Edward Marston - The Silver Locomotive mystery

'So he might bear a grudge against Mr Kellow.'

'I think it unlikely that anyone would do that, Inspector.'

'Why?'

'He was so shy and self-effacing. He was the sort of person who would run a mile from an argument. At least,' said Buckmaster, 'that's my estimate of him. Miss Linnane's will be the same. The only way to get at the truth, of course, is to talk to Mr Voke himself.'

'Precisely,' agreed Colbeck, getting up from the chair. 'I expect that my colleague, Sergeant Leeming, will be doing that very soon.'

It was late evening when Victor Leeming finally reached the little shop in Wood Street. His first duty on returning to London had been to call in at Scotland Yard in order to apprise Superintendent Tallis of the latest developments. Thanks to a message transmitted by telegraph, the superintendent was in possession of news that the sergeant had not heard. The South Wales Railway Company was offering a large reward for information leading to the capture of the person or persons responsible for the murder of Hugh Kellow. Notice of the reward would be carried the following morning in London newspapers as well as in more local periodicals. Leeming and Colbeck would not be working in the relative anonymity of Wales. The metropolitan press would now be watching them as well.

Chastened by this intelligence, Leeming went off in a hansom cab to visit Leonard Voke. It was now dark and the silversmith had retired early to bed. Roused from his sleep, Voke put on a dressing gown and spoke to the sergeant through an open upstairs window. Leeming removed his hat to address the man. Viewed from above in the half-dark, he was an unprepossessing visitor, his upturned face, illumined by the moon, looking more like that of a desperate criminal than of an officer of the law. It took the sergeant minutes to convince the old man of his identity. Only the mention of important news relating to Hugh Kellow persuaded Voke to come to the front door.

When he opened it a few inches, he peered through the crack to appraise Leeming. Holding an oil lamp in one hand, he eventually opened the door with the other. Once his visitor was inside the premises, Voke locked the door and pushed home three large bolts. He then took Leeming into a room at the rear of the shop and set the lamp down on the table. The silversmith's bleary eyes blinked behind his spectacles.

'What's this about my assistant?' he asked.

'Perhaps you'd better sit down before I tell you, sir,' advised Leeming. 'I bring bad tidings.'

Voke lowered himself into a chair. 'What sort of bad tidings?' he said, worriedly. 'Hugh hasn't been involved in an accident, has he?'

'It's worse than that, Mr Voke. Prepare yourself for a shock. It's my sad duty to tell you that Mr Kellow was murdered early today in a hotel room in Cardiff.'

Recoiling as if from a blow, Voke seemed about to fall off his chair. He put a steadying hand on the table. Tears streamed down his face and he removed his spectacles to brush them away with the back of his hand. During his years in the police force, Leeming had often been called upon to pass on dire news to grieving parents. It was always a distressing duty for him because there was no way to soften the pain. Voke was thunderstruck, reacting like a father whose favourite son had just been killed. Leeming gave him time to recover.

'You have my deepest sympathy, sir,' he said at length.

Voke was still stunned. 'Who could possibly wish to harm Hugh?' he said, helplessly. 'A more likeable and blameless young man doesn't exist upon this earth. Hugh Kellow was much more than an assistant to me, sergeant. He was my mainstay. I put absolute trust in him. That's why I let him deliver a silver coffee pot to a client in Cardiff.' Realisation suddenly hit him. 'Dear God! Someone stole it, didn't they? That was the reason Hugh was murdered!'

'Yes, sir – the coffee pot has disappeared.'

'Then it's my fault,' confessed the old man, beating his chest with a palm. 'This is all my doing. I should have paid someone to act as an escort for him. I exposed him to unnecessary danger.'

'You weren't to know that someone had designs on the item. I gather that it was concealed in a leather bag.'

'It was, Sergeant Leeming, and I told Hugh that he must not take it out for any reason whatsoever. I even went with him to Paddington Station to select a first class carriage in which he could travel safely. All that Hugh had to do,' Voke went on, 'was to deliver the coffee pot to Mrs Tomkins at the address I gave him.'

'And, presumably, collect some money,' noted Leeming.

'Of course – fifty pounds had already been paid on deposit. The balance was to be collected by Hugh. That's how much I trusted my assistant, you see. I let him collect a substantial amount of money on my behalf. I have to tell you,' he said, replacing his spectacles, 'that I couldn't have entrusted my own son with such an errand. Stephen would have been liable to temptation.'

The detective was shaken. 'He would surely not have stolen from his own father?'

'It would not have been the first time, Sergeant. But enough of Stephen,' he said, bitterly. 'I've disowned him. He's no longer welcome here and has no claim on the business. Unlike Hugh, he would never apply himself. That's the secret of the silversmith's trade in one simple word – application.'

'I can't imagine ever disowning either of my children. I love them too dearly. In any case,' said Leeming, earnestly, 'my wife would never allow such a thing to happen. I'm surprised that Mrs Voke was ready to renounce her own child.'

Voke stifled a sob. 'My wife died a couple of years ago,' he said. 'While she was alive, Stephen was far less trouble. Alice knew how to handle him. Once she had gone, he became surly and disobedient.'

'When did you and he come to the parting of the ways?'

'It must have been two or three months ago.'

'Would you have started work on that coffee pot by then?'

'Oh, yes,' replied Voke, 'that was a bone of contention. Because my eyesight is fading a little, I needed someone else to do the more intricate work on that locomotive. Stephen expected that I'd turn to him but Hugh was always my first choice.'

'So your son was aware of the details of the commission?'

'Naturally – why do you ask?'

'Someone lay in wait for Mr Kellow,' said Leeming, 'so they must have known that he was carrying something of great value. Apart from your son, can you suggest anyone else who might have known what your assistant's movements would be?'

'No,' said Voke, 'I would never disclose such details. Hugh has delivered expensive items before without mishap, largely, I suspect, because nobody realised what he was carrying.'

'Could Mr Kellow have confided to anybody that he was going to Cardiff today?'

'I warned him against doing so, Sergeant. Besides, in whom could he confide? He had few friends and he never talked to his sister about his work here.'

'Does his sister live in London?'

'Yes – she's in service at a house in Mayfair.'

'Do you have an address for her, Mr Voke? She needs to be informed of what's happened – and so do his parents.'

'Hugh and Effie are orphans, I'm afraid. They lost their parents. As to her address, I can't help you. I only met Effie Kellow a couple of times. She was a pretty girl. This horrible news will destroy her,' said Voke, sorrowfully. 'She looked up to her brother and Hugh was very kind to her. I know that he gave her money from time to time.'

'Is there any way of finding her address?'

'You might ask Mrs Jennings. She was Hugh's landlady and has a house not far away from here. But don't call on her this late,' he cautioned. 'Mrs Jennings would never open the door to a stranger after dark even if he is a detective.' Voke reached across to open a drawer in a sideboard and took out a pencil and some paper. Closing the drawer again, he scribbled an address and handed it to Leeming. 'That's where Hugh lived,' he said. 'His landlady will be terribly upset at what happened. I know how fond she was of him.'