Edward Marston - The Railway Detective

‘No,’ asserted the other.

‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m no killer, Inspector Colbeck.’

‘Yet the army taught you how to take a man’s life.’

‘That was different.’

‘Did you kill anyone when you were in uniform?’

‘Only in combat.’

‘You have admitted something at last,’ said Colbeck, watching the prisoner’s eyes. ‘We are starting to make progress.’

‘What about the explosion at the Kilsby Tunnel?’ asked Leeming. ‘I suppose that you were not party to that either.’

‘No,’ said Jukes. ‘This is the first I’ve heard about it.’

‘I think that you are lying.’

‘You may think what you wish, Sergeant.’

‘Since we caught you with a barrel of gunpowder at the Crystal Palace, it’s logical to assume that you caused the earlier explosion. You and your accomplices are obviously experienced in such work.’

Jukes was stony-faced. ‘Are we?’

‘Let me ask you another question,’ said Colbeck, changing his tack. ‘Why did you leave the army?’

‘Because I only enlisted for a certain number of years.’

‘What occupation did you take up?’

‘That’s my business.’

‘Discharged soldiers often find it difficult to get employment.’

‘I managed,’ said Jukes, uneasily.

‘Even though you had no trade to follow?’

‘One of the Seymour brothers told us that he worked as a slaughterman in an abattoir,’ said Leeming. ‘Is that the sort of job you were forced to take, Mr Jukes?’

‘Of course not,’ snarled the prisoner.

‘You must have done something,’ argued Colbeck. ‘When you were arrested, you were wearing a wedding ring. I remember feeling it when you punched me,’ he said, rubbing his chin. ‘That means you have a wife to support, Mr Jukes. How did you do it?’

‘Leave my wife out of this!’

‘Do you have children, by any chance?’

‘My family do not go short.’

‘But they will suffer now, won’t they?’ Jukes scowled at him before turning his head away. ‘What I am trying to suggest to you,’ said Colbeck, gently, ‘is that you may have been earning a paltry wage — or, perhaps, were actually out of work — when you received the invitation to take part in a train robbery. You are not, by instinct, a criminal, Mr Jukes. What drove you to break the law was the desire to do better for your family.’

‘Is that true?’ pressed Leeming.

‘Does your wife know where all that money came from?’

‘Did you tell her what you were going to do at the Crystal Palace?’

Jukes said nothing but his silence was eloquent. As he stared unseeingly in front of him, there was a deep sadness in his eyes. The detectives noted how tense the prisoner’s whole body had become.

‘There is only one way to help yourself,’ advised Colbeck, ‘and that is by cooperating with us. Any assistance you give will be looked upon favourably by the judge.’

‘It could well lead to a reduction in your sentence,’ said Leeming.

‘So tell us, Mr Jukes. Who organised the train robbery?’

‘Was it someone you met in the army?’

‘Or someone you were introduced to by the Seymour brothers? We will catch the man before long, Mr Jukes,’ said Colbeck, ‘make no mistake about that. But you are in a position to save us time and trouble. Now, then,’ he went on, leaning forward across the table, ‘why not think of your own plight and seek to ease it? Give us his name.’

‘Never,’ retorted Jukes.

‘Your loyalty is mistaken.’

‘You’re the one who’s mistaken, Inspector. You may have had the luck to catch us but that’s as far as you’ll get. Harry and Vernon are like me. We’d sooner hang than tell you the name you want. As for catching him before long,’ he added with a mocking laugh, ‘you are in for a big surprise. He can run rings around the Metropolitan Police Force. You’ll never catch him in a month of Sundays.’

It happened in broad daylight. Madeleine Andrews had just made her father comfortable in bed next morning when she heard a knock at the front door. She glanced through the bedroom window and saw a uniformed policeman below. Thinking that he might have brought more news, she hurried downstairs to open the door. The policeman, a bearded man with a polite manner, touched the brim of his hat.

‘Miss Madeleine Andrews?’ he inquired.

‘Yes.’

‘I have come with a request from Inspector Colbeck. He wonders if you could spare an hour to call on him at Scotland Yard.’

Madeleine was taken aback. ‘ Now ?’

‘I have a cab to take you there,’ said the other, ‘and it will bring you back to your house.’

‘Did the Inspector say why he wished to see me?’

‘No, Miss Andrews, but it must be a matter of some importance or he would not be summoning you like this.’ He made to leave. ‘I can see that it is not convenient. I’ll tell Inspector Colbeck that he will have to meet you another time.’

‘Wait,’ she said. ‘I can come with you. I just need to tell my father where I am going first. Please excuse me.’

‘Of course.’

Madeleine went back upstairs, explained the situation to her father and promised that she would not be long. She went quickly into her own bedroom to look at herself in the mirror and to adjust her clothing and hair. When she reappeared at the door, she was wearing a hat.

‘This way, Miss Andrews,’ said the policeman.

He escorted her to the waiting cab and helped her up into it. As soon as he sat beside her, however, his manner changed abruptly. One arm around Madeleine to restrain her, he used the other hand to cover her mouth with a handkerchief.

‘Do as you’re told,’ ordered Thomas Sholto, ‘or you’ll never see your precious Inspector Colbeck again.’

The cab was driven away at speed.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Arthur Jukes gave nothing away. No matter how much pressure they applied, the detectives could not get the answers that they required. They interrogated the other prisoners separately but with the same negative result. Vernon Seymour was openly defiant and his younger brother, Harry, boasted that they would not stay under lock and key for long. He seemed to have a naïve faith that someone would come to his rescue and confound the forces of law and order. When all three men were back in their cells, Robert Colbeck adjourned to his office with Victor Leeming. The Sergeant was not optimistic.

‘It’s like trying to get blood out of a stone,’ he moaned.

‘We need to be patient, Victor.’

‘We failed. I thought it was a brilliant idea of yours to let Mr Tallis loose on them but even he, with his military background, could not frighten them into revealing the name of their paymaster. Why are they so loyal to this man?’

‘I think it’s a combination of loyalty and fear,’ said Colbeck. ‘They know just how ruthless he can be. Even if they were not directly involved in the murders of William Ings and Daniel Slender, they would surely be aware of them. If they betray their leader, they are afraid that they will be signing their own death warrants.’

‘But they are in police custody.’

‘I regret to admit it, Victor, but there are ways of getting to people even when they are in the most secure prisons. No,’ said Colbeck, ‘there’s little chance that any of them will volunteer the name that we seek. All that we can do is to remain calm, question them at intervals and hope that one of them makes a slip.’

‘Which one?’

‘Harry Seymour would be my choice. He’s the youngest.’

‘He’s convinced that he is about to be rescued.’

‘That proves my point. Whoever has been employing the three men has persuaded them that he is invincible, and that he has the power to get them out of any situation. In other words, he must be a man of considerable influence.’