11 - Ticket to Oblivion (15 page)

‘May I ask you something?’ he said at length.

‘You know full well that you may.’

‘And will you promise to give me an honest answer?’

‘I’d like to think that all my answers are honest,’ said Vaughan, seriously.

‘Why did you always favour George over me?’

His father was taken aback. ‘But I didn’t, Percy. I loved you both equally.’

‘You may have attempted to do so but he was the one you indulged. I was admired for my discipline and my scholarship but George was the one who could make you laugh, even when his mischievous streak got out of hand. You gave him opportunities, Father,’ he complained. ‘You gave George licence that was denied me.’

‘You didn’t
need
licence – he did.’

‘After all that’s happened, he’s still your favourite.’

It was true and Vaughan was ashamed to admit it. George had always been given preferential treatment by both parents. Emma, too, had sought her younger brother’s company first. Percy Vaughan had felt isolated and undervalued.

‘If I’ve shown George more kindness,’ said the Master, ‘then it was a grievous fault and I apologise for it. You’ve brought nothing but honour to the family name. George, alas, is more likely to besmirch it. A moment ago, you spoke of celibacy as something you’d willingly embrace. It is a concept entirely foreign to your brother.’

‘You’ll forgive him, whatever he does.’

‘He’s my son, Percy.’

‘So am I.’

There was a noticeable tension in the air. Neither man had meant to talk about their relationship but it had nevertheless happened. As a result, both of them felt raw. Vaughan wrenched the conversation back to the abduction.

‘It is such a strain, not knowing what’s happening to Imogen and her maid,’ he said, sorrowfully. ‘I’m on tenterhooks, as indeed you must be. What on earth can we do, Percy?’

‘We must continue to pray for both of them,’ advised the curate, ‘and we must pray for Inspector Colbeck as well. He needs all the help he can get.’

At that moment in time, Colbeck was, in fact, getting help from the head porter of the college. The letter delivered during the night had contained a demand for twice the amount of the original ransom. Sir Marcus Burnhope was given a day and a half to raise the money. Since there was nothing he could usefully do in the Worcestershire countryside, Colbeck had taken the train to Oxford to pursue a line of enquiry there. Samuel Woolcott, the venerable head porter, seemed to blend in perfectly with the ancient stonework all around him. His head was bald but strands of hair grew in profusion all over the lower part of his face like so much ivy. Old age had not dulled his mind or prevented him from carrying out his duties with commendable vigour. He and Colbeck conversed in the Lodge. Woolcott spoke in a local accent that had a soft, bewitching burr.

‘When would this be, Inspector?’

‘It was probably some eighteen months ago.’

Woolcott chortled. ‘Why, that’s as recent as yesterday afternoon to me,’ he said. ‘My memory goes back over six decades. Nobody here can match that, sir.’

‘Let’s confine ourselves to an afternoon in February or March of last year. Lady Burnhope and her daughter were staying with the Master.’

‘You don’t need to remind me of that.’

‘Why not?’

‘It was always an event when that young lady visited. The undergraduates buzzed round her like wasps around a pot
of strawberry jam, so they did. I felt sorry for her because all that attention bothered her. The Master’s daughter was used to it. The other young lady was not.’

‘Cast your mind back to a day when there was snow on the ground and the two of them went out for a walk.’

Woolcott scratched his head. ‘There’d have been a few days like that, sir.’

‘This one was special. She went out with one companion and came back with two. The ladies were escorted back here by a soldier in the uniform of a captain.’

‘You don’t need to tell me his rank,’ said the old man. ‘I’d have recognised it just from looking at him. I’ve a grandson in the army, you see. He was a wayward lad until he went off to serve Queen and Country but they’ve beaten good manners into him. Now,’ he added, ‘you’ll be wanting to know if I recall the incident and I do. The captain was very attentive to the ladies.’

The head porter went on to describe the soldier at exhaustive length and every detail corresponded with those already gleaned by Colbeck. By the time Woolcott had finished, the inspector was certain that the hero of Christ Church Meadow was the same man as the one issuing ransom demands.

‘He was a cavalry officer,’ said Woolcott. ‘I know my regiments, sir.’

‘What happened when the two ladies walked away?’

Woolcott chortled again. ‘He did what all the undergraduates were doing and that was to stare at them and nurse foolish hopes. Once they went through into the Radcliffe Quad, the captain asked me who the prettier one was and how long she’d be in Oxford. I saw no harm in
telling him.’ His face creased into an apology. ‘I’m sorry if I did wrong, Inspector.’

‘You weren’t to know what he had in mind.’

‘I still don’t.’

‘Did you ever see the fellow again?’

‘Oh yes,’ replied Woolcott. ‘I saw him a few times. He looked very different out of uniform but I knew that it was him. Once I’ve seen a face, I never forget it. The captain never came to the college, as far as I know, but he was here in Oxford, no question of that.’

‘When was the last time? Can you remember?’

‘I will if you give me a moment, sir. It was earlier this year on a very cold day. I know that because I had my collar turned up and my hat pulled down. So did the captain,’ he said. ‘I passed him outside Elliston and Cavell’s. That’s the big store in the high street.’

‘I know it well from my days as an undergraduate, Mr Woolcott.’

‘He didn’t recognise me but I spotted him at once.’

‘Could you put a date on the encounter?’

‘I can give you a time, Inspector. It was near enough to noon. As for the date, it must have been late in February. Yes,’ he confirmed, ‘that would be it for sure. It was rather odd, now that I think of it.’

‘In what way was it odd?’

‘Well, I hadn’t laid eyes on the man for months, then he turns up at the very time that Lady Burnhope was staying here with her daughter. Isn’t that peculiar?’

Colbeck made no comment. Everything he’d been told by Woolcott had reinforced his theory about the kidnap. After thanking the head porter, he stepped out
of the Lodge at exactly the same time that the Master and his elder son were coming into the Main Quadrangle. They were very surprised to see him. Percy Vaughan was carrying a valise as if about to depart but he was desperate for information before he went. He and his father descended on Colbeck and pressed him for the latest news. They were told about the way that Tunnadine had intervened during the attempted exchange and were disheartened when they heard that the two women had not, in any case, been there.

‘He’s killed them,’ said the curate, forlornly. ‘He’s only pretending that they’re still alive in order to extract money from my uncle. The man is an absolute monster.’

‘No, sir,’ said Colbeck, ‘he’s a wily character who is exploiting to the full the advantage he holds. I don’t believe that either of the two ladies is dead. They are being held somewhere, though under what conditions, I couldn’t hazard a guess.’

‘Is there no hope of catching this villain?’ asked Vaughan.

‘There’s every hope. Thanks to the assistance I received from your daughter and from the head porter here, I know who the man is and how he operates. He’s no longer a phantom but a hazy photograph inside my head.’

While he told them enough to satisfy their curiosity, Colbeck held back much detail. They were cheered by the progress he’d made, though still very concerned for the safety of the two women. He did his best to reassure them.

‘What’s the next step, Inspector?’ said Vaughan.

‘I need to ask you a favour, sir,’ replied Colbeck. ‘Every
college relies on an army of scouts. They are the unsung heroes of this university.’

‘I couldn’t agree with you more, Inspector.’

‘When Lady Burnhope and her daughter stay here, who looks after them?’

‘They travel with their own maids, of course, but I always assign a scout to each of them. He’s there to fetch, carry, change the beds and answer any other needs.’

‘Whom did you assign to look after your niece?’

‘Oh, it was always Arthur Lugstone. He’s very reliable.’

‘I’d like to meet him as soon as possible.’

‘That can be arranged.’

‘I’ve been puzzling over something,’ said Percy Vaughan, brow furrowed. ‘If Mr Tunnadine shot a man dead in cold blood, why is he not being held in custody?’

‘Sir Marcus had too much influence over a local magistrate.’

‘Then he’s abused that influence.’

‘Too true, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘Superintendent Tallis will be seeking ways to rectify the situation. As upholders of law and order, we cannot allow anybody to evade justice. Mr Tunnadine will be called to account before long. His status as a Member of Parliament can only offer him a degree of protection. It will be insufficient to save him from prosecution. Oh,’ he went on with a half smile, ‘there’s something else you may care to know about the gentleman.’

‘What’s that?’ asked the curate.

‘On the balance of probability, I’d say that it was highly unlikely that Mr Tunnadine will ever marry your cousin, Imogen.’

Percy Vaughan was both startled and elated by the good news. Shedding his inhibitions for once, he put his head back and emitted a laugh of pure joy that echoed around the quadrangle.

Clive Tunnadine was not without his finer feelings. Having used his mistress to allay his frustration, he began to be troubled by remorse. Lucinda Graham had met his needs for over twelve enjoyable months and deserved more than to be treated with such inconsiderate brutality. He needed to make amends. When he returned to the house, therefore, he did so with a basket of flowers and a series of apologies. Having nursed her resentment, Lucinda was inclined to rebuff him but Tunnadine continued to smooth her ruffled feathers and to tell her how much she meant to him. Her anger slowly melted into a vague feeling of pleasure. What eventually won her round was the promise that, after his marriage, he would still retain his intimate relationship with her. Lucinda might be able to stay at the house, after all.

‘I’m still very cross with you,’ she warned.

‘You’ve every right to be so.’

‘It will take more than a basket of flowers to make me forgive you.’

‘A fresh supply of flowers will arrive every week,’ he promised.

‘What would please me more is an explanation. You’ve dealt with me roughly before but not with the same violence as you did this last time. What did I do to provoke such behaviour? For what offence was I being punished?’

‘It was not punishment, Lucinda,’ he assured her. ‘It was a mistake.’

‘You were like a man possessed.’

‘I can see that now and I swear that it will never happen again. All that I can tell you is that …’ he paused as he searched for the words ‘… is that there has been a serious problem in my private life that has yet to be resolved. That’s no reason to behave as I did towards you, of course. What I did was reprehensible. Suffice it to say that it belongs in the past. Our future together will be a source of continuous pleasure to both of us.’

‘I trust that it will be,’ said Lucinda, forcefully. ‘I’ll not stay to be treated again so harshly. Use me as the loving friend that I am and not as a common trull whose slit can be bought cheaply in the backstreets of Seven Dials.’

Tunnadine admired her show of spirit. It made him enfold her gently in his arms and kiss her full on the lips. Lucinda pulled away.

‘Will you spend the night here?’ she asked.

‘No, Lucinda. I have to go. There’s someone I must see.’

She was about to ask if the meeting related to the problem of which he’d spoken but she checked herself. Certain that he’d been referring to his forthcoming marriage, she remembered what had happened when she’d first mentioned the event. It had caused him to stalk out and slam the door on her. Now that they’d been reconciled, she had no wish to upset him again. By way of a farewell, he took a long, luscious kiss from her and left her feeling once more that he really cared for her.

‘When will I see you again?’

‘It will be as soon as I may arrange it,’ he promised.

On that note, he sniffed the flowers then took his leave, closing the door softly behind him. Lucinda glanced at the
chest of drawers in which she’d hoarded all her treasures. It might yet be possible to put some of them back on display.

Tunnadine, meanwhile, took a cab back to his house. Dismissing Lucinda from his mind, he concentrated his thoughts on the other woman in his life. He had no illusions about Imogen Burnhope. She could never offer him the delights he found in the arms of his mistress. Imogen would be a highly suitable wife, obedient and undemanding. She would give him an important link to a titled family and, in time, bear his children. Her future, he envisaged, would be one of quiet domesticity, leaving him to roam freely. First, however, she needed to be released from danger and restored to him. It was that consideration that had made him spurn the chance of a night with Lucinda Graham. For the moment, she had to take her turn behind Imogen.

When he reached the house, he paid the cab driver and let himself in. A letter awaited him on the hall table. He snatched it up and tore it open. The words ignited a fire inside his head. Tunnadine reeled from their impact.

Edward Tallis was not a man to let the sun go down on his anger. Furious at the way that Tunnadine was still at liberty after shooting someone dead, he’d returned to Scotland Yard to set legal wheels in motion. The following day saw him reading reports of other crimes that his detectives were investigating. Conscientious to a fault, he worked hard to ensure that cases were swiftly resolved so that his men could be redeployed on one of the other crimes that merited the attention of the Detective Department. The telegraph arrived late that morning. Victor Leeming was in the superintendent’s office at the time. As he read the short message, Tallis inhaled deeply through his nose.

‘It’s exactly as Colbeck predicted,’ he said, passing it to Leeming. ‘A second demand has arrived. The money is to be handed over tomorrow.’

‘Then I’d suggest we don’t take Mr Tunnadine next time.’

‘He won’t be allowed anywhere near the kidnapper.’

‘The demand is for
twice
as much,’ noted Leeming, seeing
the figure. ‘I didn’t think that anybody had that amount of money tucked away.’

‘Sir Marcus inherited both capital and extensive property. That is why his daughter was selected as a target. The kidnapper knew that Sir Marcus would be able to afford the ransom.’ He took the telegraph back and read it again. ‘We were lucky that this whole business happened between Worcester and Oxford.’

‘Why is that, sir?’

‘Both of them have telegraph stations. Messages can be sent to London at a fraction of the time it would take a courier to bring them. It’s one of the many boons that the railway has brought us.’

‘I preferred it the way it was before.’

‘You can’t stand in the way of progress.’

‘It’s not progress in my eyes,’ said Leeming, grumpily.

‘Then you need spectacles, Sergeant. The world is changing fast and we must change with it or the criminal fraternity will outpace us. They’ve already seized on the potentialities of railways as a source of crime. Look at this very investigation, man, or consider what happened on the Caledonian Railway earlier this year.’

Leeming started. The enforced stay in Scotland was not an enticing memory. Before he could say why, they were interrupted. There was a tap on the door then Colbeck stepped into the room.

‘Good day to you both,’ he said, genially.

‘What kept you in Worcestershire so long?’ asked Tallis. ‘This telegraph says that a ransom demand was delivered during the night. You could have caught a train shortly after dawn.’

‘That’s exactly what I did do, Superintendent. It took me to Oxford where I was able to make a number of productive enquiries. I also had the pleasure of meeting the Reverend Percy Vaughan again and of talking to his father. When my work there was done,’ admitted Colbeck, ‘I did permit myself half an hour to reacquaint myself with a city that is very dear to me.’

‘It’s a pretty place,’ observed Leeming. ‘It’s got fine old buildings galore.’

‘When I require a gazetteer of Oxford’ said Tallis with a glare, ‘I’ll ask for one. As for you, Inspector, let me remind you that you went there to solve a crime, not to indulge in distracting reminiscences.’

‘Oh, I was not distracted,’ said Colbeck. ‘I felt from the start that the city held secrets that I needed to bring into the open and so it proved.’

He gave the account that he’d prepared carefully on the train journey to London. Colbeck told them about the way that he’d intercepted the visitor to Burnhope Manor during the night and how he’d questioned the head porter at University College. Thanks to the Master’s help, he’d been able to identify a critical factor in the wooing of Imogen Burnhope.

‘His name is Arthur Lugstone,’ said Colbeck.

‘Who is he?’

‘He is a scout at the college, sir – or, at least, he was until the truth came out.’

‘What’s a scout?’ asked Leeming.

‘Try listening for once,’ said Tallis, sardonically, ‘and you may find out.’

‘A scout is a manservant,’ explained Colbeck.
‘Undergraduates enjoy the luxury of having one to look after them. It’s one of the university’s traditions. Until today, Arthur Lugstone was part of it.’

‘Why did you seek this particular fellow out?’ asked Tallis.

‘According to the Master, he was engaged to take care of guests at the college. Whenever she visited, Sir Marcus’s daughter was looked after by him. In other words, he was in the perfect position to carry any messages to her. It was the way that Captain Whiteside kept in touch when she was in the city. Lugstone denied his involvement at first,’ said Colbeck, ‘but I threatened him with a spell in prison and he crumbled at once. To be fair to him, he had no idea what the letters contained but he’s still culpable of aiding what amounts to a conspiracy. The moment that the Master heard what had been happening under his nose, he dismissed Lugstone on the spot.’

‘But wait,’ said Leeming, ‘the young lady only went to Oxford twice a year. Was that enough time for the captain to work on her emotions?’

‘They doubtless had another arrangement when she was at Burnhope Manor,’ suggested Colbeck. ‘Clandestine correspondence would have been smuggled in somehow. The obvious go-between was Rhoda Wills.’

‘I think you’re right, Inspector. From what the coachman told us, I sensed that the maid was a resourceful woman.’

‘It sounds as if she paid for her resourcefulness,’ muttered Tallis. ‘It helped to lead her mistress into a trap.’

‘You say that she received letters while in Oxford,’ recalled Leeming. ‘Did this scout carry replies back to Captain Whiteside?’

‘He did, Sergeant,’ said Colbeck, ‘and he gave me the address to which he took the missives. That gave me even further insight into the character of this self-styled gallant soldier.’

‘You say that with a degree of sarcasm,’ remarked Tallis.

‘It was intentional, sir. Lugstone gave me the address to which he took any correspondence from the young lady. The house was in Walton Street,’ said Colbeck, ‘not far from the Clarendon Press. It was owned by a Mrs Greenfield, a widowed lady who took in lodgers. Captain Whiteside stayed there often. Sometimes he brought an army friend, a Sergeant Cullen, with him.’

‘It must be his accomplice.’

‘He is, Superintendent. Mrs Greenfield had little to say about the sergeant but she spoke well of Captain Whiteside. When he stayed there alone, he always told her about his escapades in the Crimean War. She was enthralled by his tales. Though she didn’t confess it in so many words,’ Colbeck went on, ‘I got the distinct impression that she fell victim to his charms.’

‘The blackguard!’ exclaimed Tallis. ‘While he’s paying court to one woman, he’s enjoying the favours of another. That’s despicable.’

Leeming was even more shocked but it was not the image of the seduced landlady that came into his mind. It was the disturbing sight of Dolly Wrenson’s naked body – minus one arm – on canvas in a Chelsea studio. He fought hard to expunge it from his memory.

Colbeck’s visit to the house in Walton Street had provided him with far more detail of the kidnapper. Feeling profoundly sorry for the landlady, he said nothing to
disillusion her. Mrs Greenfield had been a lonely woman in a house that seemed increasingly empty after the death of her husband. Still in her thirties, she’d felt young enough to contemplate a second marriage and Colbeck was certain that hints of it had been dropped by her favourite lodger as a means of gaining access to her bed.

‘In moments alone with the landlady,’ said Colbeck, ‘the captain would have been off guard. He talked at length about his military career. Those details need to be corroborated.’

‘I’ll instigate checks in the army records,’ said Tallis, picking up the telegraph. ‘There’s nothing much we can do until the ransom is handed over tomorrow.’

‘There’s a lot we can do, Superintendent.’

‘I fail to see it.’

‘The chosen spot for the exchange is in the Oxfordshire countryside. I think that the sergeant and I should reconnoitre it well in advance.’

‘Does that mean I have to ride a bay mare again?’ moaned Leeming.

‘You’ll do as you’re told,’ said Tallis, unsympathetically.

‘That animal could have killed me, sir.’

‘Don’t worry,’ soothed Colbeck. ‘You won’t need to be in the saddle this time. We’ll hire a trap at the station and we’ll go far and wide. If the captain has shifted the venue to Oxfordshire, the likelihood is that the two ladies are being held somewhere in the county. He’ll not wish to travel any distance with them.’

‘What can I do in the meantime?’ wondered Tallis.

‘You face a difficult task, sir.’

‘Oh – and what’s that?’

‘Well,’ said Colbeck, ‘I’ve already asked Sir Marcus to
say nothing of the second demand to Mr Tunnadine. He agreed, albeit reluctantly. If the gentleman somehow finds out what’s afoot, it could prove disastrous. That’s why I’m turning to you, sir. You must stop Mr Tunnadine from ruining everything for a second time.’

When he recovered from the shock of reading the letter, Clive Tunnadine came to see that it presented him with a number of opportunities. The amount of money demanded, while less than the previous ransom, was excessive but he consoled himself with the thought that he would not actually lose it. Cleverly handled, the exchange could work entirely to his benefit. He would make possible Imogen’s release, kill or capture her kidnapper and have the deep satisfaction of solving a crime that Inspector Colbeck had been investigating. It was this last element that had immense appeal to his visitor.

‘The prospect fills me with pleasure,’ said Alban Kee.

‘You like the idea, then?’

‘It’s precisely what I would have recommended, Mr Tunnadine.’

‘How well do you know the inspector?’

‘I know him far too well.’

‘Did you work alongside him at Scotland Yard?’

‘Nobody works alongside Colbeck,’ said the other.

‘You are always beneath him. I occupied the same rank yet had less power when measured against him. He’s the commissioner’s favourite and that always rankled with me.’

Tunnadine was glad that he’d engaged Alban Kee. Though he now worked as a private detective, Kee had served in the Metropolitan Police before being promoted to
the Detective Department. His elevation had taken rather longer to come there because he was overshadowed by other officers, principal among them being Robert Colbeck. It had left him with bitter memories. Kee was a sturdy man of middle height with dark, mobile eyes either side of a bulbous nose that seemed to explode out of his face. His sparse hair was combed forward and slicked down. The moustache was virtually invisible beneath the domineering proboscis. He’d been recommended to Tunnadine by a friend.

‘Your reputation goes before you, Mr Kee,’ said the politician.

‘I work quickly, effectively and discreetly, sir.’

‘It’s your discretion that I need most. Nothing of our discussion must be leaked to anyone else. Most vital of all, it must not reach the ears of anyone at Scotland Yard – especially those of Inspector Colbeck.’

‘I’ll be as silent as the grave, Mr Tunnadine.’

‘What do you think of that letter?’

‘It’s obviously genuine,’ said Kee, passing it back to him, ‘because you recognise the hand from the earlier ransom demand. My question is this – why send it to you and not to Sir Marcus Burnhope?’

‘That bothered me at first,’ admitted Tunnadine, ‘but I think I’ve worked out the answer. When Sir Marcus was given the opportunity to rescue his daughter, it was an abject failure. My suspicion is that, as a consequence, the kidnapper doesn’t trust him. Aware of my relationship with Imogen, he’s turned to me instead.’

‘Why was the first exchange botched, sir?’

‘I blame Colbeck for that. He insisted on impersonating Sir Marcus.’

‘That’s ever his way,’ sneered Kee. ‘He
has
to be in charge.’

‘The exercise miscarried but at least the money was saved. Sir Marcus had been tricked. His daughter was never even there.’

‘What makes you think that the kidnapper will stick to his promise this time?’

‘It’s the tone of his letter. He freely concedes that he tried to get too much for too little on the previous occasion. All he wants is what he calls a fair exchange.’

Kee’s moustache twitched. ‘It’s still a fearsome amount of money, sir.’

‘It will be found. I’ve already spoken to my bank. Besides,’ said Tunnadine, ‘I look to you to make sure that I don’t part with a single penny.’

‘I hope you’ll part with a lot more than that if I do my job properly.’

‘You’ll be handsomely rewarded, Kee.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

Tunnadine liked the man. He seemed alert, decisive and respectful. Years as a detective meant that he could remain calm under pressure. What Kee had not told him was that he was driven out of the Detective Department by Tallis because there were persistent rumours that he accepted bribes from criminals to let them go. It was Colbeck who’d first made the charge against Kee, hence the latter’s undying hatred of him. The fact that Kee was guilty of the crime was irrelevant to him. He’d lost a position in which he could wield power and was now reduced to working on his own. Loss of status was compounded by a loss of income. This latest assignment gave him the chance to recoup some of those losses. A successful outcome would mean
good publicity for the private detective. His name would replace that of Colbeck in the newspapers and the thought sweetened him.

‘What’s your advice?’ asked Tunnadine.

‘That depends on when the money is ready, sir.’

‘My banker says that I can collect it in the morning.’

‘Then while you’re doing that, I’ll take a train to Crewe. The letter is careful to give us no details of the actual exchange,’ said Kee. ‘It simply orders you to stay at a nominated hotel on a particular day so that instructions can be delivered to you there.’

‘I’ll check the railway timetable in
Bradshaw
.’

‘Do you possess a weapon, sir?’

‘I have several firearms and I’m a good shot.’

‘Then we are two of a kind for I’ve been trained as a marksman. Between us, I feel sure that we can bring this fellow down – and his accomplice, for he will surely have one. Beware of more tricks, Mr Tunnadine. He’s a guileful man.’