Halfway through the meal, Andrews broached the topic.
‘Has the Inspector said anything?’ he asked, gently.
‘Robert has said lots of things. He’s very talkative.’
‘You know what I mean, Maddie.’
‘I’m sure that I don’t,’ she said, briskly, reaching for her teacup. ‘What sort of a day have you had?’
‘The kind of day that I always have,’ he replied. ‘It was long and tiring. Now don’t try to avoid the question.’
‘I’m avoiding nothing, Father.’
‘Well?’
‘Eat your food.’
‘I’m waiting for an answer.’
‘Robert and I are good friends.’
‘You always say that.’
‘Then why don’t you believe me?’
‘Because you’ve been saying it for years now, Maddie,’ he went on. ‘People are beginning to pass remarks about the two of you.’
‘Well, they’d better not do so to my face,’ she warned with a show of temper worthy of her father, ‘or they’ll get more than they bargained for! I’m surprised you listen to worthless tittle-tattle.’
‘They’re bound to wonder – and so am I.’
She took a deep breath. ‘Robert and I have an understanding,’ she explained, trying to rein in her irritation. ‘You need have no fears about him, I promise you. He’s a perfect gentleman.’
Andrews gave her time to calm down. There was an obvious bond between Colbeck and his daughter but it vexed him that he did not comprehend its true nature. In the normal course of events, an engine driver’s daughter would never have the opportunity to befriend a detective inspector, especially one who had enjoyed a career as a barrister before joining the Metropolitan Police Force. All three of them had been thrown together by a dramatic turn of events. During a daring robbery of a train that Andrews had been driving, he had been badly injured and there had been a string of related crimes. Colbeck had not only solved them, he had rescued Madeleine when she was abducted by the men responsible for the robbery in which her father had almost died. Drawn together by adversity, Colbeck and Madeleine had something far more than a friendship yet somewhat less than a formal betrothal. While she was happy to accept the situation for what it was, her father was not. He waited until the meal was over before he returned to the delicate subject.
‘I’m your father, Maddie,’ he said, softly. ‘It’s my duty to look after you. I know that you look after me most of the time,’ he went on with a chortle, ‘but this is different. I have a responsibility.’
‘I’ve told you before, father. You can rest easy.’
‘You don’t want to be stuck here with me forever.’
‘I’ll do what I feel is right.’
Andrews was tentative. ‘Is it to do with his job?’ he wondered. ‘I know that it’s dangerous work and that he has to work even longer hours than I do. Perhaps he thinks it would be unfair on you to ask you to be his –—’
‘That’s enough,’ she said, interrupting him. ‘I don’t wish to end the day with an argument.’
‘I’m not arguing, Maddie. I have your best interests at heart.’
She heaved a sighed. ‘I know, Father.’
‘I’m bound to feel uneasy at the way things are.’
‘Well, you have no cause.’ She got up and cleared away the dishes before turning to face him. Folding her arms, she weighed her words with care. ‘All I can tell you is this – and it’s strictly for your ears only. I don’t want any more gossip about us.’
‘I’ll be as silent as the grave,’ he promised.
‘You must be, Father. If you keep prying, you’ll upset Robert as well as me. As I’ve told you a dozen times,’ she went on, ‘we’re close friends but there’s a point beyond which our friendship never goes. He hasn’t put it into words but I sense there’s some kind of obstruction. It’s to do with his past.’
‘You mean that he’s already married?’ said Andrews, worriedly. ‘I won’t have any man trifling with your affections, Maddie, however high and mighty he might be,’
‘He’s not married and he never has been. And Robert is certainly not leading me astray. But there was someone in his past and, every so often, that person comes into his mind. At least, that’s what I think. It’s the only way to explain them.’
‘Explain what?’
‘Those odd moments,’ she said, pursing her lips, ‘when he seems to be in mourning for someone.’
The passage of time had not served to calm down Archelaus Pugh. When Colbeck spoke to the manager in his office, Pugh was still in a state of shock, body tense, face pallid, his Welsh lilt exploring higher octaves.
‘This could be the ruination of us, Inspector,’ he said, dabbing at the perspiration on his brow with a handkerchief. ‘The hotel has not long been opened. Murder is bound to affect our business.’
‘Temporarily perhaps,’ said Colbeck. ‘The important thing is to solve the crime as soon as possible so that it does not remain at the forefront of the public’s mind. You’ll be pleased to hear that I’ve sanctioned the removal of the body.’
‘Thank goodness for that!’
‘I’d recommend that you keep that room unoccupied for a while.’
Pugh gave a hollow laugh. ‘Who’d want to stay there?’
‘I think you’d be surprised, sir. Never underestimate the ghoulish curiosity of some people. Now,’ he went on, ‘I need some details from you. When was that particular room reserved?’
‘This very morning, Inspector,’ replied the manager. ‘Mr Jones, who was on duty at the time, believes that it was around ten o’clock. The room was booked for one night by a Mr Hugh Kellow.’
‘Except that it couldn’t have been the real Mr Kellow because his train did not arrive in Cardiff until almost an hour later. The man was patently an impostor.’
Pugh was defensive. ‘Mr Jones was not to know that.’
‘Of course not,’ said Colbeck. ‘He acted in good faith. What can he tell us about this bogus Mr Kellow?’
‘Very little, I fear,’ said Pugh. ‘He’s an observant man – I teach all my staff to be alert – but other guests were arriving at the same time. All that Mr Jones can remember is that he was a personable young man with a ready smile.’
‘Did he have a Welsh or an English accent?’
‘English.’
‘Was it an educated voice?’
‘Oh, yes. We don’t cater for riffraff here. It’s one of the reasons I moved to Cardiff from a hotel in Merthyr. We had to cope with a lower class of person there at times.’
‘Did Mr Jones notice if the man was carrying any luggage?’
‘He had a large bag with him, Inspector.’
‘Then what happened?’
‘He signed his name in the register and was shown up to his room. About half an hour later, this so-called Mr Kellow was seen to leave the hotel by the front door.’
‘Did anyone see him returning?’
‘Not to my knowledge, Inspector,’ said Pugh. ‘He might have come in through the rear entrance, of course, or even slipped in during the rush. The London train brought in a number of guests so there was a small crowd at the desk for a while.’