Edward Marston: The Railway Detective

‘They should have been left here,’ said Colbeck, sharply, ‘where the robbery actually took place. It would have made it easier for me to reconstruct events.’

‘Railways run on timetables, Inspector Colbeck,’ the Scotsman told him. ‘As long as that rolling stock remained on the line, no down trains could get beyond this point.’ He curled a derisive lip. ‘Do you know what a down train is?’

‘Of course, Inspector McTurk. I travel by rail frequently.’ He looked back in the direction of Leighton Buzzard. ‘We’ll need to examine them. They may yield valuable clues.’

‘We’ve already searched the mail coach and the luggage van.’

‘That’s what troubles me,’ said Colbeck, meeting his gaze. ‘If you and your men have trampled all over them, evidence may unwittingly have been destroyed. Please ensure that nobody else has access to that rolling stock until we’ve had the chance to inspect it.’ McTurk glowered at him. ‘It’s not a request,’ warned Colbeck. ‘It’s an order.’

McTurk turned away and waved an arm at the cluster of railway policemen gathered below. One of them scampered up the embankment to be given a curt order by his superior. The man then went back down the incline and trotted in the direction of the station. Having asserted his authority, Colbeck gave his companion a disarming smile.

‘Thank you, Inspector,’ he said, suavely. ‘Your willing cooperation makes my job so much easier.’

McTurk remained silent but his eyes smouldered. He was much more accustomed to giving orders rather than receiving them. Colbeck swung on his heel and followed the marks in the grass. McTurk went after him. After picking their way through the undergrowth, they came to a narrow track that twisted its way off through a stand of trees. Colbeck noticed the fresh manure.

‘This is where they left their horses,’ he said, ‘and the boxes must have been loaded onto a carriage. They chose their spot with care. It’s hidden by the trees and only a short distance from the railway.’

‘Wait till I get my hands on the rogues!’

‘They’ll face due process in a court of law, Inspector.’

‘I want a word with them first,’ growled McTurk, grinding his teeth. ‘They stripped two of my men and trussed them up like turkeys.’

‘With respect,’ said Colbeck, reprovingly, ‘there are more serious issues here than the humiliation of two railway policeman. We are dealing with an armed robbery during which the driver of the train was so badly injured that he may not survive.’

‘I’d not forgotten that — and I want revenge.’

‘Don’t take it personally, Inspector McTurk. That will only cloud your judgement. Our job is to apprehend those responsible for this crime and, if possible, to reclaim the stolen money and mail bags. Revenge has no place in that scheme of things.’

‘It does for me,’ affirmed McTurk. ‘Look what they did,’ he added, jabbing a finger at the wreckage below. ‘They destroyed railway property. That’s the worst crime of all to me.’

‘Caleb Andrews is railway property,’ Colbeck reminded him. ‘His life is in the balance. When they’re hauled off to Crewe, the locomotive and the carriage can be repaired but I don’t think that your engineering works runs to spare parts for injured drivers.’ He raised his eyes to a sky that was slowly darkening. ‘I need to make best use of the light I still have,’ he announced. ‘Excuse me, Inspector. I want to take a look at the rolling stock that was foolishly moved from the scene of the crime.’

‘We only followed instructions,’ complained McTurk.

‘Do you always do as you’re told?’

‘Yes, Inspector.’

‘Then here’s another instruction for you,’ said Colbeck, pointedly. ‘Keep out of my way. The last thing I want at this moment is some over-obedient railway policeman getting under my feet. Is that understood?’

‘You need my help.’

‘Then I’ll call upon it, as and when necessary.’

‘You won’t get far without me,’ cautioned McTurk.

‘I fancy that I will,’ said Colbeck, easing him gently aside. ‘You cast a long shadow, Inspector. And I want all the light that I can get.’

On the walk back to the station, Sergeant Leeming gave his superior an edited version of the statements he had taken from the mail guards. Not wishing to be left out, Inspector McTurk trailed in their wake. Colbeck was sceptical about what he heard.

‘Something is missing, Victor,’ he concluded.

‘Is it?’

‘Every man tells the same tale, using almost identical language. That means they’ve had time to rehearse their story in order to cover their blushes.’

‘What blushes?’

‘They were at fault. They were on duty in a locked carriage yet they were caught napping by the ambush. How? Their assailants were quick but they still had to smash their way into the mail coach.’

‘It was all over in a matter of seconds,’ said Leeming. ‘At least, that’s what they told me.’

‘Did they tell you why nobody fired a shot in anger?’

‘No, Inspector.’

‘Then that’s what we need to establish,’ said Colbeck. ‘The train was stopped over a mile from the station but a gunshot would have been heard from here. It’s the reason that the robbers took care not to fire themselves. They didn’t wish to give themselves away.’

‘I never thought of that.’

‘They did — and the mail guards should have done so as well. The very least they should have managed was a warning shot. Help would have come from the station.’

‘Now that you mention it,’ recalled Leeming, scratching his chin, ‘they did seem a little embarrassed when I questioned them. I put it down to the fact that they had no shoes on.’

‘They’re hiding something, Victor.’

‘Do you think they might be in league with the robbers?’

‘No,’ said Colbeck. ‘If that had been the case, they’d have fled when the crime was committed. My guess is that they helped the robbers in another way — by being lax in their duties.’

Light was starting to fade noticeably so the Inspector lengthened his stride. Leeming increased his own speed but Inspector McTurk was panting audibly as he tried to keep pace with them. When they reached Leighton Buzzard Station, they saw that there was a sizeable crowd on the station. Colbeck ignored them and led the way to the rolling stock that was standing in a siding. The railway policeman who had been dispatched by McTurk was standing officiously beside the guard’s van.

Handing his top hat to Leeming, Colbeck first clambered up into the luggage van to examine the huge safe in which the money had been locked. Designed and built at the factory of one of England’s most reputable locksmiths, John Chubb, the safe was made of inch thick steel plate. It was three feet high, wide and deep, with a door formed by the hinged lid that swung back on a guard-chain. On the front wall of the safe were keyholes to twin locks, whose interior mechanism was almost six inches deep.

Colbeck admired the quality of construction. The positioning of the locks, and the need for a combination number, confronted any burglar with almost insurmountable problems. Cracksmen whom he had arrested in the past had always admitted how difficult it was to open a Chubb safe. Yet, in this case, the doors of the safe were gaping. Colbeck made a quick search of the van but found nothing that could be construed as a clue. He left the van, dropped to the ground and moved across to inspect the broken handles on the doors of the mail coach. One blow from a sledgehammer was all that had been required. Opening a door, Colbeck hauled himself up into the coach.

‘You’re wasting your time,’ called McTurk.