Edward Marston - Murder on the Brighton express

There was no response from the house itself but he heard a cry from the outhouse on the other side of the courtyard. The voice was too indistinct for him to hear the exact words but he could tell that a woman was in distress. He called Leeming and the sergeant bent down so that Colbeck could step on to his back and jump over the fence. Running to the outhouse, he tried the door and found it locked.

'Who's that inside?' he asked.

'I'm Mrs Dorothea Jamieson,' she answered.

'My name is Detective Inspector Colbeck and I was hoping to speak to your husband. Is he here?'

'No, Inspector – can you get me out?' she begged.

'Stand back from the door.'

After trying to kick it open, he put his shoulder to the timber but it still would not budge. Colbeck looked around and saw a plank of wood nearby. Picking it up, he used it like a battering ram to pound away at the door. After resisting for a short while, the lock suddenly snapped and the door was flung back on its hinges.

Crouching in the corner by the mattress was the pathetic figure of Dorothea Jamieson. She looked up with a fear that was tempered with relief. Someone had rescued her at last. Bursting into tears, she got up and hurled herself into Colbeck's arms.

He caught the first available train to London even though it stopped at various stations on the way. Finding an empty carriage near the front, Captain Jamieson sat down and opened the newspaper he had just bought. It was not merely something to divert him on the journey. It would act as kindling when he burnt down Ezra Follis's house and destroyed the scene of his wife's betrayal. Once that was done, he could seal the clergyman's fate by hiring a more reliable killer. Only when his wife wept over Follis's dead body would his vengeful feelings be appeased.

The signal was given, the locomotive started up and the train moved slowly along in a series of jangling harmonies. Jamieson was happy to be on his way to exact retribution. What he did not realise was that two men had just run along the platform beside the moving train and leapt into the last carriage.

'That was dangerous,' said Victor Leeming, breathlessly, as he sat down. 'If I'm forced to travel by train, I at least expect it to be standing still when I get on it.'

'We had to catch this one,' said Colbeck, 'whatever the risk.'

'How can you be sure that he's on it?'

'You heard what his wife told us. Captain Jamieson left only minutes before we arrived. He'd have got to the station not long ahead of us. Since I've been travelling up and down to Brighton so much, I learnt the timetable by heart. This was the first possible train he could have caught.'

'I bet he didn't wait until it was moving,' said Leeming.

The carriage was largely empty. Their only companion was an elderly man trying to read a book through his monocle. He ignored them studiously. Leeming leant in close to whisper to Colbeck.

'Why do you think he locked his wife up, sir?'

'I don't know, Victor,' replied the other, 'but I wouldn't advise you to do it to Estelle by way of a birthday present. It could never compete with a pretty new bonnet and shawl.'

The train chugged on until Hassocks Gate station came into sight. It gradually slowed down and ran beside the platform until stopping with a jerk. Colbeck got out alone, leaving the sergeant at the rear of the train to cut off any escape attempt by their quarry. Walking along the platform, Colbeck glanced into each carriage, searching for the bearded man whose description he now had. Since additional passengers had just joined it, the train was half-full. There were lots of faces to check. Colbeck saw a couple of men with beards but they were the wrong age and the wrong shape to be Alexander Jamieson.

It was a long train at a short stop. Before the inspector had checked every carriage, it began to move again. He trotted alongside it, peering into the few remaining carriages. When he spotted the man with the black beard, he knew that he had found his suspect. Pulling open the door, Colbeck dived in and closed it behind him.

'Captain Jamieson?' he asked.

'Who the devil are you?' demanded the other.

'My name is Inspector Colbeck and I've come to arrest you.'

Jamieson's reaction was immediate. He threw a punch that caught Colbeck on the chin and dazed him for a moment. Trying to get away, Jamieson opened the door to jump down on to the line, only to find that another train was coming towards them. In desperation, he instead climbed upwards on to the roof of the carriage, hoping to work his way back along the train so that he could leap off at the next station while Colbeck was still in the carriage near the front.

Having spent most of his life at sea, Jamieson had a sailor's nimbleness and sense of balance. He felt secure on the roof of a moving train and safe from any pursuit. He had not taken account of the detective's resolve and agility. Removing his hat, Colbeck followed him through the door and got a firm grip before pulling himself up on to the roof. Jamieson was already two carriages away from him but his movement was hampered by the luggage that had been stored on top of the train. Colbeck, too, had to clamber over trunks, valises and hatboxes while maintaining his balance on the swaying roof. Jamieson was amazed to see that he was being followed.

'Give yourself up, Captain Jamieson,' advised Colbeck, getting closer all the time. 'There's no escape. I have another man on the train to help me. You can't elude the both of us.'

'We'll see about that,' snarled the other.

'We're trained detectives, sir, well used to arresting violent suspects. We're not a defenceless woman like your wife whom you can lock up in your outhouse.'

Jamieson was startled. 'How do you know about that?'

'We know everything about you. We know what you paid Dick Chiffney to do and why you hate the Reverend Follis. You can either surrender while it's safe to do so,' said Colbeck, 'or risk being thrown off onto the rails. Which is it to be?'

'Neither,' said Jamieson, walking towards him and snatching up a leather trunk. 'Goodbye, Inspector.'

He hurled the trunk with all his strength. Had it struck him, Colbeck would have been knocked off the train altogether. As it was, he ducked beneath the missile and let it go past his head. Before Jamieson could pick up another piece of luggage, Colbeck leapt on to the next carriage and tackled him around the legs. As he fell backwards, Jamieson's head struck the edge of another trunk and he was momentarily stunned. Colbeck seized his advantage, getting on top of him and pummelling away with both fists. The black beard was soon stained with blood.

Jamieson fought back, writhing and bucking until he managed to dislodge Colbeck. The two of them were now perilously close to the edge of the roof, grappling wildly as they tried to get the upper hand. Jamieson was strong, doing all he could to force Colbeck off the train and send him to certain death. For his part, the detective wanted to capture his man alive. He had already lost Chiffney under the wheels of a locomotive. He was determined that a train would not rob him of another arrest.

As they wrestled among the items of luggage, some of them were knocked off the roof and bounced on the adjacent track. Colbeck did not wish to join them. Jamieson went for his neck, using both thumbs to press down hard in an effort to strangle him. Colbeck responded at once, getting a hand under the other man's chin and pushing it up with all his energy until Jamieson's head was forced so far back that he had to release his grip on Colbeck's neck.

Before he could get another hold on his adversary, Jamieson was thrown sideways by Colbeck then swiftly mounted. Though he punched him time and again in the face, Colbeck could not subdue him completely. He chose another way to bring the encounter to a decisive end. Rising to his feet, he grabbed a trunk and lifted it high with both hands. When Jamieson tried to get up, Colbeck brought the heavy object crashing down on his head. It knocked him senseless. Jamieson did not feel the handcuffs as they were put on his wrists.