Edward Marston - The Stationmaster's farewell

Having read it, Ralph Barnes passed the telegraph back to the bishop.

‘Heygate was a decent fellow,’ he said. ‘I liked him. When his wife and child were killed in an accident, he coped with the situation bravely. In some ways, I suppose it’s a relief that they’re not alive to suffer this terrible blow.’

‘I’m more concerned about the terrible blow to us, Ralph,’ said Phillpotts. ‘It’s deliberate. He was killed outside the cathedral for the express purpose of defiling consecrated ground and taunting me .’

‘I’m not sure that you should take this too personally, Bishop.’

‘How else can I take it?’

‘We need to know more details of the case. All that the telegraph gives us are the bare bones, as it were. What have the police discovered and who is this Inspector Colbeck from Scotland Yard?’

‘I don’t know and I’m not sure that I want someone from London coming to lead the investigation. This is a local matter that must be sorted out promptly by local means. We don’t want news of this horrendous crime to be disseminated throughout the whole country.’ He rose to his feet. ‘If only we had a police superintendent in whom I could place more trust.’

‘I thought that the fellow had been doing quite well,’ remarked his wife.

‘He has,’ agreed Barnes. ‘Superintendent Steel has made the most of limited resources and achieved a degree of success.’

‘Then why is Exeter such an unruly city?’ challenged Phillpotts.

‘It’s no worse than many cities of an equivalent size.’

‘It feels worse, Ralph. We have too many ruffians stalking the streets.’

‘And too ready a supply of beer to stir them up.’

Phillpotts flicked a dismissive hand. ‘That’s a separate issue. What concerns me about Steel is that he’s not a true gentleman.’

‘It’s difficult to remain gentlemanly when dealing with the scum of society.’

‘You know what I mean, Ralph — he doesn’t show me due deference.’

‘That is reprehensible,’ Deborah put in.

‘However,’ said Phillpotts, ‘he’s responsible for law and order. It’s down to him to solve this murder.’ He waved the telegraph in the air. ‘Then we can send this Inspector Colbeck back to London where he belongs.’

The first thing that the detectives saw when they alighted at their destination was an attractive young woman walking along the platform with a birdcage covered by a cloth. From inside the cage, a canary was chirping. Their attention was immediately diverted by the sight of a portly man, bearing down upon them with a mixture of gratitude and doubt. While he was pleased that the men he assumed were Scotland Yard detectives had finally arrived, Gervase Quinnell was not reassured by their appearance. One of them was far too polished and urbane while the other looked as if he should be wearing a collar and chain like a performing bear.

‘You must be Mr Quinnell,’ said Colbeck, offering his hand.

‘I am indeed,’ replied the other, receiving a firm handshake. ‘Your telegraph warned me that you’d arrive on this train.’

Colbeck introduced Leeming, who was busy stretching his limbs after the long journey. The sergeant looked around and blinked.

‘There’s only one platform.’

‘It’s long enough to cope with the demands put upon it, Victor,’ said Colbeck. ‘Careful timetabling is the answer, as Mr Quinnell will attest.’

‘Exeter St David’s is one of our most well-organised stations,’ boasted Quinnell, taking his cue. ‘Until yesterday, it was blessed in having a stationmaster of outstanding ability. However,’ he added, ‘this is not the place to discuss the matter. Since you may be here for some time, I’d like to offer you hospitality in my own home in Starcross. It’s only six miles or so away. I can supply you with all of the relevant details on our way there.’

‘Thank you for your kind invitation,’ said Colbeck, ‘but we have to decline it. Much as I’d like to see Starcross because of its association with the atmospheric railway, I think it would be more sensible for us to stay in the city near the scene of the crime.’

It was not the only reason that Colbeck had rejected the offer. One minute in Quinnell’s company told him that they were dealing with a conceited and overbearing man who’d be forever looking over their shoulder. Freedom of action was imperative. They would not get that if they were under Quinnell’s roof, and the journey to and from Starcross every day would be tiresome.

‘Very well,’ said Quinnell, clearly offended, ‘you must do as you think fit.’

‘The first thing we need to do is to make contact with the superintendent of your police force,’ said Colbeck. ‘It’s a basic courtesy. Also, of course, we need his cooperation. Local knowledge is indispensable and it’s something we lack at the moment. Might we know his name?’

‘It’s Steel,’ replied the other through gritted teeth, ‘Superintendent Steel.’

‘That’s a good name for a policeman,’ noted Leeming.

‘He can be awkward at times and very stubborn. For instance, he’s still claiming that the victim may not be Joel Heygate when everyone else knows that it must be.’

‘He’s simply keeping an open mind,’ said Colbeck, evenly. ‘I applaud that.’ He picked up his valise. ‘The sergeant and I will take a cab to the police station and introduce ourselves.’

‘Perhaps I should come with you.’

‘That won’t be necessary, Mr Quinnell.’

‘But you’re here at my behest.’

‘We’ll keep you fully informed of any developments, sir,’ said Colbeck, anxious to shake him off. ‘Come on, Victor. We have important work to do.’

After bidding farewell to Quinnell, they left him fuming quietly on the platform and headed for the exit. It was only when they were being driven into the city that Leeming asked the question that had been perplexing him.

‘What exactly is the atmospheric railway?’

Maud Hope was a thin angular woman in her late forties with a ravaged prettiness. Plagued by arthritis in her knees and hip, she was often in pain and unable to do anything but the most simple domestic chores. When she heard the front door of their little house being unlocked, she was in the kitchen struggling to chop some onions. She thought at first that it might be the neighbour who popped in regularly to keep an eye on her. In fact, it was Dorcas. Maud was surprised to see her daughter and even more surprised that she was carrying a birdcage.

‘What on earth have you got there, Dorcas?’

‘It’s Peter — Mr Heygate’s canary. They said I could look after him.’

‘Who did?’

‘Well, it was Mr Woodford who asked,’ gabbled Dorcas. ‘He talked to a man who’s something to do with the railway company. According to Mr Woodford, the man didn’t want me to have Peter. He said the bird was railway property because the house belongs to them. But Mr Woodford spoke up for me and said how I’d fed him in the past, then the superintendent agreed that I should have him. They argued over it and I won in the end.’

‘I’m not sure that I follow this,’ said Maud, using the back of her hand to wipe away the tears that always streamed when she chopped onions. ‘Are you talking about Mr Woodford the clerk?’

‘Yes, Mother — he was kind to me.’

‘I thought you didn’t like him.’

‘I don’t. He looks at me in a funny way. But he was different today. He was friendly for once. Mr Woodford has taken over as stationmaster.’

‘Your father won’t like that. He’s got no time for the man.’

‘All I know is that he helped me and rescued Peter.’ Setting the cage down on the table, Dorcas removed the cloth. The bird cocked its head to inspect its new home. ‘He’s so sweet, isn’t he? I couldn’t leave him in an empty house.’