inspector is interested in engineering, Maddy.'

'This is not the best moment to discuss it.'

'What?' Andrews looked from one to the other. 'Well, perhaps it isn't,' he said, moving away. 'Now where did I leave my tobacco pouch? It must be upstairs.' He paused at the door. 'Don't forget to show him that picture you drew of the Sankey Viaduct, Maddy.'

He went out of the room and Colbeck was able to embrace Madeleine properly. Over her shoulder, he saw that the tobacco pouch was on the table beside the draughts. He was grateful for her father's tact. He stood back but kept hold of her hands.

'What's this about the Sankey Viaduct?'

'Oh, it was just something I sketched to pass the time,' she said. 'It's probably nothing at all like the real thing.'

'I'd be interested to see it, all the same.'

'Your work is far more important than mine, Robert. Come and sit down. Tell me what's happened since I last saw you.'

'That would take far too long,' he said, as they sat beside each other on the sofa. 'I'll give you a shortened version.'

He told her about his visit to Paris and his long conversation with Gaston Chabal's mother-in-law. Madeleine was startled by the revelation that the engineer appeared to have seduced another woman for the sole purpose of gaining an additional investor in the railway. She was fascinated to hear of Brendan Mulryne's success as a spy and pleased that Superintendent Tallis had been forced to admit that the Irishman had performed a valuable service.

'Mr Tallis couldn't actually bring himself to thank Brendan in person,' said Colbeck. 'That would have been asking too much. What he did concede was that the notion of putting an informer into the ranks of the navvies had, after all, been a sensible one.'

'Coming from the superintendent, that's high praise.'

'I pointed out that Brendan Mulryne would be an asset if he were allowed to rejoin the police force but Mr Tallis would not hear of it. He'd sooner recruit a tribe of cannibals.'

'Why is he so critical of your methods?'

'There's always been a degree of animus between us.'

'Is he envious of you?'

'It's more a case of disapproval, Madeleine.'

'How could he possibly disapprove of a man with your record?'

'Quite easily,' said Colbeck with a grin. 'Mr Tallis doesn't like the way I dress, the approach I take to any case and the readiness I have to use people such as Brendan Mulryne. Also, I'm afraid to say, he looks askance at my private life.'

She gave a laugh of surprise. 'Your private life!'

'He thinks that you're leading me astray.'

'Me?'

'I was only joking, Madeleine,' he said, putting an arm around her. 'The truth is that Superintendent Tallis doesn't believe that his detectives should have a private life. He thinks that we should be like him – unattached and therefore able to devote every waking hour to our job with no distractions.'

'Is that what I am – a distraction?'

'Yes – thank heaven!' He kissed her on the lips. 'Now, let's see this drawing of the Sankey Viaduct.'

'You won't like it, Robert.'

'Why not?'

'It's too fanciful.'

'I love anything that you do, Madeleine,' he said, warmly. 'And it must be worth seeing if your father recommends it.'

'He only saw an earlier version.'

'Please fetch it.'

'I'm not sure that I should.'

'Why are you being so bashful? I really want to see it.'

'If you wish,' she said, getting up, 'but you must remember that it's a work of imagination. It has no resemblance to the real viaduct.' She crossed the room to pick up a portfolio that rested in an alcove. Opening it up, she selected a drawing. 'It was simply a way of keeping you in my mind while you were in France.'

'Then I must have a look at it.'

Colbeck rose to his feet and took the sketch from her hand. He was intrigued. The viaduct dominated the page, but what gave him a sudden thrill of recognition was the way that it connected England and France. It was like a bridge across a wide gulf. He let out a cry of joy and hugged her to him. Madeleine was mystified.

'What have I done to deserve that?' she said.

'You've just solved a murder!'