Edward Marston - The Railway Detective

Mulryne did not go unscathed. He took some heavy blows himself and the brick that was thrown at him opened a gash above his eye. Blood streamed down his face. It only served to enrage him and to make him more determined to flatten every man within reach. Roaring with anger, he punched, kicked, grappled, gouged and even sank his teeth into a forearm that was wrapped unwisely across his face. Well over a dozen people had been involved in the fracas but, apart from the Irishman, only three were left standing.

As he bore down on them, they took to their heels and Mulryne went after the trio, resolved to teach them to stay away from The Black Dog in future. One of them tripped and fell headlong. Mulryne was on him at once, heaving him to his feet and slamming him against a wall until he heard bones crack. The next moment, a length of iron pipe struck the back of Mulryne’s head and sent him to his knees. The two friends of the man who had fallen had come back to rescue him. Hurt by the blow, the Irishman had the presence of mind to roll over quickly so that he dodged a second murderous swipe.

He was on his feet in an instant, grabbing the pipe and wresting it from the man holding it. Mulryne used it to club him to the ground. When the second man started to belabour him, he tossed the pipe away, lifted his assailant up and hurled him through a window. Yells of protest came from the occupants of the house. Dazed by the blow to his head and exhausted by the fight, Mulryne swayed unsteadily on his feet, both hands to his wounds to stem the bleeding. He did not even hear the sound of the police whistles.

Robert Colbeck sat in his office and reviewed the evidence with Victor Leeming. While no arrests had yet been made, they felt that they had a clear picture of how the robbery had taken place, and what help had been given to the gang responsible by employees in the Post Office and the lock industry. The Sergeant still believed that someone from the Royal Mint was implicated as well. Colbeck told him about the interview with Madeleine Andrews and how he had been able to still her fears.

‘The young lady was well-dressed for a railwayman’s daughter.’

‘Did you think that she’d be wearing rags and walking barefoot?’

‘She looked so neat and tidy, sir.’

‘Engine drivers are the best-paid men on the railway,’ said Colbeck, ‘and quite rightly. They have to be able to read, write and understand the mechanism of the locomotive. That’s why so many of them begin as fitters before becoming firemen. Caleb Andrews earns enough to bring up his daughter properly.’

‘I could tell from her voice that she’d had schooling.’

‘I think that she’s an intelligent woman.’

‘And a very fetching one,’ said Leeming with a grin.

‘She thought that you were a typical policeman, Victor.’

‘Is that good or bad, sir?’

Colbeck was tactful. ‘You’ll have to ask the young lady herself.’ There was a tap on the door. ‘Come in!’ he said.

The door opened and a policeman entered in uniform.

‘I was asked to give this to you, Inspector Colbeck,’ he said, handing over the envelope that he was carrying.

‘I’m told that it’s quite urgent. I’m to wait for a reply.’

‘Very well.’ Colbeck opened the envelope and read the note inside. He scrunched up the paper in his hand. ‘There’s no reply,’ he said. ‘I’ll come with you myself.’

‘Right, sir.’

‘Bad news, Inspector?’ wondered Leeming.

‘No, Victor,’ said Colbeck, smoothly. ‘A slight problem has arisen, that’s all. It will not take me long to sort it out. Excuse me.’

The only time that Brendan Mulryne had seen the inside of a police cell was when he had thrown the people he had arrested into one. It was different being on the other side of the law. When the door had slammed shut upon him, he was locked in a small, bare, cheerless room that was no more than a brick rectangle. The tiny window, high in the back wall, was simply a ventilation slit with thick iron bars in it. The place reeked of stale vomit and urine.

The bed was a hard wooden bench with no mattress or blankets. Sitting on the edge of it, Mulryne wished that his head would stop aching. His wounds had been tended, and the blood wiped from his face, but it was obvious that he had been in a fight. His craggy face was covered with cuts and abrasions, his knuckles were raw. His black eye and split lip would both take time to heal. It had been a savage brawl yet he was not sorry to have been in it. His only regret was that he had been arrested as a result. It meant that he would lose money and leave The Black Dog unguarded for some time.

When a key scraped in the lock, he hoped that someone was bringing him a cup of tea to revive him. But it was not the custody sergeant who stepped into the cell. Instead, Inspector Robert Colbeck came in and looked down at the offender with more disappointment than sympathy. His voice was uncharacteristically harsh.

‘Why ever did you get yourself locked up in here, Brendan?’

‘It was a mistake,’ argued Mulryne.

‘Police records do not lie,’ said Colbeck. ‘According to the book, you have been charged with taking part in an affray, causing criminal damage, inflicting grievous bodily harm and — shocking for someone who used to wear a police uniform — resisting arrest.’

‘Do you think that I wanted to be shut away here?’

‘Why make things worse for yourself?’

‘Because I was goaded,’ said Mulryne. ‘Two of the bobbies that tried to put cuffs on me recognised who I was and had a laugh at my expense. They thought it was great fun to arrest an old colleague of theirs. I’ll not stand for mockery, Mr Colbeck.’

‘Look at the state of you, man. Your shirt is stained with blood.’

Mulryne grinned. ‘Don’t worry. Most of it is not mine.’

‘I do worry,’ said Colbeck, sharply. ‘I asked for help and you promised to give it. How can you do that when you’re stuck in here?’

‘The man to blame is the one who started the fight.’

‘You should have kept out of it.’

‘Sure, isn’t keeping the peace what I’m paid to do?’ asked Mulryne, earnestly. ‘I’m a sort of policeman at The Black Dog, excepting that I don’t wear a uniform. All I did was to try to calm things down.’

‘With your fists.’

‘They were not in the mood to listen to a sermon.’

Colbeck heaved a sigh. ‘No, I suppose not.’

‘Is there anything you can do for me?’ said Mulryne, hopefully. ‘Ask at The Black Dog. They’ll tell that I didn’t start the affray. I just got caught up in it. As for criminal damage, the person at fault is the one who dived head first through that window. On my word of honour, I did my best to stop him.’

‘I know you too well, Brendan. I’ve seen you fight.’

‘Well, at least get them to drop the charge of grievous bodily harm. Jesus! You should feel the lump on the back of my head. It’s the size of an egg, so it is. I was the victim of grievous bodily harm.’ He got up from the bed. ‘Please, Mr Colbeck. I’m a wronged man.’

‘Are you?’

‘I’m such a peaceable fellow by nature.’

‘Tell that to the policeman whose teeth you knocked out.’

‘I did apologise to him afterwards.’

‘What use is that?’ demanded Colbeck. ‘And what use are you to me while you’re cooling your heels in here?’

‘None at all, I admit. That’s why you must get me out.’

‘So that you can create more havoc?’

‘No, Mr Colbeck,’ said Mulryne, ‘so that I can find out where Billy Ings is hiding. He’s within my grasp, I know it. I did as you told me. I spoke to Isadore Vout, the bloodsucker who loaned him money when he lost at the card table.’