Edward Marston - The Railway Detective

‘It will, Inspector. It has certainly cheered me.’

‘I have the feeling that he can be a difficult patient.’

‘Quite impossible at times.’

‘Fretful and demanding?’

‘Only on good days, Inspector.’

They shared a laugh and he watched her cheeks dimple again. She had a way of putting her head slightly to one side that intrigued him. For her part, she noticed the sparkle of interest in his eyes. It implanted a distant hope in her breast.

‘Where are you going now?’ she asked.

‘To call on Frank Pike,’ he replied. ‘After that, I have to go straight back to Scotland Yard.’

‘Do you never rest, Inspector?’

‘Not when I am in the middle of an investigation.’

‘Your family must miss you terribly.’

‘I live alone, Miss Andrews,’ he said, glad of the opportunity to reveal his circumstances. ‘My parents died some years ago and I have never felt it entirely fair to invite anyone to share the life of a detective.’ He pointed to his face. ‘What wife wishes to see her husband coming home like this, especially after he has been absent from the marital couch for three nights?’

‘Some wives have to put up with a lot more than that, Inspector.’

‘By choice?’

‘Of course,’ she said, earnestly. ‘If a woman really loves her husband, then she will happily endure all the disadvantages that his job might bring. I know that that was my mother’s attitude. Being the wife of a railwayman has many drawbacks, believe me.’

‘Is that why you spurned the opportunity yourself?’

‘Not at all.’

‘But I understood you to say that you had rejected your suitor.’

‘Only because he was not the right man for me,’ she explained. ‘It was nothing to do with his occupation. If Gideon had been the husband of my choice, it would not have mattered whether he were a railwayman or a road sweeper.’

‘I see that you are a romantic, Miss Andrews.’

‘I have always thought of myself as a practical woman.’

‘Even a practical woman can have romantic inclinations,’ he said, holding her gaze for a long time. ‘However,’ he added, putting his hat on, ‘I must not keep you talking out here in the street. You have things to do and I have somewhere to go. Goodbye, Miss Andrews.’

‘Goodbye, Inspector.’

She offered her hand in the expectation that he would shake it but Colbeck instead brought it to his lips and planted a gentle kiss on it. Madeleine was thrilled and he was pleased with her reaction. The tender moment between them did not go unobserved. Seated in a cab a little way down the street was a man who had followed Colbeck all the way from Scotland Yard. Watching the two of them in conversation, he felt that he would have something of great interest to report.

Superintendent Tallis could not believe his eyes. As he stepped into the corridor, he saw Brendan Mulryne walking jauntily towards him, a broad smile covering his battered face. The Irishman offered his hand.

‘Good day to you, Superintendent,’ he said, cordially.

‘What, in the name of Christ, are you doing here?’ demanded Tallis, declining the handshake. ‘You should be locked up.’

‘I’ve been released on bail.’

‘On whose authority?’

‘Mr Mayne himself,’ said the Irishman. ‘I’ve just spoken to him. He wanted to congratulate me on the help that I gave at the Crystal Palace. I’m moving up in the world,’ he went on, chuckling. ‘I never thought that I’d get to meet a Police Commissioner face to face.’

‘You should not have been at the Crystal Palace in the first place.’

‘Inspector Colbeck wanted me there.’

‘He was exceeding his authority.’

‘What does it matter, sir?’

‘It matters a great deal, Mulryne,’ said Tallis, acidly, ‘as you should know. A police force is run on discipline. It was a lesson that you never learnt when you were in uniform.’

‘There were too many rules and regulations.’

‘You managed to break each and every one of them.’

Mulryne beamed. ‘I never was a man for half-measures.’

‘You were an embarrassment to all of us.’

‘Inspector Colbeck doesn’t think so. Neither does Mr Mayne. By the way, Superintendent, did you know that we had something in common — me and the Police Commissioner, that is?’

‘Beyond the fact that you both happen to be Irish,’ said Tallis, superciliously, ‘I can’t see the slightest affinity.’

‘That’s because you don’t know my background, see. It turns out that Mr Mayne’s father was one of the judges of the Court of King’s Bench in Dublin. In short,’ said Mulryne, cheerily, ‘he must have been the same Judge Mayne that sent my father to prison for three years for a crime that he didn’t commit.’

‘I should have guessed that you’re the son of a convicted criminal.’

‘It was the reason I wanted to be a policeman.’

‘Old habits die hard, Mulryne.’

‘Yes,’ said the other, ‘so I notice, Superintendent. You still have a habit of smoking those foul cigars.’ He sniffed Tallis’s lapel. ‘Sure, I can smell the stink of them in your clothes.’

Tallis pushed him away. ‘Get off, man — and get out of here!’

‘Is there any chance of a word with Inspector Colbeck first?’

‘No, the Inspector is busy.’

‘I don’t mind waiting.’

‘I’ll not have you on the premises. Besides,’ he said, ‘Inspector Colbeck may be some time. He is about to question one of the men who was arrested last night.’

‘Have they given you the names of their accomplices yet?’

‘Unfortunately, they have not.’

‘Then you should let me talk to them,’ offered Mulryne, pounding a fist into the palm of the other hand. ‘Put me in a cell with one of them and I’d have him talking his head off inside two minutes.’

‘We do not resort to violence.’

‘A crying shame!’

‘In any case, even you would not be able to beat a confession out of them. I have been interrogating criminals for several years but I could not break down their resistance.’

‘Maybe you asked the wrong questions.’

‘Inspector Colbeck is seeing one of the men for the second time,’ explained Tallis. ‘He feels that he now has a means of opening the man’s mouth a little.’

Frank Pike had no hesitation in identifying the man. When he saw Arthur Jukes through the bars of his cell, he picked him out immediately as the person who had clubbed Caleb Andrews to the ground and forced the fireman to drive the locomotive off the track. Pike also recognised the Seymour brothers as having been involved in the robbery. Robert Colbeck’s problem was to get the fireman out of there. Confronted with the man who had held a pistol on him, Pike wanted retribution and, denied the opportunity to attack the man, he yelled abuse at Jukes through the bars. Jukes replied in kind and the air was blue with ripe language. Colbeck needed the help of Victor Leeming to hustle the visitor out of the area.

When Pike had left, the detectives questioned Jukes in a room that contained nothing beyond a table and three chairs. Still handcuffed, Jukes was surly and withdrawn.

‘You have been formally identified as the man who assaulted the driver of that train,’ said Colbeck. ‘Do you admit the crime?’

‘No,’ replied Jukes.

‘Mr Andrews himself identified the artist’s sketch of you.’

‘So?’

‘We have two eyewitnesses, Mr Jukes.’

‘Had Mr Andrews died from his injuries,’ said Leeming, ‘you might now be facing a charge of murder. That’s a hanging offence.’

‘Mr Jukes might still have the opportunity to mount the gallows,’ Colbeck reminded him. ‘The murders of William Ings and Daniel Slender have yet to be accounted for. Were you responsible for those, Mr Jukes?’