Edward Marston: The Railway Detective

Tallis tossed him a cursory glance then waved a podgy hand.

‘Take a seat,’ he barked. ‘We have much to discuss.’

‘So I understood from the urgency of your summons,’ said Colbeck, lowering himself onto a chair. ‘I came as soon as I could, sir.’

‘And not before time. We have a robbery on our hands.’

‘What kind of robbery, Superintendent?’

‘The worst kind,’ said Tallis, putting the sheet of paper aside. ‘A mail train was ambushed on its way to Birmingham. It was carrying a large consignment of gold sovereigns for delivery to a bank in the city. The thieves got away with every penny.’

‘Was anyone hurt in the process?’ asked Colbeck with concern.

‘Only the driver, it seems. He was foolish enough to offer resistance and suffered for his bravery. The fellow is in a sorry state.’

‘Poor man!’

‘Save your sympathy for me, Inspector,’ said Tallis, ruefully. ‘All hell broke loose when word of the crime reached London. I’ve been hounded by the commissioners, harried by the railway company, hunted by the Post Office and badgered by the Royal Mint.’

Colbeck smiled. ‘I thought I caught a whiff of cigar smoke.’

‘Anybody would think that I was the culprit.’

‘Only a bold man would ever accuse you of breaking the law, sir.’

Tallis bristled. ‘Are you being facetious, Inspector?’

‘Of course not.’

‘I’ll brook no disrespect.’

‘I appreciate that, sir.’

Tallis glared at him. The Superintendent was a stout, red-faced, robust man in his fifties with a military background that had deprived him of his sense of humour and given him, in return, a habit of command, a conviction that he always made the right decisions and a small scar on his right cheek. Tallis had a shock of grey hair and a neat moustache that he was inclined to caress in quieter moments. A lifelong bachelor, he had no family commitments to deflect him from his work in the Detective Department of the Metropolitan Police Force.

‘This is no time for drollery,’ he warned.

‘I was merely making an observation, Superintendent.’

‘Keep such observations to yourself in future.’

Colbeck bit back a reply. There was an unresolved tension between the two men that came to the surface whenever they were alone together, and the Inspector had learnt to rein in his urge to provoke Tallis. The Superintendent had a violent temper when roused. Colbeck had been at the mercy of it once too often. He probed for information.

‘What exactly happened, sir?’ he asked, politely.

‘That is what I’m endeavouring to tell you.’

‘I’m all ears.’

Clasping his hands together, the Superintendent recited the salient details of the case, stressing the importance of prompt action by Scotland Yard. Colbeck listened carefully to the account. Several questions raised themselves and he put the obvious one to Tallis.

‘How did they know that the train was carrying so much money?’

‘That’s for you to find out, Inspector.’

‘They must have had help from an insider.’

‘Track him down.’

‘We will, sir,’ promised Colbeck. ‘What interests me is that the locomotive was forced off the tracks and badly damaged.’

‘It will be out of service for weeks, I’m told.’

‘Why on earth did they do such a thing? I mean, the gang had got what they wanted from the train. There was no need to derail the engine like that. What was the intention?’

‘Ask them when you catch up with them.’

‘The other thing that worries me,’ said Colbeck, reflectively, ‘is the ease with which the security arrangements were breached. The money was loaded in boxes that were locked inside Chubb safes. I read an article about those safes when they were installed. They were reckoned to be impregnable.’

‘Two keys are needed to open them.’

‘As well as a combination number, Superintendent.’

‘Only one key was carried on the train,’ noted Tallis. ‘The other was in the possession of the bank to whom the money was being sent.’

‘Yet, according to you,’ Colbeck pointed out, ‘the safes were opened and emptied within a matter of minutes. That could only be done with a duplicate key and foreknowledge of the combination number. There’s collusion at work here.’

Tallis heaved a sigh. ‘This robbery was extremely well-planned, Inspector. I deplore what was done but I have to admire the skill of the operation. We’ve never had to deal with anything on this scale before. That’s why we must solve this crime quickly and bring the malefactors to justice,’ he went on, banging a fist on the desk in exasperation. ‘If they are seen to get away with such a daring exploit, there’ll be others who will surely try to copy them.’

‘I doubt that, Inspector. Most criminals, fortunately, have no gift for organisation and that’s the essence of this robbery. Several men were involved and their timing must have been excellent.’

‘Yes,’ conceded Tallis, grudgingly. ‘They knew what they wanted and took it — including the mail bags. The Post Office is hopping mad about that.’

‘It’s the people whose correspondence has gone astray who should be really alarmed,’ said Colbeck, thinking it through. ‘Those mail bags were not taken out of spite. Some envelopes will contain money or valuable items that can be sold for gain, and — by the law of averages — there’ll be letters of a highly sensitive nature that may give the villains opportunities for blackmail.’

‘That never occurred to me.’

‘I’ll wager that it occurred to them.’

‘The scheming devils!’ said Tallis, extracting a cigar case from his pocket. ‘Robbery, blackmail, wanton destruction of railway property — these men must be rounded up, Inspector.’

Colbeck rose purposefully to his feet. ‘The investigation will begin immediately, Superintendent,’ he said, firmly. ‘What resources do I have at my disposal?’

‘Whatever you ask for — within reason.’

‘I presume that the railway company will be offering a reward?’

Tallis nodded. ‘Fifty guineas for anyone who can provide information that will lead to an arrest,’ he said, selecting a cigar from the case. ‘This is a poor advertisement for them. It’s the first time their mail train has been robbed.’

‘I take it that I’m to work with Victor Leeming on this case?’

‘Sergeant Leeming is on his way here, even as we speak.’

‘Good,’ said Colbeck. ‘When he arrives, we’ll take a cab to Euston Station and catch the next available train to the scene of the crime. I want to see exactly where and how it all happened.’

‘You’ll need this, Inspector.’ Tallis picked up the sheet of paper. ‘It has all the relevant names on it — except those of the criminals, alas.’

Colbeck took it from him. ‘Thank you, Superintendent.’ His eye ran down the list. ‘The driver is the crucial person — this Caleb Andrews. I hope to speak to him in due course.’

Tallis lit his cigar. ‘You may need to have a clairvoyant with you.’

‘Why?’

‘Mr Andrews is still in a coma, and not expected to survive.’

The table in the stationmaster’s office at Leighton Buzzard was not the most comfortable bed but the patient was quite unaware of that. Lying on the bare wood, with a blanket draped over him, Caleb Andrews seemed to have shrunk. His head was heavily bandaged, his face pallid, his breathing laboured. One arm was in a sling, one leg in a splint. He looked as if he were hanging on to life by the merest thread.

Keeping vigil beside the makeshift bed, Frank Pike was torn between fear and guilt, terrified that his friend might die and filled with remorse at his inability to protect the driver from attack. There was another dimension to his anguish. With a pistol held over him, he had been forced to drive the locomotive off the track, something that was anathema to any railwayman. It was no consolation to him that Caleb Andrews had not been able to witness the awful moment when their engine plunged into the grass verge and shed its load of coal and water. Pike winced as he recalled it. His employers were bound to blame him.