Ticket to Oblivion

CHAPTER TWENTY

Win Eagleton knew how to choose her moment. She busied herself in the kitchen until all her chores had been done, then she went in search of him. Vernon Tolley was leaning against the carriage, pressing tobacco into his clay pipe before he lit it. He puffed hard for a few seconds. The horses stood between the shafts in readiness for instant departure, should they be called upon. Nobody else was about as Win padded across the courtyard. Wrapped up in thought, the coachman was completely unaware of her approach. It was only when she stood directly in front of him that he knew that she was there.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she said with a sympathetic smile.

‘Do you?’

‘Yes, Vernon, you’re thinking about that hat in the Mickleton Tunnel.’

‘That wasn’t on my mind at all, Win,’ he said. ‘I was just wondering when Sir Marcus would need me again. I was told to stand by.’

‘Where is he going?’

‘He may not be going anywhere. The situation seems to change by the hour.’

‘You know about Mr Tunnadine, don’t you?’ she said in a whisper. ‘They were overheard talking about it at breakfast. What an awful thing to happen to him! He was shot dead. The wedding will not take place now, but then,’ she added, slyly, ‘I don’t suppose that it would ever have done so.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, they’re not coming back, are they?’

‘Don’t say that, Win!’ he protested.

‘It’s no good pretending.’

‘That’s not what I’m doing.’

‘Both of them disappear, Rhoda’s hat is found in a tunnel and a man is murdered in cold blood. If that doesn’t convince you, what will?’

‘I’m busy,’ he said, moving away. ‘You’ll have to excuse me.’

She followed him across the yard. ‘But you’re only waiting for Sir Marcus.’

‘I’d prefer to do it alone.’

‘Why are you always avoiding me?’

He stopped and faced her. ‘I’m not avoiding you, Win. I just want to be left on my own. I have things to think about.’

‘But that’s why I came, Vernon. I hate to see you moping.’

‘I’m not moping.’

‘Yes, you are and you’ve been doing it for days. I simply want to help you.’

‘You can do that best by letting me get on with my job.’

‘Smoking a pipe and resting against the carriage — what kind of work is that?’

‘I may be needed at any moment.’

‘It’s not only Sir Marcus who needs you,’ she said, softly. ‘We all do, Vernon. Everyone in the kitchen is worried about you. We know what Rhoda meant to you and we’re so sorry that she’ll never …’ Feigning grief, she used the back of her hand to wipe away a tear. ‘I loved her as well. That’s why I’m in mourning, too.’

‘Rhoda is not dead,’ he insisted.

‘No, no, of course not,’ she said, hurriedly. ‘She’s still alive and so is Miss Imogen. They’ll come back very soon and we’ll all be happy. It’s wrong to let the waiting get us down. We must be patient. However,’ she added, ‘we have to be ready just in case anything does go wrong.’ She inhaled deeply. ‘I’ve always loved the smell of your tobacco. Whenever you light that pipe, I like to be near you.’

After a last puff, he tapped the pipe against his heel and the tobacco spilt onto the ground. He put the pipe in his pocket and looked her in the eye.

‘Yes,’ he said with slow deliberation, ‘there is a chance that Rhoda may never come back. There is a chance that something bad has happened to them. I accept that. If that’s the way it is, then I know exactly what I’d do.’

‘What’s that, Vernon?’

‘I’d leave Burnhope Manor and look for work elsewhere. I’d move far away, Win. There’s nothing to keep me here.’

Stung by the rebuff, she turned on her heel and scuttled back to the kitchen.

Tolley was glad to have shaken her off. Alone at last, he sighed deeply.

‘Where are you, Rhoda?’ he pleaded. ‘Where are you?’

Rhoda Wills took the warning seriously. She’d crossed the Irish Sea with a large number of passengers but she’d been told what would happen if she tried to shout for help. Cullen never left her side. When he sat beside her, she could feel the pistol beneath his coat. It had already accounted for Tunnadine. If she disobeyed orders, Rhoda knew that she could be the next victim. At any other time, a visit to Dublin would have excited her but she left the vessel with dread in her heart. What caused her most anxiety was that she and Imogen were kept apart. Cullen hustled her into a cab and they were taken to a nearby hotel with the luggage. When he booked two rooms, her hopes rose slightly. She was to be reunited with Imogen, after all. They could offer each other solace.

Instead, she was conducted to a room at the top of the hotel and pushed into it by Cullen. The first thing he did was to drag her across to the window.

‘The most beautiful city in the world is out there, Rhoda,’ he said, beaming, ‘but don’t even think of exploring it by trying to run away again. It’s a very long way down to the ground, as you can see. You’d be dead as soon as you hit the pavement.’

‘Where are the others?’

‘You just worry about yourself.’

‘I want to know where Miss Imogen is.’

‘She disappeared the moment we boarded the vessel,’ he said with a smile. ‘She’s Mrs Whiteside now and she’ll soon be entertaining her husband in the room next door. You’ll stay here until your own husband is ready for you.’ He bared his teeth. ‘Goodbye, Mrs Cullen.’

‘Stay away from me,’ she cried.

‘Now that’s not the way to start our honeymoon, is it?’ he taunted.

After letting himself out, he locked the door behind him. Rhoda could hear his laughter echoing along the corridor. She went back to the window and looked down. Cullen was right. There was no escape. Rhoda was trapped.

Miraculously, the swell seemed to drop, the wind lost its bite and the vessel was able to sail on an even keel. Though the sea was by no means calm, it no longer rocked their steam packet so violently. Even someone as unsettled as Victor Leeming felt the urge to go up on deck and sample the fresh air. Colbeck and Madeleine were already there, standing in the stern and watching the posse of gulls that had trailed them from Holyhead. Momentarily, they felt as if they were setting off on a holiday but the sensation then vanished. They were in pursuit of two dangerous men and that ruled out any possibility of leisure or enjoyment.

‘What are Irish railways like?’ she asked.

‘You may well have the chance to find out, Madeleine.’

‘You travelled on them before, didn’t you?’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘The system is nowhere near as complex as the one we know but, then again, it’s not so absurdly cluttered. While we have far too many railway companies, Ireland has too few, but that will change in time.’

‘Father thinks that one company should have a complete monopoly.’

‘And would that company happen to be the LNWR?’

Madeleine laughed. ‘How ever did you guess that?’

‘And I daresay that a standard gauge would be compulsory and your father would have Brunel exiled to the most distant part of the British Empire.’

Chatting happily, they walked arm in arm beside the bulwark until Colbeck saw something out of the corner of his eye. He kept up the same unvarying pace as they walked past the saloon.

‘Wait here,’ he said, drawing her aside.

‘Where are you going, Robert?’

‘I’ll tell you in a moment.’

Doubling back, he used the crowded deck as a means of moving unseen towards the stern, ducking and dodging as he moved along. Dozens of people were standing at the bulwark, gazing out to sea. Leeming was one of them but Colbeck left him where he was. The person who interested him was sauntering along with a cigar in his mouth. When he drew level, Colbeck clamped a hand on his shoulder.

‘I thought I recognised you, Kee.’

‘Good day to you, Inspector,’ said the other, amiably.

‘You followed us.’

‘That’s not true at all. I’ve always wanted to visit Ireland.’

‘Don’t lie to me,’ said Colbeck. ‘You’d never have tracked them on your own so you sneaked after us. You’re not part of this investigation.’

‘I ought to be,’ argued Kee. ‘Tunnadine was not the most pleasant man to work for but he paid me handsomely. I owe it to him to catch his killer.’

‘You owed it to us to give an honest account of his death.’

‘That’s what I gave you, Inspector.’

‘Not quite,’ said Colbeck. ‘I felt that the facts had been doctored slightly and so did Sergeant Dean. If you followed us to Crewe, you’ll know that I went off to the police station. The sergeant was an astute man. Because you told him exactly where Mr Tunnadine had been shot, he rode out there to examine the site and he noticed a lacuna in your story.’

‘I gave you both a truthful report.’

‘Then you are a poor strategist. You obviously learnt nothing from your time at Scotland Yard. Why hide in a ditch when the hedge on the other side of the field would have served your purpose far better?’

Alban Kee was about to rely on bluff but he knew that it would have no effect.

‘Very well,’ he admitted, ‘perhaps I did make one slight change to the story. I was hiding behind the hedge when someone clubbed me from behind.’ He removed his hat. ‘I had a lump the size of an egg. You can still see it.’

‘Yes, I can,’ said Colbeck. ‘It serves you right for not looking over your shoulder. Count yourself lucky that your attacker didn’t finish you off there and then. Tunnadine didn’t pay you to tell lies.’

‘He paid me to protect him and I failed.’ Kee replaced his hat gingerly. ‘Use me, Inspector. Every investigation needs another pair of hands.’

‘Yours are tainted, Kee. They’ve taken too many bribes.’

‘Never listen to false rumours.’

‘Never defy Superintendent Tallis,’ warned Colbeck. ‘He said categorically that you were not involved in this case. When we reach port, I’m putting you on the first vessel back to North Wales. If you resist, I’ll report you to the superintendent on my return.’

Kee smirked. ‘Two can play at that game.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘If you report me for interfering in an investigation,’ said the other, ‘then I’ll report you for recruiting your wife as a detective. That is Mrs Colbeck, isn’t it? You and she seem very close.’ He chortled. ‘What is it to be? Do I stay and help you or does Tallis hear that you’ve dared to employ a woman?’

Colbeck was cornered. He knew only too well what the superintendent would say if he found out the truth. Colbeck’s own position at Scotland Yard would be in doubt. The very notion of a female detective was an abomination to Tallis.

Kee smirked again. ‘It looks as if you have another assistant,’ he said, chirpily. ‘Why don’t you introduce me to Mrs Colbeck? She and I are two of a kind. Officially, neither of us actually exists.’

Imogen Burnhope was panic-stricken. In crossing the Irish Sea, she’d been taken further and further away from the possibility of rescue. She’d also been deprived of the company of her maid. Yet protest had no effect on her captor. Whiteside had her completely under his control and she could do nothing. She was horrified when they reached the hotel and she was taken off to the bedroom booked by Cullen for them. Whiteside had stolen her heart, betrayed her, kidnapped her and tricked her father out of an immense sum of money. Even more alarming was the fact that he’d let Cullen shoot the man to whom she’d been engaged. Imogen had lost almost everything — her freedom, her family, her maid, her friends and her trust in human nature. All that she had left to forfeit was her virginity and the thought petrified her.

The irony was that she’d been more than ready to yield it up in the marriage bed to the man who now led her into the hotel room. But there was no wedding and the person she’d adored was now both hated and feared. Hands on hips, Whiteside studied her with a proprietorial smile.

‘You’re all mine now, Mrs Whiteside.’

‘I’m not your wife and never will be,’ she retorted.

‘That’s not what you said in your letters,’ he reminded her. ‘You wanted to be Juliet to my Romeo, a passionate woman who defies her family to run off with the man she loves and marry in secret. Well, here I am, and unlike Romeo, I won’t be taking poison to give the impression that I’m dead. I’m very much alive, Imogen, as you’ll soon find out.’

‘I want to see Rhoda.’

‘She’s rather preoccupied with Manus.’

‘What’s he doing with her?’

‘I daresay that he’s thinking about consummating the marriage — not that he and your maid are actually married, of course, but he’ll overlook that. Manus is very accommodating in such situations.’ When he stroked her hair, she backed away at once. ‘There’s nowhere to run. Why not surrender graciously?’

‘I don’t want you anywhere near me, Terence.’

‘Your letters told a different story.’

‘That was because I was beguiled. You used Shakespeare to ensnare me.’

‘Yes,’ he said, happily, ‘the Bard was a very useful accomplice. I’ve long admired his work, you see. Before I joined the army, I worked as an actor for a while and took part in some of Shakespeare’s plays. It was an education. Once you’ve learnt the lines, you never forget them. Once you fall under the spell of the sonnets, you want to pass on their magic, as I did to you.’

‘That was cruel and despicable of you.’

‘It may seem so at the moment, Imogen. When you get to know me properly, you realise that I’m the charming and devoted swain that you took me for at the start. I courted you and conquered you, remember.’ He opened the door. ‘By the time I come back, I expect you to have accepted that.’

Victor Leeming was angry that Kee had followed them and manipulated himself into the investigation. The situation was irremediable, however, so he agreed to work with the private detective. Earlier in their careers, the two men had got on well. It was only when Kee was corrupted that the two fell out. There was professional rivalry at stake. Having been on the track of the kidnappers from the very start, Leeming expected Colbeck and himself to be instrumental in the arrest. They had put in the long, taxing days of pursuit. He didn’t want Kee to steal their thunder.

Madeleine disliked their new assistant from the outset. He seemed too glib and devious for her taste. It was evident that he wanted to be the one to catch the fugitives and claim the credit. Colbeck decided to forget their past differences and exploit the man’s skills. By working for Tunnadine, he’d earned a place in the investigation and was eager. The blow delivered by Cullen had wounded Kee’s head and his pride. He wanted revenge, always a powerful incentive.

When the ship docked, they were among the first to disembark. Colbeck had already given them their orders. Having spoken to the captain of the vessel, he’d learnt the names of the best hotels in Dublin and deployed his men accordingly. Leeming was sent off in one direction with a shortlist of names while Kee went to check out hotels in the opposite direction. Colbeck and Madeleine would work their way through a third list. He stressed that nobody was to tackle the kidnappers on his own. If they were discovered, he was to alert the others when they met at an agreed location at the heart of the city.

Leeming went off with resolute strides but Kee fairly scampered away.

‘I don’t like him, Robert,’ said Madeleine. ‘He’s too sly.’

‘Since I’m landed with him, I have to use him.’

‘I’m glad you didn’t send them off together. Victor obviously detests him.’

‘Yes, Kee is an unprepossessing individual,’ said Colbeck, sighing. ‘He’s also a potential weakness, which is why I hope we find the kidnappers first.’

‘I don’t understand,’ she said.

‘Captain Whiteside and his accomplice have never seen us. We have the advantage of surprise. Alban Kee doesn’t. He was knocked unconscious by Sergeant Cullen. If he turns up at their hotel, he might be recognised.’

Sir Marcus Burnhope was under immense strain. Expecting to be contacted by the kidnappers yet again, he kept going to the window in the library and peering out. The rest of them were there but, in the tense atmosphere, nobody dared to speak. Percy Vaughan was seated beside his aunt so that she could draw strength from his presence. A nervous Emma was on the sofa, flanked by her parents. Vaughan was looking enviously around the shelves and Cassandra, for once, was silent, her effervescence sapped by the seriousness of the situation. When Sir Marcus was at rest, the only sound in the room was the methodical ticking of the ormolu clock on the marble mantelpiece. When it chimed on the hour, they were all startled.

Without any of the detectives, Sir Marcus felt bereft. Tallis was in London but the whereabouts of Colbeck and Leeming were unknown. It left Sir Marcus feeling isolated. If a ransom demand did come, he wanted someone there to advise him. It irked him to think he might have to pay the kidnappers twice yet he’d do so if it would ensure his daughter’s release. Hands behind his back, he did a circuit of the library, impervious to the others. He was about to return to his seat when he heard hoof beats approaching the house at speed. As he darted to the window, he found Dominic Vaughan beside him, equally anxious to see who the newcomer was. A figure in uniform galloped up to the front of the house and reined in his horse before dismounting.

‘Stay here,’ said Sir Marcus, heading for the door.

The others waited for several minutes before he returned. Desperate for news, they were all on their feet at once. He waved a piece of paper in the air.

‘This was sent to the telegraph station at Shrub Hill,’ he announced. ‘It’s a message from Superintendent Tallis.’

‘What does it say?’ croaked his wife.

‘Inspector Colbeck has gone to Ireland.’

Cassandra voiced the general dismay. ‘What is Imogen doing there?’

The loss of Rhoda Wills was a devastating blow to Imogen. The woman had been both friend and fellow prisoner, sharing the same privations and doing her best to keep their morale high. It was thanks to Rhoda that they’d attempted to escape and, even though they’d failed, they had the satisfaction of knowing that they’d done something positive instead of just meekly waiting to see what would happen to them. Their punishment had been separation. Together, they could support each other; apart, they were powerless. When she stood at the window of her hotel room, Imogen looked down on pretty rows of Georgian houses with a pleasing symmetry. People were hurrying to and fro on foot or by cab. While they were enjoying the precious gift of freedom, Imogen was locked away, dreading the moment when Terence Whiteside would return to claim his prize. She was in purgatory.

Whiteside was in the hotel bar, savouring a celebratory drink with Cullen. They sat in a quiet corner and congratulated themselves on their achievement. Their haul was big enough to keep both of them in a state of prosperity for the rest of their lives, with the added bonus — at least in the short term — of an attractive mistress for each of them. Cullen was practical.

‘How long do we keep them?’

‘They can stay until we tire of them, Manus.’

‘Then what happens? We can hardly let them go now.’

‘Don’t worry about that,’ said Whiteside. ‘Enjoy what we have to the full before we think of getting rid of it. Before that, of course, we can divide the spoils.’

‘What about the jewellery?’

‘That belongs to Imogen.’

‘I think we should have half each.’

‘Then you’re very much mistaken.’

‘I’ve seen it,’ said Cullen. ‘It’s worth a fortune. I’m not going to miss out on my share of that. All right,’ he went on, sensing his friend’s hostility, ‘let her keep it as long as she’s with us but, when we dispose of her, it’s a different story.’

‘Don’t get too greedy,’ said Whiteside.

‘And don’t you get too forgetful. Fifty-fifty was the split we agreed and you’ve already reneged on that, Terence.’

‘No, I haven’t.’

‘Then take a look at the ladies side by side. You get the real beauty and I have to make do with the other one. That’s not fifty-fifty,’ he joked. ‘By rights, we ought to take it in turns with Sir Marcus’s daughter.’

‘She’s all mine,’ warned Whiteside, picking up his glass, ‘and so is her jewellery for the time being. Bear that in mind, Manus.’

While they discussed their plans and enjoyed their drink, they were both thinking about what awaited them upstairs. Whiteside was patient but Cullen’s mind kept drifting. In the end, he excused himself and sauntered out of the bar on his way to an enforced tryst with Rhoda Wills. Seconds later, he was back.

‘Terence,’ he said, sitting beside him, ‘he’s out there.’

‘Who is?’

‘It’s that detective I knocked out in Crewe. He’s followed us. We haven’t escaped, after all.’

‘Calm down, calm down,’ said Whiteside. ‘Is the fellow alone?’

‘He seemed to be.’

‘Then there’s nothing to worry about. If he was hiding behind that hedge, he may have seen me but not you.’

‘That’s true. He won’t know me from Adam.’

Whiteside stood up. ‘What was he doing?’

‘He was talking to the manager.’

‘Get out there and keep an eye on him,’ said the other, easing him towards the door. ‘I’ll sneak off upstairs. Let me know what he does and how you think we should react. Remind me of his name.’

‘Alban Kee.’

Kee had done it so many times before that he was an old hand. When he’d asked for information about hotel guests, managers had invariably become indignant and told him that it was against their policy to disclose details of any kind to strangers. All that Kee had to do was to slip some banknotes into the manager’s palm and the hotel register was suddenly open to him. He felt a glow of triumph when he saw the name of Terence Whiteside, ostensibly travelling with his wife. In the next room, Manus Cullen was staying with Mrs Cullen. Kee was thrilled. Those were the names given to him by Colbeck. He’d found the kidnappers.

His orders were to go to the meeting place and await the others. Since the guests were booked in, they would not be going anywhere. Kee could come back with reinforcements and the arrests could be made. On the other hand, if he caught both men himself, he could bask in the glory. After seeing such a display of courage and enterprise, Tallis was bound to have him back in Scotland Yard. Kee would not only have proved his mettle, he would have outshone Robert Colbeck at last. There would be a substantial reward from Sir Marcus Burnhope and the kind of lavish praise in the newspapers that he had always sought.

The decision was made. They were his.

Colbeck was getting both restive and annoyed with himself. He and Madeleine had been waiting for some time in Sackville Street, the grand thoroughfare that ran through the middle of Dublin, lending a grace and elegance that was reminiscent of towns like Bath and Cheltenham. The street was wide enough to allow a carriage and four horses to turn in a circle and there was a bright cleanliness about the city that would put most of the districts of London to shame. Leeming had been to the four hotels on his list without success. Colbeck and Madeleine had visited the same number.

‘Where is he?’ asked Leeming, irritably. ‘He only had three on his list.’

‘Well, it’s not because he was slow,’ said Madeleine. ‘When he left here, he went off like a greyhound.’

‘I blame myself,’ said Colbeck, looking in vain down the street. ‘I shouldn’t have left him alone. I thought we could cover the hotels more quickly if we split up.’

‘Do you remember the places where he went?’

‘Yes, Madeleine.’

‘What was the last one on the list?’

He took out a sheet of paper and checked it. ‘The Belvedere,’ he said.

Alban Kee was careful. He familiarised himself with the geography of the hotel so that he knew where all the exits were. His first target was Manus Cullen. According to Colbeck, it was Terence Whiteside who’d been there on two occasions to take the ransom from Sir Marcus. It was reasonable to expect that he’d done the same with Tunnadine. Because he was lying unconscious behind a hedge, Kee never had the opportunity to take a long look at Whiteside but if the latter did confront Tunnadine, then the man who clubbed the detective to the ground had to be Cullen. As he recalled the blow, Kee’s whole skull throbbed. It was time for retribution.

He ducked into a space beneath the main staircase so that he could check and load his gun before thrusting it into the holster under his coat. Hat in hand, he went up the stairs to the room where Cullen and his wife were apparently staying. First, he listened at the door but could hear neither voices nor movement inside. When he tried knocking, he got no response yet sensed that somebody was in the room. He knocked harder and stood back. Someone came up the stairs and saw him.

‘Good day to you, sir,’ said Cullen, genially. ‘May I help you?’

‘I was just calling on a friend but he doesn’t seem to be there.’

‘Is he a good friend of yours, sir?’

‘As a matter of fact, he is.’

‘Then I daresay you’d like to give him a pleasant surprise. My name is Peter O’Malley and I’m the deputy manager. If you can guarantee that you are what you say you are, then I’ll be happy to use my pass key to let you in.’

Reassured by the sound of an Irish voice, Kee invented a plausible tale about his putative friendship with the very man standing next to him. By way of showing his credentials, he added all kinds of details.

‘Hold on, sir,’ said Cullen, laughing. ‘That’s enough. I’m convinced that you’re the gentleman’s friend. In we go.’ Producing the key, he inserted it in the lock and turned it. He opened the door and stood back to let Kee enter the room first, going in after him. ‘There you are, sir. Your friend will be delighted to see you.’

Kee was staring at the woman who’d jumped up from her chair in alarm.

‘Who are you?’ he asked.

‘My name is Rhoda Wills, sir.’

‘I’ve been looking for you.’

‘Then you’ve found her at last,’ said Cullen.

Kee hadn’t realised that the man was standing directly behind him. Hand on his gun, he swung round but he was no match for the Irishman. Cullen had already taken out a long-bladed knife and he thrust it between Kee’s ribs with shuddering force. When the detective fell against him, Cullen lowered him gently to the ground and watched the blood staining his victim’s shirt and waistcoat. Rhoda drew back against the wall in horror with a hand over her eyes. Cullen put an arm round her and held the blade close to her face.

‘One word out of you and it will be your blood on this knife next.’ Tearing the coverlet off the bed, he threw it over the dead body and grinned. ‘He’d only himself to blame,’ he said. ‘He was a private detective hired by Tunnadine and he’d never learnt to watch his back. This is the result.’

Cullen went out again and locked the door behind him. He walked over to Whiteside’s room and banged on the door with a fist. It was opened instantly.

‘What’s happened?’ asked Whiteside.

‘I had to kill him. We need to leave.’

When they reached the Belvedere Hotel, Colbeck went inside with Madeleine and left Victor Leeming outside. The sergeant found a position from which he could watch the front and side exits. He kept his back against a brick wall so that he could not be surprised from behind. The hotel was popular. Cabs arrived at regular intervals to drop off or pick up customers at the main door. Leeming felt certain that Alban Kee had found out something and decided to keep it to himself. Unlike the sergeant, he had no loyalty to Colbeck. Indeed, he would seek any opportunity presented to him to get his own back against a man involved in his dismissal from Scotland Yard. Bringing Kee into the investigation had been a mistake in Leeming’s opinion. Lives were at risk. In a case as dangerous as this one, absolute trust between the detectives was required.

As soon as he revealed his identity, Colbeck gained the manager’s trust. He was told that Whiteside and Cullen had checked into the hotel with their respective wives. The manager also mentioned that someone else had shown great interest in the guests. His description of the man confirmed that it was Alban Kee. After taking note of the relevant room numbers, Colbeck sent Madeleine outside to warn Leeming that their quarry was in the hotel. Colbeck went upstairs. It was a long climb but he ran up the steps as fast as he could, stopping when he reached the top landing so that he could catch his breath. He then went to the room occupied by Whiteside. There was no need to knock because the door was slightly ajar. Inside the room was evidence of a swift departure with a few items of abandoned clothing and a small, empty valise on the floor. Rushing to the window, he looked out but all he could see was Leeming maintaining his patient vigil with Madeleine at his side.

Colbeck went to the adjacent door, only to find it locked. When he looked through the keyhole, however, he saw something that riveted him fleetingly to the spot. The coverlet was on the floor hiding something beneath it. One foot protruded. Colbeck had the eerie sensation that he was looking at Alban Kee’s shoe. His first instinct was to alert the manager to what had happened but there was a more pressing need. The kidnappers were making a run for it. Pursuit was a priority. Having come up the main staircase, he knew that they hadn’t descended that way. He searched the corridors until he found the backstairs then shot down them three at a time.

Imogen and Rhoda had taken the same route at a much slower pace. Holding their skirts up with one hand, they clattered down the uncarpeted stairs. Whiteside and Cullen were behind them, struggling with the luggage because they didn’t wish to let the hotel staff know that they were quitting the building. It meant that the two women had a chance for a whispered conversation.

‘He was stabbed to death right in front of me,’ said Rhoda, still shaking.

‘Who was he?’

‘He was hired by Mr Tunnadine, apparently.’

Hopes flickered. ‘You mean that he was a detective?’

‘Yes, he came searching for us.’

‘Then others may also be hunting for us, Rhoda.’

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Whiteside barked an order.

‘Open that door for us and stand aside!’

Leeming was the first to see them. Having left by the rear exit, they came round the side of the building where he and Madeleine were standing. Cullen led the way, bent double by the weight of the trunk on his shoulder. Whiteside was next with the lighter luggage while Imogen and Rhoda were close behind him. Since they were carrying nothing, it would have been easy for the two women to dash away but the look of terror in their eyes explained why they didn’t dare to do so. When he reached the front of the hotel, Cullen lowered the trunk to the ground and hailed a cab. As it rolled into position, Leeming made his move, hiding behind the cab as he crept towards them. It was Cullen who failed to watch his back this time. Turning to pick up the trunk, he was suddenly tackled by Leeming and brought to the ground with a thud. Before he could grab his gun or his knife, Cullen was pounded with heavy punches then lifted by the scruff of the neck and hurled against the wall of the hotel with such force that he was dazed. Leeming already had his handcuffs out.

Whiteside had been taken by surprise but reacted quickly. He pulled out his pistol and aimed it at the sergeant, only to have his arm knocked sharply upwards by Colbeck who’d come hurtling around the corner. There was a deafening report as the gun went off but the bullet went harmlessly in the air. Madeleine didn’t wish to be left out of the action. During the commotion, she rushed forward and grabbed Imogen by the wrist, pulling her away and beckoning for Rhoda to follow. The two women were only too glad to get away from the violent struggle. They cowered in a doorway on the other side of the road and watched the drama unfold.

Leeming had handcuffed Cullen and disarmed him, earning a mouthful of abuse for his trouble. Blood dripping down his face, the Irishman was kicking out wildly. Dodging his foot, Leeming caught hold of it and pulled hard so that Cullen pitched forward onto the pavement, banging his head yet again. Whiteside, however, was more difficult to overpower. Though his gun had been ripped away from him, he had teak-hard fists. He grappled with Colbeck, trying everything he could to shake him off, punching, stamping, lifting, using his knees and spitting into the inspector’s face. Colbeck clung on until he was bitten hard on the neck. The pain made him release his hold and Whiteside ran off, snatching up a valise and using it to knock Leeming backwards with a vicious swing when the latter tried to intercept him. The kidnapper hared across the road and ran towards the cab rank further down the street.

Colbeck was after him like a beagle sighting a fox. The bite on the neck had drawn blood that was staining his cravat. It infuriated him. Sprinting across the road, he lengthened his stride and began to make ground on his adversary. When he realised that he was going to be caught, Whiteside turned to face him. He was panting heavily and sensed that he’d met his match. Trying a different tactic, he patted the valise.

‘I’ve got thousands of pounds in here, my friend,’ he said, opening it and taking out a handful of banknotes. ‘Let me go and you get a decent share of it.’

‘That money belongs to Sir Marcus Burnhope and Clive Tunnadine. I’m here to retrieve it and to rescue the hostages.’

‘What kind of man turns down an offer like that?’

‘One who’s come to arrest you for all manner of crimes,’ said Colbeck, stoutly. ‘The army would love to have you but we have first claim on you now.’

When he moved forward, Colbeck had to duck beneath the flailing valise. Whiteside made another wild attempt to get to the cab rank but he soon had some additional baggage to hamper him. Colbeck had jumped on his back and got an arm around his neck, applying so much pressure that the man could hardly breathe. The valise was heavy but Whiteside was loath to part with the huge ransom he’d collected from two sources. He staggered on a few more yards before his legs buckled. Colbeck gave him no chance to bite this time. As Whiteside pitched forward onto the ground, Colbeck grabbed his hair and banged his head repeatedly on the pavement. All the strength drained out of him and his grip was eventually so weak that he had to let go of the fortune he’d amassed.

Madeleine had watched it all from the other side of the road with the two hostages. Imogen was both elated and worried, delighted to be free at last, yet fearing that the architect of their misery would get away. Though the violence turned her stomach, she had nothing but praise for the determined way in which Whiteside had been caught, subdued and handcuffed.

‘That was wonderful,’ she said. ‘Who is that man?’

‘It’s my husband,’ replied Madeleine, proudly. ‘He’s Inspector Colbeck of Scotland Yard. We’ve come to take you home.’

When the two prisoners had been installed in separate cells in Dublin police station, Colbeck was able to visit a doctor to have his wound examined. He was less worried about his neck than he was about the damage to one of his favourite cravats. After medical treatment, he returned to the Belvedere hotel where he informed the manager that there was a corpse in one of his rooms on the top floor. He remained until an undertaker was summoned and the body of Alban Kee was taken away, then he joined the others. Since it was necessary to stay the night in Dublin, he’d suggested another hotel because the Belvedere held too many grisly memories for the hostages.

Throwing her arms around him, Madeleine gave him a warm welcome.

‘How are you feeling now, Robert?’

‘I’ve collected a few bruises,’ he said, ‘but they’ll soon fade. What about the ladies? Have they settled in?’

‘Yes, they have. After being kept apart by the kidnappers, they chose to share a room. They’ve been able to wash and change out of the clothing they’ve worn for days. Rhoda said it was the first time she felt really clean.’

‘What about all that money?’

‘Victor had it put in the hotel safe,’ she said. ‘He counted it out so that he could get a receipt for the amount and said there was enough in that valise to buy this hotel and several others. It was very brave of him to take on Cullen.’

‘He had the sense to know that I’d be able to come to his aid very soon. I’m afraid that Alban Kee didn’t have the advantage of a partner. He sought to arrest both men on his own and it was a fatal decision.’

‘At least he won’t be able to tell the superintendent about me.’

‘I’d much rather have had Kee alive and keeping to his promise of saying nothing. There’ll be a wife and family back in London who’ll have to cope with some tragic news.’ He brightened. ‘You’ve really come into your own now that the hostages are liberated. They warmed to you immediately,’ he said with a smile, ‘and I remember doing exactly the same when we first met. However, I’ll postpone my thanks until a more fitting time. We must concentrate on the two ladies now. They need care and compassion.’

The evening began slowly. Rhoda Wills was embarrassed to be dining at the same table as the others and Imogen Burnhope was still adjusting to the notion that the nightmare was finally over. As the meal progressed, however, they both relaxed. It was Leeming who chose the moment to shift the conversation to their kidnap.

‘What exactly happened?’ he asked.

‘We’re too ashamed to tell you,’ said Imogen. ‘It was our own fault, really.’

‘The inspector thought that Captain Whiteside had persuaded you to leave the train in disguise at Oxford station.’

‘It’s true. We were coaxed into a trap.’

‘They were so nice to us at first,’ recalled Rhoda, ‘but they soon changed. Once we became their prisoners, it was terrifying.’

‘You don’t have to tell us the full story,’ said Colbeck. ‘Some of it is best forgotten, I fancy. We’re just grateful that you’re both safe and well. You can go back to Burnhope Manor and return to your old lives.’

Imogen was distressed. ‘But we can’t do that, Inspector,’ she said, forlornly. ‘What will they think of us when they learn that we actually ran away? I can see that it was madness now but the fact remains that I fled my entire family.’

‘Why spoil the homecoming by telling them that? They’ll be so overjoyed to see you again that they will doubtless spoil you. Let them do just that,’ urged Colbeck. ‘Say nothing about why you left and simply celebrate the joy of being back.’

‘Are you advising us to tell lies?’ asked Rhoda, shocked.

‘I’m suggesting that you hold back some of the truth.’

‘It’s the kindest thing you can do in the circumstances,’ said Madeleine. ‘Why cause so much hurt when it’s in your power not to do so? Why punish yourselves by reliving every moment when you can be spared some of the agony? You made a mistake and you’ve suffered dreadfully as a result. Do you really want to add to that suffering?’

‘Well, no,’ said Imogen, thoughtfully. ‘We don’t.’

‘There you are, then,’ said Leeming. ‘It’s all settled.’

‘I was brought up to tell the truth,’ Rhoda put in.

‘Did you tell the truth when you left Burnhope Manor?’

She was cowed. ‘No, Sergeant — I didn’t.’

‘Remember that.’

‘None of us can imagine what you endured,’ said Madeleine with sympathy. ‘It must have been horrendous. That’s all that your parents need to know. They only want their daughter back home again. They don’t wish to be told that she ran away. And they’ll welcome Rhoda back as well because she helped you through your appalling trial. There’s only one question you need to ask.’ She put a gentle hand on Imogen’s arm. ‘Do you want to go back to Burnhope Manor?’

‘Yes, I do,’ said Imogen, smiling.

‘And so do I,’ added Rhoda.

Edward Tallis was almost jubilant when the telegraph arrived. It had been sent from Holyhead station. By the time that it reached Scotland Yard, his detectives were on their way back to London with two hostages, two prisoners and a coffin containing the body of Alban Kee. Tallis spared his former colleague the tribute of a sigh but his pity was drowned beneath his pleasure. He arranged for a telegraph to Burnhope Manor via Shrub Hill station. It was important for the family to be told the good news as soon as possible.

He was about to reach for a cigar by way of celebration when he remembered another member of the family who’d be waiting for news. After writing a short letter, he sent it off by hand to an artist’s studio in Chelsea. George Vaughan had as much right as the others to know that all was well at last.

Uniformed policemen were waiting at Euston station to take the prisoners away and a porter wheeled in the long box used for transporting a coffin without attracting too much attention from travellers milling around. After bidding the hostages a fond farewell, Madeleine left the train to return home. Colbeck and Leeming escorted the others to Paddington where they caught a train to Oxford and changed to the OWWR. Being back on a line that was their escape route was a chastening experience for Imogen and Rhoda. Having left with high hopes, they were going back with shattered dreams. When they got to Shrub Hill, the landau was waiting with Sir Marcus standing beside it. Imogen ran to his arms and he embraced her warmly but the detectives were touched by another reunion. Rhoda Wills took one look at Vernon Tolley then flung herself gratefully into the coachman’s arms. He was her future now. She would not imperil it by admitting that she’d once run away from him.

Sir Marcus insisted on taking Colbeck and Leeming back to the house so that everyone could congratulate them. The welcome was extraordinary. The entire staff was waiting outside the front door. As the hostages walked between the two lines, they were given enthusiastic applause. The only person not clapping was Win Eagleton. She had lost Tolley for good now.

As the front door opened, they saw everyone was standing in the hall. Paulina needed to use Cassandra for support but it was not to her mother that Imogen instinctively ran. It was the Reverend Percy Vaughan who found her inexplicably in his arms. Colbeck and Leeming were amused at his expression of mingled perplexity and sheer delight.

Everyone wanted to shake the hands of the detectives and tell them what a remarkable job they’d done. Colbeck and Leeming let the praise ooze all over them. It was Sir Marcus who sidled up to them for a quiet word.

‘You did manage to retrieve all my money, didn’t you?’ he asked.

On their return to London, they had to deliver their report to the superintendent. As soon as that was done, Leeming went home to his wife and family while Colbeck caught a cab to the house in John Islip Street. Madeleine wanted to hear all about the reception they’d had in Worcestershire and was surprised to learn of the way Imogen had first turned to her cousin.

‘He’s a curate,’ she said. ‘You told me that he was intense and scholarly. He’s the complete opposite of an intrepid soldier like Captain Whiteside. A man who wears a cassock can hardly compete with one in a bright-red uniform.’

‘Oh, I think he’ll compete very well, Madeleine. Besides, Whiteside was no soldier. He was a deserter who exploited an impressionable young lady. Percy Vaughan will never do that. That’s why his cousin turned to him. There’s no doubt in my mind that she made the right choice this time.’ He cocked his head to one side. ‘Which would you prefer — soldier or curate?’

‘I’d like someone with the courage of one and the compassion of the other.’

‘Do you think that such a man exists?’

‘I know he does,’ she said with a smile. ‘I married him.’

The rest of the conversation took place elsewhere.