The Iron Horse

‘You were not so far from the truth,’ she said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘As it happens, the hatbox was stolen from a hotel but it was not the one where we stayed in Cambridge.’

‘Which hotel was it?’ he asked.

‘That’s of no concern to you.’

‘It’s of every concern, Kitty. A hatbox that I bought as a present is at the centre of a murder investigation. I want to know exactly what happened to it.’

‘So do I, George.’

‘What was the name of the hotel?’

‘I’m not telling you.’

‘And I suppose you won’t tell me the name of the man who took you there either, will you?’ he said nastily. ‘What did he have to buy you to win your favours?’

She struck a pose. ‘I’m saying nothing.’

‘Was the hotel in London?’

‘Nothing whatsoever.’

‘Oh, no,’ he gasped as realisation hit him with the force of a blow. ‘Please don’t tell me that it was here – in our hotel. Even you would never sink that low, Kitty.’

‘I must be on my way.’

‘Then it was here.’

‘It was a mistake to meet you again. I should have had the sense to foresee that.’ She moved away. ‘Goodbye, George.’

‘But the conversation is not over yet.’

‘Yes, it is – for good.’

‘There are still things to discuss.’

‘Not any more.’

‘You haven’t explained why you were so late.’

‘No,’ she said with utter disdain. ‘I haven’t, have I?’

With a tinkle of laughter, Kitty Lavender went out of the room and left the door wide open. Lord Hendry was mortified.

Madeleine Andrews had had a full day. After doing her domestic chores, she had visited the market to buy food then spent several hours on her painting of a Crampton locomotive. It was only when light began to fade in the early evening that she put her easel aside. After cooking herself a meal, she gave herself the pleasure of starting a new book. Borrowed from Robert Colbeck, it had been warmly recommended by him. As she settled down beside the lamp, it occurred to her that she was probably the only woman in London who was reading John Francis’s History of the English Railway; Its Social Relations and Revelations (1820–45).

The writing was lively and the material absorbing to someone with her abiding interest in the subject. Madeleine became so immersed in the book that she did not hear a cab approaching in the street outside or even the sound of the front door opening. Caleb Andrews came into the house with a knowing grin on his face.

‘Hello, Maddy,’ he said.

‘Oh!’ she cried, looking up in surprise. ‘I didn’t expect you for hours yet, Father.’

‘Does that mean there’s no supper yet?’

‘I can soon make some.’

‘Stay here and entertain our visitor.’

‘What visitor?’

‘This stray gentlemen I picked up in Crewe.’

He stood aside so that Robert Colbeck could come into the house. Doffing his top hat, the detective gave Madeleine a polite bow.

‘I hope I’m not interrupting anything,’ he said.

‘No, no,’ she told him, leaping to her feet and putting the book aside. She straightened her dress. ‘I was reading.’

‘That book on railways, is it?’ asked Andrews scornfully. ‘Why bother with that when you only have to ask me? I can tell you more about railways than John Francis will ever know.’

‘Your father’s train brought me back to London,’ said Colbeck.

‘I wish I’d known that you were coming,’ said Madeleine.

‘I did promise to call in when I returned from Ireland.’

‘How was it?’

‘Invite him to sit down,’ said Andrews, nudging her, ‘and make him feel welcome. I need to have a wash. That’s one thing your book won’t say about work on the railway – how dirty you get.’

Whisking off his cap, he went out to the kitchen and closed the door firmly behind him. Colbeck stepped forward to give Madeleine a proper greeting, taking both hands and kissing her on the lips.

‘I missed you,’ she said.

‘I wish I could have taken you with me.’

‘Was the journey worthwhile?’

‘Extremely worthwhile,’ he replied. ‘I know the identity of the murder victim now and I got some more insights into the ramifications of the racing world.’

‘Do you have a suspect?’

‘A possible one.’

‘Who is he?’

He was cautious. ‘Let me speak to the gentleman first. He may well turn out to be wrongly accused. In my experience, we rarely find our perpetrators this easily. I fancy that I have a long way to go in the investigation yet.’

‘But you still think the murder may be linked to the Derby?’

‘There’s no doubt about it.’

‘Why?’

‘The victim was a groom. He worked at the stables where one of the fancied runners in the race is kept.’

Madeleine smiled. ‘I’ve always wanted to go to the Derby,’ she said wistfully. ‘Father keeps telling me that it’s no place for a young lady to go on her own but it sounds so exciting.’

‘Highly exciting and unique.’

‘You’ve been?’

‘A number of times,’ he told her. ‘But don’t give up hope, Madeleine. You may get to see the race one day.’ He squeezed her shoulders tenderly. ‘There’s something I wanted to say before your father comes back in.’

‘Oh, he’ll stay in the kitchen for a while. Father can be tactful when he wants to be. Has he told you about his theory yet?’

‘He did nothing else on the cab ride from Euston. According to Mr Andrews, instead of rushing off to Ireland, I should be searching for a wayward lady in Crewe who had a dalliance with the murder victim. It seems that the killer was a jealous husband. Your father has obviously devoted time to thinking about the case,’ said Colbeck tolerantly, ‘even though he’s not in possession of the salient facts.’

‘What did you want to say to me?’

‘Only that you look as lovely as ever.’

She laughed. ‘In this old dress – stop lying to me.’

‘It’s not the dress that matters, it’s the young lady inside it.’

‘You pay me the sweetest compliments.’

‘Thank you.’ He became serious. ‘I need to ask you a favour, Madeleine. Unbeknown to the superintendent, you’ve been able to help me a couple of times in the past. If Mr Tallis ever found out, he’d probably have me boiled in oil but I’ll take that risk. Could I impose on you to assist me again, please?’

‘Of course, Robert – it’s no imposition.’

‘It may not be necessary but I’d like to have you in reserve.’