Edward Marston - The excursion train

'Is she any more likely to confide in someone like me?' asked Madeleine, guessing what he wanted her to do. 'You're trained to cope with these situations, Robert. I am not.'

'It doesn't require any previous experience. Your presence alone would be enough. It would make her feel less uneasy. With luck,' he said, 'it might break down that resistance I mentioned.'

'What exactly do you want me to do?'

'First of all, I want to assure you that you're under no compulsion at all. If you'd rather stay clear of the whole thing…'

'Don't be silly,' she interrupted, relishing the opportunity of working alongside him. 'I'll do anything that you ask. Coming from a railway family, I have a particular interest in solving this crime.'

'Thank you.'

'Just give me my instructions.'

'The first thing I must do is to swear you to secrecy,' he warned her. 'What I'm asking is highly irregular and my Superintendent would tear me to pieces if he were to find out. I won't even breathe a word of this to Victor Leeming, my Sergeant. He'd frown on the whole notion.'

'I won't tell a soul – not even Father.'

'Then welcome to the Detective Department,' he said, shaking her hand. 'You're the first woman at Scotland Yard and I could not imagine a better person to act as a pioneer.'

'You might think differently when you see me in action.'

'I doubt that, Madeleine. I have every confidence in you.'

'It will be an education to watch the Railway Detective at work.'

'That may be,' he said, enjoying her proximity, 'but I fancy that you're the one who'll achieve the breakthrough that we need. In this case, it may be a woman's touch that will be decisive.'

No matter how early he arrived at work, Victor Leeming could never get there before Edward Tallis. Having made a special effort to reach Scotland Yard by seven o'clock that morning, Leeming was dismayed to see the Superintendent coming out of his office and pounding down the corridor towards him like an army on the march.

'Good morning, sir,' said the Sergeant.

'What time do you call this, man? We've been here for hours.'

'We, Superintendent?'

'Inspector Colbeck and I,' growled Tallis. 'At least, I have one person who understands the importance of punctuality, even if deficient in other respects. While you sleep, the criminal underworld is about its nefarious business. What kept you?' A note of censure came into his voice. 'Family matters, no doubt.'

'It was my wife who got me out of bed so early, sir.'

'Indeed?'

'Yes,' said Leeming, thrown on the defensive. 'As soon as we'd had breakfast with the children, I made my way here.'

'You know my opinion of marriage. It gets in the way.'

'We can't be on duty all the time, Superintendent.'

'We should be, Sergeant – metaphorically speaking, that is. Admit a distraction into your life and you weaken your effectiveness.'

'Estelle is no distraction – nor are my children.'

'I dispute that.'

'We're human beings, sir,' argued Leeming, stung by the attack on his family, 'not monks. What do you want – a celibate police force?'

'I want men beneath me who put their work first.'

'That's what I've always tried to do. And so has Inspector Colbeck.'

'While awaiting your arrival,' said Tallis, pointedly, 'he and I have been studying the research that you did into Jacob Guttridge's record as a hangman. Though I have to admit that I'm not entirely sure that we're looking in the right place.'

'Why not, sir?'

'The killer may have no connection whatsoever with the man's former occupation. He might not even have known who Guttridge was.'

'Then what was his motive?'

'Villains of that stripe need no motive,' said the Superintendent, corrugating his brow until his eyebrows met in the middle. 'They have a destructive urge that is set off by drink or simply by an argument.'

'Inspector Colbeck believes that-'

'I am fully aware of what the Inspector believes,' snapped the other, cutting him off, 'but I prefer to keep an open mind. Make a wrong assumption at the start of an investigation and you find yourself going in circles.'

'We know that, sir. Here, however, we have a significant clue.'

'Do we?'

'The Inspector saw it immediately,' said Leeming. 'The manner of the victim's death is critical. It would have been easier to stab him and much quicker to shoot him or bludgeon him to death. Instead, a piece of wire was used to strangle him.'

'I'm familiar with the details.'

'A man who made his living by the noose died in the same way. The killer carefully chose the means by which he took revenge.'

'Did he?'

'I think so, sir.'

'I wonder.'

'The Inspector's argument is very convincing.'

'Not to me,' said Tallis, inflating his chest, 'because it is unproven. We've had killers before who favour the garrotte. Foreigners, usually. And there are footpads who like to disable their victims that way. This could be the work of someone quite unrelated to Guttridge's activities on the scaffold. A murderous Italian, for instance.'

'The train was full of them, sir,' said Leeming, attempting humour.

Tallis glared at him. 'Are you being facetious, Sergeant?' 'No, no. I meant that there would have been villains on board.'

'Then I'll let it pass.'

'Thank you, Superintendent.'

'Now that you're finally here, let's have some work out of you.'

'I plan to spend the entire day sifting through all the information that I gathered about various executions.'

'You'll find that the Inspector has saved you some of the trouble.'

'How?'

'By getting here at the crack of dawn and applying himself to the task in hand.' He stepped in closer to the Sergeant. 'Do you see how efficient a man can be when he's not hampered by a wife and children?'

'Only a family can make life worthwhile, sir,' contended Leeming.

'Tell that to Inspector Colbeck. But you had better be quick about it. He'll be leaving soon to pay a second visit to Mrs Guttridge.'

Robert Colbeck offered his hand to help her up into the hansom cab. When he and Madeleine Andrews were safely ensconced inside, they were taken on a noisy, twisting, jolt-filled journey from Camden to Hoxton. They were driven down crowded streets, past busy markets, through heavy horse-drawn traffic and beneath a railway bridge over which a train decided to pass at that precise moment. The pungent smells of London were all around them. While Madeleine savoured the pleasure of being shoulder to shoulder with him, Colbeck patiently instructed her in what she had to do when they reached their destination.

'The most important thing is to win her confidence,' he told her. 'Don't ask her anything at all at first. Let her volunteer any information that she wishes to give us.'

'Yes, Robert.'

'If she has the feeling that you are there solely to interrogate her, we'll get no response at all. Let her come to you, Madeleine.'

'How will you introduce me?'

'As a friend. Someone travelling with me.'

'Not as a detective?' she teased.

'That would rather give the game away. Besides,' he said, 'you're not there to search for anything. All you have to do is to listen.'

She laughed. 'I'm used to doing that at home.'

'Was your father always so garrulous?'

'Not when my mother was alive,' she replied. 'In fact, the two of them were remarkably quiet. They'd just sit together happily of an evening without exchanging a word while I got on with my sketching. It's only since her death that Father became so talkative.'

'I can understand that, Madeleine.'

The coach eventually deposited them outside the house in Hoxton and they alighted to discover a fine drizzle starting to fall. An inquisitive dog was sniffing the petals of some flowers that had been left on the doorstep by a caring neighbour. At the approach of the visitors, the animal ran away and Colbeck was able to retrieve the posy. His gaze was then drawn to the noose that had been crudely painted on the front door of the house, clear evidence that Jacob Bransby's true identity had been revealed to the people of Hoxton.