Leeming told him about the investigation and Shanklin’s back arched defensively. He peered at his visitor through a pair of wire-framed spectacles. Careful not to interrupt the narrative, he paused for a full minute when it was finally concluded.
‘In what possible way can I help you, Sergeant?’
‘I’d like to hear why you left the LB&SCR,’ said Leeming.
‘I didn’t leave of my own volition,’ admitted Shanklin. ‘I was summarily dismissed, as I’m sure you know. Is that what brought you here?’ he went on angrily. ‘You believe that I had something to do with that terrible accident?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Then why bother me?’
‘Inspector Colbeck thought you might be able to assist us, Mr Shanklin. Having worked for the company, you must have been very familiar with the rest of the management and with the directors.’
‘I was there a long time, Sergeant.’
‘Would you describe it as a happy company?’
‘As happy as most, I daresay,’ replied Shanklin. ‘Every company has its inner tensions and petty rivalries – I’m sure that you have some of those at Scotland Yard.’
‘We certainly have plenty of tension,’ conceded Leeming as an image of Superintendent Tallis popped into his mind. ‘I think it’s a means of keeping us on our toes. And, of course, there’s always rivalry between the uniformed branch and the plain clothes division. But,’ he continued, one eye on Shanklin, ‘at least we don’t have a board of directors breathing down our necks.’
‘Then you are supremely fortunate.’
‘You say that with some bitterness, sir.’
‘I’ve good cause to do so.’
Leeming waited for him to explain what he meant but Shanklin remained silent. Sitting back in his chair, he folded his arms in what looked like a mild show of defiance. He was clearly unwilling to talk about his past. Leeming had to chisel the facts out of him.
‘You were well-regarded at the LB&SCR, I hear,’ said Leeming.
‘I earned that regard.’
‘Six months ago, you had another promotion.’
‘Deservedly,’ said Shanklin.
‘Then it’s odd that the company should let you go.’
‘It was odd and unjust.’
‘Why was that, sir?’
Shanklin flicked a hand. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘It does to me,’ insisted Leeming.
‘I’d rather forget the whole thing, Sergeant. It was painful at the time, especially as I was given no chance to defend myself. I have a new job in another company now and that’s where my loyalties lie.’
‘What did you think when you heard the news of the crash?’
‘I was profoundly shocked,’ said Shanklin, ‘as anyone would be at such horrific news. Deaths and injuries on the railway always disturb me.’
‘The very thought of them terrifies me,’ said Leeming.
‘When I worked for the LB&SCR, my job entailed responsibility for safety on the line. If there was even the slightest mishap, I felt it as a personal failure.’ He bit his lip. ‘I’m just relieved that I was not still with the company when this disaster occurred.’
‘Did you know anyone who might have travelled on the express?’
‘Probably.’
‘Could you give me their names, please?’
‘No,’ said Shanklin, curtly.
‘But you do know people who travel on that train regularly?’
‘What are you trying to get at, Sergeant Leeming?’
‘Could one of them, perhaps, be Mr Horace Bardwell?’
Shanklin took refuge in silence once more, staring fixedly at his desk and fiddling nervously with a sheet of paper. Leeming could see how concerned the man was. He did not, however, press him. He watched and waited until Shanklin was ready to speak.
‘Tell me, Sergeant,’ he began, turning to look up at him.
‘Have you ever been certain of a man’s guilt yet unable to prove it?’
‘That’s happened to me a number of times, sir,’ said Leeming, ruefully. ‘I’ve often had to watch guilty men walk free from court because I was unable to find enough evidence to convict them.’
‘Then you’ll understand
‘I don’t follow.’
‘I lacked sufficient evidence.’
Leeming blinked. ‘Are you accusing Mr Bardwell of a crime?’
‘Yes,’ said Shanklin, gloomily, ‘and a lot of good it did me. I lost my job, my friends and my reputation at the LB&SCR. Mr Bardwell saw to that.
‘What charge would you lay against him, sir?’
‘Fraud.’
‘That’s a very serious accusation.’
‘I had good reason to make it, believe me. It was my misfortune to stumble upon a document written by Horace Bardwell, a man whom I had always respected. Well,’ said Shanklin, grinding his teeth, ‘I don’t respect him now.’
‘Why is that, sir?’
‘What I had seen was an attempt to falsify our share prospectus, to lure investors into parting with their money on the strength of bogus promises. I need hardly tell you that the Railway Mania of the last decade led to all kinds of financial upheavals.’
‘Yes,’ said Leeming. ‘People no longer think that investing in a railway company is a licence to print money.’
‘Dividends are shrinking on all sides, Sergeant. I doubt if the LB&SCR will be able to pay its shareholders more than six per cent next year, possibly less.’
‘I assume that Mr Bardwell was offering much more.’
‘He was trying to defraud people,’ said Shanklin with disgust. ‘The prospectus was full of misleading statements and downright lies. I was so outraged that I confronted him about it.’
‘How did he react?’ wondered Leeming.
‘First of all, he pretended that it was not his handwriting. Then, when that excuse wouldn’t work, he claimed that it was a first draft that he intended to change substantially. I refused to accept that and Mr Bardwell became angry. He threatened to ruin me.’
‘Why didn’t you report your findings to the other directors?’
‘That’s exactly what I did, Sergeant,’ replied Shanklin. ‘They asked me to produce evidence but the document in question had already been destroyed by Mr Bardwell. It was his word against mine.’ He ran a hand over his bald pate. ‘I was dismissed on the spot.’
While he was not convinced that he had heard the whole story, Leeming did not ask for more detail. What he had uncovered was a justifiable grudge against Bardwell, one strong enough, perhaps, to impel Shanklin to seek revenge against the man.
‘Horace Bardwell was injured in that crash,’ said Leeming. ‘How would you feel if you learnt that he had, in fact, been killed?’
Shanklin was forthright. ‘I’d be absolutely delighted.’
During his visit to the hospital, Colbeck took the opportunity to speak to a number of the survivors of the crash, comparing their estimates of the speed at which the train was travelling and the way they had reacted when
