‘Did you feed him and change his water?’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Maud. ‘I spoilt him good and proper.’
Dorcas took off her hat and coat. ‘Thank you, Mother.’ She went into the passageway to hang them up on a peg. ‘I feel so weary,’ she said, coming back into the parlour. ‘I’ve been on my feet all day.’
‘What about tomorrow?’
‘What about it?’
‘Will you be the manageress again or will Mrs Rossiter be back?’
‘Oh, I don’t think there’s any chance of seeing her for a while. She’s not very well at all. According to Mr Woodford, the inspector wants her to see a doctor. He said that he’d look into it.’
‘What business is it of the inspector’s?’
‘He took pity on her,’ said Dorcas. ‘Inspector Colbeck is a very kind man and not at all like the policemen on duty in the streets. Because he could see how nervous I was, he treated me very gently. I’m sure that he was gentle with Mrs Rossiter as well.’ She flopped into a chair. ‘I wish I could say the same about Mr Woodford.’
‘Was he unkind to her?’
‘Yes, he spoke very harshly to Mrs Rossiter. He seemed to forget all the good service she’d given over the years and threatened to dismiss her on the spot.’
‘That’s dreadful!’ exclaimed Maud.
‘Luckily, Inspector Colbeck came to her rescue. Afterwards, he persuaded her to go home and took her there in a cab.’
‘It sounds to me as if Agnes Rossiter is really ill.’
‘She is, Mother, but it’s not like an ordinary disease.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I heard the inspector discussing it with Sergeant Leeming. He said that Mrs Rossiter was so overcome by grief that it had affected her mind.’
Illumined by dozens of candles, the cathedral was at its most beautiful and imposing, its ancient walls and soaring columns acting as an echo chamber for the choir. When she let herself in that evening, the rehearsal was at its height, well-trained voices merging in perfect harmony and rising up to heaven with mellifluous adoration. Agnes Rossiter was in no mood to join in the praise of a God who’d signally failed her. The loss of her first husband had been a shattering experience but the death of Joel Heygate was somehow even more devastating. She’d known happiness with her husband and could look back on years of pleasure. Fond memories could console her. Such memories of Heygate didn’t exist. What the stationmaster had represented was the promise of a better life for her, an enrichment of her world, a redemption. Instead of sharing a dull and arid existence with her sister, she would have been a married woman again with all the position and sense of fulfilment that it brought. Yet it was not to be. Her last chance of true happiness had been snatched away. She felt utterly betrayed.
She might be in God’s house but she no longer felt either welcome or respectful there. Indeed, the whole edifice seemed to her to be a huge architectural mistake, dedicated to a supreme being who didn’t exist or, if he did, had a brutal streak. She had felt the full impact of that brutality, a helpless victim who’d had all hope and ambition squeezed out of her life by a malign act. It was infuriating. As her rage mounted inside her, she suddenly gathered up the skirts of her black dress and ran down the nave, screaming at the top of her voice. The choir were still singing as she raced past them, ran up the altar steps and made for the crucifix, snatching it up and brandishing it like the standard of a defeated army.
It was minutes before they could overpower her.
When they were shown into the library at the bishop’s palace next morning, Colbeck was surprised how timid Edward Tallis appeared. Ordinarily, he was fearless, having seen action during his army career and having confronted armed criminals many times. Yet here he was, looking round tentatively like a small child who has stumbled into a strange room. Colbeck knew that the superintendent was a devout man but had never expected him to be quite so reverential in the presence of a bishop. He suspected that Tallis’s attitude might change when he actually met Henry Phillpotts. He also suspected that they were deliberately being kept waiting. It gave Colbeck the opportunity to take a closer look at the bookshelves, filled to capacity with leather-bound tomes and a veritable treasure trove of smaller volumes. He was interested to see so many collections of poetry tucked away among the endless religious studies. Milton occupied pride of place on one shelf.
Without warning, the door opened and the bishop sailed in with his secretary trotting at his heels. Phillpotts made for the chair behind his desk.
‘I’m sorry for the delay,’ he said without a trace of apology in his voice, ‘but I had to speak to the choirmaster. Apparently, we had a madwoman in the cathedral yesterday, daring to grab the crucifix from the altar. The police had to be called to remove her. For an act of such wanton sacrilege, she needs locking up in perpetuity.’
‘I beg to differ, Bishop,’ said Colbeck. ‘As it happens, I know the lady and was told about the incident by Superintendent Steel. Her name is Mrs Agnes Rossiter and she deserves compassion rather than condemnation. When you’re apprised of the full details, you may reach the same conclusion. However,’ he went on, indicating his companion, ‘you haven’t met Superintendent Tallis yet, have you?’
Introductions were made and they all sat down. Tallis perched on the edge of his chair, wishing that he could have a cigar to settle his nerves. Colbeck was completely at ease. Ralph Barnes sat at the side of the desk, interested to view the encounter. The bishop pretended to peruse a document in front of him before setting it aside and looking up. He gave Tallis a thin-lipped smile of disdain.
‘I take it that you’ve come to rid us of Inspector Colbeck and his assistant,’ he said. ‘Please make your apology then take the pair of them away from Exeter.’
‘If one of my detectives has inadvertently upset you, Bishop,’ said Tallis with deference, ‘then I apologise on his behalf. What I will not do, however, is to withdraw him from the investigation.’
Phillpotts bridled. ‘Didn’t you read my letter?’
‘I read it several times.’
‘Then why is there any prevarication?’
‘My detectives were engaged by the South Devon Railway and it only lies within the power of Mr Quinnell to dispense with their services.’
‘Quinnell doesn’t understand the implications of this crime,’ said the bishop, fussily. ‘It was committed as a direct affront to me by a man who has already behaved atrociously by fouling my lawn in broad daylight.’
‘The bishop is alluding to Bagsy Browne,’ explained Colbeck.
Phillpotts glowered. ‘Browne is an incorrigible heathen.’
‘From what I hear,’ said Tallis, ‘he’s a very violent man. When a prison warder tried to arrest him last night, Browne beat the fellow to a pulp.’
‘He must be caught, tried and hanged.’
‘I accept that he must be caught and tried,’ said Colbeck, ‘but he should only face execution if he turns out to be the stationmaster’s killer.’
‘We
‘Not to me, Bishop.’
‘I, too, would need more evidence,’ said Tallis. ‘When we heard about the attack on the warder last evening, the inspector made an interesting point.’
‘It made me look at Browne in a slightly different way,’ said Colbeck, taking his cue. ‘If he really was a ruthless killer, why didn’t he murder the prison warder? After all, he had every reason to loathe the man. Yet he let him off with a beating. It may be that Browne is not the wild animal you portray him as, Bishop.’
‘He’s been a thorn in my flesh for years,’ said Phillpotts, scowling. ‘Isn’t that true, Ralph?’
‘Yes,’ replied the secretary, dutifully.
‘List a few of his outrages.’
Barnes winced. ‘There are so many,’ he said, ‘that I don’t know where to start. I suppose one of the worst examples of his loutish behaviour was during the procession held through the streets last Christmas when there was snow on the ground. Browne dislodged the bishop’s mitre with a snowball. Then there was wilful damage to church property in Teignmouth,’ he went on, ‘and — most reprehensible of all in my opinion — he was caught half- naked with a loose woman on consecrated ground. They had to be prised apart.’
‘These crimes were all personal attacks on
