The Silver Locomotive Mystery

resort to bluster in an identical way.’

‘Sir David always does that when he’s hiding something.’

‘Yes, I felt that he was not entirely honest with us.’

‘He’s the kind of man who swallows nails and shits screws,’ said Stockdale, heartily. ‘I wouldn’t trust him an inch. Can you imagine what Carys Evans sees in that ogre?’

Colbeck smiled. ‘I’m sure that his bank account is very fetching,’ he said, wryly. ‘Wealth has a remarkable power to improve someone’s appeal.’

‘There are few people wealthier than Sir David Pryde – though Clifford Tomkins would run him close and so would the Marquis of Bute when he finally comes of age. By the way,’ he said, turning to Colbeck, ‘what happened to that businessman you prosecuted?’

‘He went to gaol for six years,’ said Colbeck.

The Detective Department of the Metropolitan Police Force had an uneasy relationship with the press. When it came into being in 1842, the new branch was greeted with cynicism. Its failures were cruelly mocked and its successes, Superintendent Tallis felt, were not trumpeted as they should have been. His dealings with newspapers usually left him in a state bordering on apoplexy and he had never forgiven one of them for ridiculing him in a cartoon. What added insult to injury was that he had caught some of his detectives sniggering at the pictorial attack on their superior. Notwithstanding his ingrained dislike of the press, he accepted that it had its uses. When he and Victor Leeming returned to Scotland Yard by cab, he was given ample proof of the fact.

A young woman was waiting to see him. She was sitting on the edge of a chair with a folded newspaper in her lap. Informed that the superintendent had come back, she leapt to her feet and intercepted him in the corridor.

‘Excuse me, sir,’ she said, deferentially, ‘but I’ve come about that reward notice in the newspaper. My name is Effie Kellow.’

‘Then you must be Hugh Kellow’s sister,’ said Leeming.

She gasped in horror. ‘It was him, then,’ she said. ‘I was afraid that it might be. No name was given in the report but I feared the worst when I saw that the crime happened in Cardiff. That’s where he was going yesterday.’ She began to sway. ‘My brother was murdered.’

Leeming nodded sadly then moved swiftly to catch her as she collapsed. Tallis ordered him to bring her into his office, going ahead to open the door then finding a bottle of brandy in a desk drawer. As Leeming lowered her gently on to a chair, her eyelids fluttered. The superintendent supported her with one hand and, as she slowly recovered, held a glass to her lips. One sip of the brandy made her cough and sit up. Leeming was amazed at the tenderness shown by Tallis. He was a confirmed bachelor who avoided female company as a rule yet here he was, treating their visitor with all the care of a doting father. It was an aspect of his character that had not been caught by the newspaper cartoonist.

‘Thank you, sir,’ said Effie Kellow, straightening her hat. ‘I’m sorry to put you to any trouble.’

‘It’s no trouble at all,’ Tallis assured her, going back to his desk and taking the opportunity to swallow the rest of the brandy as he did so. ‘It was a perfectly natural reaction.’

‘I’d never have known about if Mr Dalrymple hadn’t shown the newspaper to me,’ she said, holding back tears. ‘I work at his house. He knew that Hugh had been working on a funny coffee pot because I’d told him. Mr Dalrymple said that I should come here to find out the truth. I simply had to know.’

‘I appreciate that, Miss Kellow.

‘Hugh was such a wonderful brother.’

Effie Kellow was a pretty, petite, auburn-haired young woman who had put on her best dress for the visit. She opened her reticule and took out a letter.

‘This came only days ago,’ she explained, giving it to Leeming. ‘Hugh said that he was going to Cardiff to deliver that coffee pot. He was thrilled that he’d be in first class on the train.’ Leeming passed the letter to Tallis who read through it. ‘We weren’t able to see each other very much but we kept in touch. Hugh’s letters were always more interesting than mine,’ she admitted, meekly. ‘Nothing much happens in my life.’

Tallis returned the letter to Leeming so that he could read it as well. It was quite short and couched in a natural affection for a sibling. He noted that Kellow had used the address of his employer in Wood Street rather than that of Mrs Jenning’s house. Folding it up, he handed it back to Effie. She read it wistfully.

‘What exactly happened to him?’ she asked, looking up.

‘The sergeant is better placed to tell you that than I am,’ said Tallis, shifting the burden of explanation to Leeming. ‘He and Inspector Colbeck went to Cardiff to view the scene of the crime.’

‘I’d rather not go into details,’ said Leeming, trying to spare her more distress. ‘Suffice it to say, that your brother was killed in a hotel room in Cardiff and the coffee pot locomotive he was carrying was stolen.’

‘Why did he have to be murdered?’ she cried. ‘If someone wanted that coffee pot, why didn’t they just steal it?’

‘That’s a question we’ve been asking, Miss Kellow.’

‘Yes,’ added Tallis. ‘It’s one of many to which we need answers.’

‘I want to see him,’ declared Effie.

‘Oh, I don’t think that would be wise,’ cautioned Leeming as he remembered his encounter with the corpse. ‘Mr Kellow was badly injured in the attack. You would only upset yourself even more.’

She was adamant. ‘I want to see him,’ she insisted. ‘It’s my right. I’m his next of kin. I need to identify the body. I won’t believe that it’s my brother until I actually see him. Mr Dalrymple said that I could go to Cardiff to reclaim the body.’

‘Mr Voke has offered to do that,’ Leeming told her, ‘and he also agreed to bear the expenses of his funeral. You’ll see the body when it’s brought back to London.’

‘I’m going to Cardiff today,’ affirmed Effie with determination, ‘and if you won’t help me, I’ll go on my own.’

‘That won’t be necessary,’ said Tallis, coming across to touch her on the shoulder with almost paternal concern. ‘The sergeant will take you there directly.’

Leeming was startled. ‘Will I, Superintendent?’

‘Inspector Colbeck needs to be told about recent events here. In any case, we can’t let Miss Kellow travel by herself.’

‘I can buy my own ticket,’ she said, bravely. ‘Hugh sends me money and I’ve brought some of my own savings as well.’

‘Sergeant Leeming will take care of the tickets,’ promised Tallis, ‘and see that you come to no harm. I’m told that your brother’s hat had his name in it and there were items in his pocket to confirm that he was Mr Kellow. But we always prefer a positive identification from the next of kin – if you feel able to make that effort.’

‘I must, sir,’ she told him, ‘don’t you see that? It’s what Hugh would expect of me. I can’t let my brother down.’

Archelaus Pugh was anxious to make his own small contribution to the murder investigation. When he saw Colbeck crossing the foyer of the hotel, he scurried over to speak to him.

‘May I have a word with you, Inspector?’ he said.

‘Of course, sir,’ replied Colbeck.

‘Let me first apologise for being so unhelpful yesterday. I was so completely bewildered by what had occurred in that room that I could not think straight. Indeed,’ he went on, ‘it was only when I went into the kitchens a while ago that my memory was jogged. We took a delivery around noon yesterday.’

‘That’s close to the time of the murder.’

‘I wondered if the delivery man had seen anything odd when he unloaded provisions at the rear of the hotel. So I sent one of my assistant managers off to question him. The warehouse is in Butetown and, luckily, the man was there.’

‘Did he have anything useful to say?’

‘That depends, Inspector,’ said Pugh. ‘I leave you to judge. The fellow didn’t even know that a crime had been committed here and that he might have witnessed something relevant to it.’

‘What did he remember?’ asked Colbeck.