‘They’re thoroughly shameful,’ said Tallis, ‘I agree. But they’re not of the same order as the killing and burning of the stationmaster.’
‘You’re not listening to me, man — there’s a
The bishop treated them to another sermon, emphasising the importance of the Church and the villainy of those who mocked and subverted it. In trying to grind Tallis into submission, however, he was achieving just the opposite. Colbeck could see the superintendent’s hackles slowly rising. Tallis might have verged on the obsequious at the start but he was rapidly losing respect from the bishop. As the holy tirade grew louder, Tallis brought it to a premature close by interrupting it with a shout of protest.
‘That’s enough, Bishop Phillpotts!’ he said, standing up. ‘You’ve convinced me that I was right to send Inspector Colbeck and Sergeant Leeming here and would never dream of withdrawing them at your behest.’
‘Do you dare to oppose my will?’ blustered Phillpotts.
‘I’ve come to see the situation in a new light.’
‘This is a local crime that should be solved locally without interference from people who know nothing of Exeter and my position within this county.’
‘Actually,’ said Barnes, piously, ‘it’s a much wider area than merely Devon. The diocese extends from the borders of Somerset and Dorset to the Isles of Scilly in Cornwall. Bishop Phillpotts has the care of an untold number of souls.’
‘That’s irrelevant,’ said Tallis.
The bishop sat up indignantly. ‘It’s a measure of my importance.’
‘I acknowledge that, Bishop, but I challenge your self-appointed right to send my officers packing. They are well versed in the art of detection and will remain here until the case is solved.’
Colbeck rose to his feet. ‘It’s in everyone’s interest that the killer is caught and brought to justice,’ he said, smoothly, ‘and the fewer handicaps we have to face, the sooner we can achieve that result. In short, Bishop, instead of trying to steer the investigation in the wrong direction altogether, I suggest that you simply let us get on with our job. We have no desire to remain in Exeter a minute longer than necessary.’
‘I couldn’t have put it better, Inspector,’ said Tallis.
‘This is insufferable,’ said Phillpotts, cheeks reddening. ‘I find your attitude both insolent and disgraceful. I will be writing to the commissioner at Scotland Yard to voice my displeasure.’
‘You have every right to do so, Bishop.’
‘This matter will not end here.’
‘It will only end when we have the killer in custody,’ said Colbeck.
Phillpotts turned to his secretary. ‘Show these gentlemen out.’
‘Yes, Bishop,’ said Barnes, moving to the door.
After an exchange of muted farewells, the visitors went out. When they left the building, Tallis was able to let his true feelings show. Taking out the bishop’s letter, he waved it in the air.
‘This is not Holy Writ,’ he said.
‘The bishop evidently thinks that it is, sir.’
‘He has all the attributes of a tyrant.’
In that respect, Colbeck mused, Tallis and the bishop were very similar: men of power who hated to have their authority questioned and who sought to quash any sign of what they felt was opposition. While Phillpotts operated in a spiritual sphere, Tallis was restricted to the temporal and both of them followed a policy of aggressive and unequivocal dictatorship. What Colbeck had witnessed in the library was, in microcosm, a skirmish between Church and State. Tallis had been the victor.
‘The fellow is not fit to hold his bishopric,’ he said, thrusting the letter back in his pocket. ‘He should be shunted into instant retirement.’
‘He probably feels the same way about us, sir,’ said Colbeck, ‘and is writing to the commissioner at this very moment to have us summarily dismissed.’
‘He’s nothing but a sanctimonious bully.’
‘Leave him to us, sir. He’s not your problem any longer. Now that you’ve put him in his place — your forthrightness, may I say, was exemplary — you can return to London to supervise the policing of the capital.’
‘Oh, I’m not stirring from here now.’
‘But the sergeant and I can manage on our own.’
‘Not if you have to withstand sniping from the bishop,’ said Tallis, seriously. ‘You need me to keep him at bay. Besides, an extra pair of hands is always useful in an investigation and this case is one of such unimaginable horror that I wish to make my contribution to it. I’m staying to see it through.’
Colbeck’s heart sank.
Madeleine could not keep away from it. Now that the wedding was imminent, she took every opportunity she could to walk past the place where the ceremony would be held. St Pancras New Church had been built over thirty years earlier and, like the rival Camden Chapel, looked more like a Greek temple than a traditional Anglican church. It stood on Euston Road and was intended to serve the population in the southern part of the parish. As she made her daily visit that morning, Madeleine looked up in awe at the spacious Ionic portico that ran the length of the western facade. Spearing the sky was a magnificent tower that enjoyed a view over the whole of Camden Town and its neighbouring parishes. She could scarcely believe that she’d be married to Robert Colbeck in such an imposing edifice and she recalled how nervous she’d been when they attended services there together to hear the banns being read. It would not be long before they were stepping out of the church as man and wife.
It made her reflect on the immense changes Colbeck had brought about in her life. As a rule, someone of her modest upbringing could never aspire to befriend — let alone to marry — a person from a distinctly higher class. Before he joined the police force, Colbeck had been a barrister, a well-educated man who’d inherited a large house and a clutch of servants. In social and intellectual terms, the gap between them had been wide, yet it had narrowed dramatically over the years. Quick to learn and keen to study, she’d borrowed countless books from Colbeck’s library. Then there was her skill as an artist. Under his tutelage, it had developed and blossomed, giving her immense pride. Madeleine had never been short of confidence but the fact that she could command an income of sorts was a huge fillip. What had really bonded her and Colbeck together, however, was her readiness to join in his investigative work when required. Though she lacked his insight and deductive powers, Madeleine had nevertheless been able to offer significant help at times and hoped to render it again, especially when she could do so as Mrs Colbeck.
Tearing herself away from the church, she walked slowly home, luxuriating in thoughts of her wedding day and of the blissful married life that would follow it. When she let herself into the house, she was still dreaming fondly of the future. Caleb Andrews brought her out of her reverie.
‘This came while you were out, Maddy,’ he said, giving her a letter.
‘It’s from Robert!’ she exclaimed, opening it at once.
Andrews stuck out his chest. ‘If he needs any assistance in Exeter,’ he said, ‘tell him that I’ll be happy to join him there — even if it means travelling on Brunel’s railway. I may not be a trained detective but I’ve got great experience of the world. That must count for something.’ He saw the distress on her face. ‘What’s the matter? Has something happened?’
‘Robert sends his apologies,’ she said, her lower lip trembling. ‘It seems that his case is going to take much longer than he anticipated.’ She looked hopelessly at her father. ‘What if it’s not solved by the time of the wedding?’
CHAPTER EIGHT
Though still unhappy about the continued absence from his family, Victor Leeming boarded the train that morning with a measure of interest because the journey would take him past a number of pumping stations used in an experiment in powering a train by atmospheric pressure. Leeming still didn’t quite understand what exactly it had involved but his curiosity had been aroused. He wanted to know more. In places like Starcross, however, the abandoned pumping station was a sad reminder of the failed atmospheric railway. What Leeming would remember most clearly of the small seaport were the turrets of nearby Powderham Castle, its extensive grounds stocked with
