‘He was obnoxious,’ said Cassandra. ‘I loathe the fellow.’
‘What he said about our younger son was quite scandalous.’
‘We must make allowances for his natural apprehension,’ said Colbeck, easily. ‘Anyone told that his future bride has just disappeared is bound to be at the mercy of wild fantasies. Mr Tunnadine was casting around for someone to blame and he happened to alight on your younger son.’
‘George can be a clown at times but he’s not that irresponsible.’
‘At heart,’ said Cassandra, fondly, ‘he’s the soul of kindness.’
‘Leaving him aside for the moment,’ said Colbeck, ‘let’s turn to the moment when the train from Worcester actually arrived at the station here. What did you and your daughter see, Mrs Vaughan?’
‘Everything but what we wanted to see — namely, Imogen and her maid.’
‘Could you be more specific?’
‘I don’t follow.’
‘Well, when Sergeant Leeming and I arrived at the station earlier, we were part of a swirling crowd, yet we could pick out some of its constituent members.’
‘Yes,’ said Leeming, taking his cue. ‘There was a priest, an old lady with a walking stick, another with a small dog under each arm, a group of giggling young girls and an elderly gentleman with a monocle. Then there was a-’
‘Thank you, Sergeant,’ said Colbeck, cutting him off. ‘The point has been made, I fancy. Even though we were not looking for those individuals, they impinged on our consciousness. Did something similar happen to you, Mrs Vaughan?’
‘Why, yes — as a matter of fact, it did.’
‘Please go on.’
‘I remember the woman with her arm in a sling and a man with a violin case. Emma will certainly recall the four children who got off the train with their parents because one of the boys bumped into her. Both of us spotted the soldier, of course.’
Colbeck’s ears pricked up. ‘What soldier was that?’
‘He was waiting on the platform with us, Inspector. He was tall and rather resplendent. When the train pulled in, he welcomed another soldier who had bandaging over one eye. The wounded man was travelling with a woman. I only caught a fleeting glimpse of them because I was too busy keeping my eyes peeled for Imogen.’ Cassandra was taken aback. ‘Why are you smiling like that, Inspector?’ she asked. ‘Have I said something amusing?’
‘No, Mrs Vaughan,’ he replied, ‘quite the contrary.’
‘Please explain yourself.’
‘You said exactly what I was hoping you’d say.’ Colbeck turned to her husband. ‘Would it be possible to speak to your daughter?’
‘Is that necessary?’ wondered Vaughan. ‘Emma can give you no information that my wife has not already vouchsafed.’
‘Nevertheless, we’d appreciate a word with her.’
‘In that case, I’ll send for her at once.’
‘To be honest,’ said Colbeck as the Master got to his feet, ‘we’d prefer to speak to your daughter alone, if at all possible.’
‘Emma would prefer that I was there,’ said Cassandra, puzzled by the request.
‘We must comply with the inspector’s wishes, my love,’ advised Vaughan.
‘I’m her mother, Dominic. I have a right.’
‘If you wish to enforce it,’ said Colbeck, pleasantly, ‘then, of course, you’re most welcome to join us. But consider this, Mrs Vaughan. Your daughter and her cousin are of a similar age. When left alone together, they would be likely to share confidences. They would exchange the kind of harmless little secrets that would not come to the ears of their parents.’
‘The inspector is correct,’ decreed Vaughan, overriding his wife’s wishes for once. ‘He and the sergeant must speak to Emma alone. Were you there, my love, our daughter might unwittingly hold back things that are germane to the investigation. She must be allowed the freedom to express herself.’
Cassandra’s protest was quelled by a decisive gesture from her husband.
‘Follow me, gentlemen,’ invited Vaughan, moving to the door.
‘Thank you for your cooperation,’ said Colbeck, rising to his feet.
‘I’ll want to know everything that Emma tells you,’ said Cassandra.
‘Nothing will be kept back from you, Mrs Vaughan.’
But even as he spoke the words, Colbeck suspected that there might well be certain things that the daughter might not wish her mother to know and he was more than ready to conceal them if they would save Emma Vaughan from embarrassment.
On receipt of the news of the disappearance of his daughter, Sir Marcus Burnhope had reacted with speed and determination. He’d ridden at a gallop to Shrub Hill station and used its telegraph system to fire off messages hither and thither. Not only had he alerted Scotland Yard to the crisis, he made sure that senior figures working for the Oxford, Worcester and Wolverhampton Railway were aware of it as well. At his behest, teams were sent out from intermediate stations between Shrub Hill and the intended destination of Imogen and her maid. There were well over twenty possible stops on the line, many of them little more than a halt in the middle of open countryside. Such places lacked the manpower to join in the hunt. While some stretches of the line were searched, therefore, long tracts of it were untouched. To those trudging along the line, the hunt seemed a forlorn exercise.
‘We’re wasting our time,’ grumbled the policeman.
‘Aye, Tom, I know.’
‘We can never look behind every bush.’
‘It’s what Sir Marcus ordered.’
‘Then let him join in the search. It’s his daughter, after all.’
‘They say she’s a real beauty.’
‘Oh, she is. I’ve seen her. She doesn’t take after her father, I’ll tell you that. Sir Marcus is an ugly old bugger.’
Instead of walking along the track, the railway policeman wanted to be at home with his wife. His companion was an off-duty stationmaster, ordered to spend his evening joining in the hunt for the missing women. Like the policeman, he was weary and disenchanted. He used a stick to push back some shrubs.
‘There’s nobody here, Tom. How much longer must we do this?’
‘We go on until it gets too dark to see.’
The stationmaster looked slyly upwards. ‘I’d say it was pretty dark already.’
In fact, there was still plenty of light in the sky but there was nobody about to contradict him. The two men traded a conspiratorial grin. If they abandoned what they saw as an aimless plod, nobody would be any the wiser. They were just about to give up and retrace their steps when the policeman caught sight of something in the long grass some forty yards or so ahead of them. He nudged his companion and pointed. The stationmaster saw it as well. It was the long, trailing hair of a woman. Convinced that they’d found one of the missing passengers, after all, they shook off their fatigue and ran towards her, their boots clacking on the hard wooden sleepers. The noise had an instant effect. A scantily clad woman suddenly came to life and sat up with the young man hiding in the grass beside her. When they saw the policeman’s uniform, they didn’t stand on ceremony. They snatched up their discarded clothing and fled the scene. The two men stopped to catch their breath.
‘Poor devil!’ said the stationmaster with a laugh. ‘We spoilt his fun.’
‘It’s a pity. She was a nice-looking girl with a lovely arse on her.’
‘Do you think we should report it?’
‘No, I think we should go home and forget all about it.’
‘What about Sir Marcus’s daughter?’
‘Let someone else find her.’
As they walked along the track in the opposite direction, they heard a train approaching in the distance. They jumped quickly aside and watched it come into view, hurtling towards them, then racing past so fast that they were forced back by the rush of air. They waited until its deafening tumult had faded.
‘I tell you one thing,’ said the policeman. ‘If Sir Marcus’s daughter jumped off the train at that speed, she’d be as dead as a door-nail.’