that.’
‘Who cares about what you think?’ snapped Mrs Withers. ‘I’ll go and see what they’d like to drink. And remember – when you take a tray in, hold it the way I showed you and don’t tremble the way that you usually do.’
‘No, Mrs Withers. I’ll try.’
In fact, the girl acquitted herself well. Food and drink were served to the guests without any trembling on her part. She even earned a word of praise from the housekeeper. Once their work was done, the two women retreated to the kitchen. They were able to sit down at last and enjoy a long rest. The first thing that Mrs Withers did was to take off her shoes so that she could massage her feet. Lottie was surprised to see how dainty they were.
‘Are those shoes too tight, Mrs Withers?’ she asked.
‘They are a little – I keep them for best.’
‘It’s a pity we had to walk all the way to church and back.’
‘Yes,’ said the other, ‘and I’ve had no time to change them since we came home because there was so much to do.’
‘You’ve got time now.’
‘I might be needed.’
‘It will only take a couple of minutes for you to slip up to your room,’ said Lottie. ‘I can listen out in case they call.’
The older woman was tempted. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, Mrs Withers – go on. Change your shoes while you can.’
Grateful for the offer, the housekeeper did not even bother to put the shoes on again. Instead she tripped up the stairs to the top of the house and let herself into her room. Putting the other pair away, she slipped on her working shoes and wiggled her toes. Her feet immediately felt better. She took the opportunity to straighten her dress in the mirror and to brush her hair, noting how thin it was now becoming. Then she went out again.
As she came down the first flight of steps, she was surprised to see a female figure going into what had been Miriam Tarleton’s bedroom. Her protective instincts were aroused. It was not Eve Doel. She knew that. Going into her mother’s bedroom had been too upsetting for the daughter. It had to be someone else and Mrs Withers felt that she simply had to confront her. She took a firm hold on the doorknob, turned it and flung the door open.
‘Goodness!’ exclaimed Agnes Reader, hand to her chest.
‘I thought I saw someone coming in here.’
‘Yes, Mrs Withers, but I’m not an intruder. I had permission from Mrs Doel. I was such an old friend of her mother’s that she encouraged me to have a keepsake from her jewellery box. Oh,’ she added, ‘nothing expensive. I just wanted something that would have sentimental value.’
‘The jewellery box is here, Mrs Reader,’ said the housekeeper, picking it up from the dressing table. ‘Why not take it downstairs then Mrs Doel can help you choose something?’
‘What a good idea! I’ll do just that.’
‘Here you are.’
‘Thank you,’ said Agnes, taking the box from her and lifting the lid to glance into it. ‘I’m afraid that it’s not as full as it once was.’
‘Mrs Tarleton sold some of the diamonds.’
Agnes gave a brittle laugh. ‘Oh, I’m not after anything like diamonds. A simple enamel brooch will do.’
‘There’s a very nice one with seed pearls around the edge.’
‘Good…I’ll look out for it.’
Agnes expected the housekeeper to withdraw but Mrs Withers held her ground. She gave the impression that she thought the visitor was trespassing on private territory. Closing the lid of the jewellery box, Agnes walked towards the door.
‘Thank you, Mrs Withers,’ she said.
Leeming was saddle-sore before they had ridden a mile. Colbeck was an accomplished horseman but his sergeant had had very little experience of riding. His discomfort was exacerbated by the fact that his bay mare seemed to have a mind of her own, disregarding his commands and neighing in protest whenever he tugged on the reins. They moved along a winding track at a steady canter. Colbeck could see that his companion was suffering and did his best to distract him.
‘You’re still wondering about Adam Tarleton, aren’t you?’
‘No, Inspector,’ wailed Leeming, ‘I’m still wondering if I’ll manage to stay on this beast.’
‘I thought you liked horses.’
‘I like betting on them – not riding the damn things.’
Colbeck grinned. ‘We’ll make a jockey of you yet, Victor,’ he said. ‘But on the question of Mr Tarleton, there was no point in making an arrest.’
‘But he’s an accessory to the murder of his mother.’
‘I don’t think so. When we cornered him, he didn’t react like a man with blood on his hands.’
‘He wasn’t the one who did the deed, sir. It was Bruntcliffe who blew that hole in her head. Tarleton paid him to do it. That servant girl saw him handing over the money.’
‘Lottie saw him handing over something,’ corrected Colbeck, ‘but she could not be certain that it was money. When we meet Bruntcliffe, he can tell us what he did receive that day.’
‘I’m confused,’ said Leeming. ‘Are you telling me that Adam Tarleton is innocent of the murder and that Bruntcliffe acted alone?’
‘No, Victor. I’m suggesting that we should wait and see.’
They went through a shallow stream and the flashing hooves churned up the water. Leeming clung on grimly as he rode through the spray. It was only when they were back on dry land that he remembered something.
‘You haven’t told me about Mr Reader,’ he said.
‘I finally got the truth out of him.’
‘What truth was that, sir?’
‘The colonel was involved in the Leybourne Scandal.’
Leeming gaped. ‘He was caught with another woman?’
‘No,’ said Colbeck. ‘I’m talking about railways.’
‘That’s nothing new.’
‘I know that you don’t share my interest in trains.’
‘I may change my mind,’ said Leeming, suffering more twinges in his buttocks. ‘If I had a choice between riding this horse or travelling by train, I know which one I’d prefer.’
‘Let me tell you about Stuart Leybourne.’
‘Who was he, sir?’
‘He was two completely different people,’ said Colbeck. ‘One of them was a trusted employee of a major railway company who lived an apparently blameless life. The other was a cunning man who amassed a fortune by means of fraud and who ruined gullible investors. As I’d guessed, Colonel Tarleton was one of them.’
‘What exactly happened?’
‘Leybourne was chief clerk in the registration office. He found a loophole that allowed him to issue bogus shares and forge the transfers in the account books. With hindsight, it seems incredible that anyone could have been taken in by him but he was a very plausible man and held out the promise of good dividends.’
‘Ah,’ said Leeming, ‘I remember the case now. Wasn’t this Stuart Leybourne compared to the Railway King?’
‘He was, Victor,’ said Colbeck, ‘except that he was even more guileful than George Hudson. The Railway King, as he was called, was the ruler of all he surveyed until his questionable accounting practices were revealed. Among other things, he’d been paying dividends out of capital to disguise the fact that one of his companies was making serious losses. His fall put an end to the years of wild speculation on the railways. Mr Hudson resigned as chairman of various companies and went abroad. Everyone said the same thing. Railway mania was over.’
‘Then why could people like the colonel be taken in by this other crook?’ asked Leeming, so interested in what he was hearing that he forgot his aches and pains. ‘You’d have thought investors had learnt their lesson. It’s not possible to make huge profits out of railways anymore.’
‘Stuart Leybourne made a profit. When he was finally brought to book, it was discovered that he had a
