The Railway Detective

‘He does not take kindly to enlightenment.’

‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.’

‘You can go first, sir.’

When the cab arrived at its destination, Colbeck paid the driver and sent him on his way. After sizing the house up, he rang the doorbell and waited. There was no response. He rang the doorbell again and brought the brass knocker into action as well.

‘Nobody there,’ concluded Leeming.

‘We need to get inside somehow.’

‘We can’t force our way in, sir.’

‘That would be quite improper,’ agreed Colbeck, slipping a hand into his pocket. ‘So we’ll try to manage it without resorting to force.’

Making sure that nobody in the street was watching, he inserted a picklock into position and jiggled it about. Leeming was scandalised.

‘What on earth are you doing, Inspector?’ he asked.

‘Making use of a little device that I confiscated from a burglar we arrested earlier this year. He called it a betty and swore that it could open any lock and…’ he grinned as he heard a decisive click, ‘it seems that he was right.’

Opening the door, he went swiftly inside. Leeming followed with grave misgivings. As the door shut behind them, he was very unhappy.

‘We are trespassing on private property,’ he said.

‘No, Victor,’ asserted Colbeck. ‘We are taking steps to track down a man who is responsible for a series of crimes that include the kidnap of an innocent young woman. While her life is imperilled, we have no time to discuss the legal niceties of home ownership. Action is required.’

Leeming nodded obediently. ‘Tell me what to do, Inspector.’

‘Search the downstairs rooms. I’ll take those upstairs.’

‘What are we looking for?’

‘Anything that connects Sir Humphrey to those crimes — letters, plans, notes, information about the railways. Be quick about it.’

‘Yes, sir.’

While the Sergeant instituted a rapid search of the ground floor, Colbeck went upstairs and checked room after room in succession. Disappointingly, there was nothing that could be used as evidence against Gilzean. Empty drawers and wardrobes showed that he had quit the premises. In doing so, he had taken great pains to leave nothing incriminating behind him. Colbeck went up to the attic. The bedroom at the rear clearly belonged to a manservant because some of his clothing was still there, but it was the room overlooking Upper Brook Street that really interested him.

The moment that Colbeck went into it, he experienced a strange but compelling sensation. Madeleine Andrews had been there. With no visual confirmation of the fact, he was nevertheless certain that she had been held captive in the room, kept in by the stout lock on the door and the bars on the window. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Colbeck ran his fingers gently over the indentation in the pillow. He doubted if she had had much sleep but he was convinced that Madeleine’s head had lain there. That discovery alone, in his mind, justified the illegal mode of entry. Colbeck hurried downstairs.

Sergeant Leeming was in the library, sifting through some items he had taken from the mahogany secretaire. He looked up apologetically as the Inspector came into the room.

‘I thought that this would be the most likely place,’ he said, ‘but all I can find is a collection of bills, a few invitations and some notes for a speech at the House of Commons. What about you, sir?’

‘She was here, Victor. Miss Andrews was definitely here.’

‘How do you know?’

‘There was something in the atmosphere of an attic room that spoke to me,’ said Colbeck. ‘Also, the key was outside the door. How many hosts lock their guests in?’

‘I searched the other rooms without success, though I can tell you one thing. Judging by what I found in the kitchen bin, Sir Humphrey dined very well last night. He obviously enjoys fine wine. There are dozens of bottles here. As for this desk,’ he went on, dropping the bills on to the desk, ‘it’s been no help at all.’

‘Perhaps you’ve been looking in the wrong place.’

‘I’ve searched every drawer thoroughly.’

‘No, Victor,’ said Colbeck, ‘you searched everything that you could see in front of you. What about the secret compartment?’

‘I didn’t know that there was one.’

‘My father and grandfather were cabinetmakers. I watched both of them build secretaires just like this and they always included a secret compartment where valuable items could be stored.’ Bending over the desk, he began to tap various parts of it, listening carefully for a hollow sound. ‘All that we have to do is to locate the spring.’

‘If there was anything of real value there,’ said Leeming, ‘then Sir Humphrey would surely have taken it with him.’

‘We shall see.’

Along the back of the desk was a row of pigeonholes with matching doors. Leeming had left them open but Colbeck closed them in order to experiment with the carved knobs on each door. After pressing them all in turn, he started to twist them sharply. When that failed to produce a result, he pressed two of the knobs simultaneously. The Sergeant was astonished when he heard a pinging sound and saw a hidden door suddenly flip open. It fitted so beautifully into the side of the desk that Leeming would never have guessed that it was there. Colbeck reached inside to take out the single envelope that lay inside. He looked at the name on the front.

‘What is it, sir?’

‘A letter addressed to me.’

Leeming’s jaw dropped. ‘He was expecting you to find it?’

‘No,’ said Colbeck, slitting the envelope open with a paper knife. ‘My guess is that it would have been sent to me in due course.’

‘How? The house is closed up.’

‘I suspect that a manservant has been left behind. His clothing is still upstairs. He would probably have been deputed to deliver this. Yes,’ he added, perusing the letter, ‘it has tomorrow’s date on it. I was not supposed to read it until then. It gives instructions regarding the exchange of the three prisoners for Miss Andrews in a couple of days’ time. In other words,’ he declared, ‘Sir Humphrey never intended that he would trade his hostage for the men in custody.’

‘Then why did he send that first demand?’

‘To confuse us and to gain himself some leeway. Here,’ he said, giving the letter to his companion. ‘If this does not persuade the Superintendent that we are on the right trail, then nothing will.’

‘I hope that you are right — or we are in trouble.’

‘Have faith.’

‘It’s all that I can cling onto.’

‘We have firm evidence here,’ said Colbeck, taking the original ransom note from his pocket and holding it beside the letter. ‘Do you see what I see, Victor? Same capital letters, same hand, same ink, same stationery. What do you say to that?’

Leeming chuckled. ‘Thank God your father was a cabinetmaker!’

Sir Humphrey Gilzean had no sympathy whatsoever for him. As he looked at his friend’s wounds and his wine-stained waistcoat, he was filled with disgust for Thomas Sholto.

‘All I can say is that it serves you right,’ he snarled. ‘What madness drove you to go into the wine cellar in the first place? I told you to leave her alone.’

‘I was curious,’ whined Sholto, examining his face in the drawing room mirror. ‘Look what she did to me. Cuts all over my forehead. But for the beard, my face would have been lacerated to bits. And this waistcoat is ruined.’

‘That’s the price of curiosity, Thomas.’

‘I was merely going to take her up to her room.’