‘I’m not a real artist, Father.’
‘Yes, you are. You’re as good as any of them that hang their paintings in art galleries. This is one of your best,’ he went on, still gazing at it. ‘I’ve driven that locomotive more than once and I can see that you’ve got every single detail right.’
‘That’s why I’ve taken so much time over it.’
‘I wouldn’t mind putting it on the wall in here.’
‘There’s no chance of that, Father,’ she said. ‘This is a present for Robert – even though he doesn’t know it yet. It was Robert who really made me believe that I had some talent.’
‘I was the one who suggested taking you to the Round House,’ he reminded her. ‘By rights, that painting is mine.’
‘If you’re so fond of it, I’ll do a copy when I’ve finished this one.’
‘Why don’t you do a copy for Inspector Colbeck?’
‘He deserves the original.’
‘So do I, Maddy.’
It was only a token protest. Andrews pulled the newspaper from his pocket and unfolded it. He turned to the relevant page. By way of warning, he rolled his eyes.
‘I glanced at this before I left the station,’ he said, offering it to her. ‘There’s a cartoon about Inspector Colbeck.’
It was not a flattering one. Taking the newspaper, Madeleine looked at it with annoyance and concern. The cartoon depicted Colbeck, groping around a railway line in the gloom with a magnifying glass. There was a look of desperation on his face as he said “There must be a crime around here somewhere!” The caption was unkind – The Railway Detective Is Still In The Dark. Madeleine closed the paper angrily and thrust it back at her father.
‘It’s so spiteful,’ she complained. ‘This was the newspaper that called him the Railway Detective in the first place. They were full of praise for him then. Have they forgotten all the cases he’s solved?’
‘Don’t get so upset, Maddy.’
‘I feel like writing a letter to the editor.’
‘He probably wouldn’t print it.’
‘Someone needs to stand up for Robert.’
‘Oh,’ said Andrews with a grin, ‘I think that Inspector Colbeck can do that for himself. He doesn’t need your help, Maddy. The press have thrown stones at him before and they never seem to hurt him.’
‘They hurt me,’ she said, ‘and I don’t like it.’
‘What I don’t like is the slur they’re casting on Frank Pike’s name. Unless that official report is shown up for the nonsense that it is, Frank will be blamed for the crash. I want the truth to come out.’
Madeleine was positive. ‘It will, Father,’ she said, ‘I’m sure. Robert won’t let us down. No matter how long it takes and no matter how much criticism he gets, Robert will carry on with the investigation until everything is brought to light.’
In the circumstances, Victor Leeming was happy to accompany Colbeck back to Scotland Yard. They had substantial progress to report and that would gladden even the flint heart of Edward Tallis. If there was approbation on offer, Leeming wanted his share of it. When the detectives entered the superintendent’s office, they were not met by the pungent odour of his cigars. The air in the room seemed fresh for a change. Tallis was standing at the window. He swung round to face them.
‘Don’t you dare tell me that you’ve drawn another blank,’ he said with quiet menace. ‘Bring some cheer into my life.’
‘I think we can contrive to do that, sir,’ said Colbeck, smoothly.
‘Yes,’ agreed Leeming. ‘We had an interesting day in Brighton.’
‘But did you make any arrests?’ asked Tallis.
‘We have two people in custody.’
‘Who are they?’
‘Inspector Colbeck will explain.’
‘I wish that somebody would. I need to hear good tidings.’
‘If you’d care to sit down,’ said Colbeck, ‘I’ll do my best to give them to you.’
After all three of them had taken a seat, Colbeck delivered his report with characteristic aplomb. The superintendent’s face was a block of ice that slowly melted into something recognisably human. A fleeting smile actually appeared beneath his moustache.
‘You captured the man who tried to shoot Mr Thornhill?’
‘Yes,’ replied Colbeck. ‘Strictly speaking, I was the person that Herr Freytag tried to kill and Victor was the arresting officer. He showed great bravery in tackling an armed man.’
‘Well done, Sergeant,’ said Tallis.
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Leeming, savouring the moment.
‘As for that rogue, Dick Chiffney, death under the wheels of a locomotive was poetic justice. Now he knows what it’s like to be killed in a railway accident.’ His gaze shifted to Colbeck. ‘I take it that you got full details of the crime from this harlot of his.’
‘Not yet,’ said Colbeck. ‘Josie Murlow was in such a state of hysteria when we arrested her that we could get nothing coherent out of the woman. The only thing she admitted was that she was expecting Chiffney to make a lot of money in Brighton that day.’
‘Yes – by shooting the Reverend Follis.’
‘Why would anyone want to kill a clergyman?’ asked Leeming.
‘We’ll discover that when we catch Chiffney’s paymaster,’ said Colbeck. ‘As I told you, Victor, we were looking in the wrong direction. We thought that Mr Bardwell or Mr Thornhill had been the target on that express. Instead of looking at business and politics, we should have used a turntable and swung round to examine religion.’
Tallis was perplexed. ‘What’s this about a turntable?’
‘Don’t ask me, sir,’ said Leeming, helplessly.
‘It’s just a metaphor,’ explained Colbeck. ‘The thing we don’t yet have, of course, is the name of the man behind it all. It may be that Chiffney himself didn’t know it and neither does Josie Murlow. She swore that she had no idea who employed Chiffney.’
‘What about the Reverend Follis himself?’ asked Tallis. ‘Surely, he knows who his enemies are.’
‘He was unable to help us, Superintendent. By the time we’d finished at Brighton station, Mr Follis was in hospital, having the bullet taken out of his shoulder. Because he was in such pain,’ said Colbeck, ‘they’d used chloroform. I’ll speak to him tomorrow though it’s not certain that he’ll give us the name we want. In his own way, the Rector of St Dunstan’s has upset as many people as Mr Bardwell and Mr Thornhill put together. With so many people wishing him ill, he may have great difficulty identifying the right one.’
‘In short,’ said Tallis, glowering, ‘you have absolutely no clue as to who this man might be.’
‘That’s not true, sir. We have this.’ Colbeck opened the leather satchel he was carrying and took out a telescope. ‘Chiffney also had a weapon in his possession but it was crushed beneath the train. This, however,’ he continued, ‘was not damaged. As you can see, it’s a fine instrument and hardly the thing that Chiffney would own himself. It must have been loaned to him by his paymaster.’ He passed it over to Tallis, who extended it to its full length then inspected it. ‘That’s the best clue we have, Superintendent.’
‘It may be the only one we need,’ said Tallis, excitedly. ‘It’s got his name engraved on the side here – he’s a Mr Grampus.’
‘With respect, sir,’ said Colbeck, taking the telescope back from him, ‘Grampus is not the name of a man. It’s the name of a ship. Our suspect was in the navy.’