The Railway Viaduct

Moments later, the signal was given and the train sprang into life, coughing loudly before giving a shudder and pulling away from the platform. Another latecomer sprinted past the carriage to jump on to the moving train farther down. Sir Marcus clicked his tongue in disapproval. Now that they were in motion, he was content. He had the carriage all to himself and the train would not stop until it reached his destination. Opening his newspaper, he began to read it. Since he took a keen interest in political affairs, he perused every article on the first two inside pages with care. When he turned to the next page, however, it was a police notice that grabbed his attention.

'What's this?' he gulped.

The notice requested the help of the public to find Luke Rogan, the prime suspect in a murder investigation, who operated as a private detective from an office in Camden. A detailed description of the man was given and, to his chagrin, Sir Marcus could see that it was fairly accurate. Anyone with information about Rogan's whereabouts was urged to come forward.

'Damnation!' cried Sir Marcus.

He flung the newspaper aside and considered the implications of what he had just read. It was disturbing. If everyone in the capital was looking for Luke Rogan, he could not escape arrest indefinitely. The trail would then lead to Sir Marcus. He began to perspire freely. For a fleeting second, the shadow of the Railway Detective seemed to fall across him.

'If you come down to Euston Station with me,' offered Caleb Andrews, 'I'll show you how it was done.'

'I think I already know,' said Colbeck.

'There are some empty carriages in a siding, Inspector. I could demonstrate for you.'

'Robert is far too busy, Father,' said Madeleine.

'I'm only trying to help, Madeleine. What you have to do, you see, is to prop the door open while the train is in motion. Someone did just that a few months ago on a train I was driving from Birmingham,' he explained. 'Some villains got on with a strongbox they'd stolen. After a couple of miles, they jammed open the door and flung the strongbox out so that they would not be caught with it.'

'I remember the case,' said Colbeck. 'When they came back later to retrieve their booty, the police were waiting for them. A farmer had found the strongbox in his field and raised the alarm.'

'The point I'm trying to make is that the box was heavy – almost as heavy as that Frenchman. Yet it was slung out with ease.'

'How do you know?' asked Madeleine. 'You weren't there.'

'I was driving the train.'

'But you didn't actually see them throw anything out.'

'Stop interrupting me, Maddy.'

'You make a fair point, Mr Andrews,' said Colbeck, trying to bring the conversation to an end, 'and I'm grateful. But we've moved on a long way from the Sankey Viaduct.'

'You should have come to me at the time, Inspector.'

'I'm sure.'

Colbeck had paid a return visit to Luke Rogan's office to see if there had been any sign of the man. The uniformed policeman who had been keeping the place under surveillance assured him that Rogan had not entered the building by the front or rear doors. Since he was in Camden, only a few streets away from her house, Colbeck decided to call in on Madeleine but it was her father's day off so he had to contend with Caleb Andrews. It was several minutes before he was finally left alone with Madeleine.

'Can I make you some tea, Robert?' she asked.

'No, thank you. I only popped in for a moment.'

'I'm sorry that my father badgered you.'

'I never mind anything that he does,' said Colbeck, tolerantly. 'But for him, we'd never have met. I always bear that in mind.'

'So do I.'

'You were the strongbox thrown from that particular train.'

'I'm not a strongbox,' protested Madeleine with a laugh.

'I was speaking metaphorically.'

'You mean, that I'm very heavy and difficult to open.'

'No,' said Colbeck, giving her a conciliatory kiss. 'I mean that you possess great value – to me, that is.'

'Then why didn't you say so?'

'I was dealing in images.'

'Well, I'd prefer you to speak more directly,' she chided him. 'It would help me to understand you properly. I still don't know what you meant about my drawing of the viaduct helping you to solve a murder. All you would tell me was that it was symbolic.'

'Highly symbolic.'

'It was a sketch – nothing more.'

'Show it to me again,' he invited, 'and I'll explain.'

'In simple language?'

'Monosyllables, if you prefer.'

Madeleine fetched her portfolio and extracted the drawing of the Sankey Viaduct. She laid it on the table and they both scrutinised it.

'What you did was to bridge the Channel between England and France,' he pointed out. 'All the way from Dover to Calais.'

'I drew that picture out of love.'

'But it's a symbol of something that certain people hate.'

'And what's that?'

'I'll tell you, Madeleine. The railway that's being built from Mantes to Caen will not end there. In due course, an extension will be added to take it to Cherbourg.'

'I don't see anything wrong in that.'

'There's an arsenal there.'

'Oh.'

'The railway that Thomas Brassey is constructing will in time provide a direct route between Paris and a main source of arms and ammunition. That's bound to alarm some people here,' he continued. 'It's less than forty years since we defeated France and that defeat still rankles with them. Louis Napoleon, who rules the country, is an emperor in all but name. Emperors need imperial conquests.'

Madeleine was worried. 'Do you think that France would try to invade us?' she said, turning to look up at him. 'I thought we were completely safe.'

'I'm sure that we are,' said Colbeck, 'and I'm equally certain that Mr Brassey is of the same opinion. If he believed for one moment that he was endangering his native country by building that railway, he would never have taken on the contract.'

'Then why did someone try to wreck the project?'

'Because he is afraid, Madeleine.'

'Of what?'

'Potential aggression from the French.'

'But you just said that we had nothing to fear.'

'Other people see things differently,' he said, 'and it was only when you showed me this drawing that I realised how they could view what was happening in northern France. A railway between Paris and Cherbourg is a source of intense concern to some Englishmen.'

'All that I can see is my crude version of the Sankey Viaduct.'

'Look beyond it,' he advised.

'At what?'

'The railway that will connect the French capital to a port with military significance.' He gave an apologetic smile. 'I'm afraid that I'm going to have to use a word that you don't like.'

'Will it explain what all this is about?'

'I think so, Madeleine.'

'What's the word?'

'Metaphorical.'

She rolled her eyes. 'We're back to that again.'

'Your drawing is to blame,' he said, indicating it. 'You've created what someone clearly dreads – a viaduct between England and France. In his mind – and we have to try to see it from his point of view, warped as it might be – the railway between Paris and Cherbourg will be a metaphorical viaduct between the two countries. It's a potent symbol of French imperial ambition.'

'Is that why a man was killed?' she said, trying to assimilate what she had been told. 'Because of symbols and metaphors?'