Authors: Edward Marston
‘You know how much I detest railways, Thomas,’ he said.
‘They are an abomination to you.’
‘So why do you bring a railwayman’s daughter to my house?’
‘Madeleine Andrews is the chink in Colbeck’s armour.’
‘Can this really be so?’ asked Gilzean. ‘The only way their paths could have crossed is as a result of the train robbery. There has been very little time for an attachment to develop.’
‘Nevertheless, Humphrey, I was given to believe that it has. The gallant Inspector was seen to take a fond farewell on her doorstep. And while she may only be a railwayman’s daughter,’ said Sholto with a well-bred leer, ‘she is a fetching young woman. I’d hoped that she’d struggle more so that I could have the pleasure of manhandling her.’
Gilzean was strict. ‘She must be treated with respect.’
‘Am I not even allowed a little sport?’
‘No, Thomas.’
‘But she might like some company in the middle of the night.’
‘Miss Andrews must be unharmed,’ insisted Gilzean, filling his glass from the port decanter. ‘I draw the line at molestation.’
‘Where women are concerned,’ teased Sholto, ‘you were always inclined to be too soft.’
‘I behave like a gentleman, Thomas. So should you.’
‘There are times when courtesy is burdensome.’
‘Not to me.’
Sholto laughed. ‘You really are the strangest creature, Humphrey,’ he said. ‘Who else would send me off to murder a man then insist that I leave a substantial amount of money with his widow?’
‘Mrs Ings needed it – we do not.’
‘I always need money.’
‘Even you must be satisfied with what we have accrued.’
‘It only makes me want more.’
‘Apart from what we gained in the robbery, there were the profits from blackmail. In total, it amounted to almost three thousand pounds. We are in a position to be generous.’
‘Giving money to that woman was unnecessary.’
‘It salved my conscience and appealed to my sense of fair play.’
‘Fair play?’ echoed the other with a derisive laugh. ‘Having her husband killed hardly constitutes fair play.’
‘He betrayed her for that money, remember,’ said Gilzean. ‘He abandoned his wife and family to live with a whore in
the Devil’s Acre. I have no sympathy for him – but I did feel that Mrs Ings deserved help.’
Sholto was disdainful. ‘I do not believe in charity.’
‘Cultivate a little benevolence, Thomas.’
‘Oh, I have plenty of that,’ said the other, ‘but I put it to different uses. You see a grieving widow and tell me to put money through her letterbox. When I see a female in distress – Madeleine Andrews, for example – I have the urge to comfort her in a more intimate way and offer my full benevolence.’
‘Miss Andrews is only a means to an end.’
‘My belief, entirely.’
‘I am serious,’ said Gilzean, forcefully. ‘When she is under my roof, she is under my protection. Dismiss any thoughts you may have about her, Thomas. Miss Andrews is here for a purpose.’
‘How long will we keep her?’
‘As long as we need her.’
‘What about the elegant Inspector?’
‘He will surely be aware of her disappearance by now,’ said Gilzean, sniffing his port before tasting it, ‘and, if he is as enamoured as you believe, he will be extremely fretful. That was my intention – to give Inspector Colbeck something to occupy his mind.’
Robert Colbeck slept fitfully that night, troubled by dreams of what terrible fate might have befallen Madeleine Andrews. The news that she had been kidnapped aroused all of his protective instincts and he came to see just how fond he was of her. It was no passing interest. His affection was deep and intensified by her plight. The thought that she was in great danger left him in a fever of recrimination. Colbeck felt
responsible for what had happened. She had been taken, he believed, as a way of striking at him. Because he had arrested three men, Madeleine had become a hostage.
He woke up to the realisation that his efforts to find her had, so far, been fruitless. In the wake of the visit from Gideon Little, he had sent police officers to Camden to question all the neighbours in her street in case any of them had witnessed the abduction. One had remembered seeing a policeman outside the door of Madeleine’s house, another had watched the cab setting off, but neither could add to what Colbeck already knew. He had nothing to help him. Madeleine could be anywhere.
Rain was scouring the streets when he stepped out of his house, making London seem wet and inhospitable. Colbeck had to walk some distance along John Islip Street before he found a cab, and his umbrella was dripping. He was glad to get to Scotland Yard. Although it was still early, Superintendent Tallis had already arrived to start work. Colbeck met him in the corridor outside his office. Having been informed of the crisis, Tallis was eager to hear of developments.
‘Any news, Inspector?’ he asked.
‘None, sir.’
‘That’s worrying. Miss Andrews has been missing for the best part of twenty-four hours. I would have expected contact by now.’
‘From whom?’
‘The people who abducted her,’ said Tallis. ‘In cases of kidnap, there is usually a ransom demand within a short time. Yet we have heard nothing. That bodes ill.’
‘Not necessarily, Superintendent.’
‘It could mean that the poor woman is no longer alive.’
‘I refuse to believe that,’ said Colbeck. ‘If the object were to kill Miss Andrews, that could have been done more easily. Nobody would go to the trouble of disguising himself as a policeman so that he could lure her into a cab, when he could dispatch her with one thrust of a dagger.’
‘That’s true, I suppose.’
‘Look what happened to William Ings and Daniel Slender, sir. They were both killed with brutal efficiency – so was Kate Piercey.’
‘You are still making the assumption that this abduction is the work of the train robbers.’
‘Who else would kidnap Miss Andrews?’
‘She lives in Camden, Inspector. It’s not the most law-abiding area of the city. Any woman who is young and pretty is potentially at risk.’
‘Of what?’
Tallis was sombre. ‘Use your imagination,’ he said. ‘When we get reports of abductions, young women – sometimes mere girls – are always the victims. They are dragged off to Seven Dials or the Devil’s Acre and forced into the sort of life that Kate Piercey lived.’
‘That is certainly not the case here.’
‘It’s something that we have to consider.’
‘No, Superintendent,’ said Colbeck. ‘You have obviously not seen the house where Mr Andrews and his daughter live. It’s a neat villa in the better part of Camden and the neighbours can be trusted. If that were not so, Miss Andrews would never have gone out and left the door on the latch. And there’s something else,’ he continued. ‘On the two occasions when she visited me here, Miss Andrews walked all
the way to Whitehall. If she found Camden a source of peril, she would never have ventured abroad on her own like that.’
‘You know the young lady better than I do.’
‘Miss Andrews is very practical and level-headed. She knows how to take care of herself. Only a man in police uniform could have won her confidence. That, after all,’ Colbeck pointed out, ‘was how her father was deceived. One of the robbers who flagged the train down was dressed as a railway policeman.’
‘I see what you mean. There is a pattern here.’
‘The kidnap was an act of retaliation.’
‘Against what?’
‘The arrest of Jukes and the Seymour brothers.’
‘But why pick on Miss Andrews?’ said Tallis, puzzled. ‘She is only indirectly connected with this investigation. Why choose her?’
‘I wish I knew, Superintendent.’
Colbeck sensed that Madeleine had been abducted in order to get his attention, though he did not mention that to Tallis. It was important to be cool and objective in the Superintendent’s presence. To confess that he had feelings for Madeleine Andrews would be to cloud the issue and to incur the other man’s criticism. Tallis did not look kindly on members of his division who became involved with women whom they met in the course of their duties. He viewed it as distracting and unprofessional. While he knew nothing of Colbeck’s fondness for Madeleine, however, it appeared that someone else did. That unsettled the Inspector.
‘What do you think they will do?’ asked Tallis.
‘Get in touch with us very soon.’
‘To demand ransom money?’
‘No, sir,’ replied Colbeck. ‘Caleb Andrews does not have the sort of income that would interest them. Besides, they are not short of funds after the robbery. No, I suspect that they will wish to trade with us.’
‘In what way?’
‘They will return Miss Andrews if we release the prisoners.’
‘Never!’
‘They can always be re-arrested, Inspector.’
‘What is the point of that?’ snapped Tallis. ‘We did not go to all the trouble of catching them in order to set them free. Heavens above, man, have you forgotten what they tried to do?’
‘No, sir. I was there at the time.’
‘The Great Exhibition is the first of its kind, a world fair that enables British industry to show why it has no rivals. A massive amount of money and energy has gone into the venture. Prince Albert has worked valiantly to contribute to its success. Millions of visitors are expected,’ he stressed, ‘and what they want to see is the Crystal Palace – not a heap of twisted metal and broken glass.’
‘I appreciate the seriousness of their crime, Superintendent.’
‘They were also involved in the train robbery.’
‘That is not the point,’ argued Colbeck. ‘A young woman’s life may hang in the balance here. If you refuse even to listen to their offer, you may be condemning her to death.’
‘I will not sanction the release of guilty men.’
‘At least,
discuss
it with them.’
‘What good will that do?’
‘It will earn us time to continue our search,’ said Colbeck,
‘but its main advantage is that it may keep Miss Andrews alive. Refuse even to listen and you will only anger them. Employ delaying tactics.’
‘I make the decisions, Inspector.’
‘Of course. I merely offer my advice.’
‘If we let these villains go, we will be made to look like idiots.’
‘You are thinking solely of your own reputation, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘My concern is for the safety of the victim. Miss Andrews has already suffered the shock of abduction and of being locked away. If the one way to ensure her survival is to release Jukes and the Seymour brothers, I’d unlock the doors of their cells myself.’
The journey was a continuing nightmare. Bound, gagged and blindfolded, Madeleine Andrews sat in the coach as it rolled through the suburbs of London and out into the country. The familiar noises of the capital were soon replaced by an almost eerie silence, broken only by the clatter of hooves, the creaking of the vehicle and the drumming of the rain on the roof. The one consolation was that she was alone, not held in the grip of the bearded man who had called at her house with the false message. She could still feel his hot breath against her cheek as he grabbed her.
Hours seemed to pass. Wherever she was, it was a long way from London. The rain stopped and so did the pace of the horses. When the animals slowed to a trot, she realised that they were letting another coach catch them up. Both vehicles soon came to a halt and there was a discussion between the coachmen. She strained her ears to pick up what they were saying but she could only make out a few words.
The door opened and someone gave a grunt of satisfaction. She presumed that they were checking to see that she was still trussed up safely. The door shut again. A minute later, they set off.
Madeleine no longer feared for her life. If they had wanted to kill her, they would surely have done so by now. Instead, she had been imprisoned in a house that, judging by those she could see opposite from the attic window, was in a very respectable part of London. To her relief, she had been treated reasonably well and was subjected to no violence. What she missed most was conversation. The manservant who had brought her food had been ordered to say nothing to her, and the bearded man who tied her up that morning had confined himself to a few threats before carrying her downstairs over his shoulder.
During a normal day, Madeleine would talk to her father, her friends, her neighbours and to various shopkeepers. Conversations with Gideon Little were more fraught but at least he represented human contact. She longed for that now. For some reason, she had been isolated in a way that only served to heighten her fears. The person she really wanted to speak to was Robert Colbeck, to report her misadventure to him, to seek his reassurance, to enjoy his companionship and to listen to the voice she had come to love for its bewitching cadences. Colbeck was her one hope of rescue. It gave them a bond that drew them closer. Knowing that he would be trying hard to track her down helped Madeleine to find a reserve of courage that she did not know existed.
For her sake, she had to maintain hope; for Colbeck’s sake, she was determined to keep her spirits up. The agony could not go on forever. He would come for her in time.
Adversity taught Caleb Andrews just how many friends he had. When he had first been injured, most of his visitors had been other railwaymen, people with whom he had worked for years and who understood how he felt when he heard of the damage to his locomotive. The kidnap of his daughter brought in a wider circle of friends and well-wishers. Once the word had spread, neighbours to whom he had hardly spoken before came to offer their help and to say that they were praying for the safe return of Madeleine. Andrews was touched by the unexpected show of concern.
Frank Pike could hear the emotion in his voice.
‘There were six of them in here earlier this morning,’ he said. ‘I thought that the floor would give way.’
‘It shows how popular you are,’ said Pike.
‘I’d prefer to be the most hated man in Camden if I could have Maddy back home, safe and sound. I didn’t sleep a wink last night.’
‘What do the police say?’
‘That they’re doing everything they can to find her. Gideon spoke to Inspector Colbeck yesterday, who told him that he’d lead the search himself.’