The Stationmaster's farewell

‘But he’s not here,’ said Dorcas in despair.

‘Yes he is, and I won’t rest until I find him.’

Lifting her chin, Mrs Rossiter charged off, elbowing her way through the bellowing horde as she continued her search. Dorcas felt sorry for her. She’d never seen the other woman so close to hysteria. Mrs Rossiter had such self-control as a rule that her behaviour was troubling.

‘Do you think we should go after her, Father?’ she asked.

‘Leave her be.’

‘But she’s wasting her time.’

‘I know,’ he said, sadly. ‘One thing is certain. Joel Heygate is not here.’

A rousing cheer went up as the blaze suddenly strengthened and poked tongues of flame at the cathedral in blatant mockery. Smoke thickened and sparks fell in ever-widening showers of radiance. Fireworks exploded like a volley from an infantry regiment. The Bishop of Exeter had perished with the other guys tossed onto the bonfire and the inferno roared on. It would be several hours before it burnt itself out and exposed the charred body of a human being among the embers. Crazed she might be, but Mrs Rossiter’s instincts had been sound.

The stationmaster was there, after all.

CHAPTER TWO

‘Exeter!’ cried Leeming in dismay.

‘It’s in Devon,’ explained Tallis. ‘In fact, it’s the county town.’

‘I know where it is, sir, and that’s a very long way away. Why can’t we simply investigate crimes here in London? That’s where we live. Going to Exeter may mean leaving my family for days on end.’

Tallis was acerbic. ‘I don’t care if it’s months on end, Sergeant. Duty comes first. If you wish to remain a detective, you must be prepared to go where necessity dictates.’ He raised a menacing eyebrow. ‘I take it that you are desirous of retaining your position at Scotland Yard? If not, you can easily wear a uniform instead and pound the streets in all weathers as a humble constable.’

‘No, no,’ said Leeming, recalling grim memories of his days on the beat. ‘I’m much happier here, Superintendent. It’s a privilege to work under you. I’ll go where I’m sent — as long as it’s not to America, that is.’

Colbeck was amused. ‘I thought that you enjoyed our voyage, Victor.’

‘Whatever gave you that idea? The only thing I enjoyed was stepping back on to dry land again. Sailing the Atlantic was a torment from start to finish. For days afterwards my legs were wobbly.’

‘But it was a successful venture. That’s what counts. We caught them.’

‘Exactly,’ said Tallis, slapping his desk for emphasis. ‘We sent a clear message to the criminal fraternity. No matter how far they run, they can’t escape us.’

‘Yet you opposed the notion at the time,’ Colbeck reminded him.

‘That’s not true at all, Inspector.’

‘You thought the idea impractical because of the cost involved.’

‘That’s right, sir,’ said Leeming. ‘You were against it. So was I.’

Earlier that year, Colbeck and Leeming had pursued two criminals to New York City in order to arrest them and have them extradited. Being apart from his wife and two children for several weeks had been an ordeal for the sergeant and he’d promised his family that he’d never desert them for that length of time again. He was not the only one who found the prospect of a visit to Exeter unappealing. Colbeck had even more reason to stay in the capital. He was due to get married at the end of the month and did not wish the wedding plans to be hampered by a protracted investigation in another part of the country. He pressed for details.

‘What can you tell us, Superintendent?’ he asked.

‘A man was burnt to death last night in a bonfire in the cathedral close,’ said Tallis. ‘He’s believed to be a stationmaster by the name of Joel Heygate. That’s why the South Devon Railway sought my help.’

What he omitted to say was that the telegraph he held in his hand specifically requested assistance from Robert Colbeck rather than from him. The inspector had been so effective at solving crimes connected with the railway system that he was routinely known in the press as the Railway Detective. It was one reason for the latent tension between the two men. Edward Tallis both admired and resented Colbeck. While he freely acknowledged his brilliance, he was annoyed that the inspector’s exploits overshadowed his own appreciable efforts. Tallis was senior to Colbeck, yet it was the latter who won all the plaudits. It rankled.

They were in the superintendent’s office and there was a whiff of stale cigar smoke in the air. Seated behind his desk, Tallis stroked his moustache as he read the telegraph once more. He deliberately kept the detectives standing. As a retired major in the Indian army, he liked to remind those beneath him of their inferior rank.

‘You are to leave on the next available train,’ he told them.

Colbeck nodded. ‘I can check the timetable in my copy of Bradshaw.’

‘Won’t I have time to go home first?’ complained Leeming.

‘No,’ said Tallis. ‘You keep a change of clothing here for just such a situation as this. Time is of the essence. We can’t have you running back to your wife whenever you have to leave London.’

‘Estelle will wonder where I am.’

‘Send her a message, man.’

‘It’s not the same, sir.’

‘I’ll have to take your word for that,’ said Tallis, coldly. ‘Thankfully, I am unfettered by marital obligations. I had the sense to remain single so that I could pursue my career without any distractions. You know my credo. Being a detective is not an occupation — it’s a way of life. Nothing else matters.’

‘I could take issue with you on that score,’ said Colbeck, levelly, ‘but this is not the time to do so.’ He extended a hand. ‘Might I see the telegraph, please?’

‘There’s no need. I’ve told you everything that it contains.’ Tallis slipped the telegraph into a drawer. ‘I suggest that you make your travel arrangements.’

‘Whom do we contact when we arrive?’

‘The man who got in touch with me is a Mr Gervase Quinnell of the South Devon Railway. He’ll be awaiting you.’

‘What about the local constabulary?’

‘Their investigation has probably started.’

‘Then why can’t we let them get on with it?’ asked Leeming, peevishly. ‘They know Exeter and its people much better than we do.’

‘Mr Quinnell clearly has little faith in them,’ said Tallis, ‘or he wouldn’t have turned to me. He views this as essentially a railway crime and knows my reputation.’

‘But there’s no proof that the victim is the stationmaster, is there?’ observed Colbeck. ‘If he was found under a bonfire, identification would have been very difficult. His clothing would have been destroyed and his face and body horribly disfigured. There’s another thing,’ he added. ‘You say that he was burnt to death. Is there any evidence of that? A bonfire is a public event. The victim could hardly be hurled alive into the blaze in front of a large crowd. Isn’t it more likely that he was killed beforehand? The body must have already been hidden under the bonfire when it was set alight. It’s the most logical supposition.’

‘That’s idle speculation.’

‘I think it’s a fair point,’ said Leeming.

‘Be quiet, Sergeant. Nobody asked for your opinion.’

‘It’s not my opinion, sir, it’s the inspector’s and I agree with it.’

‘Shut up, man!’

‘What’s the exact wording in the telegraph?’ wondered Colbeck.

Tallis was impatient. ‘All that need concern you is that our help has been sought. That’s why I’m sending you to Devon, so please stop quibbling. As for you, Sergeant,’ he said, reserving his sarcasm for Leeming, ‘I will put an advertisement in all the national newspapers, requesting any villains intending to commit a crime on the railway to confine their activities to London and its environs. Will that content you?’