Ticket to Oblivion

CHAPTER FIVE

Vernon Tolley did not know whether to be reassured or unsettled by the visit of the two detectives. Colbeck and Leeming had struck him as shrewd and approachable. They’d asked searching questions yet treated him with respect as they did so instead of adopting the condescending tone more usual among his social superiors. Their meeting with Tolley had given him more than a glimmer of hope. At the same time, he reflected, the very fact that they’d been summoned from Scotland Yard showed the gravity of the situation. They’d arrived at the house several hours after the fateful departure of the two women from Shrub Hill station. The trail would thus have gone very cold. It meant that Tolley’s hope was tempered with anxiety. No matter how clever or confident the detectives were, they would start their investigation at a severe disadvantage. They could well fail. The thought that he might never know what had happened to his beloved Rhoda Wills made him shudder.

He was coming out of the stables when a woman waddled towards him.

‘What are you doing out here, Vernon?’ she asked with concern.

‘The horses had to be fed.’

‘You always put them first. A coachman needs to be fed as well, you know. Come along inside and see what I saved for you.’

‘I’d rather stay out here, Win.’

‘Aren’t you hungry?’

‘I’ve too much on my mind to worry about food.’

‘I’m the same,’ she said, changing tack and investing her voice with a sense of foreboding. ‘This is a sad day for us all and no mistake. It’s tragic, that’s what it is. Sir Marcus and his wife have seen their only child snatched cruelly away from them. This house will be in mourning for a long time.’

He was curt. ‘Don’t try to bury them before they’re even dead.’

‘I’m only saying what everybody else is thinking.’

‘Well, I’m not thinking it,’ he warned. ‘There’s still cause for hope.’

‘I know, I know and I’m glad.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘I only came to see you because I’m worried about you.’

Win Eagleton was the cook, a plump woman in her late thirties with a vulgar appeal that was offset by a gushing manner and by her habit of producing a broad grin that revealed huge gaps left by missing teeth. The coachman might have set his heart on marrying Rhoda Wills but the cook — even though given no encouragement — had long harboured designs on Tolley. With her rival apparently out of the way, Win thought she could begin to circle her prey.

‘Are you sure you’re not hungry?’ she said, brushing his arm with podgy fingers. ‘You’ve had a long and troubling day, Vernon. You need food inside you.’

‘I couldn’t touch a thing.’

‘You know how much you like my pies.’

‘Thank you, all the same, but I have no appetite.’

‘It’s always a pleasure to cook for you, Vernon.’ She moved closer to him. ‘But you’re right, of course,’ she went on, face solemn. ‘At a time like this, we shouldn’t be thinking about our bellies. Our minds and our prayers should be fixed on them. Whatever could have happened on that train?’

‘I wish I knew, Win. They were safe and sound when I waved them off.’

‘And were they alone in the compartment?’

‘I made certain of it.’

‘That was wise,’ she said. ‘You do hear terrible stories of nasty men who take liberties if they catch a woman alone on a train. I know that I wouldn’t dare to travel by myself. You can’t be too careful.’

‘Nothing like that happened,’ he declared. ‘I’m sure of it.’

‘So am I, Vernon. I told them that the rumour was nonsense.’

He turned to her. ‘What rumour?’

‘Oh, I don’t even want to repeat it. I shouldn’t have mentioned it except that they were all talking about it in the kitchen. It would only upset you,’ she told him. ‘It’s far better that you don’t even hear it.’

‘Don’t keep anything from me, Win,’ he insisted. ‘What’s this about a rumour? If it’s more than idle gossip, I want to know what it is.’

Having got his attention at last, she wanted to flash a broad grin to signal her triumph but overcame the urge to do so and furrowed her brow instead.

‘It’s about the Mickleton Tunnel,’ she said, confidingly. ‘It’s always caused trouble. Well, it’s not so many years ago that we had that riot there with thousands of people fighting a battle. And there have been other problems since. Someone started a fire in there. Two people committed suicide together by standing on the track. Last year, they found another dead body in there, curled up against a wall. Some folk believe that the tunnel is cursed. That’s the rumour, Vernon. They say that, when the train slowed in the dark of the tunnel, someone might have been able to climb into their carriage and commit whatever crime he did. I don’t believe it myself,’ she said quickly, ‘but that’s what I heard. If anything really dreadful happened on that journey to Oxford, it would have taken place in the Mickleton Tunnel.’

Vernon Tolley swallowed hard and his gloom deepened.

After a flurry of introductions, Dominic Vaughan tried to dispel the tension in the room by producing a decanter of the college sherry and pouring a glass for all five of them. Everyone sat down. The person most grateful for the drink was Victor Leeming, perched on the edge of a chair and feeling so alienated in the strange environment that his throat had gone dry and his body numb. The sherry at least brought him back to life again. Colbeck complimented the Master on the quality of his sherry then invited Tunnadine to explain how he’d achieved the miracle of unravelling the mystery. The politician was disdainful, mocking the efforts of the detectives and boasting that he’d succeeded where they had floundered. Ignoring the sergeant as if he were not even there, his words were aimed solely at Colbeck. When he sat back at the end of his recitation, Tunnadine looked as if he expected a round of applause.

Colbeck sipped some more sherry then shook his head in disagreement.

‘It’s an interesting theory, Mr Tunnadine, but it’s fatally flawed.’

‘I know what George Vaughan is capable of, Inspector.’

‘That may well be so, sir. Throughout its long and illustrious history, this university has been enlivened by undergraduate jests. When I was a student here myself,’ said Colbeck, deliberately letting him know his academic credentials, ‘I saw countless examples of what one might call youthful exuberance. One of my own contemporaries, for instance, thought it would be a splendid joke if he clambered up on the roof of the Sheldonian Theatre with a live sheep tied around his shoulders. Why do it? The answer is simple — he wanted to cause a stir.’

‘What has that got to do with George Vaughan?’

‘He and my old college friend are two of a kind, Mr Tunnadine. Both like to shock people with their bravado. But a shock, by definition, is a temporary event. Once accomplished, its effect soon wears off. If, as you argue, the Master’s son is responsible for what you refer to as devilry, why has he let it drag on for such a long time? The joke had worn thin several hours ago.’

‘That’s precisely what I told him,’ said Vaughan.

‘George would never make us all suffer like this,’ added Cassandra. ‘He’s grown up in the last year. He’s finally seen the error of his ways.’

‘Once a joker, always a joker,’ argued Tunnadine. ‘I’ve met him. He can’t stop himself from being the family clown.’

‘Clowns perform in search of immediate applause, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘They never extend their act ad nauseam until it causes pain and anguish. I’m sorry, Mr Tunnadine, but your so-called solution is utterly worthless.’

‘I couldn’t have put it better myself,’ agreed Cassandra.

‘Nor could I,’ said Vaughan. ‘You cast unjustified slurs on the honour of our younger son, Mr Tunnadine. I’d say that an apology was in order.’

‘None is deserved and none will be given,’ said Tunnadine, stonily.

‘Inspector Colbeck has exposed your theory for the gibberish that it is.’

Looking from one face to another, Tunnadine saw that he was outnumbered. Since nobody took his explanation seriously, he began to have his first niggling doubts about it. Too wily to admit defeat, he tried to turn the tables on Colbeck.

‘What progress have you made, Inspector?’ he demanded.

‘We’re still harvesting information, sir.’

‘You must have reached a conclusion.’

‘I never do that on insufficient evidence,’ said Colbeck.

‘So, in effect, your investigation has yielded nothing of consequence.’

‘I wouldn’t put it like that, Mr Tunnadine.’

‘Then how would you put it?’ pressed the other.

‘Possibilities are beginning to emerge.’

‘I’m not interested in possibilities,’ said Tunnadine with vehemence. ‘The dear lady I intend to marry may be in some kind of danger. She must be found quickly and returned safely to me. The culprit — and I still name him as George Vaughan — must be subjected to the full rigour of the law.’ After draining his glass, he rose to his feet, set the glass on the desk, then plucked a card from his waistcoat pocket. ‘This is where I may be reached in London,’ he said, thrusting the card at Colbeck. ‘I’ll be spending the night at Brasenose before returning there.’

‘As you wish, sir,’ said Colbeck, getting up to see him off.

‘Good day to you all!’

After snatching up his hat, Clive Tunnadine let himself out and slammed the door behind him to indicate his displeasure. Colbeck resumed his seat.

‘We can now begin to have a less fraught discussion,’ he observed.

‘I’m sorry that you came when you did, gentlemen,’ said Vaughan. ‘He was in a foul mood when he barged in here. We’ve only met Mr Tunnadine twice before and he doesn’t improve on acquaintance.’

‘He was obnoxious,’ said Cassandra. ‘I loathe the fellow.’

‘What he said about our younger son was quite scandalous.’

‘We must make allowances for his natural apprehension,’ said Colbeck, easily. ‘Anyone told that his future bride has just disappeared is bound to be at the mercy of wild fantasies. Mr Tunnadine was casting around for someone to blame and he happened to alight on your younger son.’

‘George can be a clown at times but he’s not that irresponsible.’

‘At heart,’ said Cassandra, fondly, ‘he’s the soul of kindness.’

‘Leaving him aside for the moment,’ said Colbeck, ‘let’s turn to the moment when the train from Worcester actually arrived at the station here. What did you and your daughter see, Mrs Vaughan?’

‘Everything but what we wanted to see — namely, Imogen and her maid.’

‘Could you be more specific?’

‘I don’t follow.’

‘Well, when Sergeant Leeming and I arrived at the station earlier, we were part of a swirling crowd, yet we could pick out some of its constituent members.’

‘Yes,’ said Leeming, taking his cue. ‘There was a priest, an old lady with a walking stick, another with a small dog under each arm, a group of giggling young girls and an elderly gentleman with a monocle. Then there was a-’

‘Thank you, Sergeant,’ said Colbeck, cutting him off. ‘The point has been made, I fancy. Even though we were not looking for those individuals, they impinged on our consciousness. Did something similar happen to you, Mrs Vaughan?’

‘Why, yes — as a matter of fact, it did.’

‘Please go on.’

‘I remember the woman with her arm in a sling and a man with a violin case. Emma will certainly recall the four children who got off the train with their parents because one of the boys bumped into her. Both of us spotted the soldier, of course.’

Colbeck’s ears pricked up. ‘What soldier was that?’

‘He was waiting on the platform with us, Inspector. He was tall and rather resplendent. When the train pulled in, he welcomed another soldier who had bandaging over one eye. The wounded man was travelling with a woman. I only caught a fleeting glimpse of them because I was too busy keeping my eyes peeled for Imogen.’ Cassandra was taken aback. ‘Why are you smiling like that, Inspector?’ she asked. ‘Have I said something amusing?’

‘No, Mrs Vaughan,’ he replied, ‘quite the contrary.’

‘Please explain yourself.’

‘You said exactly what I was hoping you’d say.’ Colbeck turned to her husband. ‘Would it be possible to speak to your daughter?’

‘Is that necessary?’ wondered Vaughan. ‘Emma can give you no information that my wife has not already vouchsafed.’

‘Nevertheless, we’d appreciate a word with her.’

‘In that case, I’ll send for her at once.’

‘To be honest,’ said Colbeck as the Master got to his feet, ‘we’d prefer to speak to your daughter alone, if at all possible.’

‘Emma would prefer that I was there,’ said Cassandra, puzzled by the request.

‘We must comply with the inspector’s wishes, my love,’ advised Vaughan.

‘I’m her mother, Dominic. I have a right.’

‘If you wish to enforce it,’ said Colbeck, pleasantly, ‘then, of course, you’re most welcome to join us. But consider this, Mrs Vaughan. Your daughter and her cousin are of a similar age. When left alone together, they would be likely to share confidences. They would exchange the kind of harmless little secrets that would not come to the ears of their parents.’

‘The inspector is correct,’ decreed Vaughan, overriding his wife’s wishes for once. ‘He and the sergeant must speak to Emma alone. Were you there, my love, our daughter might unwittingly hold back things that are germane to the investigation. She must be allowed the freedom to express herself.’

Cassandra’s protest was quelled by a decisive gesture from her husband.

‘Follow me, gentlemen,’ invited Vaughan, moving to the door.

‘Thank you for your cooperation,’ said Colbeck, rising to his feet.

‘I’ll want to know everything that Emma tells you,’ said Cassandra.

‘Nothing will be kept back from you, Mrs Vaughan.’

But even as he spoke the words, Colbeck suspected that there might well be certain things that the daughter might not wish her mother to know and he was more than ready to conceal them if they would save Emma Vaughan from embarrassment.

On receipt of the news of the disappearance of his daughter, Sir Marcus Burnhope had reacted with speed and determination. He’d ridden at a gallop to Shrub Hill station and used its telegraph system to fire off messages hither and thither. Not only had he alerted Scotland Yard to the crisis, he made sure that senior figures working for the Oxford, Worcester and Wolverhampton Railway were aware of it as well. At his behest, teams were sent out from intermediate stations between Shrub Hill and the intended destination of Imogen and her maid. There were well over twenty possible stops on the line, many of them little more than a halt in the middle of open countryside. Such places lacked the manpower to join in the hunt. While some stretches of the line were searched, therefore, long tracts of it were untouched. To those trudging along the line, the hunt seemed a forlorn exercise.

‘We’re wasting our time,’ grumbled the policeman.

‘Aye, Tom, I know.’

‘We can never look behind every bush.’

‘It’s what Sir Marcus ordered.’

‘Then let him join in the search. It’s his daughter, after all.’

‘They say she’s a real beauty.’

‘Oh, she is. I’ve seen her. She doesn’t take after her father, I’ll tell you that. Sir Marcus is an ugly old bugger.’

Instead of walking along the track, the railway policeman wanted to be at home with his wife. His companion was an off-duty stationmaster, ordered to spend his evening joining in the hunt for the missing women. Like the policeman, he was weary and disenchanted. He used a stick to push back some shrubs.

‘There’s nobody here, Tom. How much longer must we do this?’

‘We go on until it gets too dark to see.’

The stationmaster looked slyly upwards. ‘I’d say it was pretty dark already.’

In fact, there was still plenty of light in the sky but there was nobody about to contradict him. The two men traded a conspiratorial grin. If they abandoned what they saw as an aimless plod, nobody would be any the wiser. They were just about to give up and retrace their steps when the policeman caught sight of something in the long grass some forty yards or so ahead of them. He nudged his companion and pointed. The stationmaster saw it as well. It was the long, trailing hair of a woman. Convinced that they’d found one of the missing passengers, after all, they shook off their fatigue and ran towards her, their boots clacking on the hard wooden sleepers. The noise had an instant effect. A scantily clad woman suddenly came to life and sat up with the young man hiding in the grass beside her. When they saw the policeman’s uniform, they didn’t stand on ceremony. They snatched up their discarded clothing and fled the scene. The two men stopped to catch their breath.

‘Poor devil!’ said the stationmaster with a laugh. ‘We spoilt his fun.’

‘It’s a pity. She was a nice-looking girl with a lovely arse on her.’

‘Do you think we should report it?’

‘No, I think we should go home and forget all about it.’

‘What about Sir Marcus’s daughter?’

‘Let someone else find her.’

As they walked along the track in the opposite direction, they heard a train approaching in the distance. They jumped quickly aside and watched it come into view, hurtling towards them, then racing past so fast that they were forced back by the rush of air. They waited until its deafening tumult had faded.

‘I tell you one thing,’ said the policeman. ‘If Sir Marcus’s daughter jumped off the train at that speed, she’d be as dead as a door-nail.’

Emma Vaughan had been moping in her room for hours, praying fervently for the safety of her cousin and reliving the horror of realising that she had simply vanished. When her father introduced her to the detectives, she was at first alarmed, thinking that their arrival meant that a heinous crime had been committed. It took Colbeck some time to calm her down and to offer a measure of reassurance. At the Master’s suggestion, they adjourned to the drawing room with his daughter. Emma was uneasy at being left alone with them and she found Leeming’s features disquieting. Colbeck’s charm and sensitivity slowly won her over.

‘You’re very fond of your cousin, are you not?’ he asked.

‘I love Imogen. She’s my best friend.’

‘How often do you see her?’

‘It was not nearly enough,’ she replied. ‘Imogen only came here twice a year but I stayed at Burnhope Manor three or four times.’

‘Which place did you prefer?’

‘Oh, it was much nicer when she came here. We could talk properly.’

‘Couldn’t you do that at her house?’

‘Not really, Inspector,’ she said. ‘Lady Burnhope always seemed to be there. I love my aunt, naturally, but I did get the feeling of being watched all the time. Imogen was forever apologising for it.’

‘Did she resent being under her mother’s watchful eye?’

‘Yes, she did.’

‘I can see why she looked forward to coming here where she had a little more freedom. Tell me,’ Colbeck went on, ‘about the arrival of the train from Worcester. You and your mother were waiting on the station, weren’t you?’

‘That’s right. I was so excited when it came in and so heartbroken when Imogen wasn’t on it. I was certain that she must have caught the train.’

‘Who got off it?’

‘Lots of people — every single carriage had been occupied.’

‘Mrs Vaughan mentioned a soldier,’ recalled Leeming.

‘Yes, I saw him as well. He had a bandage over one eye. Before I could take a proper look at him, I was bumped into by a little boy who leapt out of a carriage. Mother chided him for being so careless. But I do remember the soldier on the train,’ she said, ‘and the one who greeted him on the station.’

‘You’ve met Mr Tunnadine, I take it,’ said Colbeck.

‘We’ve seen him a couple of times.’

‘And was he in company with your cousin?’

‘Yes,’ said Emma with a smile. ‘They made such a handsome pair. Clive Tunnadine was entranced by Imogen and she was enchanted by him. She told me that he swept her off her feet.’

‘She was happy with the match, then?’

‘Who wouldn’t be happy with a man like that? He’s very wealthy and comes from a good family. My uncle says that he has a brilliant career in politics ahead of him. Imogen was taken completely by surprise when he proposed. He gave her the most gorgeous engagement ring,’ she said, enviously. ‘Imogen couldn’t stop smiling when she showed it off to me.’

The information made Colbeck look at Tunnadine afresh. He and Leeming had found the man both arrogant and somewhat rebarbative. Clearly, he had a different effect on young women. He encouraged Emma to say more about his relationship with her cousin then he turned his attention elsewhere.

‘You have a brother called George, I hear.’

‘George is my younger brother. The elder is Percy. They couldn’t be more unlike each other,’ she said with an affectionate smile. ‘George is an artist, living in London while Percy is a curate in Gloucestershire. Father loves poetry, you see. That’s how he came to choose their names.’

Leeming was dumbfounded but Colbeck was quick to understand.

‘Could Percy be named after a certain Percy Bysshe Shelley, by any chance?’

‘Yes, Inspector, he was.’

‘Shelley was an undergraduate at this college, wasn’t he? It’s odd that a curate like your brother should bear his name. My memory is that Shelley was sent down for writing a pamphlet called The Necessity of Atheism.’

‘You’re very well informed.’

‘I, too, admire his poetry, Miss Vaughan.’

‘Father speaks very highly of it. In fact, he believes that we should have some kind of memorial dedicated to him. Unfortunately, the fellows won’t hear of it. They think that Shelley brought discredit on the college.’

‘Who is your other brother named after?’ asked Leeming.

‘It is another favourite poet of my father’s — Lord Byron.’

‘Even I have heard of him.’

‘It sounds as if it might have been a more appropriate christening,’ said Colbeck. ‘Lord Byron was famed for his wildness and it seems that your younger brother is not without a reckless streak in his nature.’

She laughed. ‘George is a loveable madman.’

‘Mr Tunnadine believes that he is behind your cousin’s disappearance. He claims that your younger brother kidnapped her and spirited her away.’

‘That’s absurd!’ she cried.

‘George has been the family clown, by all accounts.’

‘I freely admit it, Inspector, but that doesn’t mean he’d do anything to hurt Imogen — or to upset us, for that matter.’

‘What if he wanted to upset Mr Tunnadine?’

‘It doesn’t sound as if he and your brother would see eye to eye,’ said Leeming. ‘How did they get on, Miss Vaughan?’

‘George only met Clive once,’ she replied, ‘and there was some friction between them, I must confess.’

‘Then your brother had a motive to strike back at Mr Tunnadine.’

‘He’d never do anything to spoil Imogen’s happiness.’

‘What about his own happiness?’ asked Colbeck. ‘We gather that your cousin was famed for her beauty. It can’t have gone unnoticed by your brother. Perhaps he was nursing hopes on his own behalf.’

‘You obviously don’t know my brother. George loved Imogen as a friend and as a cousin. It never went beyond that. The sort of young women to whom he was attracted were always …’ Emma left the words unspoken. ‘Let’s just say that they were of a wholly different character to Imogen. George likes to describe himself as a free spirit. He seeks female company of a like persuasion.’

‘Thank you for eliminating that theory once and for all, Miss Vaughan,’ said Colbeck. ‘When I first heard Mr Tunnadine voice it, I thought it lacked credibility. Your brother is exonerated. He has no reason at all to abduct his cousin. However,’ he added, looking at the sergeant, ‘it won’t do any harm for you to meet the gentleman, Victor. I’m sure that he’d like to be made aware of the predicament in which his cousin finds herself and — based on his knowledge of her — he may be able to offer a suggestion as to what might have happened to her.’

‘I’ll give you George’s address,’ volunteered Emma. ‘He ought to be told about this terrible situation. Underneath all that wildness, he’s a very caring person.’

‘Then he’ll want his cousin found.’

‘And so will Percy. He should be told as well. In fact, Percy should be the first to hear about Imogen’s disappearance.’

‘Why is that?’

‘Well,’ she explained, ‘it’s something of an open secret. Percy would never admit it, of course, but I’m his sister and I can read his mind. George will tease Imogen and laugh at her expense but Percy wouldn’t dream of doing that. In his own quiet way,’ she said, ‘my elder brother has been in love with her for years.’