Authors: Edward Marston
‘So it is not really mine at all.’
‘Why not?’
‘It is money that was made from crime. I’ll have to surrender it.’
‘That’s the last thing you should do,’ advised Colbeck. ‘It was money that your husband earned from a source that has yet to be identified. It was not part of the haul from the train robbery so there is no onus on you to return it. In view of the situation,’ he went on, ‘I believe that you are fully entitled to hold on to that money. Nobody need know how it came into your hands.’
‘Then I am not breaking the law?’
‘No, Mrs Ings. You are simply inheriting something that belonged to your husband. Look upon it as a welcome gift. It may not bring Mr Ings back to you, but it may help to console you in your grief.’
‘I’ll not deny that we
need
the money,’ she said, looking balefully around the bare room. ‘But I find it hard to accept that the man who murdered my husband and stole money from him should bring it to me.’
‘It is an unusual situation, I grant you.’
‘Why did he do it, Inspector?’
‘It may have been an act of atonement.’
‘Atonement?’
‘Even the most evil men sometimes have a spark of goodness.’
Maud Ings fell silent as she thought about the life she had shared with her husband. It was a painful exercise. She remembered how they had met, married and set off together with such high expectations. Few of them had been fulfilled. Yet, soured as her memories were by his recent treatment of her, she could still think of the dead man with a distant kindness.
‘You are right,’ she said, coming out of her reverie. ‘Evil men sometimes do good deeds. The problem is,’ she added with tears at last threatening to come, ‘that good men – and William was the soul of goodness when I first knew him – sometimes do evil.’
With his arm in a sling, it was impossible for Caleb Andrews to hold the newspaper properly so he had to rely on his daughter to fold it over in such a way that he could grasp it with one hand to read it. It had gone to press too early to carry news of the murder in the Devil’s Acre but there was an article about the train robbery and it was critical both of the railway policemen on duty that day, and of the Detective Department of the Metropolitan Police. Andrews saw his own
name mentioned.
‘Have you read this, Maddy?’ he asked, petulantly. ‘It says that Driver Andrews is still unable to remember what happened during the ambush. I can recall
exactly
what happened.’
‘I know, Father,’ said Madeleine.
‘So why do they make me sound like an invalid?’
‘Because you
are
an invalid.’
‘My body may be injured but there’s nothing wrong with my mind. This article says that I’m still in a complete daze.’
‘That was my doing.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Some reporters came knocking on our door this morning,’ she explained. ‘They wanted to interview you about the robbery. I told them that you were in no fit state to speak to anyone and that your mind was still very hazy. I was trying to protect you, Father.’
‘By telling everyone in London that I cannot think straight.’
‘I had to get rid of the reporters somehow. I was not going to have them pestering you when you need rest.’
‘Yet you let this Inspector Colbeck pester me,’ he argued.
‘He is trying to solve the crime,’ she said. ‘Inspector Colbeck wants to catch the men who ambushed the train and did this to you. He knows that you were badly injured and will be very considerate.’
Andrews tossed the newspaper aside. ‘If he reads this first, he’ll think that he’s coming to speak to a distracted fool who’s unable to tell what day of the week it is.’
‘The Inspector will not think that at all, Father.’
Gathering up the newspaper, Madeleine put it on the table
beside the bed. The sound of an approaching horse took her to the window and she looked down to see a cab pulling up outside the house. After a quick glance around the room, she adjusted her dress and went quickly out. Caleb Andrews gave a tired smile.
‘Ah!’ he said. ‘I think that Queen Victoria has arrived at last.’
Two minutes later, Robert Colbeck was being shown into the bedroom to be introduced to the wounded railwayman.
‘Can I offer you any refreshment, Inspector?’ said Madeleine.
‘No, thank you, Miss Andrews.’
‘In that case, I’ll leave you alone with Father.’
‘There’s no need to do that,’ said Colbeck, enjoying her company too much to lose it. ‘I’m quite happy for you to stay while we talk and, in any case, there’s something that you need to know.’
Madeleine was cheered. ‘You’ve arrested someone?’
‘Not exactly,’ he replied, ‘but we have caught up with one of the accomplices who was involved. His name was William Ings.’
‘Let me get my hands on the devil,’ said Andrews.
‘That’s not possible, I fear. Mr Ings was killed last night.’
‘Killed?’ echoed Madeleine, shocked at the news.
‘Yes, Miss Andrews,’ said Colbeck. ‘It means that we are no longer merely investigating a train robbery. This is now a murder case as well.’
‘Do you have any clue who the killer might be?’
‘Someone employed to make sure that Mr Ings’s tongue would tell no tales. Once we discovered that he was implicated, we were very close to apprehending him. The
assassin got to him first.’
‘I wish that I had!’ said Andrews, truculently. ‘If he helped that gang to ambush my train, I’d have throttled him.’
‘Father!’ reproached his daughter.
‘I would have, I swear it.’
‘You are hardly in a position to throttle anyone, Mr Andrews,’ noted Colbeck with a sympathetic smile. ‘Mr Ings, alas, was not alone when he was attacked. The young lady with him also had her throat cut.’
‘How horrible!’ exclaimed Madeleine.
‘It shows you the sort of men we are up against.’
‘The worst kind,’ said Andrews. ‘They destroyed my locomotive. They made Frank Pike drive it off the track.’ He indicated the chair beside the bed and Colbeck sat down. ‘Do you know anything about the railway, Inspector?’
‘I travel by train regularly, Mr Andrews.’
‘But do you know anything about the locomotive that pulls it?’
‘A little,’ replied Colbeck. ‘I’m familiar with the engines designed by Mr Bury; four-wheeled, bar-framed locomotives with haystack fireboxes, and tight coupling between locomotive and tender to give more stability.’
Andrews was impressed. ‘You obviously know far more than most passengers,’ he said. ‘They have no clue how a steam locomotive works. Like many others, I began driving Bury locomotives but they had too little power. We had to use two, three, sometimes four locomotives to pull a heavy train. If there were steep gradients to go up, we might need as many as six to give us enough traction power.’
‘The mail train that you were taking to Birmingham was pulled by a Crampton locomotive – at least, that’s what it
looked like to me.’
‘It was very similar to a Crampton, I agree, but it was designed by Mr Allan at the Crewe Works. He’s the foreman there and assistant to Mr Trevithick. Allan locomotives have double frames that extend the whole length of the engine with the cylinders located between the inside and outside frames.’
‘Inspector Colbeck does not want a lecture,’ warned Madeleine.
‘I’m always ready to learn from an expert,’ said Colbeck.
‘There you are, Maddy,’ said Andrews, happily. ‘The Inspector is really interested in the railways.’ He turned to Colbeck. ‘When we used inside cylinders, we were always having crank-axle breakages. Mr Allan was one of the men who began to develop horizontal outside cylinders. He may not be as famous as Mr Bury or Mr Crampton but I’d drive any locomotive that Alexander Allan built.’
‘Why is that?’ prompted Colbeck.
Caleb Andrews was in his element. He got so carried away describing the technicalities of locomotive construction that he forgot all about the nagging pain in his broken leg and the dull ache in one shoulder. Colbeck’s interest was genuine but that was not the only reason he had asked for instruction. He wanted the driver to relax, to feel at ease with him, to trust him. Watching from the other side of the room, Madeleine was struck by the way that the detective gently guided her father around to the subject of the train robbery and coaxed far more detail out of him about the event than she had managed to do. During the interview, Colbeck jotted down a few things in his notebook.
‘Would you recognise the man who attacked you?’ asked Colbeck.
‘I’ll never forget that face of his,’ replied Andrews.
‘Mr Pike gave us a good description.’
‘If my daughter were not present, Inspector, then I’d give you a good description of him – in one word.’
‘We do not wish to hear it, Father,’ scolded Madeleine.
‘That’s what he was, Maddy.’
‘Forgive him, Inspector.’
‘There’s nothing to forgive, Miss Andrews,’ said Colbeck, getting up and putting his notebook away. ‘In view of what happened, your father has been remarkably restrained. He’s also added some new details for me and that was very useful. One last question,’ he said, looking at the driver once more. ‘Is the London and North Western Railway a good company to work for, Mr Andrews?’
‘The best, Inspector.’
‘Are you saying that out of loyalty?’
‘No, Inspector Colbeck – I speak from experience. I hope to see out my time working for the London and North Western. And my link with the company will not end there.’
‘Oh?’
‘I have every hope that my son-in-law will be a driver one day.’
Madeleine blushed instantly. ‘Father!’ she cried.
‘Gideon would make a good husband.’
‘This is not the place to bring up the subject.’
‘The two of you were made for each other.’
‘That is not true at all,’ she asserted, ‘and you know it.’
‘Gideon loves you.’
‘Perhaps I ought to withdraw,’ volunteered Colbeck, seeing Madeleine’s patent discomfort. ‘Thank you for talking to me, Mr Andrews. Meeting you has been an education.’
‘Let me know when you catch up with those villains.’
‘I will, I promise you.’ He moved to the door. ‘Goodbye, Miss Andrews. I can see myself out.’
‘Wait,’ she said. ‘Let me come to the front door with you.’
‘But you clearly have something to discuss with your father.’
‘High time that she discussed it with Gideon Little,’ said Andrews.
Madeleine shot him a look of reproof and followed Colbeck down the stairs. Before she could apologise to him, the detective retrieved his silk hat from the table and opened the front door.
‘Goodbye, Miss Andrews,’ he said, masking his disappointment behind a smile. ‘Allow me congratulate you on your forthcoming engagement.’
It was Victor Leeming’s turn to face the wrath of Superintendent Tallis once more. A night’s sleep had not improved the older man’s temper. He was pacing up and down his room like a caged animal. When Leeming came in, Tallis rounded on him accusingly.
‘Where have you been, man?’ he demanded.
‘Making inquiries, sir.’
‘That is exactly what those jackals from the press have been doing. They almost drove me insane by making their damned inquiries. I had a dozen of them in here this morning,’ he complained, ‘wanting to know why we had made no progress with our investigation into the robbery, and why Inspector Colbeck was also in charge of this latest murder case.’
‘The two crimes are connected, Superintendent.’
‘They could not understand how.’
‘Why not let the Inspector deal with the newspapers in future?’
‘I’d never countenance that,’ affirmed Tallis. ‘My seniority obliges me to take on that particular duty and I have never been one to shun the cares of office. Besides, I want you and the Inspector out there, solving the crime, not getting distracted by a bevy of reporters.’
‘What did you tell them?’ asked Leeming.
‘Enough to give them a story but no more. The information we feed to the press has to be carefully controlled. Give too much away and we alert the very people we are trying to apprehend.’
‘I agree with you there, sir.’
‘The main thing was,’ said Tallis, ‘to ensure that they did not get wind of Mulryne’s role in this whole sorry affair. It was reckless of Inspector Colbeck to use that Irish blockhead in the way that he did.’ He confronted the Sergeant. ‘I presume that you condoned his decision.’
‘Not entirely,’ admitted Leeming, uneasily.
Tallis blenched. ‘You mean that he did not even have the grace to tell you what he was proposing? That is unpardonable.’
‘The Inspector did raise the matter,’ said the other, lying to protect his colleague, ‘and I could see the advantage of using Brendan Mulryne.’
‘What advantage?’
‘He knew where to look for William Ings.’
‘So did the killer.’
‘That’s why we’re making efforts to track down the other suspect, sir. Inspector Colbeck gave me an address that was
passed on to him at the Chubb factory in Wolverhampton. It was a locksmith’s where a man called Daniel Slender was supposed to have worked.’ He put a hand in his pocket. ‘I have just returned from the factory.’
‘But this Daniel Slender was not employed there?’
‘No, sir.’
‘I daresay that they never heard of him.’
‘That’s not true,’ said Leeming, taking out a letter to pass to him. ‘When they advertised a post, Daniel Slender was among those who applied for it, as you will see from that letter.’ Tallis began to read the missive. ‘His qualifications are good and he could have expected a strong recommendation from the Chubb factory. Mr Slender was invited to come for an interview.’
‘But?’
‘He never turned up.’
‘Then why apply for the post?’
‘So that he would have written evidence to show to his employers that the position he was after did exist. They believed that he went for that interview,’ said Leeming, ‘and secured the appointment. It meant that his departure aroused no suspicion.’
‘Where is Daniel Slender now?’
‘Here in London, sir.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Because he had always had an ambition to work here. According to the manager at the Chubb factory, he talked of little else. But he was tied to the Midlands by the need to look after his sick mother.’