Edward Marston - The railway viaduct

'Is it?'

'I'm the only person that knows you were my client.'

'Do you keep records?' asked the other, glancing down at the desk. 'Do you have an account book with my name in it?'

'Of course not. I know how to be discreet.'

'I hope so, Rogan.'

'Colbeck will not get within a mile of us.'

'What can he possibly have found out?'

'Nothing of value.'

'He must have squeezed something out of those Irishmen.'

'Shannon was the only one I had dealings with. The others don't even know that I exist. And all that Shannon can do is to give them a rough description of me.' Rogan showed snaggly teeth in a grin. 'That means he'd be describing thousands of men who look just like me.'

Sir Marcus relaxed slightly. He removed his top hat and sat down on a chair, resting his cane against a wall. Rogan took the unspoken hint and went to a small cupboard. Taking out a bottle of whisky, he poured two glasses and handed one to his visitor.

'Thank you,' said the old man, tasting the whisky. 'I'd hoped to toast our success but our plans have obviously gone awry.'

'We can try against at a later date, Sir Marcus.'

'This was our chance and we missed it.'

'Bide our time, that's all we have to do.'

'Until a certain detective comes knocking on our doors.'

'That will never happen,' said Rogan, airily. 'The one thing that Shannon knows is an address where he was to leave a message. Nobody at that address knows my name or where I live. It was simply a convenient way of paying Shannon the second half of his fee when his work was completed.'

'But it was not. He failed and you failed.'

Rogan was hurt. 'You can't put the blame on me.'

'You selected this idiot.'

'With the greatest of care, Sir Marcus. I asked a friend about him before I even went near him. He told me that Shannon was full of guile and quite fearless. That's the kind of man we wanted.'

'Then why has he let us down so badly?' asked Sir Marcus. 'And why is Inspector Colbeck coming back to England with such apparent confidence to hunt down Chabal's killer?'

'He's trying to frighten us.'

'He frightened me, I can tell you that.'

'You're as safe as can be, Sir Marcus,' Rogan assured him, taking a first sip of his whisky. 'So am I. London is a vast city. He could search for fifty years and still not find us. Colbeck has no idea where to start looking.'

'There's that address you gave to Shannon.'

'A dead end. It will lead him nowhere.'

'Supposing that he does pick up our scent?'

'I've told you. There's no hope of him doing that.'

'But supposing – I speak hypothetically – that he does? Colbeck has already come much farther than I believed he would so we must respect him for that. What if he gets really close?'

'Then he'll regret it,' said Rogan, coolly.

When he got back from work that evening, Caleb Andrews found a meal waiting for him. Since he had good news to impart about the murder investigation, he surrendered his paper to Madeleine and drew her attention to the relevant report. She was thrilled to read of Robert Colbeck's success in France. Her faith in him had never wavered and she had been disturbed by the harsh criticism he had received in the press. Public rebuke had now been replaced by congratulation. He was once again being hailed for his skill as a detective.

When the meal was over, Andrews was in such an ebullient mood that he challenged his daughter to a game of draughts. He soon repented of his folly. Madeleine won the first two games and had him on the defensive in the third one.

'I can't seem to beat you,' he complained.

'You were the one who taught me how to play draughts.'

'I obviously taught you too well.'

'When we first started,' she recalled, 'you won every game.'

'The only thing I seem to do now is to lose.'

He was spared a third defeat by a knock on the front door. Glad of the interruption, he was out of his chair at once. He went to the door and opened it. Robert Colbeck smiled at him.

'Good evening, Mr Andrews,' he said.

'Ah, you're back from France.'

'At long last.'

'We read about you in the paper.'

'Don't keep Robert standing out there,' said Madeleine, coming up behind her father. 'Invite him in.'

Andrews stood back so that Colbeck could enter the house, remove his hat and, under her father's watchful eye, give Madeleine a chaste kiss on the cheek. They went into the living room. The first thing that Colbeck saw was the draughts board.

'Who's winning?' he asked.

'Maddy,' replied Andrews, gloomily.

'This game was a draw, Father,' she said, eyes never leaving Colbeck. 'Oh, it's so lovely to see you again, Robert! What exactly happened in France?'

'And why did you have to solve crimes on their railways? Don't they have any police of their own?'

'They do, Mr Andrews,' replied Colbeck, 'but this was, in a sense, a British crime. It was almost like working over here. British contractors have built most of their railways and French locomotives are largely the work of Thomas Crampton.'

'I'm the one person you don't need to tell that to, Inspector,' said Andrews, knowledgeably. 'In fact, there are far more Cramptons in France than here in England. Lord knows why. I've driven three or four of his engines and I like them. Shall I tell you why?'

'Another time, Father,' said Madeleine.

'But the Inspector is interested in engineering, Maddy.'

'This is not the best moment to discuss it.'

'What?' Andrews looked from one to the other. 'Well, perhaps it isn't,' he said, moving away. 'Now where did I leave my tobacco pouch? It must be upstairs.' He paused at the door. 'Don't forget to show him that picture you drew of the Sankey Viaduct, Maddy.'

He went out of the room and Colbeck was able to embrace Madeleine properly. Over her shoulder, he saw that the tobacco pouch was on the table beside the draughts. He was grateful for her father's tact. He stood back but kept hold of her hands.

'What's this about the Sankey Viaduct?'

'Oh, it was just something I sketched to pass the time,' she said. 'It's probably nothing at all like the real thing.'

'I'd be interested to see it, all the same.'

'Your work is far more important than mine, Robert. Come and sit down. Tell me what's happened since I last saw you.'

'That would take far too long,' he said, as they sat beside each other on the sofa. 'I'll give you a shortened version.'

He told her about his visit to Paris and his long conversation with Gaston Chabal's mother-in-law. Madeleine was startled by the revelation that the engineer appeared to have seduced another woman for the sole purpose of gaining an additional investor in the railway. She was fascinated to hear of Brendan Mulryne's success as a spy and pleased that Superintendent Tallis had been forced to admit that the Irishman had performed a valuable service.

'Mr Tallis couldn't actually bring himself to thank Brendan in person,' said Colbeck. 'That would have been asking too much. What he did concede was that the notion of putting an informer into the ranks of the navvies had, after all, been a sensible one.'

'Coming from the superintendent, that's high praise.'

'I pointed out that Brendan Mulryne would be an asset if he were allowed to rejoin the police force but Mr Tallis would not hear of it. He'd sooner recruit a tribe of cannibals.'

'Why is he so critical of your methods?'

'There's always been a degree of animus between us.'

'Is he envious of you?'

'It's more a case of disapproval, Madeleine.'

'How could he possibly disapprove of a man with your record?'

'Quite easily,' said Colbeck with a grin. 'Mr Tallis doesn't like the way I dress, the approach I take to any case and the readiness I have to use people such as Brendan Mulryne. Also, I'm afraid to say, he looks askance at my private life.'