She struggled back to the railway station three times in a row, intending to abandon her scheme and return to London. What held her back on each occasion was the thought that her efforts would have come to nought. Josie had gone to Brighton to be there when Chiffney committed murder and created a happy life for them. She had fantasies about intercepting him at the station, or even travelling on the same train as him without revealing her identity until they reached London. Even now, as the early evening brought no relief from the heat, she somehow felt that she had to stay until he came.
Dick Chiffney was her man. They belonged together.
Heinrich Freytag caused no trouble. Though he continued to rail against Giles Thornhill, he made no attempt to escape. Accepting that his plan had failed, he was resigned to his fate. After charging him, Colbeck and Leeming were driven into Brighton so that their prisoner could be placed in custody at the police station. The landau then returned to Thornhill’s estate, leaving the detectives still in the town. Leeming could not understand Colbeck’s desire to attend the meeting.
‘It’s the last thing I’d wish to do, sir,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to hear Mr Thornhill talking down his beaky nose at me.’
‘Yes, he has cultivated a patrician air, hasn’t he?’
‘If you stay for the meeting, you’ll have to catch a later train.’
‘I’m in no hurry to get back to Scotland Yard,’ Colbeck confided. ‘The superintendent is relying on good news from Brighton.’
‘We arrested a man for attempted murder.’
‘But he had nothing to do with the train crash.’
‘Mr Tallis should be impressed by what we did, Inspector.’
‘Not when we’re under siege from the press. The only thing that would impress him is the capture of Dick Chiffney. That will get us favourable headlines in the newspapers and force Captain Ridgeon to eat some humble pie. We’ll have to begin a new search for Chiffney tomorrow. Meanwhile,’ Colbeck went on, ‘there’s no need for you to stay here, Victor. I’m sure you’d much rather get home to your family.’
‘I would, sir – thank you.’
‘We’ll share a cab and it can drop you off at the railway station.’
Leeming was able for once to look forward to a train journey. It would take him back to his wife and children without the intervening torment of delivering a report to Edward Tallis. They hailed a cab and climbed into it. The horse set off at a steady trot in the direction of the station, its hooves clip-clopping on the hard surface. Colbeck was preoccupied. It was the sergeant who eventually spoke.
‘I’m sorry that we gained nothing at all from our visit,’ he said.
‘But we did,’ said Colbeck with amusement. ‘If nothing else, we discovered an alternative career for you. Mr Thornhill will always readily employ you as a gardener.’
‘No, he won’t – pulling out those weeds made my back ache.’
‘I was only joking. You’re too good a detective to lose.’
‘I don’t feel that I’ve been at my best in this investigation, sir.’
‘That’s largely my fault, Victor.’
‘I don’t agree with that,’ said Leeming. ‘You put us on the right track from the very start.’
‘Your loyalty is gratifying,’ said Colbeck, ‘but the truth is that I made mistakes. A moment ago, I was just thinking about a painting that Madeleine is working on at present. The subject is the Round House. I fancy it might have relevance to our present situation.’
‘Well, I can’t see the slightest connection.’
‘Inside the Round House is a turntable. Locomotives go in one way and come out the other. We failed to do that, Victor. Once we decided to go one particular way, we pressed on regardless in the same direction. What we really needed,’ he said, thoughtfully, ‘was a sort of mental turntable – something that rotated our minds so that we viewed this crime in a different way.’
‘I wish I knew what you meant, Inspector,’ said Leeming.
‘We were too blinkered,’ admitted Colbeck. ‘Once we concluded that the train crash was a vengeful act against a single individual, we set about looking for possible targets. Horace Bardwell was an obvious possibility.’
‘And so was Giles Thornhill.’
‘Yet in both cases we were misled. It’s time to get on a turntable and swing round so that we can look at the situation from another angle. It’s something for you to think about on the train.’
‘I would if I had a clue what you were talking about, sir.’ The cab drew up outside the station. Leeming was on the point of getting out when he saw someone and stiffened. ‘It can’t be her,’ he said, staring at a figure walking towards the entrance. ‘And yet it looks so much like her.’ He pointed a finger. ‘Do you see that woman, Inspector?
‘What about her?’
‘I think it’s Josie Murlow.’
‘No,’ said Colbeck, studying her. ‘She might have the same shape but what would Josie Murlow be doing in mourning?’
‘I’ve no idea, sir, but that’s definitely her. I’d put money on it.’
‘I can’t be that certain, Victor.’
‘That’s because you didn’t walk behind her for as long as I did,’ said Leeming. ‘I’d know that rolling gait of hers anywhere.’
At that moment, the woman turned around and lifted her black veil so that she could dab at her forehead with a handkerchief. It was all the confirmation the two detectives needed.
‘You’re right,’ said Colbeck, excitedly. ‘It is Josie Murlow.’
‘Why has she come to Brighton?’
‘I don’t know but I suspect that Chiffney won’t be too far away. We must have a change of plan. Instead of going home, I think you should stay and watch her. I hope you don’t mind, Victor.’
‘I’d insist on it, sir,’ said Leeming with enthusiasm. ‘If it’s a choice between watching her and sitting on a train trying to put my brain on a turntable, I know which one I’d prefer.’
‘Make sure you’re not caught unawares this time.’
‘Chiffney won’t be allowed to creep up on me twice. Anyway, he doesn’t know what I look like. I was in disguise when he hit me.’
‘Josie Murlow might recognise you.’
‘How well can she see through that black veil?’
‘Take no chances.’
‘I promise you that she won’t lay eyes on me,’ said Leeming, confidently, ‘until I have to arrest her, that is.’
Ezra Follis had had a burdensome day but he only allowed himself a nap late in the afternoon. As soon as he woke up, he prepared to go out. Mrs Ashmore came into the drawing room of the rectory as he was putting on his hat in front of the mirror.
‘You’re never going to that meeting at the town hall, are you?’ she said with disapproval.
‘That’s exactly where I’m going, Mrs Ashmore.’
‘But I thought they didn’t need you any more.’
‘They always need me – especially if Giles Thornhill is speaking. The good people of Brighton need someone to talk common sense. They’ll certainly get none from the platform.’
‘You’d be far better off resting, Mr Follis.’
‘I can’t rest while that man is preaching his vile gospel,’ said Follis, resolutely. ‘I’ll heckle him every inch of the way.’
She was concerned. ‘I don’t want you to get into trouble again.’
‘Don’t fret about me, Mrs Ashmore,’
‘I’m bound to fret,’ she said. ‘Mr Thornhill has too many friends in high places. He can turn them against you. I haven’t forgotten the last time you went to a meeting of his.’