Authors: Edward Marston
‘My father and grandfather were cabinetmakers. I watched both of them build secretaires just like this and they always included a secret compartment where valuable items could be stored.’ Bending over the desk, he began to tap various parts of it, listening carefully for a hollow sound. ‘All that we have to do is to locate the spring.’
‘If there was anything of real value there,’ said Leeming, ‘then Sir Humphrey would surely have taken it with him.’
‘We shall see.’
Along the back of the desk was a row of pigeonholes with matching doors. Leeming had left them open but Colbeck closed them in order to experiment with the carved knobs on each door. After pressing them all in turn, he started to twist them sharply. When that failed to produce a result, he pressed two of the knobs simultaneously. The Sergeant was astonished when he heard a pinging sound and saw a hidden door suddenly flip open. It fitted so beautifully into the side of the desk that Leeming would never have guessed that it was there. Colbeck reached inside to take out the single envelope that lay inside. He looked at the name on the front.
‘What is it, sir?’
‘A letter addressed to me.’
Leeming’s jaw dropped. ‘He was
expecting
you to find it?’
‘No,’ said Colbeck, slitting the envelope open with a paper knife. ‘My guess is that it would have been sent to me in due course.’
‘How? The house is closed up.’
‘I suspect that a manservant has been left behind. His clothing is still upstairs. He would probably have been deputed to deliver this. Yes,’ he added, perusing the letter, ‘it has tomorrow’s date on it. I was not supposed to read it until then. It gives instructions regarding the exchange of the three prisoners for Miss Andrews in a couple of days’ time. In other words,’ he declared, ‘Sir Humphrey never intended that he would trade his hostage for the men in custody.’
‘Then why did he send that first demand?’
‘To confuse us and to gain himself some leeway. Here,’ he said, giving the letter to his companion. ‘If this does not persuade the Superintendent that we are on the right trail, then nothing will.’
‘I hope that you are right – or we are in trouble.’
‘Have faith.’
‘It’s all that I can cling onto.’
‘We have firm evidence here,’ said Colbeck, taking the original ransom note from his pocket and holding it beside the letter. ‘Do you see what I see, Victor? Same capital letters, same hand, same ink, same stationery. What do you say to that?’
Leeming chuckled. ‘Thank God your father was a cabinetmaker!’
Sir Humphrey Gilzean had no sympathy whatsoever for him. As he looked at his friend’s wounds and his wine-stained waistcoat, he was filled with disgust for Thomas Sholto.
‘All I can say is that it serves you right,’ he snarled. ‘What madness drove you to go into the wine cellar in the first place? I told you to leave her alone.’
‘I was curious,’ whined Sholto, examining his face in the
drawing room mirror. ‘Look what she did to me. Cuts all over my forehead. But for the beard, my face would have been lacerated to bits. And this waistcoat is
ruined
.’
‘That’s the price of curiosity, Thomas.’
‘I was merely going to take her up to her room.’
‘You were there for sport,’ said Gilzean, coldly, ‘so do not even try to deny it. You could not bear the idea of having a pretty young woman at your mercy without taking advantage of the fact.’
‘And what is wrong with that?’ asked Sholto.
‘To begin with, it was against my express orders. I told you that Miss Andrews was not to be molested. Think how terrified she must already be.’
‘She was not terrified when she tried to take my head off with that wine bottle. There was real venom in her eyes. The woman attempted to
kill
me, Humphrey.’
‘No, Thomas. She tried to escape and I admire her for that.’
Sholto was aghast. ‘You admire her for attacking me in that way?’ he said, gesticulating wildly. ‘She could have split my head open. If you want my opinion, she should be bound and gagged as long as we have her with us.’
‘I’ll make any decisions regarding Miss Andrews.’
‘She’s dangerous, Humphrey.’
‘Only when provoked,’ replied the other. ‘Had you not gone to the wine cellar, none of this would have happened. You’ve always been too hot-blooded, Thomas. Try to curb your desires.’
‘Some of us do not share your monastic inclinations,’ said Sholto with disdain. Seeing his friend’s angry reaction, he was instantly contrite. ‘Look, I take that back unreservedly.
I did not mean to sneer at you, Humphrey. I appreciate your situation all too well. I know how difficult life has been for you since Lucinda died.’
Gilzean stared at him with a muted rage and indignation. Sholto had touched him on a sensitive spot and he was in pain. It was some while before he allowed himself to speak. Retaining his composure, he gave the other man a simple warning.
‘Do not
ever
mention my wife again, Thomas.’
‘No, no, of course not.’
‘There are limits even to my tolerance of you.’
‘I did apologise.’
‘That was not enough.’
‘Wait a moment,’ said Sholto, wilting under his stern gaze and feeling the need to defend himself. ‘Do not forget what I have done on your behalf. Who helped to set up the train robbery? I did. Who committed the two murders? I did. Who ordered Jukes and the Seymour brothers to blow up the Kilsby Tunnel? I did. Who dressed up as a policeman and abducted Miss Andrews from her house? I did. Ask yourself this, Humphrey – where would you be without me?’
‘I would not be looking at a man who disobeyed instructions and was nearly brained by a wine bottle as a result.’ His voice softened and he tried to make peace. ‘Look, I know that you did all those things, Thomas, and I’m eternally grateful, but you’ve made a handsome profit out of the enterprise.’
‘So have you.’
‘In my case, there have been losses as well as gains.’
‘Only if Inspector Colbeck overhauls us,’ said Sholto, ‘and what chance is there of that?’
‘None whatsoever – for the next few days at least. Meanwhile…’
‘Yes, yes. I know. Leave Miss Andrews alone.’
‘If you don’t,’ cautioned Gilzean, ‘then I’ll be the one coming at you with a wine bottle in my hand. And I can assure you that it will not be to offer you a drink.’
Victor Leeming could think of several places that he would rather be at that particular moment. Travelling by train on the Great Western Railway, seated opposite Superintendent Tallis and Inspector Colbeck, he was in considerable discomfort. The improved stability offered by the broad gauge track failed to dispel the queasiness that he always felt in a railway carriage, nor did it still the turmoil in his mind. Since it would be late evening by the time they reached Berkshire, they would be obliged to stay overnight at an inn. It would be the fourth time in a week that he would be separated from his wife and there would be severe reproaches to face when he returned home again.
His uneasiness was not helped by the hostile glances that Tallis was directing at him from time to time. He felt the Superintendent’s silent reproof pressing down on him like a heavy weight. Observing his distress, Robert Colbeck tried to divert attention away from his beleaguered Sergeant.
‘At least, you must now admit that Sir Humphrey is the culprit,’ he said to Tallis. ‘That fact is incontrovertible.’
‘I was not entirely persuaded by your evidence, Inspector.’
‘But that letter was clear proof of his involvement.’
‘I am less interested in the letter than in the means by which you acquired it,’ said Tallis, meaningfully. ‘However, we will let that pass for the time being. No, what finally
brought me round to the unpalatable truth that Sir Humphrey Gilzean might, after all, be implicated, was a visit from the wife of Arthur Jukes. While you and Sergeant Leeming were making your unauthorised visit to Upper Brook Street, she called to report the disappearance of her husband.’
‘What state was she in?’ asked Colbeck.
‘A deplorable one. I could not stop the woman crying. When I told her why her husband was missing, she wailed even more. I’ve never heard such caterwauling. Marriage,’ he pronounced with the air of a man who considered the institution to be a species of virulent disease, ‘is truly a bed of nails.’
‘Only when you’re lucky enough to lie on it,’ muttered Leeming.
Tallis glared at him. ‘Did you speak, Sergeant?’
‘No, sir. I was just clearing my throat.’
‘Try to do so less irritatingly.’
‘What did Mrs Jukes tell you, sir?’ said Colbeck.
‘Exactly what I expected,’ replied Tallis. ‘That her husband was the finest man on God’s earth and that he would never even think of committing a crime.’
‘She should have seen him at the Crystal Palace,’ said Leeming. ‘Jukes was ready to blow the place up. Fortunately, we were there.’
‘Yes, Sergeant – you, Inspector Colbeck and a certain Irishman. That’s another thing I’ll pass over for the time being,’ he said with asperity. ‘What I learnt from Mrs Jukes – in between her outbursts of hysteria – was that her husband had been out of work. Then he got a visit from a bearded man whom Jukes later described to her as a captain from his old regiment.’
‘Thomas Sholto,’ decided Colbeck.
‘So it would appear. Soon after that, she told me, her husband came into some money. Enough to pay off his debts and move house.’
Leeming sat up. ‘Did Mrs Jukes never ask where his sudden wealth came from?’
‘She was his wife, Sergeant. She believed every lie he told her.’
‘My wife wouldn’t let me get away with anything like that.’
‘You are unlikely to rob a mail train.’
‘Given the choice, I avoid trains of all kinds, Superintendent.’
‘We know this is an ordeal for you, Victor,’ said Colbeck with compassion, ‘but at least we have a first class carriage to ourselves. You do not have to suffer in front of strangers.’
‘That’s no consolation, sir.’
‘Forget about yourself, man,’ chided Tallis. ‘Do you hear me telling you about my headache or complaining of my bad tooth? Of course not. In pursuit of villains such as these, personal discomfort is irrelevant. While you and the Inspector were otherwise engaged today, I had a further insight into how many lives have been damaged by these people.’
‘Did you, sir?’
‘I had a visit from a gentleman whose identity must remain a secret and who would not confide in me until I had given that solemn undertaking. Do you know what he came to talk about?’
‘Blackmail?’ guessed Colbeck.
‘Yes, Inspector,’ continued Tallis. ‘Someone had accosted him with a letter he was incautious enough to write to a
young man in Birmingham, offering him money if he would care to visit London. I did nor care to pry into the nature of their relationship,’ he went on, inhaling deeply through his nose, ‘but it clearly put him in an embarrassing position.’
‘Is he married, sir?’
‘No, but he has reputation to maintain.’
‘What price did the blackmailer put on that reputation?’
‘Two hundred pounds.’
‘Just for writing a letter?’ said Leeming.
‘A compromising letter, Sergeant,’ noted Tallis. ‘I advised him not to pay and promised him that the people behind the attempted blackmail would soon be in custody.’
‘He had the sense to report it to you,’ said Colbeck. ‘Others, I fear, did not. Stealing those mail bags must have paid dividends.’
‘It did the opposite to the Post Office. They have been swamped with protests from those whose correspondence went astray. There’s talk of legal action. Having spoken to this gentleman today, I can see why.’
Victor Leeming sighed. ‘Murder, robbery, assault, blackmail, kidnap, destruction of railway property, conspiracy to blow up the Crystal Palace – is there any crime that these devils have
not
committed?’
‘Yes,’ said Colbeck, thinking about Madeleine Andrews and fearing for her virtue. ‘There is one crime, Victor, and the man who dares to commit it will have to answer directly to me.’
Madeleine Andrews was also concerned for her safety. She had been moved to an upstairs room at the rear of the house and, through the wooden bars that had been fixed across the
windows that day, she could, until darkness fell, look out on a large, blossoming, well-kept garden that was ablaze with colour. The room had clearly belonged to a maidservant but Madeleine did not object to that. She had not only been rescued from the gloom of the wine cellar, she had access to the meagre wardrobe of the former occupant. Soaked with red wine, her own dress was too uncomfortable to wear so she changed into a maidservant’s clothing, relieved that the woman for whom it had been made was roughly the same shape and size as herself.
Unlike Thomas Sholto, she had sustained only the tiniest injuries to her face when the wine bottle shattered. Dipping a cloth into the bowl of water provided, she soon cleaned away the spots of blood on her face. By the light of an oil lamp, she now sat beside the little table on which a tray of untouched food was standing. There was no hope of escape. In daring to fight back, she had given herself away. From now on, they would take extra precautions to guard her.
Her abiding concern was for the bearded man who had cornered her in the cellar. Had they not been interrupted at a critical moment, Madeleine might have been badly beaten. Patently, her attacker had no qualms about striking a woman. Once he had subdued her by force, she feared, he would satisfy the lust she had seen bubbling in his eyes. Another long and sleepless night lay ahead. She looked around for a weapon with which to defend herself but could find nothing that would keep the bearded man at bay. Madeleine felt more exposed than ever.
Her mind turned once more to her father. Like her, he was trapped in a bedroom from which he could not move. She knew that he would be in a torment of anxiety about her and
Madeleine blamed herself yet again for putting him in such a position by being so easily gulled. Instead of representing law and order, the policeman who had enticed her away was a dangerous criminal with designs on her. She was glad that her father could not see what she was being forced to endure.