‘What evidence, Alexander? Am I not entitled to defend myself against it? Will you really accept someone else’s word against mine?’
‘The evidence concerned Thursday of every week.’
‘I went up to London to see some friends,’ she explained.
Jamieson sneered. ‘One particular friend,’ he said.
‘I always came back late in the evening – ask the servants.’
‘I did ask them but they were ready to lie on your behalf. That’s why I dismissed them and why there’s nobody in the house to hear your cries for help. They said that you always came back home,’ he continued, ‘but the man following you is certain that you spent the night at a certain address on a number of occasions.’
‘I missed the train, that’s all.’
‘A woman like you never misses a train, Dorothea.’
‘I remember now,’ she said, lunging at the first excuse that came to mind. ‘The weather was inclement. I was forced to stay over.’
‘On every single occasion?’
‘Yes, Alexander.’
‘And always in the same house?’
‘My friend, Sophie, pressed me to stay. Why not ask her?’
‘Because I’m sure that she’d lie on your behalf as readily as the servants,’ he said. ‘Besides, she doesn’t live in that house. It’s owned by the Reverend Ezra Follis.’
‘That’s right,’ she said, changing her tack. ‘He offered me shelter on those nights when the weather turned nasty. Yes, that’s what really happened. Why not speak to Mr Follis himself?’
‘I never want to exchange another word with that philanderer. The man is a disgrace to the cloth,’ he said, contemptuously. ‘I’m sure that he made you feel that you were special to him but the hideous truth is that you were just the next in line, Dorothea. You shared a bed that had already been tainted by other women.’
‘I didn’t share a bed with anybody.’
‘Then you must be the only one of his victims who didn’t. The detective I hired was very thorough. He gave me all their names. He even tracked down Marion Inigo.’
She was stunned. ‘Mrs Inigo, who used to be his housekeeper?’
‘Yes, Dorothea,’ he replied, ‘except that she was never actually married. Marion Inigo used to spend Thursday night at that very same house with the Rector of St Dunstan’s. She lives in London now, bringing up their child in the cottage he bought her.’
‘I don’t believe this,’ she said, abandoning all pretence of innocence. ‘Ezra would never look at a woman like Marion Inigo. He got rid of her because she was becoming too familiar.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘She was nothing but a servant.’
‘That servant is the mother of his son.’
‘It’s impossible.’
‘I have incontrovertible proof.’
She was distraught. ‘Can this be true?’
Jamieson relished her pain. ‘Would you like the names of his other conquests?’ he taunted.
Dorothea reeled as if from a blow. Her romance with Ezra Follis had rescued her from long, lonely months when she was on her own. She had taken immense pains to be discreet. Yet not only had her infidelity been exposed, she now discovered that the man who claimed to love her had seduced a string of women before her. It was crippling.
‘Goodbye, Dorothea,’ said her husband, opening the door. ‘I’m going to London myself today so you’ll have to manage without any food until tomorrow. If,’ he added, ‘I decide to bring you any, that is.’
‘Where are you going, Alexander?’
‘I intend to look at his house for myself. I want to see where my marriage was ruined and make sure that no other trusting husband is cuckolded there.’
She grabbed his arm. ‘You won’t hurt Ezra, will you?’
‘I’ll do exactly that,’ he said, flinging her aside. ‘When I’ve destroyed his house, I’ll destroy him.’
Jamieson went out, slammed the door and locked it. Dorothea lay on the ground where she had fallen and wept. Her situation was hopeless. All that she could think of doing was to pray for forgiveness.
Seated in the hansom cab, Colbeck and Leeming were driven towards the house owned by Captain Alexander Jamieson. They felt that they at last had the evidence they required.
‘When I read out the names on that list,’ said Colbeck, ‘Mr Follis denied having heard of any of them. He even stuck to his denial when I showed him the telescope. Then you turned up at the hospital with a positive identification from Mrs Ashmore and that forced him to tell the truth. He did know Captain Jamieson.’
‘Why did he lie so stubbornly to you, Inspector?’
‘The rector had something to hide.’
‘If this Captain Jamieson is a suspect,’ said Leeming, ‘you’d have thought that Mr Follis would volunteer his name at the start.’
‘I’m sure he had good reason to deceive us,’ said Colbeck. ‘I’ll be interested to discover exactly what it is.’
The cab pulled up outside a big, white, detached Regency house standing on an acre of land. After ordering the driver to wait, Colbeck got out. Leeming followed him up the steps to the front door. They rang the bell several times but to no effect. Telling the sergeant to stay at the front of the property, Colbeck went around to the side. He peered over the fence into the garden.
‘Is anyone there?’ he shouted, cupping his hands. ‘We’re looking for Captain Jamieson. Is he at home?’
There was no response from the house itself but he heard a cry from the outhouse on the other side of the courtyard. The voice was too indistinct for him to hear the exact words but he could tell that a woman was in distress. He called Leeming and the sergeant bent down so that Colbeck could step on to his back and jump over the fence. Running to the outhouse, he tried the door and found it locked.
‘Who’s that inside?’ he asked.
‘I’m Mrs Dorothea Jamieson,’ she answered.
‘My name is Detective Inspector Colbeck and I was hoping to speak to your husband. Is he here?’
‘No, Inspector – can you get me out?’ she begged.
‘Stand back from the door.’
After trying to kick it open, he put his shoulder to the timber but it still would not budge. Colbeck looked around and saw a plank of wood nearby. Picking it up, he used it like a battering ram to pound away at the door. After resisting for a short while, the lock suddenly snapped and the door was flung back on its hinges.
Crouching in the corner by the mattress was the pathetic figure of Dorothea Jamieson. She looked up with a fear that was tempered with relief. Someone had rescued her at last. Bursting into tears, she got up and hurled herself into Colbeck’s arms.
He caught the first available train to London even though it stopped at various stations on the way. Finding an empty carriage near the front, Captain Jamieson sat down and opened the newspaper he had just bought. It was not merely something to divert him on the journey. It would act as kindling when he burnt down Ezra Follis’s house and destroyed the scene of his wife’s betrayal. Once that was done, he could seal the clergyman’s fate by hiring a more reliable killer. Only when his wife wept over Follis’s dead body would his vengeful feelings be appeased.
The signal was given, the locomotive started up and the train moved slowly along in a series of jangling harmonies. Jamieson was happy to be on his way to exact retribution. What he did not realise was that two men had just run along the platform beside the moving train and leapt into the last carriage.
‘That was dangerous,’ said Victor Leeming, breathlessly, as he sat down. ‘If I’m forced to travel by train, I at least expect it to be standing still when I get on it.’
‘We had to catch this one,’ said Colbeck, ‘whatever the risk.’