The Stationmaster's farewell

‘He didn’t kill the stationmaster.’

‘I know he didn’t,’ said Steel, sardonically. ‘And I suppose that he didn’t attack a prison warder or rescue you from custody or stab a senior detective in the arm in the process. He’s completely innocent, isn’t he?’

‘There’s no need to sneer.’

‘We’ve finally nailed him, Adeline. He’s going to hang.’

‘No!’ she exclaimed, rattling the bars. She made an effort to compose herself. ‘I’d like to change the evidence I gave to you and Inspector Colbeck.’

‘Do you mean that you’re ready to confess that you’re an accessory to the murder?’

‘I want you to know the bleeding truth.’ She bit her lip. ‘I told you that I wasn’t with Bagsy on the night before Guy Fawkes Day. Well, I lied to you.’

‘I can’t recall an occasion when you didn’t lie to me, Adeline.’

‘Bagsy was with me that night.’

‘So you were his accomplice, after all.’

‘No, we spent the whole night in bed together.’

‘Was that after he’d killed the stationmaster?’

‘He never went anywhere near Mr Heygate. Why should he?’

‘It’s called revenge.’

‘Bagsy’s idea of revenge is to break someone’s jaw or flatten their nose.’

‘He did a lot more than that to Joel Heygate,’ said Steel. ‘He all but took his head off. But now that we know you were with him all night, perhaps you could explain how you got the body from the scene of the crime to the bonfire.’

‘We did nothing of the kind. We were in bed. I swear it.’

‘You swore earlier that you never even saw him that night.’

She tossed her hair. ‘I did that because I was angry with him.’

‘How can you be angry with a man who got you out of a police cell?’ asked Steel. ‘You should have gone down on your bended knees and thanked him.’

‘I did thank him, Superintendent. Then he told me what he was going to do.’

‘And what was that?’

‘He meant to leave Exeter — alone. I was being ditched.’

‘That much I can believe — he never travels with baggage.’

‘Who are you calling “baggage”, you swivel-eyed bastard?’ she shrieked. ‘I was his best friend in the city. That’s why he came to me.’

‘Yet you denied that he went anywhere near Rockfield Place.’

‘I told you — I was angry with him.’

‘He’s going to be even angrier with you when he hears the paltry excuse you came up with in a bid to save him from the gallows. Is that the best you can do, Adeline?’ asked Steel. ‘We both know that you didn’t spend the night with Bagsy. We have incontrovertible proof of it. If you could’ve offered him an alibi, don’t you think he’d have seized it? But he didn’t, did he? He wouldn’t tell us where he was that night but it certainly wasn’t between your thighs. He was too busy killing Joel Heygate.’

Turning on his heel, he walked away and returned to his office.

Adeline smacked the bars in sheer frustration. Her plan had failed.

‘I’m sorry, Bagsy,’ she said. ‘I did try.’

Bagsy Browne had been given a jeering welcome at the prison. Since the staff had all heard about the beating he’d given to Wyatt, he knew that they’d soon assault him in return. Browne was a familiar visitor to the old Bridewell in Queen Street but he was now remanded to the new prison in North Road. Built four years earlier on the same plan as Pentonville, it had almost two hundred cells, each of them containing water, washing bowl, bed, table, stool and gas jet. Prisoners were kept in isolation and subjected to the silent system. There was none of the banter Browne had indulged in at the police station. He was forbidden to speak to the other inmates. Left alone in the tiny cell, he sat on the stool and brooded on his fate. His would be the first execution at the new prison. Warders had taken delight in telling him that they were already placing bets on whether or not he would cry for mercy when he was dragged to the gallows. He showed no fear but his mind was in turmoil.

When a warder came to unlock his cell, Browne thought that he was being taken out to provide some sport for the staff. He’d been beaten up in prison before and had won the grudging admiration of the warders because he took his punishment bravely and never complained. In fact, he escaped any violent treatment this time. He was shown into a featureless room then locked inside it. Seated behind the little table was Inspector Robert Colbeck.

Browne was pleased. ‘You got my message, then?’

‘Why don’t you sit down, Mr Browne?’

‘I never thought you’d come.’

‘In my experience,’ said Colbeck, ‘criminals often have an attack of honesty when they’re facing execution. They realise that their lies are utterly pointless.’ He indicated the chair opposite him. ‘Sit down. I daresay it’s a lot more comfortable than the stool in your cell.’

Browne sat down. ‘Thank you, Inspector,’ he said. ‘I asked for you because I knew that Superintendent Steel would never listen to me. All he’s interested in is the moment when the lever is pulled, the trapdoor opens and I start dancing in the air.’

‘You’re quite wrong, Mr Browne. Like me, the superintendent is interested in only one thing and that’s justice.’

‘Do you believe that I killed the stationmaster?’

‘I think that it’s more than possible.’

‘Does that mean you’re certain of it?’

‘No,’ said Colbeck, ‘I’m very far from certain and that’s why I want to explore the full ramifications of this crime. Don’t get your hopes up, however. I’m not at all convinced of your innocence either.’

‘That’s fair enough,’ said Browne. ‘I can see it from your point of view. You think I might be guilty because I’ve been unable to give you an alibi for the time when Heygate was murdered. There’s a reason for that.’

‘The obvious reason is that you were the killer.’

‘No, that’s not it at all, Inspector.’

‘Are you claiming that you do have an alibi?’ Browne nodded. ‘Then why ever didn’t you produce it earlier?’

‘I was protecting someone.’

‘You’re the one in need of protection, Mr Browne. If someone can account for your movements on the eve of Guy Fawkes Day, then he or she should come forward. Don’t they realise the danger you’re in?’

‘It’s not as simple as that,’ said Browne, running a tongue over dry lips.

‘It looks very simple to me.’

The prisoner fell silent and searched Colbeck’s face. He was trying to decide if he could entrust confidential information to him. For his part, Colbeck could sense the man’s embarrassment. Browne’s natural truculence had gone and been replaced by a mixture of discomfort and shame.

‘If I give you the name of a young woman,’ he asked, quietly, ‘can you speak to her in private and keep her out of this investigation?’

‘That depends on what she has to tell me, Mr Browne.’

‘I spent the whole of that day and night with her.’

‘Then why didn’t you say so earlier?’

Browne squirmed. ‘The situation is awkward,’ he said, looking down at the table. ‘I didn’t want Ad to know.’

‘Ah,’ said Colbeck, ‘I think I see what you’re driving at. When you were being harboured by Miss Goss, you betrayed her by sleeping with another woman. Now it all begins to make sense.’

‘You still don’t understand, Inspector.’

‘I understand that there may — just may — be someone in the city who can vouch for you and prove that you were nowhere near the place where Joel Heygate met his death. If such a person exists — and I’m bound to