Ticket to Oblivion

CHAPTER SEVEN

A night in the bosom of his family had left Victor Leeming feeling restored and refreshed. On the previous day, he’d quailed in the presence of aristocracy, felt the weight of his ignorance in an Oxford college and experienced sheer terror when subjected to the full force of Edward Tallis’s ire. As he left the house to continue the investigation, therefore, he braced himself. From all that he’d heard about it, the artistic community lived by strange and often scandalous rules. The only artist he knew was Madeleine Colbeck but she was an exception to the rule, pursuing her career in the privacy and comfort of her home and leading a blameless existence. That, he suspected, was not the case with George Vaughan. He would be going into enemy territory once more.

His first problem was to find the artist. The address they’d been given by Emma Vaughan turned out to be that of a house that her brother had vacated weeks earlier. Leeming was given a forwarding address but, when he got there, he learnt that George Vaughan had moved on from that place as well and stayed odd nights with a succession of friends. It was not until late morning that Leeming finally ran him to earth. The artist occupied the attic of a crumbling old house in Chelsea. When the sergeant was admitted to the room, he was startled to find a beautiful young woman posing naked on a chair. Unabashed at his entrance, she gave him a roguish smile. He was too embarrassed even to look at her.

George Vaughan laughed. ‘Don’t mind Dolly,’ he said. ‘She’s my model.’

‘That may be so, sir, but I find the young lady … distracting.’

‘Most men would love to see me like this,’ she boasted.

‘And so they shall,’ said the artist, indicating his easel. ‘When my painting is finished, you’ll be the toast of London.’ He smiled at Leeming. ‘You, sir, are in the privileged position of being able to make a first offer for the portrait. Wouldn’t you like to have Dolly hanging on the wall of your bedroom?’

Leeming gurgled.

‘I want to be on display in a grand house,’ she said, standing on her toes and spreading her arms wide. ‘What about that uncle of yours, George? You’re always saying how wealthy he must be. Is Sir Marcus a man with a taste for art?’

‘No, my angel, my uncle is a born philistine.’

‘Sir Marcus has other matters on his mind at the moment,’ Leeming blurted out. ‘His daughter has disappeared.’

The artist gaped. ‘Can you be serious, sir?’

‘My name is Sergeant Leeming and I’m a detective from Scotland Yard, engaged in the search for your cousin. May I speak to you in private, please?’

‘Yes, yes, of course.’

He gestured to his model. Gathering up a robe, Dolly pulled it around her shoulders and swept past Leeming, giggling at his discomfort. When she’d left the room, he took a quick look around the attic. It was large, low-ceilinged and cheerless, having no carpet or curtains and only a few sticks of furniture. At one end of the room was a large bed with rumpled sheets. Half-finished paintings stood against the walls. Artist’s materials were scattered everywhere.

‘What’s this about Imogen?’ asked George Vaughan.

‘We’re very concerned about her whereabouts, sir.’

‘Tell me all, man.’

While Leeming gave him the details of the case, George Vaughan was both attentive and alarmed. He was tall, angular and smelt of oil paint. There was a faint resemblance to his father but his face was largely hidden beneath a straggly beard and by the mop of hair that cascaded down to his shoulders. He wore a loose-fitting shirt opened to expose some of his chest and a pair of incongruous red breeches with silver buttons down the sides. His feet were bare. When he’d heard the full story, he was shaking with exasperation.

‘I’ll kill the villain who did this to her!’ he vowed.

‘Mr Tunnadine felt that you might be the villain in question, sir.’

‘What!’

‘It seems that you have a reputation for playing practical jokes.’

‘I’d never go to those lengths,’ said the other, hotly. ‘That’s a wicked allegation to make against me, but it’s typical of Tunnadine.’

‘You’ve met him, I believe.’

‘I saw enough of him to take a rooted dislike. Imogen is a delightful person. She has every virtue that a young woman should possess. It’s cruel to sacrifice her to an ogre like Clive Tunnadine. Men like him don’t love and cherish their wives. They simply acquire them for the purposes of adornment.’

‘You seem to have upset the gentleman, sir. He spoke of you unkindly.’

The artist laughed. ‘That was because I provoked his jealousy. When I met him with my cousin, I swooped on Imogen and embraced her warmly, pleading that she should have married me instead. Tunnadine was outraged.’ He became serious. ‘Do you have any idea where she might be?’

‘Inspector Colbeck, who leads the investigation, is convinced that she’s still alive and unharmed.’

‘In short, she’s run away from Tunnadine!’ George Vaughan clapped his hands. ‘Well done, Imogen! I’d do the same in your position. Wherever you are, you can rely on my love and support.’

‘Don’t get carried away, Mr Vaughan,’ warned Leeming. ‘Bear in mind that we are still at the stage of conjecture. It could equally well be the case that the young lady and her maid have been abducted.’

‘Perish the thought!’

‘How much did you see of her?’

‘Not nearly enough, Sergeant,’ said the other, sorrowfully. ‘Imogen only came to Oxford twice a year. I went on occasional visits with my family, of course, and always relished her company. She’s a wonderful person, fun-loving and full of spirit. It’s such a shame that she was cooped up in Burnhope Manor all the time.’

‘Did she resent that?’

‘She did more than resent it — she plotted her escape.’

Leeming’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Could you repeat that, please?’

‘Imogen dreamt of freedom, Sergeant. Who would not do so in those circumstances? But I never thought that she would actually pluck up the courage to act. In fact, I put her to the test last year,’ said the artist with a nostalgic smile. ‘I contrived to be alone with her when she stayed in Oxford. I offered to carry her off so that she could experience a taste of freedom at last. Naturally, it was all in fun but Imogen was not amused by the idea. She was too concerned about what she stood to lose than by what she might gain. There’d have been dreadful repercussions. I know what you’re thinking,’ he added, as suspicion came into Leeming’s eyes. ‘You’re thinking that Tunnadine may not have been so wide of the mark when he accused me of kidnapping my cousin on that train. But this would have been no jape. It would have been an honest attempt to let Imogen flap her wings and fly for once.’

‘Yet you say that she spurned the idea.’

‘Her parents exert too strong a hold, Sergeant. That was the trouble.’

‘I don’t understand, Mr Vaughan.’

‘Well,’ said the other, airily, ‘to atone for a single day of freedom, she’d have had to endure even tighter control over her movements. That would be an unfair punishment but it was bound to follow. Imogen thanked me but rejected my offer. In retrospect, it might have been just as well. An artist’s studio is not the ideal place in which to hide. Someone like Dolly is at home here; my cousin, alas, would be almost as uneasy as you are in the libertarian world that I inhabit.’

‘It’s not for me, sir, I know that.’

‘We obey no rules, Sergeant. We simply follow our instincts.’

‘I spend most of my time arresting people who follow their instincts, Mr Vaughan. Criminals break laws because it’s second nature to do so.’

‘There’s nothing criminal about creative art,’ declared the other. ‘We fill the world with beauty and excite the mind. Well, look at my latest work,’ he went on, taking the portrait from the easel and holding it under his visitor’s nose. ‘Is that not something to gladden the heart of any red-blooded man?’

Dolly looked up from the canvas with her chin tilted high. One whole arm was missing but the rest of her body was there in all of its alluring glory. Notwithstanding his embarrassment, Leeming had to admit that it was work of some quality. Radical changes had occurred. A squalid attic had been transformed into a palace, the chair became a throne and the model had a regal presence. Dolly was now a princess. The brushwork was uneven but the overall effect was nevertheless stunning. The sergeant had to make a conscious effort to turn away.

‘Do you have any idea where your cousin might be?’ he asked.

‘You’re the detective.’

‘Inspector Colbeck feels that this whole episode has been triggered by something from within the family.’

‘It has,’ said the artist, replacing the portrait on the easel. ‘Imogen has fled from tyrannical parents who keep her locked to a ball and chain. As to where she might have gone-’ George Vaughan stopped as a new possibility presented itself. ‘Why, yes,’ he cried, ‘it could be a family matter, after all. Lovely as she might be, Imogen was always too pure and unworldly for me. I prefer someone like Dolly Wrenson, an uninhibited woman with real fire and passion. But there is someone in the family who revered Imogen as a saint. That’s the person you want, Sergeant. Speak to my brother, Percy. He’s been longing for Imogen to marry him one day.’

After kneeling in prayer at the high altar, Colbeck and Percy Vaughan rose to their feet. Though relatively small, the church had an abundance of interesting features and the curate enjoyed pointing them out. Colbeck’s attention was drawn to the finely carved corbels in the perpendicular roof, the heads on the north side being identified as William Whitchurch, a former rector, Henry VI, the reigning monarch when the roof was built, and the Duke of Buckingham, the contemporaneous landowner and lord of the manor. The pulpit dated from the late fifteenth century, its bowl carved from one piece of stone. Like many other things in the church, the lectern came from the Continent, the top being of Flemish brass and the steel pedestal hailing from Spain. The seventeenth-century reading desk was made out of an old box pew. The most unusual item was a barrel organ, reached by a quaint little staircase and able to play a couple of dozen tunes to the congregation.

Interested as Colbeck was, he felt that his guide was deliberately keeping him there because he was reluctant to talk about his family. The church was Percy Vaughan’s domain. Inside it, he felt safe, in charge, at peace. When they came back out into the churchyard, however, he was tense and anxious.

‘You promised me that you’d talk more openly after we prayed,’ Colbeck reminded him. ‘Your church is a delight but I didn’t come all this way simply to admire it.’

‘I’m grateful that you did come, Inspector. I’d hate to have been left unaware of dear Imogen’s plight.’ The curate moistened his lips before continuing. ‘If you’ve spoken to my sister, she might well have told you that I was very fond of my cousin. So was my brother, for that matter, but George’s yearning is for ladies of a less virtuous kind. When I took him to task on the subject, he simply laughed at me.’ He pulled a face. ‘I suppose that every family must have its black sheep.’

‘In your case, the family also has a good shepherd.’

‘I took holy orders out of inner conviction,’ said Percy Vaughan, ‘but there was a degree of penance involved.’

‘I can’t imagine that you were in need of repentance.’

‘My mind was not as settled as it now is, Inspector. It was once occupied by a vision of life with Imogen, a hopeless vision because my feelings were not requited and because her parents had higher ambitions than to see their daughter married to a humble curate. But strong emotions can overpower us,’ he continued, ‘and I was in their grip for a long while.’

‘Your sister indicated something of the kind, sir.’

‘Poor Emma never understood what I was really feeling and I was unable to confide in her lest she should tell Imogen in an unguarded moment. That would have been humiliating.’ He looked at Colbeck. ‘You said that you were married?’

‘I am and happily so.’

‘Then you were able to follow your heart and choose freely.’

‘It was so in both our cases.’

‘You were fortunate — I am not.’ He let out a groan of pain. ‘Imogen is lost to me forever.’

‘She will be found,’ affirmed Colbeck. ‘Of that I have no doubt.’

‘Then you must have received a different answer when you knelt at the altar,’ said the curate, solemnly, ‘for all I heard was silence. Whenever I’ve prayed in the past, there was always a sign — however slight — that God was listening. He may not have been able to grant me my wishes but at least God was aware of them and that in itself was a consolation. Today in church, I prayed in earnest for Imogen and her maid to be returned to us without delay.’ Percy Vaughan looked bereft. ‘I got no answer, no hint even that my words had been heard. Do you know what that means? It’s too late, Inspector. They are beyond saving.’ He bit his lip. ‘Imogen and her maid must be dead.’

‘How are you feeling now, Paulina?’

‘I feel very frail and very confused.’

‘There’s no colour in your cheeks.’

‘The doctor says that all I can do is rest.’

‘Well,’ said Cassandra, ‘at least do so where you can breathe in fresh air. It’s far too stuffy in here.’ Crossing the bedchamber, she flung open a window. ‘That’s better. It will do you good to be fanned by a light breeze.’

‘Thank you for coming, sister. I do appreciate it.’

‘There was no point in staying in Oxford. Dominic is preoccupied with college matters and Emma has a fit of weeping whenever she thinks of her cousin. I left both of them to their own devices. My place is here. I’d like to think that Marcus has been looking after you,’ she added, tartly, ‘but that’s too much to expect.’

‘He’s done his best.’

‘It’s not good enough, Paulina, and never has been.’

Cassandra Vaughan had never been in awe of her brother-in-law. While others admired Sir Marcus as a man of distinction, she saw his deficiencies as a husband and had the courage to tackle him about them. Her comments were invariably brushed aside with a lordly wave of the hand but that didn’t stop her continuing to speak up on behalf of her sister. Paulina was clearly ailing and there was a marked deterioration in her condition since Cassandra’s last visit to Burnhope Manor.

‘When did the doctor last call, Paulina?’

‘He came first thing this morning.’

‘I’d like to speak to him.’

‘He said that he’d try to come again tomorrow.’

‘If he doesn’t,’ said Cassandra, ‘I shall go looking for him. Having brought three children up, I’m used to dealing with the medical profession. So many of its members try to fob you off with glib diagnoses — I know how to get the truth out of a doctor. It’s something your husband should have done.’

‘Don’t blame Marcus. This dire news about Imogen has hit him hard.’

‘What about you? You’re her mother. It’s hit you even harder because Marcus is in better health to withstand the blow. Have there been any developments?’

‘Two detectives came but I was not allowed to see them.’

‘It was your right to do so, Paulina.’

‘I lacked the strength to enforce that right.’

‘Well, I can tell you that Inspector Colbeck visited us as well. We were struck by his acumen and by his confidence. Mr Tunnadine happened to be there at the time, making a nuisance of himself.’

Paulina sat up anxiously. ‘How is dear Clive?’

‘You’d not have spoken of him so solicitously had you been there. He was both offensive and insulting. I’d not let a bully like that marry my daughter,’ said Cassandra. ‘I was grateful when Inspector Colbeck put him in his place.’

‘Was the inspector able to raise your hopes?’

‘Yes, he was — to some extent.’

‘It’s so maddening to be stuck up here in bed,’ whined Paulina. ‘Nobody tells me a thing. I’m left here alone with my fears.’

‘That will change now that I’m here.’

‘What are you going to do, Cassandra?’

‘I’m going to adopt the policy I use with Dominic,’ said the other. ‘I’m going to state my demands to your husband and keep repeating them until he succumbs. Something must have happened since yesterday.’

‘I daresay that it has.’

‘Then we’re entitled to hear about it.’

‘Please don’t upset Marcus. He’s feeling very sensitive at the moment.’

‘He’s not as sensitive as I felt when I stood on that station yesterday and realised that Imogen was not on the train. It was mortifying. That’s why I took steps to confirm that she’d left Worcester at the time agreed. Imogen definitely got on that train to Oxford.’

‘No, Cassandra,’ said her sister, mournfully. ‘She had a ticket to oblivion.’

‘That’s nonsense!’ protested Cassandra, ‘and if you’d met Inspector Colbeck, you’d have banished such thoughts.’ She pulled the bed sheet over Paulina’s arms. ‘Try to get some rest while I have a frank talk with my brother-in-law.’

Before Paulina could stop her, she bustled out of the room and went along the landing before descending the stairs with purposeful steps. When the butler came into the hall, she summoned him over to her.

‘I wish to see Sir Marcus,’ she said.

‘That won’t be possible, I fear,’ he replied.

‘I’ll make it possible. He won’t be allowed to hide from me. Where is he?’

‘Sir Marcus left some time ago, Mrs Vaughan.’

Cassandra was deflated. ‘Where did he go?’

‘He went to London as a matter of urgency.’

‘Did he say why?’

‘No,’ returned the butler, ‘he merely said that he had to get to Scotland Yard.’

As soon as he reached London, Colbeck took a cab to his house to acquaint his wife with what had happened while he was away. Madeleine was fascinated by the case and wished that he had time to give her the full details but she knew that he had to report to the superintendent.

‘Father kept me company yesterday evening,’ she said.

‘What did he have to say?’

‘Nothing to the credit of the OWWR — he derided it.’

‘Some of his derision was merited,’ said Colbeck, kissing her before putting on his top hat. ‘I’ll tell you more anon.’

‘When shall I expect you?’

‘It’s impossible to say.’

She opened the front door and waved him off. In less than a minute, he’d hailed a cab and climbed inside. Madeleine retreated into the house with a smile of resignation, accepting that there would be some investigations when fleeting moments with him were all that she could enjoy.

Colbeck, meanwhile, was sitting in the cab and rehearsing what he was going to say to Tallis. Since the whereabouts of the two women remained unknown, he knew that he was in for severe criticism from his superior but hoped that he could convince him of the theory that had now hardened into fact in his mind. The cab dropped him off at the Lamb and Flag, the public house close to Scotland Yard. He’d arranged to meet Leeming there so that they could trade information before they were pounced on by Edward Tallis. The sergeant was in a corner, nursing a tankard of beer. He leapt up at the sight of Colbeck.

‘Thank heaven you’re back!’ he said, laughing in gratitude. ‘I’d hate to face him alone again. The superintendent roasted me on a spit yesterday evening.’

‘Leave him to me, Victor.’

‘He’s all yours, sir.’

Colbeck bought himself a drink then joined him at his table.

‘I want to hear what you discovered when you spoke to George Vaughan.’

Leeming winced. ‘I discovered more than I wanted to, sir.’

‘That sounds ominous’

‘An artist’s life would not suit me, sir.’

‘It’s not so daunting, Victor. Ask my wife and she will tell you that it’s a rewarding occupation. Madeleine revels in it.’

‘That’s because she paints locomotives, sir. Mrs Colbeck doesn’t share a room with any of them. Mr Vaughan lives with his model in an attic and she’s … unclothed when he works on his portrait of her.’

‘There’s a long and noble tradition of nude portraiture,’ said Colbeck. ‘Look at the sculpture of the Greeks and the Romans. The human body is celebrated in all its glory.’

‘If it was made out of marble, I might celebrate it. In this case, however, the body was made out of flesh and blood and it was right there in front of me. The young woman had no shame. She actually smiled at me.’ Colbeck laughed. ‘It’s no joke, sir. I daren’t tell my wife about it.’

‘Why not? I’m sure that Estelle would be pleased to know that her husband could not be led astray by a naked woman. But do go on,’ urged Colbeck. ‘Tell me exactly what happened.’

Leeming gave an account of his meeting with George Vaughan, trying his best to keep disapproval out of his voice. He described the artist’s reaction to the news about his cousin and mentioned his attempt to spirit her away on his own accord. Colbeck was not surprised to hear how constrained Imogen felt at Burnhope Manor, believing that it was a critical factor in her disappearance. He was interested to hear that the artist had told the sergeant to look closely at Percy Vaughan.

‘What sort of person was he?’ asked Leeming.

‘He and his brother are opposites, by the sound of it,’ said Colbeck. ‘One is an artist who follows his Muse while the other is committed to God. Each has found his natural habitat. Percy Vaughan is a serious, reserved, somewhat enigmatic young man. He’s a true Christian but not wholly immune to the desires and passions that animate most people. George Vaughan seems to have had a warm friendship with his cousin but it was his brother who cared for her the most. Not to put too fine a point on it, he’s pining for her.’

They discussed the case in detail until they’d finished their drinks, then they crossed the road and entered Scotland Yard. Leeming was delighted when Colbeck went off to confront Tallis on his own. The superintendent was waiting for him. The moment that Colbeck came through the door, Tallis was on his feet with his teeth bared like a guard dog growling at an intruder.

‘Well,’ he began, ‘what have you to say to me?’

‘The sergeant and I have looked more deeply into the state of relations within the family and we’ve come to the conclusion that the missing women were complicit in their own disappearance.’

‘Talk sense, man.’

‘Imogen Burnhope and her maid were running away.’

‘Ah, I see,’ said Tallis, mordantly, ‘we are back in that fairyland known as your sixth sense, are we?’

‘We are reading the facts as they’re presented to us, sir.’

‘Then you are reading them incorrectly.’

‘Do you have a different version of events to offer, Superintendent?’

‘I don’t — but Sir Marcus Burnhope does.’

‘Has he sent another telegraph?’

‘No,’ said Tallis, ‘he took the trouble to come here in person. To put it mildly, he was not happy with your handling of the case. He felt that you and Leeming were not only dragging your feet but looking in the wrong direction altogether.’

‘The evidence points to the fact that his daughter wanted to escape from her family and lead a new life elsewhere.’

‘Balderdash!’

‘Sir Marcus, I regret to say, is part of the reason that she fled.’

‘And what part did the maid, Rhoda Wills, play in this fantasy?’

‘She was also ready to leave Burnhope Manor forever.’

Tallis picked up the hat that stood on his desk behind a pile of documents.

‘Do you know what this is, Colbeck?’ he said. ‘It’s a hat belonging to the aforesaid maid. It was found yesterday evening in the Mickleton tunnel. If this Rhoda Wills was running away, don’t you think she’d have needed some headgear? Sir Marcus brought it here and it’s not the only thing that disproves your fanciful theory. Earlier today, this was delivered to Burnhope Manor.’

Putting the hat aside, he snatched up a letter and brandished it in the air.

‘What is it, sir?’ asked Colbeck, taking it from him.

‘It’s a ransom demand,’ said Tallis. ‘Unless the money is paid, Sir Marcus will never see his daughter alive again. It could not be more explicit.’

Colbeck read the letter with a blend of interest and profound discomfort. His theory about a flight to freedom had been completely exploded. Imogen Burnhope had been kidnapped and her life was in danger.

‘Sir Marcus is at his club,’ explained Tallis, ‘awaiting our advice.’

‘I’ll go to him at once, sir.’

‘We’ll go together.’

‘There’s no need, Superintendent.’

‘Yes, there is. You’ve bungled this investigation, Colbeck. You’ve bungled it badly. From now on, I’m taking charge of it.’

Colbeck was dismayed. He would not only be admonished by Sir Marcus, he’d have to work henceforth with the heavy burden of Tallis on his back. It would make a satisfactory outcome far more difficult to achieve. Handing back the ransom demand, he manufactured a submissive smile and spoke with apparent sincerity.

‘It will be a pleasure to serve beside you, sir,’ he said.