Edward Marston - The excursion train

'We'll have to wait until daylight to do that.'

'Yes, Victor. In the meantime, we need to talk to Butterkiss.'

'Keep him away, Inspector! He almost did for me.'

'He tried his best to control that runaway horse.'

'But he still managed to overturn the cart,' said Leeming, ruefully. 'And while I hit the ground and took the impact, Constable Butterkiss simply landed on top of me. He wasn't really hurt at all.'

'Nevertheless, I'd like you to fetch him.'

'Now, sir?'

'If you feel well enough to go. His local knowledge is crucial to us. Give him my compliments and ask if he can spare us some time.'

'I don't need to ask that. If we're not very careful, he'd spare us twenty-four hours a day. The man is so blooming eager.'

'Eagerness is a good quality in a policeman.'

'Not if you have to ride beside him on a cart!' Leeming went to the door. 'Will you come down to meet him, sir?'

'No,' said Colbeck, glancing round, 'this room is more private. And nobody will be able to take a shot at me in here. Be careful how you go.'

'Yes, Inspector.'

'And you might ask him to bring needle and thread.'

'Why?'

'He was a tailor, wasn't he? Perhaps he can repair my coat.'

When the visitor called, George Butterkiss was regaling his wife with the story of how he had fought to control the galloping horse in the high street. He broke off to answer the door and was delighted to hear the summons delivered by Victor Leeming.

'I'll get my coat at once, Sergeant,' he said.

'Talking of coats,' said the other, detaining him with a hand, 'the Inspector has a problem. That bullet grazed his arm and left a hole in his sleeve. He's very particular about his clothing.'

'Inspector Colbeck would be a gift to any tailor.'

'Can you help him?'

'I'll need to see the damage first. A simple tear can be easily mended but, if the material has been shot away, it may be a question of sewing a new sleeve on to the coat.'

Butterkiss ran swiftly up the stairs. When he reappeared soon afterwards, he was back in police uniform even though he only had to walk thirty yards or so to the Saracen's Head. His enthusiasm was quite undiminished as they strolled along the pavement together. The Sergeant found it lowering.

'I haven't told you the good news,' said Butterkiss.

'Is there such a thing?'

'Yes, Sergeant. When I took the horse back and explained what had happened, the owner examined the animal carefully. It had no injuries at all. Isn't that a relief?'

'I'd have had it put down for what it did to me.'

'You can't blame the horse for bolting like that.'

'Well, I'm in no mood to congratulate it, I can tell you.'

'How do you feel now?'

'Vengeful.'

'I thought that we had a lucky escape.'

'What's lucky about being thrown head first from a moving cart?'

Butterkiss laughed. 'You will have your little joke, Sergeant.'

They turned into the Saracen's Head and went up the stairs. When they were let into Colbeck's room, they were each offered a chair. The Inspector perched on the edge of the bed.

'Thank you for coming so promptly, Constable,' he said.

'Feel free to call on me at any hour of the day,' urged Butterkiss.

'We need your guidance.'

'It's yours for the asking, Inspector.'

'Then I'd like you to take another look at these names,' said Colbeck, handing him the petition. 'Are you ready, Victor?'

'Yes, sir,' said Leeming, taking his notebook dutifully from his pocket. 'I'll write down all the relevant details.'

'We drew a blank with the first batch of names. Can you take us slowly through the next dozen or so, please?'

'If I can read their handwriting,' said Butterkiss, poring over the document. 'There are one or two signatures that defy even me.'

'Do your best, Constable.'

'You can always count on me to do that.'

Taking a deep breath, he identified the first name and described the man in detail. As soon as he learnt the age of the person, Colbeck interrupted and told him to move on to the next one. Leeming's pencil was busy, writing down names then crossing them out again. Of the fifteen people that Butterkiss recognised, only seven were deemed to be worth closer inspection.

'Thank you,' said Colbeck. 'Now turn to the women, please.'

Butterkiss lifted an eyebrow. 'The women, sir?'

'As opposed to the men,' explained Leeming.

'But a woman couldn't possibly have committed those murders on the trains nor could one have fired that shot at you, Inspector.'

'You are mistaken about that,' said Colbeck. 'Earlier this year, the Sergeant and I arrested a woman in Deptford who had shot her husband with his army revolver. The bullet went straight through his body and wounded the young lady who was in bed with him at the time.'

'Dear me!' exclaimed Butterkiss.

'Never underestimate the power of the weaker sex, Constable.'

'No, sir.'

He addressed himself to the petition once more and picked out the female names that he recognised. Most were found to be very unlikely suspects but three names joined the Sergeant's list.

'Did you make a note of their details, Victor?' asked Colbeck.

'Yes, Inspector.'

'Good. You can talk to those three ladies tomorrow.'

'What about me?' said Butterkiss.

'I have two important tasks for you, Constable.'

'Just tell me what they are.'

'I want you to find Amos Lockyer for me.'

'I'll do it somehow,' vowed Butterkiss. 'What's the other task?'

Colbeck reached for his frock coat. 'I wonder if you could look at this sleeve for me?' he said. 'Tell me if it's beyond repair.'

Winifred Hawkshaw was on tenterhooks. Whenever she heard a sound from the adjoining bedroom, she feared that her daughter had woken up and was either trying to open the door or to escape through the window. After a sleepless night, she used her key to let herself into Emily's room and found her fast asleep. Putting a chair beside the bed, Winifred sat down and kept vigil. It was an hour before the girl's eyelids fluttered. Her mother took hold of her hand.

'Good morning,' she said, sweetly.

Emily was confused. 'Where am I?'

'In your own bed, dear.'

'Is that you, Mother?'

'Yes.' Winifred rubbed her hand. 'It's me, Emily.'

'I feel strange. What happened?'

'The doctor gave you something to make you sleep.'

'The doctor?' The news brought Emily fully awake. 'You let a doctor touch me?'

'You'd passed out, Emily. When the Inspector brought you down from that tower, you were in a dead faint.'

The girl needed a moment to assimilate the information. When she remembered what she had tried to do, she brought a hand up to her mouth. Her eyes darted nervously around the room. She felt trapped.

'We need to talk,' said Winifred, softly.

'I've nothing to say.'

'Emily!'

'I haven't, Mother. I meant to jump off that tower.'

'No, I can't believe that,' insisted her mother. 'Is your life so bad that you could even think of such a thing? It's sinful, Emily. It's so cruel and selfish and you're neither of those things. Don't hurt us any more.'

'I wasn't doing it to hurt you.'

'Then what made you go up there in the first place?'

'I was afraid.'

'Of what?'

'Everything.'

Emily began to sob quietly and her mother bent over to hug her. The embrace lasted a long time and it seemed to help the girl because it stemmed her tears. She became so quiet that Winifred wondered if she had fallen asleep again. When she drew back, however, she saw that Emily's eyes were wide open, staring up at the ceiling.

'Promise me that you won't do anything like this again,' said Winifred, solemnly. 'Give me your sacred word of honour.' A bleak silence ensued. 'Did you hear what I said, Emily?'