The Silver Locomotive Mystery

yet again.’

‘It wore off after a few hours, Martha.’

‘That may be so but it meant that you spent the night in the other room instead of beside me. I prefer to sleep with my husband.’

‘Then that’s what you’ll do tonight,’ he promised. ‘I’ll take care to drink in moderation. I missed being with you last night but my head was splitting when we got home. It was excruciating. I would not have been good company’

His recurring migraines were a useful invention. They gave him an excuse to leave the marital couch occasionally and slip away from the house for an assignation. His wife was a heavy sleeper. Once she had dozed off, she would not hear the horse’s hooves as he rode off into the darkness. When she had been awakened by her husband that morning, it never crossed her mind that he had spent the night near Llandaff Cathedral with another woman.

‘Who else is dining with the Somervilles?’ he asked.

‘I’ve no idea – as long as it’s not Winifred Tomkins and her husband. They’re such dreary people. Agnes Somerville maintains high standards at her dinner table so I think we’re safe from a brush with Winifred.’

‘At the play last night, you actually wanted to see her.’

‘That was only so that I could crow over her.’

‘Had she been there, you should have ignored her altogether. Both she and Tomkins should be ostracised,’ he said, testily. ‘I won’t have anyone speaking to my wife that way or casting aspersions on one of our children.’

‘Dorothy does not have a squint,’ declared Martha, getting to her feet like a combative speaker at a public meeting. ‘She has a way of screwing up one eye, that’s all. I’ve always thought it an endearing habit. Winifred only said that because I caught her on the raw when I told her that living in Merthyr was bound to blunt a person’s finer feelings. It’s an iron town, for heaven’s sake – there must be ash and stench and pandemonium there all day long. How can anyone of taste live in such a godless inferno?’

‘We should never have admitted them to our circle.’

‘It was not merely our daughter whom she attacked. That vicious-tongued harpy made some unkind comments about you as well, David.’

‘I don’t want to hear them,’ he said, having already done so many times. ‘Neither she nor that husband of hers are fit to consort with us, Martha. They are personae non gratae – not that I’d expect either of them to understand Latin. We should be relieved that they didn’t turn up to see Macbeth. Everyone of consequence was there.’

‘That rules out Winifred.’ They shared a brittle laugh. ‘Did you happen to notice Carys Evans at the reception?’

‘I caught a fleeing glimpse of her, I think,’ he replied, turning back to the mirror to brush some non-existent dust off his shoulder. ‘I was too busy talking to the mayor about the Council’s plans for the town. I never miss an opportunity to mix business with pleasure.’

‘She’s starting to look her age.’

‘Who is?’

‘Carys Evans,’ she said. ‘She may be pretty enough now but her looks will soon fade. She should take advantage of them while she still has them. It’s almost indecent for a woman to remain single for so long. I was barely twenty when you proposed to me.’

Pryde smiled. ‘You were only seventeen when I first saw you,’ he recalled. ‘It took me three years to pluck up the necessary courage.’ He spun round to face her. ‘And I’ve been the happiest of men ever since, Martha.’

‘You used to drink even more champagne in those days. I don’t remember it ever giving you a migraine then.’

‘I’m starting to suffer the defects of old age, my love.’

‘Fiddlesticks! You’re as hale and hearty as ever.’

‘That’s certainly true of you,’ he said, dredging up the sort of compliment she required on a regular basis. ‘You are still the lovely young bride I took to the altar.’

She was spiteful. ‘If you want to see the defects of old age, look no further than Winifred Tomkins. A stranger would take her for seventy or more. Think of those bags under her eyes, that air of decay and that dreadful, unsightly, sagging body.’

He was too diplomatic to point out that his wife was much heavier than the other woman and had even more prominent eye-bags. Lady Pryde liked to inhabit a world where she was always praised and never contradicted. Her friends understood that and indulged her accordingly. It had been Winifred Tomkins’ mistake to question the acknowledged perfection of Lady Pryde and her family. Honesty, she had learnt, had no place in any dealings with Martha Pryde.

‘David,’ she said, crossing to stand in front of him.

‘Yes, my love?’

‘How did you come to know of that silversmith – the one who made that absurd coffee pot?’

‘I’ve told you that, Martha.’

‘Tell me again,’ she pressed. ‘I’ve forgotten.’

‘Jack Somerville gave me that silver snuff box for my birthday,’ he told her. ‘When I heard that it was made by a Mr Voke of Wood Street in London, I took note of his name. It was exceptionally well-made. That’s why I engaged him to make that silver yacht for me.’

‘I remember your going to London to meet him.’

‘I was impressed by his work.’

‘So his reputation rested on that little snuff box?’

‘Of course not, Martha,’ he said. ‘I required more evidence than that before I committed myself. Jack showed me some candlesticks he got from the man. They were superb – solid silver and exquisitely fashioned. That’s why I commissioned the yacht from Voke. If you want to blame anyone for putting Winifred Tomkins in touch with that silversmith,’ he went on, ‘then the real culprit is Jack Somerville – but please don’t challenge him about it this evening.’

‘I have more tact than that, David.’

After a final look in the dressing room mirror, she was ready to leave. They went downstairs to the hall where the butler was waiting to open the front door for them, inclining his head as they passed. Pryde helped his wife into the phaeton then sat beside her. The driver cracked his whip and the vehicle lurched forward. After a prolonged silence, Martha whispered a question to her husband.

‘Do you think that Dorothy has a squint?’

Victor Leeming was in high spirits. All that he had to do was to go through the motions of handing over a substantial amount of money before apprehending someone responsible both for murder and theft. By checking the copy of Bradshaw that Colbeck always took with him when they left the capital, he had seen that there was a late train to Paddington. If the exchange went as planned, he might be able to shake the dust of Cardiff from his feet and travel back to his wife and family, basking in the fulsome praise he would unquestionably have received from Clifford and Winifred Tomkins. The crimes would be solved within the hour.

‘Do exactly as that letter told you,’ warned Colbeck.

‘I will, Inspector.’

‘They’ll be watching for any false move.’

‘Where will you be?’

‘The nearest I can get without arousing suspicion is about a quarter of a mile away.’

‘What about Superintendent Stockdale?’

‘He’s standing by at the railway station in case of mishap.’

‘There won’t be a mishap,’ said Leeming, hurt that it should even be suggested. ‘I’ve done this before, Inspector. I know what to expect.’

‘I trust you implicitly, Victor. My fear is that, when you arrest one person, his or her accomplice will take flight. The obvious way to escape the town is by rail so that’s why the superintendent will be guarding the station.’

Leeming was placated. ‘Oh, I see. It makes sense when you explain it like that.’ He put on his top hat and