Authors: Edward Marston
‘Is there anything I can get you, Father?’ she said.
‘A pair of crutches.’
‘The doctor told you to stay in bed.’
‘I’ll die of boredom if I’m trapped in here much longer.’
‘You’ve had plenty of visitors,’ Madeleine reminded him. ‘Frank Pike came yesterday, so did Rose. Today, it was Gideon’s turn.’
‘He’d be here every day if he had some encouragement.’
She inhaled deeply. ‘You know how I feel on that score.’
‘Give the lad a chance, Maddy. He dotes on you.’
‘Yes,’ she said, sadly, ‘but I do not dote on Gideon.’
‘Your mother didn’t exactly dote on me at first,’ he confided with a nostalgic sigh, ‘but she took me on and – God bless her – she learnt to love me in time. I think I made her happy.’
‘You did, Father. She always said that.’
‘I miss her terribly but I’m glad that she’s not here to see me like this. I feel so
helpless
.’ He peered up at her. ‘Gideon will be a driver one day, Maddy – just like me. You could do a lot worse.’
‘I know that.’
‘So why do you give the poor man a cold shoulder?’
‘I try to be polite to him.’
‘He wants more than politeness.’
‘Then he wants more than I am able to offer,’ she said.
His voice hardened. ‘Gideon is not good enough for you, is that it?’
‘No, Father.’
‘You think that you are above marrying a railwayman.’
‘That’s not true at all.’
‘I brought you up to respect the railway,’ he said with a glint in his eye. ‘It served me well enough all these years, Maddy. Your mother was proud of what I did for a living.’
‘So am I.’
‘Then why are you giving yourself these airs and graces?’
‘Father,’ she said, trying to remain calm, ‘the situation is simple. I do not – and never could – love Gideon Little.’
‘You’ve set your sights higher, have you?’
‘Of course not.’
‘I’m not blind, Maddy,’ he told her. ‘Something has happened to you over the past few days and we both know what it is. Run with your own kind, girl,’ he urged. ‘That’s where your future lies. Why look at a man who will always be out of your reach?’
‘Please!’ she said. ‘I don’t wish to discuss this any more.’
‘I only want to stop you from getting hurt, Maddy.’
‘You need rest. I’ll leave you alone.’
‘Stick to Gideon. He’s one of our own. Be honest with yourself,’ he said. ‘No man in a silk top hat is going to look at you.’
Madeleine could take no more. Her feelings had been hurt and her mind was racing. Holding back tears, she opened the door and went out.
Superintendent Tallis did not even bother to knock. He burst into Colbeck’s office in time to find the Inspector poring intently over a copy of the
Illustrated London News
. Colbeck looked up with a dutiful smile.
‘Good afternoon, sir,’ he said.
‘Where have you been, Inspector?’
‘To the Kilsby Tunnel and back.’
‘I know that,’ said Tallis, leaning over the desk at him. ‘Why did you not report to me the moment that you got back?’
‘I did, Superintendent. You were not in your office.’
‘I was in a meeting with the Commissioners.’
‘That’s why I came back here to do some work.’
‘Since when has reading a newspaper been construed as work?’
‘Actually,’ said Colbeck, turning the paper round so that Tallis could see it, ‘I was studying this illustration on the front page. I suggest that you do the same, sir.’
‘I do not have time to look at illustrations, Inspector,’ rasped the other, ignoring the paper, ‘and neither do you. Now what did you learn of value in Northamptonshire?’
‘That it really is a charming county. Even Victor was impressed.’
‘Did you establish how the tunnel was damaged?’
‘I did much more than that.’
‘Indeed?’
‘I discovered why they chose that particular target. More to the point,’ Colbeck announced, ‘I believe that I know where they will direct their malign energies next.’
‘And where is that, Inspector?’
‘At this.’ Colbeck tapped the illustration that lay before him. ‘
The Lord of the Isles
. It’s a steam locomotive, sir.’
‘I can see that, man.’
‘The pride of the Great Western Railway. What more dramatic way to make his point than by destroying this symbol of excellence?’
‘Who are you talking about?’
‘The man who organised the train robbery and who instigated the attack on the Kilsby Tunnel. If you take a seat, Superintendent,’ he said, indicating a chair, ‘I will be happy to explain.’
‘I wish that somebody would.’
As soon as Tallis sat down, Colbeck told him about the visit to the scene of the latest crime and how he had become convinced of where the next attack would be. Tallis had grave doubts.
‘It’s a wild guess, Inspector,’ he said.
‘No, sir. It’s a considered judgement, based on what I know of the man and his methods. He is conducting a vendetta against railways.’
‘Then why not blow up another tunnel or destroy a bridge?’
‘Because he can secure infinitely more publicity at the Crystal Palace. Every newspaper in Britain and several from
aboard would report the event. After all, the Exhibition has an international flavour,’ said Colbeck. ‘The whole civilised world will be looking at it. That is what this man craves most of all, Superintendent – an audience.’
‘Why should he pick on the
Lord of the Isles
?’
‘Because that will set the standard of locomotive construction for years to come, sir. It repeats the design of Daniel Gooch’s
Iron Duke
, built for the Great Western Railway at Swindon. Other locomotives will be on display,’ he continued, ‘including the famous
Puffing Billy
and the
Liverpool
, designed by Thomas Crampton. Our man may choose one of them instead or create an explosion big enough to destroy all the railway exhibits. Inside a structure like the Crystal Palace, of course, any explosion will have a devastating effect.’
‘Only if it were allowed to happen.’
‘That is why we must take preventative measures.’
‘They are already in hand,’ Tallis informed him. ‘I attended a first meeting with the Commissioners about security at the Exhibition in November of last year. We recommended that an extra 1000 police officers were needed.’
‘Yes, but only to control the massive crowds that are expected.’
‘A moment ago, you mentioned the
Iron Duke
. It may interest you to know that the real Iron Duke, the Duke of Wellington, advocated a force of 15,000 men. I put forward the notion of swearing in sappers as special constables but it was felt – wrongly, in my opinion – that they would be seen as too militaristic.’ He stroked his moustache. ‘As an army man, I believe in the power of the uniform.’
‘The problem is,’ said Colbeck, ‘that a uniform gives the
game away. It sends out a warning. Besides, Superintendent, you are talking about security arrangements
during
the Exhibition. I think that the attack will be made before it.’
‘How have you arrived at that conclusion?’
‘By putting myself in the mind of the man we are after.’
‘But you do not even know his name.’
‘I know his type, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘Like you, he was a military man. He understands that he must use surprise to maximum effect and strike at the weakest point. Look at the train robbery,’ he suggested. ‘The weak points were William Ings and Daniel Slender. Once their loyalty had been breached, the ambush could be laid.’
Superintendent Tallis ruminated. Crossing to the desk, he picked up the paper and looked at the illustration of the
Lord
of the Isles
. After a moment, he tossed it down again.
‘No,’ he decided. ‘Simply because there was an explosion in the Kilsby Tunnel, I do not foresee an outrage at the Crystal Palace.’
‘What if you are mistaken, sir?’
‘That is highly unlikely.’
‘But not impossible,’ reasoned Colbeck. ‘If there
is
some sort of attack on those locomotives, you will be blamed for not taking special precautions when you had been advised to do so. All that I am asking for is a small number of men.’
‘To do what?’
‘Mount a guard throughout the night. Nobody would be reckless enough to attempt anything in daylight – there would be far too many people about, helping to set up the exhibits.’
‘Are you volunteering to lead this guard detail?’
‘Provided that I have a free hand to choose my team.’
‘It could be a complete waste of time, Inspector.’
‘Then I will be the first to admit that I was wrong,’ said Colbeck, firmly. ‘If, on the other hand, we do foil an attempt to damage the locomotives, you will be given the credit for anticipating it.’
Tallis needed a few minutes to think it over. Inclined to dismiss the idea as fanciful, he feared the consequences if the Inspector were proved right. Robert Colbeck had a habit of coming up with strange proposals that somehow, against all the odds, bore fruit. A man who was ready to endure sleepless nights at the Crystal Palace had to be driven by a deep inner conviction. After meditation, Tallis elected to trust in it.
‘Very well, Inspector,’ he said. ‘Take the necessary steps.’
Thomas Sholto had known him for several years. Educated at the same school, they had been commissioned in the same regiment and served together in India. For all that, he could still be amazed at the dedication that Sir Humphrey Gilzean brought to any project. It was in evidence again when they met that morning to discuss their latest scheme. A large round mahogany table stood in the library at Gilzean’s house. Sholto was astounded to see what was lying on it. As well as a detailed floor plan of the Crystal Palace, there was a copy of the
Official Catalogue
for the Great Exhibition.
‘How on earth did you get hold of these?’ asked Sholto.
‘By a combination of money and persuasion,’ replied Gilzean, picking up the catalogue. ‘This is the first of five parts but the printers only have this one ready for the opening ceremony on May Day. Did you know that there are over 100,000 separate items on show, sent in from all over the world by individual and corporate exhibitors?’
‘Prince Albert wants it to be a truly unforgettable event.’
‘We will make sure that it is, Thomas.’ He put the catalogue down and scrutinised the plan. ‘Everything on show is divided into four different classes – Raw Materials, Machinery, Manufactures and Fine Arts.’
‘Any mention of the British Army? That’s what made the Empire.’
‘Only a display of Military Engineering and Ordnance.’
‘No bands, no parades, no demonstrations of military skills?’
‘No, Thomas. The emphasis is on industry in all its forms.’ He drew back his lips in a sneer. ‘Including the railways.’
‘Where are the locomotives housed, Humphrey?’
‘Here,’ said Gilzean, indicating a section of the ground floor plan. ‘What we are after is in an area devoted to Machinery for Direct Use.’
‘On the north side,’ observed Sholto. ‘It should not be difficult to gain access there. I took the trouble to have a preliminary look at the Crystal Palace when I accosted Lord Holcroft in Hyde Park. It is a vast cathedral of glass that looks like nothing so much as a giant conservatory. But, then, what else should one expect of a man like Joseph Paxton who is a landscape gardener?’
‘As far as I am concerned, Thomas, his notoriety lies elsewhere.’
‘Yes, Humphrey. He is a director of the Midland Railway.’
‘Had he not been,’ said Gilzean scornfully, ‘he might never have been employed to design that monstrous edifice. I am told, on good authority, that Joseph Paxton came down to the House of Commons last year for a meeting with Mr John Ellis, Member of Parliament and chairman of the Midland Railway, a ghastly individual with whom I’ve crossed swords
more than once in the Chamber.’
‘Yes, Humphrey. I recall how you opposed his Railway Bill.’
‘It was a matter of honour. To return to Paxton,’ he said. ‘When our landscape gardener discovered how poor the acoustics were in the House of Commons, he decried the architect, Mr Barry. He then went on to say that those designing the hall for the Great Exhibition would also botch the job – even though he had not seen their plans.’
‘Mr Paxton is an arrogant man, by the sound of it.’
‘Arrogant?’ said Gilzean, scornfully. ‘The fellow has a conceit to rival Narcissus. At a meeting of the board of his railway company, he had the gall to sketch his idea for the building on a piece of blotting paper. That, Thomas, is how this Crystal Palace came into being.’
‘On a piece of blotting paper?’
‘The design was shown to Ellis, who passed it on to someone in authority and, the next thing you know, Paxton is invited to submit a plan and an estimate of its cost. To cap it all,’ said Gilzean through gritted teeth, ‘he is given an audience with Prince Albert himself. His Royal Highness was not the only one to approve of the design. Paxton managed to win the support of no less a personage than Robert Stephenson.’ He arched an imperious eyebrow. ‘The two of them met – appropriately enough – during a train journey to London.’
‘The railway has a lot to answer for, Humphrey.’
‘More than you know,’ returned the other. ‘In the early days, when we were doing our best to oppose the scheme, it looked as if the Great Exhibition might not even take place. It was dogged by all sorts of financial problems. Then in
steps Mr Peto, the railway contractor, and offers to act as guarantor for the building by putting down
£
50,000. Once he had led the way,’ said Gilzean, ‘others quickly followed. Mr Peto also put his weight behind the choice of Paxton as the architect.’
‘At every stage,’ noted Sholto, ‘crucial decisions have been made by those connected with the railways. You can see how they stand to reap the benefit. When the Exhibition opens, excursion trains will run from all over the country. Railway companies will make immense profits.’
‘Not if I can help it, Thomas.’
‘The men are in readiness.’
‘They had better not repeat their failure at the Kilsby Tunnel.’