buy any of them a glass of beer.’
‘Not if it made them talkative.’
‘Talkative?’
‘Let me frank with you,’ she said, blurting it out. ‘My father blames himself for the robbery yesterday. He thinks that he may have been drinking with his friends one evening and let slip the information that money was being carried on the mail trains.’ She held out her hands in supplication. ‘It was an accident, Inspector,’ she said, defensively. ‘He would never willingly betray the company. You may ask Frank Pike. My father stood up to the robbers.’
‘I know, Miss Andrews,’ said Colbeck, ‘and I admire him for it. I also admire you for coming here like this.’
‘I felt that you should know the truth.’
‘Most people in your situation would have concealed it.’
‘Father made me promise that I would tell you the terrible thing that he did,’ she said, bravely. ‘He feels so ashamed. Even though it will mean his dismissal from the company, he insisted.’ She sat forward on her chair. ‘Will you have to arrest him, Inspector?’
‘Of course not.’
‘But he gave away confidential information.’
‘Not deliberately,’ said Colbeck. ‘It popped out when he was in his cups. I doubt very much if that was how the robbers first learnt how money was being carried. They had only to keep watch at the station for a length of time and they would have seen boxes being loaded under armed guard on to the mail train. Such precautions would not be taken for a cargo of fruit or vegetables.’
Her face brightened. ‘Then he is
‘No, Miss Andrews. What the villains needed to know was what a particular train was carrying and the exact time it was leaving Euston. That information was obtained elsewhere — along with the means to open the safe that was in the luggage van.’
Madeleine caught her breath. ‘I’m so relieved, Inspector!’
‘Tell your father that he’s escaped arrest on this occasion.’
‘It will be a huge load off his mind — and off mine.’
‘I’m delighted that I’ve been able to give you some reassurance.’
Relaxed and happy, Madeleine Andrews looked like a completely different woman. A smile lit up her eyes and her dimples were expressive. She had come to Scotland Yard in trepidation and had feared the worst. Madeleine had not expected to meet such a considerate and well-spoken detective as Robert Colbeck. He did not fit her image of a policeman at all and she was profoundly grateful.
For his part, Colbeck warmed to her. It had taken courage to admit that her father had been at fault, especially when she feared dire consequences from the revelation. There was a quiet integrity about Madeleine Andrews that appealed to him and he was by no means immune to her physical charms. Now that she was no longer so tense, he could appreciate them to the full. Pleased that she had come, he was glad to be able to put her mind at rest.
‘Thank you, Inspector,’ she said, getting to her feet. ‘I must get back home to tell Father. He felt so dreadfully guilty about this.’
Colbeck rose at well. ‘I think that some censure is in order,’ he pointed out. ‘Mr Andrews did speak out of turn about the mail train, that much is clear. On reflection, he will come to see how foolish that was and be more careful in future.’
‘Oh, he will, he will.’
‘I leave it to you to issue a stern warning.’
‘Father needs to be kept in line at times. He can be wayward.’
‘What he requires now,’ suggested Colbeck, ‘is a long rest. Far from dismissing him, the London and North Western Railway Company should be applauding him for trying to protect their train.’ He smiled at her. ‘When would it be possible for me to call on your father?’
‘At home, you mean?’
‘I hardly expect Mr Andrews to come hopping around here.’
‘No, no,’ she said with a laugh.
‘Mr Pike has given me his version of events, of course, but I would like to hear what your father has to say. Is there any chance that I might question him tomorrow?’
‘Yes, Inspector — if he continues to improve.’
‘I’ll delay my arrival until late morning.’
‘We will expect you,’ said Madeleine, glad that she would be seeing him again. Their eyes locked for a moment. Both of them felt a mild
‘One moment,’ he said, putting a hand on her arm to stop her. ‘I may be a detective but I find it much easier to visit a house when I know exactly where it is.’ He took out his notebook. ‘Could I trouble you for an address, Miss Andrews?’
She gave another laugh. ‘Yes — how silly of me!’
He wrote down the address that she dictated then closed the notebook. When he looked up, she met his gaze once more and there was a blend of interest and regret in her eyes. Colbeck was intrigued.
‘I hope that you catch these men soon, Inspector,’ she said.
‘We will make every effort to do so.’
‘What they did to my father was unforgivable.’
‘They will be justly punished, Miss Andrews.’
‘He was heart-broken when he heard what happened to his locomotive. Father dotes on it. Why did they force it off the track? It seems so unnecessary.’
‘It was. Unnecessary and gratuitous.’
‘Do you have any idea who the train robbers might be?’
‘We have identified two of their accomplices,’ he told her, ‘and we are searching for both men. One of them — a former employee of the Post Office — should be in custody before too long.’
William Ings was astounded by his good fortune. He never thought that he would meet any woman whose company he preferred to a game of cards but that is what had happened in the case of Kate Piercey. He had shared a night of madness with her and spent most of the next day in her arms. Kate was younger, livelier and more sensual than Polly Roach. Her breath was far sweeter, her body firmer. More to the point, she was not as calculating as the woman he had discarded on the previous night. Ings had bumped into her in the street as he fled from the clutches of Polly Roach. He knew that the collision was no accident — she had deliberately stepped out of the shadows into his path — but that did not matter. He felt that the encounter was fateful.
There was something about Kate that excited him from the start, an amalgam of boldness and vulnerability that he found irresistible. She was half-woman and half-child, mature yet nubile, experienced yet seemingly innocent. William Ings was a realist. He knew that he was not the first man to enjoy her favours and he had no qualms about paying for them, but he was soon overcome by the desire to be the last of her clients, to covet her, to protect her, to rescue her from the hazards of her profession and shape her into something better. Impossible as the dream might appear, he wanted to be both father and lover to Kate Piercey.
As he watched her dress that evening by the light of the lamp, he was enchanted. Polly Roach might have brought him to the Devil’s Acre but she had been displaced from his mind completely.
‘Where shall we go, Billy?’ she asked.
‘Wherever you wish,’ he replied.
‘We can eat well but cheaply at Flanagan’s.’
‘Then we’ll go elsewhere. That place is not good enough for you.’
She giggled. ‘You say the nicest things.’
‘You deserve the best, Kate. Let me take you somewhere special.’
‘You’re so kind to me.’
‘No, my love,’ he said, slipping his arms around her, ‘it’s you who are kind to me.’ He kissed her once more. ‘I adore you.’
