The Silver Locomotive Mystery

had been summoned to the house to be shown the anonymous ransom note. The inspector was completely at ease in the sprawling mansion but his sergeant was perturbed. Leeming always felt intimidated by the sight of wealth and, since their arrival, had been shifting his feet and holding his tongue.

‘Have the money ready for tomorrow, sir,’ suggested Colbeck.

‘I might as well toss it on a fire,’ said Tomkins, sullenly.

‘At least I’d get my property back,’ his wife put in.

‘Winifred, it’s not worth twice the asking price.’

She shot him a look. ‘It is to me.’

‘You won’t lose a penny of the money, Mr Tomkins,’ said Colbeck, ‘and you’ll have the satisfaction of seeing the thief put behind bars. The person to thank will be my sergeant.’

Leeming was taken aback, ‘Me, sir?’ he said.

‘Yes, Sergeant, you will be involved in the exchange. All that the note has told us is how much money is required. The details of the exchange will come tomorrow.’

‘Then why can’t you lie in wait to catch the thief when he delivers the message here?’ asked Tomkins.

‘This person is far too clever to be caught that way. We’re dealing with someone who plans ahead very carefully. When the exchange is made, for instance,’ prophesied Colbeck, ‘it will be somewhere in the open so that the sergeant can be watched.’

‘What then, Inspector?’ said Leeming.

‘You ask to see the coffee pot before you hand over the money, and when you see no deception is involved – you make the arrest.’

‘Where will you be?’ wondered Tomkins.

‘A respectable distance away, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘At the slightest sign of a police ambush, the exchange will be cancelled and the coffee pot will disappear forever.’

‘No!’ shrieked Winifred.

‘Sergeant Leeming is an experienced detective. It’s not the first time he’s been in this situation. He’ll know what to do.’

‘A lot of money is at stake here,’ Tomkins reminded him.

‘Not to mention my coffee pot,’ added his wife.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Leeming, pleased to be given such a pivotal role. ‘The money and the coffee pot will be returned when I catch him.’

Colbeck looked at the ransom note. ‘Why do you assume that you’ll be dealing with a man? I’m no expert on calligraphy,’ he went on, passing the note to Leeming, ‘but I’d say that was definitely a woman’s hand – wouldn’t you?’

In defiance of its record of catastrophe, Macbeth was a huge success. There were none of the anticipated mishaps – no falling scenery, no actors taken ill onstage, no sudden failure of the gas footlights and no unfortunate accidents in the auditorium. Laughter was confined to the scene featuring the Porter. At all other times, the audience was in the grip of a searing tragedy. Nigel Buckmaster excelled himself, letting the poetry soar to its full height, committing a foul murder yet somehow managing to retain a degree of sympathy. Kate Linnane was the personification of evil, giving a performance of equal range, brilliance and intensity. The rest of the cast was competent but completely eclipsed by the two principals. When the curtain call was taken before rapturous applause, it was Macbeth and Lady Macbeth who occupied the centre of the stage, he bowing low and she dropping a graceful curtsey, both of them lapping up their due reward for minute after ecstatic minute. They had brought the spectators to their feet. In her costume as Lady Macduff, Laura Tremaine tried at one point to come forward but she was thwarted by Kate Linnane who simply stepped sideways, swished her dress and made the younger actress retreat back into anonymity. No other woman would be allowed to steal one moment of the leading lady’s glory.

When the curtain finally fell, Buckmaster turned to blow a kiss of thanks to the entire cast. They dispersed happily to the dressing rooms. The actor-manager took the trouble to catch up with Laura.

‘Well done, Miss Tremaine!’ he congratulated. ‘I couldn’t fault you this evening.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ she replied, excitedly.

‘Your Lady Macduff was a minor triumph.’

Laura giggled with pleasure and went off with the others. Kate Linnane was less complimentary as she walked past Buckmaster.

‘A minor triumph!’ she said, acidly. ‘Miss Tremaine was a positive embarrassment. I’ve seen better Lady Macduffs in the ranks of amateurs!’

‘One has to offer encouragement,’ he said.

‘She should be encouraged off the stage altogether.’

Flouncing off into her dressing room, she slammed the door behind her. Buckmaster knew better than to follow her.

Jeremiah Stockdale joined them in their hotel room to report his findings and to review the situation. Colbeck had asked for a bottle of whisky and three glasses to be sent up. Resigned to spending at least one night in Cardiff, Leeming sipped his drink and confided his worries.

‘Do you think that someone should be looking after Miss Kellow?’ he said, concernedly. ‘Not one of us, of course,’ he went on. ‘That would be quite improper. But there must be a female member of staff whom the manager could recommend.’

‘I think she’s best left on her own, Victor,’ said Colbeck. ‘She’s very volatile at the moment. Company might unsettle her. She wants to be alone to mourn in private.’

‘When will she go back to London?’

‘That’s up to her but she won’t budge without her brother.’

‘The body is now with an undertaker,’ said Stockdale. ‘Tegwyn Rees has finished with it so it will be ready to leave tomorrow.’

‘Then we may have to call on you, Superintendent. Somebody must accompany Miss Kellow back to London and Victor will be involved here. Could you spare a man to go with her?’ asked Colbeck. ‘It’s not right for a grieving sister to travel alone with her brother’s coffin. We have a duty of care here.’

‘Consider it done,’ said Stockdale. ‘I know just the man – Idris Roberts. He’s spent the whole day tramping around chemists’ shops so he’ll appreciate a job where he can sit down. Yes, and I’ll make sure that Idris is not in uniform,’ he decided. ‘We don’t want this girl to look as if she’s under arrest.’

‘Did Constable Roberts find anything of interest?’

‘I’m afraid not, Inspector. Some of the chemists would supply the most venomous poison to a total stranger but none would ever admit it. They all swore that nobody had bought sulphuric acid.’

‘Perhaps it was brought from London,’ said Leeming. ‘As I explained, I’m fairly certain the man we’re after is Stephen Voke.’

‘Then he must be here in Cardiff,’ said Colbeck.

Stockdale ruffled his beard. ‘I thought you told us a delivery man had seen someone leaving by the rear exit around the time of the murder and hurrying off towards the station.’

‘I’m beginning to think that he was laying a false trail. The man with the large bag wanted to be seen heading that way. Had he left by the front entrance like every other guest, nobody would have thought it unusual enough to remember. Someone behaving suspiciously at the rear of the hotel, however,’ argued Colbeck, ‘was expecting to be noticed by someone.’

Leeming had made up his mind. ‘Stephen Voke is still here and so is that coffee pot.’

‘Don’t forget the woman in the case, Victor.’

‘She must be the one seen waiting for young Mr Voke in Hatton Garden. The two of them are in this together. They plotted to steal that coffee pot then sell it back to the owner.’

‘They certainly didn’t try to get rid of it here,’ said Stockdale. ‘My men called on every jeweller and silversmith in Cardiff. None of them had been offered that coffee pot – not even Wlaetislaw Spiridion.’

Leeming grinned. ‘He doesn’t sound very Welsh to me.’

‘This is a cosmopolitan place. Walk around Cardiff and you’ll bump into many nationalities. If you want a real