The Silver Locomotive Mystery

‘No,’ said Stockdale. ‘Because it seemed so important, I sent it to you at Scotland Yard. Idris Roberts volunteered to take it. I think he’s developed a liking for train journeys to London. It was his third in three days. Mind you, he’s going to be upset when I tell him that Effie Kellow wasn’t the poor little waif we thought she was. Constable Roberts treated her like his own daughter.’

‘I’ll see the report when I return this evening and I’ll get in touch with the police station that sent it to you. The gentleman who raised the alarm will need to identify his son’s body.’

‘How much will you tell him?’

‘Very little,’ said Colbeck after drinking some beer. ‘He simply needs to know that his son died an unnatural death – if, indeed, it is Martin Henley, of course. Too much detail will only cause him unnecessary distress.’

‘Please let me know what happens.’

‘Of course – you’re involved in this investigation. That’s why I took the trouble to come here from Newport. I was so close that I felt I had to bring you up to date with a sensational development.’

‘It hit me like a blow.’

‘Victor Leeming is the one who was most shocked.’

‘Why?’

‘When he arrested and handcuffed Stephen Voke, he thought that he’d captured a vicious killer. Instead of that, he’d merely caught a harmless silversmith.’

‘Not all silversmiths are harmless – look at Hugh Kellow.’

‘I hope to do so very soon.’

‘He should be hanged, drawn and quartered.’

‘That sentence is no longer in the statute book.’

‘Well, it should be. He’s caused the most terrible mayhem in the town. I don’t think I dare tell Winifred Tomkins that the man who offered her that silver coffee pot was someone who helped to make it in the first place. She’d be even more upset.’

‘Is she still grieving over the loss of her carriage?’

‘That’s been recovered.’

‘Good – I assured the sergeant that it would be. What is suitable for a wealthy ironmaster and his wife would look quite out of place in the possession of a young man like Hugh Kellow.’

‘What do you think he’ll do with that coffee pot?’

‘Keep it, I should imagine. It’s a trophy. He obviously has a deep personal affection for it and not because he intends to drink a vast amount of coffee out of it. Mr Buckmaster and Miss Linnane both remembered him claiming that he’d done a fair amount of work on it,’ said Colbeck. ‘I have a suspicion that it was largely his creation and that he was never given full credit by his employer.’

‘He’s the next person in line for a shock,’ said Stockdale.

‘Yes, it will inflict an even deeper wound on Mr Voke.’

‘He’s been mourning his clever assistant when, all this time, Kellow has been robbing him blind.’

‘To some extent, he was to blame,’ opined Colbeck. ‘His son told us what a skinflint his father was. He could never understand why Kellow worked for him when he could have earned a lot more elsewhere. Now we know the answer. Kellow intended to steal everything of value from his employer to start in business on his own account. He wreaked his revenge by staging his death and breaking the old man’s heart.’

Stockdale gave a mirthless chuckle. ‘I wouldn’t want to be the one who tells Mr Voke what really happened.’

‘Neither would I,’ agreed Colbeck. ‘On reflection, I think that’s a task I’d rather leave to Superintendent Tallis.’

* * *

Edward Tallis never postponed things that required an immediate response nor did he delegate tasks to his men because they might involve some discomfort. When he heard Leeming’s report that evening, he summoned a cab instantly and went straight to Wood Street. Leonard Voke had retired to bed early and the superintendent had some difficulty in rousing him. The old man eventually padded down the stairs in a dressing gown and slippers. Once Tallis had convinced him that he had important news, he was admitted to the back room of the shop. The two men sat either side of the table with the oil lamp between them. Tallis plunged in.

‘The first thing I must tell you,’ he began, ‘is that the funeral has been postponed. I despatched Sergeant Leeming to the undertaker before I came on here.’

Voke was disturbed. ‘Why should it be delayed?’

‘I’ll come to that in a moment, sir.’

‘But the arrangements have been made. Hugh must be given a proper burial. It’s not right for him to have to wait any longer.’

‘Mr Kellow will have to wait for some time yet before his funeral,’ said Tallis. ‘The hangman will have to deal with him first.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘The man in that coffin is not your assistant, sir.’

‘But he must be,’ said Voke, utterly confused. ‘The body was identified by his sister, Effie. I spoke to her myself. We cried together over poor Hugh.’

‘Poor Hugh is extremely well-off. He’s been paid three times as much as that silver coffee pot is worth and still has the contents of your safe. It’s no wonder he knew what to take,’ said Tallis. ‘He must have seen inside it every day. He retrieved his own tools from there and, as a final insult, he also took yours.’

‘No, no, this can’t be true.’

‘The facts are indisputable.’

‘What facts?’ croaked the old man. ‘I’m lost, Superintendent. I was told that Hugh had been murdered and that my son killed him.’

‘That proved to be a mistaken assumption.’

‘It was no assumption – I knew that my son hated me enough to do what he did. Stephen was jealous of my assistant and that drove him to murder Hugh.’ His hands flitted about uncontrollably. ‘If my son is not the killer, why did he flee from London?’

‘He went to live in Wales with his wife, Mr Voke.’

‘His wife? I didn’t even know that he was married.’

‘There are lots of things you don’t know about him,’ said Tallis with a note of disapproval. ‘You turned him against you, Mr Voke. He only stayed here for the sake of his mother. When she died, your son had to get away. According to Sergeant Leeming, who met him and his wife today, he’s a reformed character. Stephen Voke has taken on the responsibilities of marriage and is working to develop his own career.’

Voke was stunned. Tallis thought for a moment that he was about to keel over. Eyes wide and mouth agape, the silversmith tried to take in the enormity of what he had been told. The son he had disowned had evidently matured and turned over a new leaf. Yet the assistant he had loved and relied on so heavily had committed the most horrendous crimes. It was a sobering moment. Voke realised that he had to take a major share of the blame for what had happened. In favouring Hugh Kellow, he had alienated his son to the point where Stephen wanted to blot out his past altogether.

‘Why didn’t he tell me he was getting married?’ muttered Voke.

‘He informed Sergeant Leeming that he didn’t think you’d be interested.’

‘Stephen is my son.’

‘Not any more, Mr Voke. He wants nothing to do with you.’

‘Have I really been that terrible?’ bleated the old man. ‘Both Stephen and Hugh have turned against me. Did I treat them badly enough to merit what’s happened?’

‘Only you can answer that question, sir,’ said Tallis.

Voke shook his head in wonderment. ‘So my son went back to Caerleon after all this time – fancy that.’

‘Make no attempt to get in touch with him. He was very firm on that point. He made Sergeant Leeming promise to pass on that message. Your son’s world is elsewhere now, sir. Don’t try to see him.’

‘Hugh is the person I want to see,’ said Voke, rising to his feet in a rage. ‘I did everything for him. I took him in, I apprenticed him, I taught him all I knew – and this is how he repays me. I’d like to throttle him, so help me God!’

‘Leave that duty to the public executioner.’

‘Do you know where he is, Superintendent?’

‘No, but we soon shall. He and his “sister” will be apprehended in the not too distant future.’

‘I want to see him when you catch him.’

‘Let justice take its course, Mr Voke.’

‘I deserve the right to get at him for two minutes.’

‘I can understand your feelings,’ said Tallis, ‘but you are letting your fury blind you to the obvious. Hugh Kellow is a young man with blood already on his hands. You are more advanced in years. It’s foolhardy to think that you could overpower him. No,’ he went on, ‘leave Mr Kellow to my detectives. Inspector Colbeck will find him.’

Robert Colbeck arrived at the house in Camden in time to act as an arbitrator. Having eaten supper with her father, Madeleine Andrews had cleared the table and washed the plates. When she came into the parlour, she found her father puffing on his pipe as he read Dombey and Son. There was a mild argument over the book. Madeleine wanted it back but Caleb Andrews refused to yield it up. Colbeck walked in on the domestic disagreement.

‘Tell him, Robert,’ said Madeleine, quick to enlist his aid. ‘You gave that book to me, didn’t you?’

‘’Yes,’ he replied, ‘but your father is welcome to read it as well.’

‘There you are!’ said Andrews with a cackle.

‘Though I’d assumed he’d have enough patience to wait until you’d read it first, Madeleine.’

‘Father just grabbed it when my back was turned.’

‘It’s your own fault, Maddy,’ Andrews pointed out. ‘You told me how wonderful the book was. I wanted to see what it says about Camden. I was here when the railway line was built. I remember the deafening noise and the terrible upset it caused.’

‘You’re the one causing the terrible upset now, Father.’

‘Why not take it in turns to read the novel?’ suggested Colbeck. ‘Mr Andrews is at work all day so you can pick it up whenever you have a moment, Madeleine. The only time he has a chance to read it is in the evenings.’

‘I suppose so,’ she conceded.

‘That’s settled then,’ said her father, getting up from his chair. ‘Anyway, you can’t read it while you have company, Maddy. I’ll finish this chapter in the kitchen.’

‘Before you go, Mr Andrews,’ said Colbeck, raising a hand, ‘I wanted a word. This is very unlikely to happen now but, if it did, could I have your permission to take Madeleine to the theatre?’

‘The answer is yes.’

‘I should warn you that the theatre is in Cardiff.’

‘Then the answer is no.’

‘Father!’ protested Madeleine.

‘I’m not having a daughter of mine travelling on the Great Western Railway,’ said Andrews, good-naturedly. ‘I know it links up with the South Wales Railway but that’s just as bad. Take Maddy somewhere on the LNWR instead.’

‘He was only joking,’ she said as her father went into the kitchen. ‘Now I have a chance to give you a proper welcome.’

Colbeck embraced her. ‘Isn’t this better than reading Charles Dickens?’ he said before giving her a kiss. ‘I’ve missed you.’

‘I’ve spent the whole day wondering where you were.’

‘We went to Gloucester, Chepstow, Newport and Caerleon,’ he said. ‘Then I sent Victor Leeming back to London and went on to Cardiff. It’s just as well that I like travelling by rail so much.’

‘Has the case been resolved?’

‘Not exactly, Madeleine – it’s taken a new twist.’

‘Do tell me about it.’

They sat beside each other and Colbeck recounted the events of the day. She was startled to hear that the real villain was Hugh Kellow and that the woman claiming to be his sister was equally culpable.

‘So who was the murder victim?’

‘A young man named Martin Henley,’ he said. ‘I’ve just come from the undertaker’s where I took his father to look at the body. He confirmed that it was his son. I’m sorry I’ve called at such a late hour but I’ve been rather busy since I got back to London.’

‘Call as late as you like, Robert.’

‘You might have gone to bed.’

‘Then throw stones at my window. You’re always welcome here.’ He hugged her again. ‘But don’t take Father’s side over that book next time. I want to read it.’

‘Would you rather be reading it now?’ They laughed.

She became serious. ‘Do you have any idea where they’ve gone?’

‘Not yet,’ he confessed.

‘They could have fled abroad.’

‘I think that’s very unlikely,’ he said. ‘They’d have much more difficulty getting established in a foreign country and they’d have to learn the language. That would be enough to deter them. No, I think they’ve gone to earth somewhere well outside London.’

‘They may be difficult to find, Robert.’

‘We found Stephen Voke and his wife.’

‘That was different – they were not in hiding.’

‘They were in a sense, Madeleine. They were in hiding from his father. After listening to some of the things that Mr Voke did to his son, I’m not surprised that he wanted to break off all communication with the old man. But I agree,’ he said, ‘Hugh Kellow has taken the trouble to muddy the waters. It won’t be easy to track him.’

‘Where will you start the search?’

‘In Mayfair – that’s where Effie Kellow worked.’

‘But you thought that she might be using a false name.’

‘I’m sure that she did.’

‘Then why are you bothering to go to Mayfair?’

‘Because the name of her employer was genuine,’ said Colbeck. ‘At least, I believe it is. She showed us a letter from her so-called brother. It was all part of the deception, of course, and was never actually sent through the post. But it was written by him. It was addressed to Miss Effie Kellow, c/o Mr Dalrymple, Chesterfield Street. When she met Victor and Superintendent Tallis, she showed them another letter from Kellow, explaining that he was going to Cardiff. It seemed very convincing. Mr Kellow thought of everything and planned ahead meticulously.’

‘Then he must have planned his escape as well.’

‘If he’s still in this country, we’ll track him down.’

‘What if he and this young woman have gone abroad?’

Colbeck was determined. ‘Then we’ll go after them, Madeleine. They can run as far as they wish but we’ll stay on their tail.’

* * *

Hugh Kellow rubbed the silver to a high sheen then stood back to admire the effect. Effie came into the room and saw him.

‘Have you been polishing it again?’ she said, clicking her tongue. ‘You’ll wear it away if you keep doing that, Hugh.’

‘It’s all mine now,’ he told her, admiring the detail. ‘And so it should be. I did nine-tenths of the work and Mr Voke passed it off as his. He always did that. Stephen and I slaved over lots of pieces on our own then, when they were sold in the shop, we’d hear Mr Voke taking all the praise for them. It was unfair.’

‘You got your own back.’

‘He won’t ever do that again, Effie.’

Kellow lifted the coffee pot and placed it on the sideboard where it could catch the light from the window. They were in the parlour at the back of a shop that had not yet opened for business. It was a large room with a floral-patterned wallpaper that had appealed to Effie. There were only a few items of furniture at the moment but they had enough money to buy what they wanted now. They intended to go in search of some armchairs that very morning. The one thing they did not need was a bed. It was their first purchase and had been delivered on the day when they moved into their new home. After scattering their spoils on the coverlet, they had made love with celebratory passion in a flurry of banknotes.

‘We’re going to be so happy here,’ she said, looking around.

‘It will be worth all the effort.’

‘Yes, it was an effort, Hugh. It took me weeks to persuade Martin Henley to meet me in Cardiff and book that hotel room in your name. I had to offer him all sorts of temptations.’

‘As long as they were only offered,’ he said.

‘You know me better than that, Hugh. You’re the only man for me. And you told me to pick someone who looked very much like you. That made it a lot easier,’ she recalled. ‘I could forget that it was Martin and pretend that it was Hugh Kellow.’

‘Hugh Kellow is dead.’

She smiled. ‘Well, you seemed to be alive enough last night.’

‘As far as everyone is concerned,’ he boasted, ‘I was murdered in a hotel room. They’ve probably buried me by now with that miser, Mr Voke, weeping tears over my coffin. That’s the beauty of it, Effie. We’re in no danger because nobody knows that I still exist.’

‘What about Martin?’

‘He got what he deserved for chasing my girl.’

‘That’s not what I meant,’ she told him. ‘He lived at home with his parents. They’ll have started to worry about him. They’ll go to the police to report him missing.’

‘So?’ He gave an elaborate shrug. ‘People go missing all the time. Nobody will connect him with the corpse at the hotel because they know that was me. His parents will just think Martin ran away – you told me that he hated living at home.’

‘He had no real privacy there.’

‘Well, he’ll have all the privacy he wants in the grave.’

They laughed harshly and hugged each other. Effie was wearing a new dress that made her look older and more elegant. There was no hint of the servant about her now. She was mistress of her own house. Kellow broke away and appraised the silver coffee pot again.

‘I hope you’re not expecting me to make coffee in that,’ she warned, ‘because it’s far too big.’

‘I prefer tea, Effie.’

‘Mrs Tomkins will have to order a new one.’

‘Well, it won’t be from Mr Voke because he could never make it. His eyesight is really bad now. Without me, he’s completely lost.’ He smirked. ‘I wish I could have seen the look on Mrs Tomkins’ face when she took that tin replica out of the bag. That would have been a sight to behold.’

‘There’s no crime in taking money from rich people.’

‘That’s what I believe.’

‘We earned every penny, Hugh.’

‘We did,’ he said, ‘and when the shop is open and I start to have customers, we’ll earn a lot more. Being my own master has always been my ambition and, when I realised that Mr Voke was not going to let me take over his shop, I knew I had to do something drastic. Shall I tell you something, Effie?’

‘What?’

His eyes sparkled. ‘I enjoyed every moment of what we did.’

‘So did I – except when I had to let Martin Henley touch me, that is. I hated that bit. He was so desperate. What I did like,’ she went on with a giggle, ‘was the fun of deceiving people. They believed every word I said – even those detectives.’

‘We can forget about them now. Inspector Colbeck will never know the truth of what happened. We’re free to live exactly as we want, Effie,’ he declared, lifting her up by the waist and swinging her in a circle, ‘and that’s what we’ll do.’

Victor Leeming had never liked venturing into Mayfair. Its abiding whiff of prosperity offended his nostrils. He was much more at ease in the rougher districts of the city, the teeming rookeries and the dark alleys festering with crime. As he and Colbeck sat in a cab that morning, he looked at the fine Georgian houses that went past.

‘This area always brings out the Chartist in me,’ he said. ‘Why should some people have so much money when most of us don’t? I can’t believe they got it honestly.’

‘You can raise the subject with Mr Dalrymple.’

‘I still don’t believe that he exists, sir.’

‘Then you’re going to be surprised,’ said Colbeck. ‘A good liar always uses enough truth to make a lie convincing. I don’t think that Effie plucked a name like Dalrymple out of the air.’

‘That doesn’t mean she actually worked for him.’

‘No, Victor, but I’m ready to bet that she did.’

Leeming ignored the offer of a wager. The cab turned into Chesterfield Street with its tall, symmetrical houses of plain brick. Some of the dwellings had been altered by the addition of porticos, stucco facings, window dressings and even extra storeys. The overall impression was that it was a fashionable and civilised place in which to live. They went to the address they remembered seeing on the letters supposedly sent there by Hugh Kellow. When they explained who they were, they were invited into the house and shown into the library. Eliot Dalrymple soon joined them. He was a portly man of medium height with an excessively pale and well-scrubbed face. They also noticed how white his hands were. Although in his sixties, he looked very well-preserved. After introductions had been made, Colbeck took over.

‘I believe that you once employed an Effie Kellow,’ he said.

‘That’s not a name I recognise,’ replied Dalrymple, ‘though I did have a servant who was called Effie below stairs because she hated her given name. Her grandmother had been called Effie, it seems, and she preferred that.’

‘What was her real name, sir?’

‘Haggs – Bridget Haggs.’

‘That’s where she got the name from, Inspector,’ said Leeming. ‘Don’t you remember? She said that her brother was friendly with a young lady called Bridget.’

‘To that extent,’ said Colbeck, ‘she was telling the truth. What she omitted to explain was that she was that friend.’

‘Where is all this tending?’ asked Dalrymple. ‘I really don’t want to press charges against her.’

‘Why should you do that, Mr Dalrymple?’

‘If you’re here about the girl, then I assumed you’d come to ask about the theft. Before she left, she took some things with her. I was annoyed at the time,’ he said, ‘but the cost involved was not great so I didn’t report it to the police. My wife urged me to do so because she was the real victim.’

‘What did Effie steal from her?’

‘A large sewing box, Inspector,’ said the other. ‘My wife’s hobby is embroidery. I had to buy her an even larger box to placate her.’

‘How long did the girl work for you, sir?’ asked Leeming.

‘Oh – the best part of a year, I suppose,’

‘And was she satisfactory?’

‘As far as I know,’ said Dalrymple. ‘I don’t have much to do with the servants as a rule. I’m a great believer in delegation.’

‘But if there had been a problem, you’d have been told.’

‘Yes, Sergeant – and there never was. Of course, Effie was not always working here in the house. She did some cleaning for me from time to time.’

‘Do you have another property in London?’ asked Colbeck.

‘I’m a chemist, Inspector. I own a number of shops. I also import pharmaceutical drugs.’ He gave a self-effacing shrug. ‘Since I was not clever enough to be a doctor like my father,’ he admitted, ‘I went into an allied profession.’

‘So Effie would have cleaned some of the shops?’

‘Yes,’ said Dalrymple, ‘either first thing in the morning before opening time or last thing in the evening. I think she liked the work. I caught her in here once, flicking through one of my books. Though what interest she could have in the wonders of chemistry, I really can’t imagine. It did prove that she could read.’

‘The young lady can do a lot more than that, sir,’ said Colbeck.

‘That’s why we’re anxious to find her,’ added Leeming. ‘Have you any idea where she went when she left you?’

Dalrymple pursed his lips. ‘None at all,’ he said. ‘I don’t keep track of the comings and goings of my domestics. One day she was here and the next, she was gone.’

‘Along with your wife’s sewing box, it seems.’

‘I’m afraid so, Sergeant.’

‘Did you write a reference for her?’

‘I was never asked to do so.’

‘Then she was not expecting to go into service elsewhere.’

‘No,’ said Colbeck. ‘I suspect that Miss Haggs already had another occupation in view. Thank you, Mr Dalrymple,’ he went on, ‘we’re sorry to have troubled you. What you’ve told us is extremely useful. There is one final question.’

‘And what’s that, Inspector?’

‘Do any of your shops sell sulphuric acid?’

‘It’s also known as hydrogen sulphate,’ said Dalrymple, ‘or oil of vitriol. And, yes, we do keep a stock of it because it has a range of uses if correctly mixed. Were you looking to purchase some, by any chance?’

‘Not at the moment, sir.’

They took their leave and waited in the street for a cab. Leeming was glad to have escaped from a house whose rich furnishings had made him feel uneasy. He was relieved that he had not accepted Colbeck’s earlier bet. Dalrymple did exist, after all. Effie had peppered her lies with truth.

‘What did you make of him, Victor?’ asked Colbeck.

‘I think he spent his entire life washing his hands. Did you see how clean they were? And I’ve never seen anyone’s skin shine like that before. I tell you,’ said Leeming, ‘that I felt quite dirty standing next to him. What kind of soap does he use?’

‘Go back and ask him.’

‘No, no – I don’t want to go back in there again, sir.’

‘That’s where Effie lived for a while,’ said Colbeck, studying the house. ‘She could have done a lot worse for herself, I suppose.’

‘Why did she pinch a sewing box before she left?’

‘For the same reason that she stole the acid, I expect.’

‘And what’s that, Inspector?’

‘She needed it.’

Effie pored over the book with a look of intense concentration on her face. She did not hear Kellow come into the room and creep up behind her. When he put his hands over her eyes, she screamed in surprise. He smothered the noise with a kiss.

‘What are you reading?’ he asked.

‘It’s one of those books I got from Mrs Jennings’ house,’ she said. ‘It’s amazing, Hugh. I never realised there was so much to learn.’

‘I know that book inside out. I could recite it to you. Next time you want to know something, just ask me.’

‘I was trying to understand what these marks meant.’

She pointed to an illustration of a dinner plate. On its reverse side were five separate marks in a line. Kellow used a finger to point to each one in turn.

‘These are the maker’s initials,’ he explained, ‘put there as a kind of signature. Then we have the sterling standard mark, that little lion. Next is the crowned leopard’s head, the London mark. The letter “P” tells us the date, which is 1810, and the duty mark at the end is the sovereign’s head. George III was still on the throne then.’

‘I’ll never remember all that.’

‘You don’t have to, Effie. Your job will be to sew tiny jewels on to fabric. I know how quickly you learn. I’ll take care of the silver and gold. There’s been a flood of cheap gold from California and Australia in the last few years or so,’ he told her, ‘so we must take advantage of it. We’ll be able to work side by side. While you’re sewing, I’ll be embossing or engraving or doing a spot of forgery.’

She was worried. ‘Forgery?’

‘Don’t be alarmed,’ he said, putting his hands on her shoulders. ‘Nobody will ever know. I’m too good at it. All the silverware I stole from Mr Voke has the London mark on it and that will be noticed here. The leopard’s head will have to be changed to an anchor.’

‘What about Mr Voke’s initials?’

‘I simply change the L to H so that Leonard becomes Hugh. We can leave the V there because I’m not Hugh Kellow any more, I’m Hugh Vernon. And you,’ he said, squeezing her gently, ‘are my wife, Mrs Vernon.’

She held up a hand. ‘I’ve got the ring to prove it.’

It was a gold ring that Kellow had made for her at the shop in Wood Street. They had decided to live as husband and wife without the normal prerequisite of a wedding. Indeed, they felt that recent events had brought them much closer than any married couples. They had been welded indissolubly together by murder.

‘Are you happy?’ he said, pulling her up from the chair.

‘I am, Hugh,’ she affirmed. ‘I never dreamt I’d end up in a place like this. I thought I’d spend the rest of my life in service.’

‘That was before you met me, Effie. Do you have any regrets?’

‘None whatsoever – I won’t let you down, Hugh, I promise. I’m not afraid of hard work. When I’m with you, I could do anything.’

‘Just remember our new name. One slip could ruin us.’

‘It will never happen.’

‘Good,’ he said, kissing her and pulling her close. ‘Welcome to your new home, Mrs Vernon.’

As the cab headed east, Leeming became progressively more at ease. They were no longer surrounded by the London residences of the aristocracy or the prosperous middle class. When he saw down-at-heel tenements flash by, he was happy to be in the sort of district where he had once walked on his beat in uniform. Jewellers’ shops and splendid houses were not his natural habit. He felt constricted. At the sight of urchins fighting in the street and beggars scrounging from passers-by, Leeming was much more at home.

‘I know what the superintendent will ask us,’ he said.

‘How do we find them?’

‘Yes, Inspector, and, to be honest, I don’t have the answer.’

Neither do I, Victor,’ said Colbeck, ‘but there are a number of avenues we could explore. For instance, Effie Kellow – alias Bridget Haggs – told us that she and her non-existent brother came from Watford. That was almost certainly her birthplace though not Mr Kellow’s. I don’t think she would have invented a detail like that.’

‘So?’

‘We can visit every church in the town until we find a record of her birth recorded in the parish register. She’s still very young. It may even be that the priest who baptised her is still there and can tell us what happened to the family. If he’s unable to help us,’ he continued, ‘then we look for families who baptised children near the very same time and who are still living in Watford.’

‘That could take us ages, Inspector.’

‘Exactly – we must try a different approach.’

‘Do we investigate Hugh Kellow’s past instead?’

‘I doubt if we could, Victor. He doesn’t seem to have one.’

‘Someone must know where he came from originally.’

‘That’s irrelevant now,’ said Colbeck. ‘Our main objective is to find out where he’s likely to be now.’

‘Anywhere in the whole country,’ said Leeming.

‘I think not.’

‘Then where is he, sir?’

‘He’ll have chosen somewhere that can guarantee him a good living as a silversmith.’

‘Then he won’t be in Gloucester, I know that much. Jack Grindle won’t let him set up shop anywhere near the town.’

‘We can eliminate Caerleon as well.’

‘Can we?’

‘Most definitely,’ said Colbeck. ‘Kellow has higher ambitions than Stephen Voke. He won’t settle for rural tranquillity and a life that revolves around private commissions he can deal with in his own home. Kellow desires real success and he has the skills to secure it. He’ll have headed for a large town or a city. I’m hoping that Mr Voke will tell us which one.’

‘How will he know?’

‘He won’t, Victor, but he’ll make an educated guess. He’s been in the jewellery trade all his life and built up quite a reputation.’

‘What use is that to him now?’ asked Leeming. ‘Hugh Kellow must have reduced him to bankruptcy.’

‘Not quite,’ suggested Colbeck, ‘but he’s certainly lost a vast amount of money. According to his son, he had thousands of pounds in that safe along with his most expensive stock. Kellow got away with a fortune.’

‘And I’m sure he planned exactly how to use that money.’

‘No question about that.’

‘So where is he, Inspector?’

‘The best person to tell us that is Leonard Voke. If we can coax him out of his self-pity and get him to think hard, I feel certain that he’ll point us in the right direction.’ He glanced out of the cab. ‘It’s not long before we get to Wood Street,’ he noted. ‘It’s getting a name as the haunt of drapers, milliners and haberdashers but it has an illustrious silversmith as well.’ Colbeck was confident. ‘Mr Voke will help us.’

Leonard Voke arranged his surviving stock on the big table in his workshop. Massed ranks of silverware stood to attention like so many soldiers on parade. Sitting in his favourite chair, Voke checked that the weapon was loaded then placed the end of the barrel in his mouth. After a few minutes of recalling happier memories of his time in Wood Street, he looked at his future and was consumed by despair. His beloved wife was dead, his son had deserted him and his assistant had caused his ruin. He had nothing for which to live. All that lay ahead was despair. His finger jerked, the trigger was pulled, and there was a loud bang. The musket ball shot up through the roof of his mouth, into his brain and out of his skull before lodging in the ceiling. The silver army on the table beside him was drenched in his blood.

‘He committed suicide?’ said Tallis in disbelief.

‘We arrived there shortly after it happened, sir,’ said Leeming. ‘Neighbours had heard the noise of a weapon being fired and gathered outside the shop. Inspector Colbeck and I forced our way in. As you can imagine, it was not a pleasant sight but at least we have no doubt about the identity of the corpse this time.’

‘What’s happened to the body?’

‘We had it removed by the undertaker, Superintendent. The inspector sent for a locksmith to repair the door though I can’t believe that any thief would want to steal items covered in blood.’

Shaken by the news, Tallis lowered himself into his chair. In his eyes, suicide was both a crime and a sin, an act of wilful self-murder and an offence against God. Yet he did not condemn Leonard Voke. His fear was that he himself was partly at fault. During his visit to the silversmith, Tallis had been characteristically blunt, telling Voke that he had to shoulder some of the blame for what had happened. It now looked as if his words had provoked the old man to take his own life. The sympathy welling up inside the superintendent was therefore tinged with guilt.

‘We thought you ought to know as soon as possible, sir,’ said Leeming. ‘This is one more horror caused by Hugh Kellow. That young man has left a trail of misery behind him.’

‘Yes, yes,’ said Tallis, coming out of his reverie. ‘Thank you, Sergeant. It’s very disturbing news and I needed to hear it. But what were you and the inspector doing in Wood Street?’

‘We were hoping to speak to Mr Voke. It’s clear that his former assistant wanted to set up as a silversmith somewhere else. Inspector Colbeck felt that Mr Voke might suggest a place where Mr Kellow was likely to go.’

‘You got there too late for that, obviously.’

‘Yes, sir – discovering the body in that state was a real shock.’

‘Stephen Voke will need to be informed.’

‘I can give you his address, sir.’

‘Thank you,’ said Tallis, reaching for a piece of paper and dipping his pen in the inkwell. ‘But why did you bring me this news and not the inspector?’

‘He was talking to another silversmith,’ said Leeming, evasively. ‘Inspector Colbeck wanted some guidance. He sent me back here first then I’m to meet him at Euston Station.’

‘Why – where are you going now?’

‘We’re continuing the hunt for Hugh Kellow.’

Colbeck reached the house just in time. Madeleine Andrews was coming out of the front door with a large basket over her arm. As the cab rolled to a halt, Colbeck jumped down on to the pavement.

‘Robert!’ she exclaimed. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I’ve come to take you on a journey.’

‘But I was on my way to the market.’

‘You can do the shopping another time,’ he said, ‘unless you’d rather not catch a train with me.’

‘I can’t go anywhere like this,’ she protested, indicating her dress. ‘You’ll have to wait while I change.’

‘You look fine as you are, Madeleine,’ he assured her, ‘though you might want to leave that basket in the house. I’m afraid there’s no time for you to change. Victor is waiting for us at Euston and we don’t want to miss the train.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘Birmingham.’

‘Father will be travelling there and back today.’

‘Then he might even be driving the engine,’ said Colbeck. ‘And he can’t complain that I’m abducting his daughter. He did give me his permission to take you on the LNWR.’

Madeleine was flustered. ‘This is all rather sudden, Robert.’

‘That’s in the nature of police work, I’m afraid.’

‘Is this connected with your investigation?’

‘It’s very closely connected.’

‘Why are we going to Birmingham?’

‘It has a Jewellery Quarter,’ he said.

While Hugh Kellow busied himself in the shop, Effie walked from room to room in wonder. The novelty of owning a home had still not worn off. Instead of cleaning someone else’s house, she would soon be hiring a servant to do all the mundane chores. In time, as the business expanded, Kellow would take on an assistant and perhaps even an apprentice. Mr and Mrs Hugh Vernon would be able to live in comfort and respectability, their crimes buried deep in the past. She was in the main bedroom when Kellow joined her.

‘What are you doing up here, Effie?’ he asked.

‘I was thinking that we needed some new curtains,’ she said, fingering the drapes. ‘The ones that they left are rather drab.’

‘You’ll have anything you want in here, my love.’

‘We could do with a painting over the bed, Hugh – something with animals on, a country scene. What about an ottoman under the window? That’s what Mrs Dalrymple had and I always sat on it for a few minutes when I was supposed to be cleaning their bedroom.’

‘Your cleaning days are over, Effie.’

‘And it’s all thanks to you,’ she said, taking his hands and looking up at him. ‘You’re the cleverest husband in the world, Hugh Vernon, do you know that?’

‘It took a lot of planning to get here.’

‘I could never have worked everything out like that.’

‘It all started when Mr Voke sent me here to deliver something,’ he recalled. ‘As soon as I stepped into the Jewellery Quarter, I knew it was where I wanted to be. It’s like a whole village devoted to precious metal. Whenever I had time off, I’d jump on a train and come to Birmingham just to walk around these streets.’

‘We were so lucky to find this place.’

‘I had to move fast, Effie. Property is snapped up around here. You’ll find people working in the jewellery trade in most of the houses as well as in the factories. What made the difference,’ he said, ‘was that I was able to pay in cash and outbid everyone else.’ He laughed. ‘That was partly due to Mr Voke, of course. The old fool didn’t realise that I’d been stealing money from his safe for months.’

‘You’d earned it, Hugh. You were doing all the work there.’

‘I’d hoped to have my name over the shop but it was not to be. I saw a copy of his will in the safe. He’d left everything to his sister in Kent and she’d have no reason to keep the place open. The stock would have been sold off and I’d have been looking for work elsewhere. I felt betrayed. So I decided to go at a time of my own choosing,’ he said, ‘and to teach Mr Voke a lesson in the process.’

‘Between us, we outwitted everyone,’ she said, giggling.

He was complacent. ‘Yes, Effie – and that includes the police.’

Colbeck had been to Birmingham before while investigating the train robbery that had resulted indirectly in his friendship with Madeleine Andrews. He knew what to expect. It was a big, thriving, major city with a continuous din, smoking chimneys, bustling thoroughfares, shops, offices and factories galore, and with the abiding smell of heavy industry in the air. When they arrived at the station, they took a cab to the police station near the Jewellery Quarter. While Colbeck went in, Madeleine and Leeming were left outside to look around. What seized their attention at once was the tall spire of St Paul’s Church.

‘It’s like the spire of St Martin’s-in-the-Fields,’ said Leeming. ‘I’ll be interested to see what the rest of the church looks like – if we get the chance, that is. The trouble with being a policeman is that we never have time to enjoy the sights of places we’ve been to. We’re always on duty.’

‘Tell me about Effie Kellow.’

‘The inspector did that on the train journey.’

‘Robert only talked about the crimes she helped to commit. He didn’t really describe her appearance.’

‘She’s a very pretty young woman, Miss Andrews,’ he told her. ‘She’s quite short and slight but with lovely big eyes. Her real name is Bridget Haggs but she’ll be calling herself something else now – and so will Mr Kellow.’

‘Why is that?’

‘It would be too big a risk to keep it. If he puts the name of Kellow above a shop, there’s always the danger that someone might recognise it. He and Mr Voke were well-known in jewellery circles in London. Kellow is a name you’d remember.’

They chatted amiably together. Leeming did not know how close Madeleine and Colbeck really were and he did not try to find out. He simply accepted that they were good friends and he was aware of how much help she had given them on some investigations. He found her extremely companionable. For her part, Madeleine was very fond of the sergeant, always asking after his family and keenly interested to hear how he reconciled married life with the time-consuming job of being a detective. She was still hearing about his children when Colbeck came out of the police station, holding a street map. He spread it out on a low wall.

‘Now,’ he said, jabbing with his finger, ‘we are here at the moment. That’s Caroline Street over there, leading to St Paul’s Square. It’s one place we can eliminate straight away.’

‘Why is that, sir?’ asked Leeming.

‘According to the desk sergeant, no property has been sold there recently. It used to be a residential area though he remembers that merchants, factors, solicitors, an auctioneer and a surgeon also lived there. Many of those fine big houses have now been converted into workshops.’ He pointed to the map again. ‘The sergeant suggested that we look here in Vittoria Street.’

Leeming grinned. ‘It’s a funny way to spell the Queen’s name.’

‘The street commemorates a battle we won against Napoleon’s army,’ said Colbeck. ‘I suggest that we split up, Victor. If you go down Warstone Lane and on to Frederick Street, Madeleine and I will stroll down Vittoria Street. We’ll meet up here,’ he tapped the map, ‘at this point on Graham Street.’

‘What am I looking for, sir?’

‘Keep your eyes peeled for houses or shops with new owners. I’m told there are some. In fact, the sergeant offered to show me some of them but I said we’d find our own way. The sight of a police uniform would warn them.’

‘Very good, Inspector,’ said Leeming, moving away. ‘I’ll be off.’

‘I still don’t know why you brought me, Robert,’ said Madeleine.

‘You’re much nicer to look at than Victor,’ he joked, folding up the map. ‘No, Madeleine, I’m hoping to use you as cover. Effie knows what I look like. If she looks out of a shop window and spots me, she’ll be on the defensive at once. With you beside me,’ he explained, offering his arm, ‘I won’t get a second glance.’

‘Are you convinced that they’re here?’

‘Not at all – this is something of a gamble.’

‘Then it could be a wasted journey?’

‘No journey in your company is wasted, Madeleine,’ he said with a grin. ‘In any case, I did take advice before we left London. I called on Solomon Stern, the jeweller for whom Stephen Voke once worked. I asked him the most likely place where a young silversmith might want to set up shop – especially if he had unlimited funds. Mr Stern had no hesitation in suggesting Birmingham.’

‘I do hope that he’s right.’

‘There’s only one way to find out.’

They set off down Warstone Lane, passing narrow alleys and row upon row of small workshops. Madeleine had never seen so many people crammed into a relatively compact area. There seemed to be thousands of them, men and women, all engaged in some aspect of the jewellery trade, their workplaces ranging from a tiny back room to a factory. There was constant traffic in the streets and a sense of urgency in the pedestrians who darted past. Fascinated by the Jewellery Quarter, Madeleine tried to ignore its stench.

‘It’s almost like being in a foreign country,’ she observed.

‘Then it’s a very rich one,’ said Colbeck. ‘We’re in the middle of a miniature empire of gold, silver and precious stones.’

‘I’ll keep my fingers crossed that Mr Kellow is here.’

‘He must be, Madeleine. It’s where I’d be in his shoes.’

Strolling arm in arm, they turned into Vittoria Street. Colbeck’s eyes missed nothing. He spoke to people standing outside their premises, making casual enquiries that made him sound like a man in search of friends rather than a detective on the trail of criminals. It took them some time to work their way to the end of the street but they were assured of one thing. Under whatever names they were now using, Kellow and Effie were definitely not there. Turning right into Graham Street, they walked on until Leeming hurried towards them.

‘Did you have any luck, sir?’ he asked.

‘No, Victor – what about you?’

‘There’s one possibility. It’s a small shop halfway down the street. I spoke to an engraver who works almost opposite and he told me that a young man and his wife had just moved in.’

‘Did he know their names?’

‘Mr and Mrs Vernon,’ said Leeming. ‘They’ve only been there two minutes. There are shutters on the shop window with a notice pinned to them.’

‘What sort of notice?’ said Colbeck.

‘They’re advertising for a servant.’

‘That’s interesting. They’re settling in.’

Madeleine could see what was running through Colbeck’s mind. When he turned inquisitively to her, she responded with a smile.

‘You want me to apply for the job, don’t you?’ she said.

‘I’m not sure that you could pass for a servant,’ he replied. ‘You look far too smart and well-bred.’

‘I don’t feel smart, Robert. I’m happy to do it.’

‘Some servants are very well-dressed,’ said Leeming. ‘Look at the one we met at Mr Dalrymple’s house. If you saw her in the street, you’d take her for a member of the family.’

‘Besides,’ said Madeleine, ‘it’s not as if I’m really after the job. I simply want to see who is on the other side of the door.’

Colbeck made the decision. ‘Thank you,’ he said, touching her arm in gratitude. ‘It’s very good of you to volunteer. With the best will in the world, neither Victor nor I could pass as domestics. But please be careful, Madeleine. Hugh Kellow and Effie may not be there, of course, and the trail will go dead. But if by chance he is, remember that he’s a ruthless criminal. Just talk on the doorstep. Don’t go inside. If you get invited into the shop and they start to probe, you could be in danger.’

‘What do I say?’

‘Simply that you’ve seen the advertisement and would like to know what the job involves and what sort of wage is being offered.’

‘I think I can manage that.’

Madeleine was thrilled to be part of the investigation at last. Having been kept on the outside for so long, she had now been brought into action. It showed how much faith Colbeck had in her. Though she knew that she might be confronting someone who had committed heinous crimes, she was not afraid. Colbeck and Leeming would not be far away and there were plenty of other people about. That gave her confidence.

The three of them walked to the end of Frederick Street.

‘It’s on the left,’ said Leeming, pointing a finger. ‘Go past that big house with the columns outside and you’ll find smaller properties. One of them is a plating workshop. Next to it is a place with the shutters closed. I didn’t get the number, I’m afraid.’

‘I’ll find it,’ she said.

‘Let’s be prepared,’ said Colbeck. ‘We may be barking up the wrong tree, I know, but let’s assume we’re not. We need to cut off every means of escape.’

‘Do you want me to guard the rear of the premises, sir?’ said Leeming. ‘You’ll have to give me time to get in position.’

‘Off you go, then, Victor.’ As Leeming hurried away, he took Madeleine by the shoulders. ‘I hope your father will forgive me.’

‘There’s nothing to forgive, Robert.’

‘Isn’t there? I take you off as his daughter and return you as a domestic servant.’

She laughed. ‘Father won’t turn a hair,’ she said. ‘We do have a servant who comes in to help but otherwise I do the household chores. Father sometimes treats me more or less as a domestic servant so I know what it feels like.’ Her eyes widened earnestly. ‘Besides, I’d do anything to help you, Robert. You must know that.’

She spoke with such affection and looked at him so longingly that he wanted to wrap her in his arms and hold her tight. Colbeck had never loved her more than at that moment. Madeleine Andrews had willingly assisted him in an investigation a number of times, never questioning his decisions and always achieving valuable results on his behalf. Her involvement in his work had brought them closer and closer. Colbeck had to suppress an urge to tell her how much she meant to him and how important she was in his life. But it was not the moment for such confidences. Duty called. There was a strong possibility that they had finally caught up with a killer and his accomplice. Colbeck needed to direct all of his energies at them.

Madeleine had watched him carefully.

‘Were you going to say something?’ she asked.

‘It will have to wait.’

‘Why?’

‘Never mind that – just trust me.’

‘I always do, Robert.’

He nodded in gratitude. ‘Let me give you your instructions.’

Colbeck told her exactly what to look for when the door was opened to her. Madeleine was to find out where the newcomers had come from and why they had moved to Birmingham. She had a clear description of Effie and of Hugh Kellow in her head. If neither of them was there, she was to make a polite excuse and withdraw. If, on the other hand, her suspicions were aroused in any way, Madeleine was told to adjust her hat. That was the signal for Colbeck to move in.

‘Remember that your safety is paramount,’ said Colbeck.

‘Yes, Robert.’

‘Mr Kellow has a pistol. He won’t need much encouragement to use it. At the slightest hint of trouble, walk quickly away.’

‘I will.’

He held her hands. ‘How do you feel?’

‘I’m quite excited.’

‘Try to look more deferential. Nobody is excited by housework.’

She grinned. ‘That’s one thing you don’t need to tell me.’

They waited for five minutes before moving off. When they reached the big house that Leeming had mentioned, they paused. It was one of the most striking buildings in the Quarter. Colbeck pretended to admire its Doric columns and simple architraves while Madeleine continued on down the street.

Hugh Kellow was having his first taste of work in his new abode. Crouched over a table in the little room next to the parlour, he examined the items he had stolen from Leonard Voke and wrote down their estimated value in his new account book. All of them would bring in a tidy profit and help to establish his reputation even though he had not actually made every piece in the collection. When he heard the doorbell ring, he looked up.

‘I’ll answer it!’ called Effie from the parlour.

‘Thank you,’ he replied, continuing his inventory.

As with all properties in the Quarter, attention had been paid to its security. Effie had to draw back two large bolts and turn the key in the lock before she could open the door. When she did so, she saw an attractive young woman standing at the doorstep.

‘Can I help you?’ asked Effie.

‘I saw that notice on the shutters,’ said Madeleine, injecting a note of humility into her voice. ‘You want a servant.’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘Could I have the details, please?’

‘We’re not offering accommodation,’ said Effie, enjoying the feeling of superiority she now had as an employer. ‘We simply need someone to come in each day to clean and help with the cooking.’

‘That would suit me, Mrs…’

‘Mrs Vernon. My husband is a silversmith. I should warn you that he hates being disturbed when he’s working. Whoever we employ would have to bear that in mind.’

‘I’ll do whatever I’m told, Mrs Vernon.’

‘You don’t sound as if you come from Birmingham.’

‘No,’ said Madeleine, inventing the details. ‘I was born in London but, when my father died, Mother and I moved here. We live with my aunt not far away so I’ve been looking for some time for work in the area.’ She glanced at the shutters. ‘The shop is not yet open, I see.’

‘No, we’ve only just moved in.’

‘Have you come far, Mrs Vernon?’

‘Far enough,’ replied Effie, guardedly. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Madeleine Andrews.’

‘Have you been in service before, Miss Andrews?’

‘I worked as a parlour maid in London.’

‘Which part of London?’

‘How well do you know the city, Mrs Vernon?’

‘I know it well enough.’

‘I worked in a house near Piccadilly for some years,’ said Madeleine, sensing that she might well be talking to Effie. ‘I only left there when Father died and we had to move. My mother was born in Birmingham and she’d always wanted to come back here one day.’

‘I see.’

‘My parents had a little house in Camden but it had too many sad memories for Mother. She had to leave so I gave in my notice. I’m not afraid of hard work, I can tell you that.’

‘Good.’

‘Which part of London did you live in, Mrs Vernon?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘Do you know Camden at all?’

Effie was abrupt. ‘I’ll have to discuss this with my husband.’

‘Is he at home at the moment?’

‘Yes, but he’s very busy. I can’t bother him now.’ She looked Madeleine up and down. ‘Can you give me an address where we can reach you?’

‘I can always come back tomorrow, if you like,’ Madeleine offered. ‘You’ll have had time to talk to your husband by then.’

Effie’s manner changed. ‘There’s no need for that, Miss Andrews,’ she said, dismissively. ‘I can see that you’re not really suitable for us. Good day to you.’

Giving her a cold smile, Effie closed the door and locked it before Madeleine had time to give any signal. Effie ran along the passageway to the workroom and burst in.

‘I’m worried, Hugh,’ she said, glancing over her shoulder.

‘Why – who was it?’

‘It was a young woman called Miss Andrews. She said that she’s come about the advertisement but she didn’t look like a servant to me. Then there was the other thing.’

He got to his feet. ‘What other thing?’

‘She asked too many questions. She wanted to know where I’d lived in London and if you were at home. There was something odd about her, Hugh.’

‘Which way did she go?’

‘I didn’t see – I shut the door in her face.’

‘There’s nothing to be alarmed about,’ he told her, putting a hand under her chin and brushing her lips with his own. ‘Nobody knows we’re here and they never will.’

‘I’d feel a lot safer if you take a look at her.’

‘Very well – but she’s probably gone by now!’

Going to the door, he unlocked it and stepped out into the street. Effie went after him. Several people were walking past in both directions but it was the man and the woman conversing a little distance away who interested him.

‘Is that her, Effie?’ he asked, pointing.

‘Yes,’ she said, starting to panic. ‘And I know the man’s she’s talking to – it’s Inspector Colbeck. They’ve found us, Hugh!’

He was horrified. ‘How could they?’

‘What do we do?’

‘Get back inside quickly.’

They darted back into the house as Colbeck started to run towards them. Pushing home the bolts, Kellow locked the door then ran up the stairs to retrieve his pistol. He thrust it into his belt. Effie, meanwhile, was grabbing her coat and hat. Kellow pounded down the stairs, unlocked the safe and reached in to take out large wads of banknotes. He stuffed some into his pockets and handed the rest to Effie. They could hear Colbeck ringing the bell and banging on the door. There was no time to waste. Kellow opened the back door and led Effie into the little garden. When they reached the fence, he bent down and hoisted her up without ceremony, hoping that she would climb over to the lane beyond. Instead she let out a loud screech. Waiting for her on the other side of the fence was Victor Leeming.

‘Hello, Effie,’ he said, raising his hat, ‘remember me?’

* * *

After failing to break open the door with his shoulder, Colbeck turned his attention to the shutters. There was a small gap between them that allowed him to take a firm grip on the timber with both hands. Putting one foot against the wall, he pulled hard. The shutters began to creak and splinter then, as he gave one final heave, the lock burst and they flapped open like the wings of some gigantic bird. Colbeck did not hesitate. Whisking off his hat, he used it to protect his face from the shards that flew everywhere when he kicked in the shop window. The noise brought people running. Madeleine was part of a gathering crowd that watched him clamber into the property.

Colbeck cut his hand in the process but ignored the pain and the trickle of blood. He looked into the empty workroom then went on into the parlour. Through the window, he could see into the back garden. Victor Leeming had climbed over the fence and was being held at gunpoint by Hugh Kellow who had one arm around Effie. The couple were backing towards the house. Colbeck was unarmed but he saw something that might offer him some protection. It was the silver coffee pot, gleaming proudly on the sideboard. He picked it up, went into the kitchen and out into the garden.

‘Good afternoon, Mr Vernon,’ he said smoothly, causing both Kellow and Effie to swing round in alarm. ‘I’ve just been admiring the locomotive you made when your name was Hugh Kellow.’

‘Put that down!’ snarled Kellow, waving the pistol at him.

‘You wouldn’t dare fire at me, sir, surely? There’s a good chance you might hit this coffee pot and damage the silver. You don’t want that to happen, do you? Consider something else. The bullet could ricochet off anywhere. It might even kill one of you.’

‘Stay back!’ ordered Kellow, then he turned to face Leeming who had been creeping forward. ‘That goes for you as well.’

Leeming held his ground. ‘You can’t shoot both of us with a single bullet, sir, and you’d never have time to reload.’

‘Besides,’ said Colbeck, ‘there’s been enough killing already. Mr Henley was not your only victim.’

Effie was aghast. ‘How do you know about Martin?’

‘We know far more than you think, Miss Haggs,’ he told her. ‘We know, for instance, that when you’d been to London with Constable Roberts, you didn’t take a cab to Mayfair. You went straight back to Cardiff to act as an accomplice. But there’s something that you ought to know as well. Indirectly, Mr Kellow caused another death. Leonard Voke committed suicide.’

‘Is that true?’ asked Kellow with a half-smile.

‘The sergeant and I found him earlier today. He shot himself with an old musket. Mr Voke had nothing to live for without his son and his former assistant.’

‘Well, don’t expect me to feel sorry for him!’

‘I don’t, sir,’ said Colbeck with aplomb. ‘You’ll be too busy feeling sorry for yourself in a condemned cell. Now why don’t you put that pistol aside before someone gets hurt?’

‘It will be one of you,’ warned Kellow, aiming the pistol at each of them in turn. ‘Move out of the way, Inspector.’

‘I’m sorry but I can’t allow you to do that, sir.’

‘Move out of the way or I’ll shoot. I mean it,’ said Kellow with desperation. ‘We’re leaving by the front door.’

‘Then you might want to take this with you,’ said Colbeck.

He tossed the coffee pot to Kellow who instinctively caught it. Colbeck dived forward to grab the pistol and turn its barrel away so that the bullet went harmlessly up into the air when the gun went off. Leeming, meanwhile, grappled with Effie. Though she screamed, struggled and tried to bite his hand, she was soon overpowered and handcuffed. Hugh Kellow put up more of a fight. Pushing Colbeck away, he dropped the coffee pot and tried to use the butt of the pistol on the detective’s head. Colbeck ducked out of the way and flung himself at the man’s legs. Kellow was brought crashing to the ground.

The two men rolled over on the grass with Effie yelling at the top of her voice and trying to kick out at Colbeck as he finished up on top. Lifting her up, Leeming carried her yards away from the brawl. Kellow did not give in easily. Driven into frenzy by the thought of execution, he fought like a demon. Colbeck managed to knock the pistol out of his grasp but he had to take several punches to his face and body. With a supreme effort, Kellow flung him sideways then rolled over on top of him, spitting into his eyes then trying to gouge them with his fingers. Colbeck responded with a solid punch to the nose and felt Kellow’s blood dribbling over his face. The two men flailed around on the grass, neither of them giving any quarter. They grappled, twisted, pushed, pulled, squeezed and traded punches.

There was a point when Leeming thought he might have to intervene but it quickly passed. Colbeck was far too strong and experienced. In the course of his career as a detective, he had had to make many arrests of violent men. It had built up his stamina. Though the silversmith was fighting to save his life, he was no match for Colbeck. His strength at last began to fade. In a last bid to escape, he tried to get up and run away but his legs were scythed from beneath him by Colbeck’s foot. Kellow fell headfirst on to the grass. Before he could move, he felt a knee in his back and a pair of handcuffs being snapped on to his wrists. Bruised, dishevelled and with his frock coat torn, Colbeck stood up and hauled his prisoner to his feet. Kellow was breathless and exhausted. Effie was weeping.

Colbeck bent down to pick up the silver coffee pot and brush away some specks of dirt. He inspected it carefully all over.

‘It’s in perfect condition,’ he said, approvingly. ‘It will go to its proper home at long last.’

The two prisoners were given a temporary home in the police station nearby. While Effie and Kellow had their first experience of being locked up, Colbeck cleaned the blood from his face and brushed some of the dirt from his coat. Two policemen were sent off to secure the property bought by Kellow so that nothing could be stolen. Leeming had the coffee pot locomotive in a leather bag. He was puzzled when Colbeck asked him to wait at the police station.

‘But we have to take the prisoners back to London, sir,’ argued Leeming, eager to relay word of their triumph to Edward Tallis.

‘All in good time,’ said Colbeck.

‘Where are you going?’

‘I have some business to take care of, Victor.’

‘Shall I come with you?’

‘I think not. This is an expedition that can only ever involve two people. You’d be highly embarrassed and feel that you were in the way. We’ll not be long.’

‘As you wish, sir,’ said Leeming, wondering what he meant.

Colbeck went through into the outer office where Madeleine was talking to the desk sergeant. She was surprised that he was alone.

‘What about your prisoners?’ she asked.

‘They can wait.’

‘Why the delay?’

‘Let’s step outside,’ he suggested, ‘and I’ll explain.’

Colbeck took her out and surveyed the streets facing them. He was irritated by the tear in his coat but, since it was under his arm, it was not very noticeable. It certainly would not prevent him from taking what would be an extremely important walk. Madeleine was still bewildered.

‘What about the sergeant?’

‘Victor can cool his heels while we take a stroll.’

‘Where are we going, Robert?’

‘We’re going to take advantage of a unique opportunity,’ he said, holding her hands. ‘It seems perverse to come to a Jewellery Quarter without buying some jewellery. I thought that we might look in a few windows.’

‘Why?’

He smiled at her. ‘Why else?’

Madeleine could not believe what she was hearing. It made her head spin. As his smile broadened into a grin, her heart began to pound and she felt unsteady on her feet. Standing outside a police station in Birmingham seemed the most unlikely place for her to receive a proposal of marriage. Yet, in another sense, it was highly appropriate. She knew that Colbeck was wholly committed to his work as a detective and that any wife of his would have to accept that. Madeleine was happy to do so. She loved him enough to take him on any terms. Yet she was still troubled by uncertainty.

‘Do you mean what I hope you mean, Robert?’ she asked.

‘I think it’s high time we put your father’s mind at rest,’ he replied, taking her hands. ‘I know that he thinks I’m trying to lead his lovely daughter astray. I need to show him that my intentions are honourable.’

‘Everything you do is honourable.’

‘When you have a ring on your finger, he may finally learn to trust me. You won’t have to put up with his badgering any more. If, that is,’ he went on, ‘you accept me.’

Madeleine was overjoyed. Her mind was filled with dozens of things she wished to say but her lips refused to open. All that she could do was to luxuriate in the moment. Something she had dreamt about for years had finally become a reality. It was intoxicating.

‘Well?’ he pressed. She nodded her head vigorously. ‘Thank heaven for that. I had a horrible feeling that you’d reject me.’

‘There was never any danger of that, Robert,’ she said, finding her voice at last. ‘The answer is yes – yes – yes!’

Colbeck removed his hat so that he could kiss her on the lips. Then he embraced her warmly. They stood there in silence for some while, savouring the moment. Eventually, she looked up at him.

‘What made you decide to ask me here?’ she asked. ‘It’s hardly the most romantic place. You caught me completely off guard.’

‘Is that a complaint?’’

She laughed with pleasure. ‘No, no, I’m delighted.’

‘And I’m thrilled, Madeleine. Fate must have brought us here for a purpose and it wasn’t simply to arrest two people. I’m sorry it wasn’t quite how you might have hoped it would be but I just couldn’t help myself. When we were waiting for Victor to get into position at the rear of the house, I had this sudden impulse. I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you and not simply be an occasional visitor to your house. I love you, Madeleine.’

‘I love you, Robert – even with those bruises on your face.’

He put a hand to his cheek. ‘When your father sees the state I’m in, he’ll think that you’ve beaten me into submission.’

‘I don’t care what he thinks.’

Neither do I.’ He offered his arm and she took it. ‘Let’s see what Birmingham has to offer us in the way of rings, shall we?’

Edward Tallis was so pleased to hear of the arrests that he produced a bottle of brandy from a drawer and poured a generous amount into two glasses. Handing one to Victor Leeming, he raised the other one in a silent toast before taking a long sip.

‘I think we deserved that, Sergeant,’ he said. ‘Congratulations!’

‘Thank you, sir,’ said Leeming, taking a more tentative sip. ‘Though the person you ought to be congratulating is the inspector.’

‘Were the fellow here, I’d happily do so. Where is he?’

‘He’ll be here before too long. He wanted to make sure that the prisoners were in safe custody.’

Leeming knew full well that Colbeck was taking Madeleine Andrews back home before returning to Scotland Yard but he did not tell that to his superior. Nor did he let him in on the secret that the inspector was now engaged to marry. Madeleine had returned from Birmingham with an expensive ring on her finger. Leeming was touched to be the first person who knew about the betrothal and he had wished the couple health and happiness.

‘Mind you,’ said Tallis on reflection, ‘any praise I give to the inspector must be tempered with criticism. He did make a mistake.’

‘He’ll be the first to admit it.’

‘The pair of you went chasing after Stephen Voke in the certainty that he was the villain – so much for Inspector Colbeck’s reputation for infallibility!’

‘Even the best horse stumbles, sir.’

‘Quite so, quite so,’ confessed Tallis. ‘I myself am not free from blame here. I stumbled badly in Wood Street. In telling Mr Voke that he’d alienated his son by his behaviour and created a desire for revenge in his assistant, I fear that I may have pushed him another step towards the frightful decision to take his own life.’

‘That was hardly your fault, sir,’ said Leeming, surprised by the frank admission. ‘Leonard Voke was a fine silversmith but he was a poor father and a miserly employer. The wonder is that he got anyone to work for him. I’m sorry for what happened to him but I fancy that he brought it all on himself.’

‘My conscience is still troubled.’

‘I don’t see that it should be.’

‘My manner can be too forthright at times.’

Leeming was about to agree with him wholeheartedly but chose to sip his brandy instead. He did not wish to imperil such a unique occasion. As a rule, the superintendent’s office was a place of great discomfort for him. Yet the sergeant was actually enjoying a visit there for once. Nothing must be allowed to spoil that. As the brandy coursed through him, Leeming remembered someone else who merited praise.

‘If I might make a suggestion, sir,’ he began.

‘Go on.’

‘Superintendent Stockdale of the Cardiff Borough Police has been extremely helpful to us at every stage. I believe that he deserves a letter of thanks from you – if not from the commissioner.’

‘I’ll be glad to write it,’ said Tallis.

‘Then the inspector can deliver it by hand tomorrow.’

‘Oh?’

‘He’s going back to Cardiff so that he can return the stolen property to Mrs Tomkins. After all this time, she’ll be so relieved to get her hands on that silver coffee pot. Inspector Colbeck is looking forward to the moment when he can at last give it to her.’

* * *

There was no performance of Macbeth on Sunday but Madeleine Andrews nevertheless enjoyed the visit to Cardiff. After a train journey together, she and Colbeck had the pleasure of delivering the coffee pot locomotive to Winifred Tomkins and of repaying her husband the money that was stolen. Elated beyond measure, Winifred pressed for details.

‘Where did you find it, Inspector?’ she asked, caressing it.

‘It was in Birmingham, Mrs Tomkins.’

‘Whatever was it doing there?’

‘Mr Kellow had bought a shop in the Jewellery Quarter and intended to work there under a false name. He had no intention of ever parting with your locomotive but,’ he said, modestly, ‘I persuaded him to do so.’

‘I feel ashamed that I ever doubted you.’

‘Yes,’ said Tomkins. ‘I shall be writing to your superior to tell him how grateful we are for what you and Sergeant Leeming did for us. Having this coffee pot at last changes everything.’

‘I’m glad to hear it, sir,’ said Colbeck.

Winifred sniggered. ‘Lady Pryde will be so put out.’

‘I assume that you won’t be inviting her in for coffee.’

Tomkins guffawed. ‘Not blooming likely!’

The visitors stayed long enough for an exchange of pleasantries then they withdrew. When they left the Tomkins residence, Madeleine was still dazed. She looked back at the mansion.

‘I’ve never been in a house that big,’ she said. ‘It was like a small castle. How can two people need somewhere so palatial?’

‘They’re making a statement to the world, Madeleine.’

‘Then it’s a very loud one.’

‘Loud and altogether too ornate for my liking,’ said Colbeck. ‘I hope you’re not expecting us to have a home like that.’

‘I’ll be happy anywhere with you, Robert.’

‘That’s reassuring.’

Driven back into the city, they went in search of Jeremiah Stockdale, who had just returned from a service at St John’s Church. They met at the police station. The superintendent was very interested to meet Madeleine and – when told of it – he congratulated them on their betrothal. He could not, however, keep his eyes off the bruises on Colbeck’s face.

‘Do I take it that Mr Kellow resisted arrest?’ he said.

‘Very briefly,’ replied Colbeck.

‘Where is he now?’

‘He and Effie are safely locked up behind bars. They had hoped to open a jeweller’s shop in Birmingham but they were not welcome there. Some ruffian actually kicked their shop window to pieces.’

He gave an attenuated account of what had happened, drawing attention to the part played by Madeleine. Stockdale was impressed.

‘Effie was no mean actress herself,’ he said, ‘but you seem to have been her equal, Miss Andrews.’

‘Thank you,’ she replied.

‘Acting skills have been at the heart of this whole business,’ remarked Colbeck. ‘We had Effie playing the role of a bereaved sister, Kate Linnane appearing as Lady Macbeth and as a kidnap victim, and Madeleine taking on the mantle of a servant.’

‘Miss Andrews gave the most effective performance,’ decided Stockdale, ‘because it helped to catch two killers. I don’t have the slightest pity for them. If I lived in London,’ he added, ‘I might be tempted to see what sort of a performance they give on the scaffold.’

‘I’ll be too busy working on the next case to do that.’

‘So will I, Inspector. Cardiff throws up new problems each day.’

‘But it’s not without its charms,’ said Colbeck.

‘Oh, it’s a fine town,’ agreed Stockdale, chuckling. ‘That’s why I settled down here. Clifford Tomkins and Archelaus Pugh keep telling me that Merthyr is bigger and better but this is the place for me. I hope to see out my three score years and ten here. Merthyr may have a glorious past but it’s Cardiff that will have a glorious future.’

Colbeck offered his hand. ‘Thank you for all that you did, Superintendent,’ he said, feeling Stockdale’s firm grip. ‘You had much more than an honourable mention in my report on the investigation.’

‘I was glad to work beside the Railway Detective,’ said Stockdale. ‘You and Sergeant Leeming once helped me with a case that took me to London. It was good to be able to return the favour.’

‘I sincerely hope that we work together again.’

After a round of farewells, Colbeck and Madeleine left the police station and stepped out into the wide thoroughfare of St Mary Street. It was a fine day and the town was bathed in bright sunshine. People drove past in traps or open carriages. Shop windows shimmered, pavements had been swept clean and pedestrians were wearing their Sunday best. It was a good day to visit the town.

‘Superintendent Stockdale is not the only man who deserves thanks,’ said Colbeck. ‘People like your father are the real heroes.’

‘Why is that, Robert?’

‘They drive the trains that helped us to move about the country so easily. That was a godsend. Without them, we’d have struggled to bring this investigation to an end.’

‘What happens now?’ she asked.

‘I’m going to show you the sights of Cardiff,’ he replied. ‘When we’ve found a restaurant and had a meal, we’ll see all the things that the superintendent has been telling me about.’

Madeleine issued a warning. ‘We mustn’t be too late back.’

‘Why is that?’

‘Father will be expecting me.’

‘There’s no hurry. Let him wait. It will give him more time to read Dombey and Son.’

‘What train will we catch this evening?’

Colbeck grinned. ‘The slowest one,’ he said.

About the Author

EDWARD MARSTON was born and brought up in South Wales. A full-time writer for over thirty years, he has worked in radio, film, television and the theatre and is a former chairman of the Crime Writers’ Association. Prolific and highly successful, he is equally at home writing children’s books or literary criticism.

www.edwardmarston.com

Available from

ALLISON & BUSBY

The Railway Detective series

The Railway Detective

The Excursion Train

The Railway Viaduct

The Iron Horse

Murder on the Brighton Express

The Silver Locomotive Mystery

Railway to the Grave

Blood on the Line

The Restoration series

The King’s Evil

The Amorous Nightingale

The Repentant Rake

The Frost Fair

The Parliament House

The Painted Lady

The Captain Rawson series

Soldier of Fortune

Drums of War

Fire and Sword

Under Siege