duties. It must have slipped my mind.’ He looked up at the station clock. ‘The London train will be here in a minute. You’ll have to excuse me, Inspector.’
Colbeck stood aside to let him pass. ‘Off you go, sir.’
Straightening his shoulders, Woodford strode along the platform to greet the incoming train. Colbeck was left to look along the line of waiting passengers. Two of them caught his attention. A well-dressed man was escorting a middle-aged woman in the modest attire of a domestic servant. What interested Colbeck was the man’s gait. He was sure that he’d seen that walk somewhere before. The train was heard before it was actually seen. When it finally steamed into sight, it was belching out smoke and assaulting the eardrums of those in the station. The locomotive eventually squealed to a halt amid clouds of steam. Carriage doors opened and passengers alighted, their places quickly taken by those clambering aboard for the next stage of the journey.
Colbeck kept his eye on the couple he’d noticed earlier. Lifting his hat, the man gave the woman a kiss then held the door open so that she could board the train. Woodford was at his most officious, urging late arrivals to hurry up, then warning everyone still on the platform to stand clear. When he gave the signal for departure, the engine burst into life and flexed its muscles. The train slowly pulled out of the station on its way south. Colbeck strolled across to the man who’d sparked his interest, making sure that he kept between him and the exit.
‘Good morning,’ he said, cheerily. ‘It’s Mr Browne, isn’t it?’
‘I’m sorry,’ said the other, unperturbed. ‘My name is Jenkins.’
‘I remember seeing you yesterday at Mr Heygate’s funeral. You were wearing a very different disguise then.’
‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘Then perhaps you’d like to accompany me to the police station where we can sort the matter out,’ suggested Colbeck. ‘Superintendent Steel will be delighted to see you, I’m sure.’
Bagsy Browne tensed. ‘Who
‘My name is Inspector Colbeck of Scotland Yard.’
‘Then it’s time you bought yourself some spectacles, Inspector, because your eyesight has failed you. I’m not the man you think I am.’
‘Yes you are, Bagsy,’ said Colbeck. ‘You gave yourself away.’ He pointed to Browne’s ankles. ‘No gentleman would wear trousers that are too short or tie his cravat the wrong way. As for your shoes, they appear to be covered in mud. I can’t believe that any servant would let you leave the house in that condition.’
Browne’s eyes were flicking in every direction as he looked for a means of escape. It was clear that he couldn’t bluff his way past Colbeck. He fingered the dagger hidden under his coat.
‘Is that the weapon with which you stabbed Superintendent Tallis?’ asked Colbeck, extending a hand. ‘Give it to me, Mr Browne. You’re under arrest.’
‘Stay back!’ yelled Browne, pulling out the dagger.
‘You can’t kill both of us, sir.’
‘There’s only one of you.’
‘No, there isn’t. The gentleman who just came out of the refreshment room is my colleague, Sergeant Leeming. Over here, Victor!’ called Colbeck. ‘Come and meet Mr Browne.’
Leeming ran over to them. ‘Is this him, sir?’
‘Yes, it is. He’s either Bagsy Browne or a man with the most inept tailor. That dagger would indicate the former.’
Colbeck took a step forward and Browne flashed the weapon at him. Leeming was waiting for the opportunity to leap on the man they’d been chasing for so long. A small crowd watched from the safety of the waiting room. Woodford had retreated into the ticket office out of fear. Colbeck and Leeming edged slowly forward, each of them stepping back out of range when Browne jabbed the dagger at them. Seeing that he could never leave by means of the exit, Browne decided to trust in the speed of his legs. After a last thrust at the detectives, he jumped down on to the track and began to run at full pelt in the direction just taken by the train.
The detectives went after him. Shedding their coats and tossing away their hats, they leapt on to the track and sprinted after Browne. Colbeck was the fitter and more athletic of the two and opened up an immediate gap, leaving the sergeant puffing gamely in the rear. Browne was fast but Colbeck’s long, loping stride allowed him to gain ground on the fugitive. It was only a matter of time before he caught up with him. Realising that, Browne started to panic. There was another problem. He’d flung away his top hat but the tight-fitting clothes remained a handicap, restricting his movement and biting into his legs and body. His heart was pounding, his lungs were on fire and the first trickle of sweat ran down his collar.
Conscious that Colbeck was right behind him, he tried to produce a surge of speed but his legs wouldn’t obey. When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw that he’d been caught. A couple of yards behind him, Colbeck suddenly hurled himself forward in a dive and tackled him around the thighs, sending Browne crashing to the ground and knocking his head on the iron rail. Stunned by the impact, he lost his grip on the dagger and it rolled out of reach. Colbeck got to his feet, took Browne by the collar and hauled him to his feet. Blood dribbled from a gash on the man’s forehead. He was far too dazed to offer any resistance.
When Leeming came running up, he was panting hard and his brow was sleek with perspiration. Colbeck handed the prisoner over to him.
‘There you are, Victor,’ he said. ‘Clean him up and take him way.’
‘Your trousers are torn, sir,’ observed Leeming.
Colbeck looked down at the bad tear in one leg and the dirt on both knees.
‘I blame Mr Browne for that,’ he said, bitterly. ‘Before they hang him, I’ll send him a bill from my tailor. These trousers weren’t made for diving on a railway line. Why didn’t this fool have the sense to surrender?’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The news that Bagsy Browne had finally been captured was quickly disseminated throughout the city. It was the main topic of discussion in the pubs, shops and streets of Exeter. Henry Phillpotts was in the library in the bishop’s palace when he was told. He was delighted. At a stroke, the threat of attack he perceived as looming over him was swept away, allowing his vengeful streak to come to the fore.
‘The man should be hanged, drawn and quartered!’ he decreed.
‘That punishment was used for treason,’ Barnes pointed out, ‘and, in my opinion, it was unnecessarily barbaric. When the body was quartered, the four parts were sent to separate corners of the kingdom by way of a warning.’
‘It’s the fate that Browne deserves.’
‘Happily, it’s no longer on the statute book. Do you really wish the public to be treated to the grisly sight of a man being hanged until he’s on the point of expiry then cut down so that he can be sliced open and have his intestines drawn out? What purpose is served by such a hideous spectacle, Bishop?’
‘It would bring me satisfaction.’
‘It’s nothing short of butchery.’
‘And what about Browne’s butchery?’ retorted Phillpotts. ‘Have you so soon forgotten what he did to the stationmaster? He battered him to death, then burnt the body to provide amusement to the public. I may sound vindictive but I believe that we should reward cruelty with judicial cruelty.’
‘We must agree to differ on that score.’
‘The Old Testament teaches us to demand an eye for an eye.’
‘I’ve no wish to take issue with such a learned theologian as you,’ said Barnes. ‘That would be foolhardy and presumptuous. I simply feel that we should let the law take its course. You’re still too inflamed by the outrages that Browne directed at you to take an objective view.’
Phillpotts took several deep breaths before speaking. ‘Then it’s just as well that I have you to introduce a note of reason,’ he said, calming down. ‘I owe you my thanks. I’m getting old, Ralph. My stock of forgiveness has run low. In its place is this venomous impulse to inflict far more pain than I myself have suffered.’ His voice hardened. ‘But I still wish to watch Browne hang.’
‘That’s a popular sentiment in the city.’
