‘How can you possibly know that?’
‘When they fled from the house, they decided to go to ground in a hotel where they’d enjoyed their stay. Accordingly, they arrived at the Sherbourne late this morning. Mrs Darker recognised them and sent for the police.’
‘Were they apprehended?’
‘Alas, no,’ admitted Colbeck, ‘but they were chased away. I had a telegraph from the local police. They’re scouring the town in case the two suspects are still in the vicinity.’
‘The chase is on, then,’ said Tallis, excitedly. ‘We have their scent in our nostrils.’
‘Are you going to miss out on the hunt, sir? Or would you prefer to sit here and read about the campaigns of the Duke of Wellington?’ He stood up. ‘Please excuse me. I must get back. Urgent matters demand my attention. But I leave you with this thought,’ he said. ‘Were his ghost standing before you now, what do you think Constable Peebles would want you to do?’
Tallis pondered afresh, looked up at the portrait then rose to his feet. He walked across to the window and stared out in the direction of Scotland Yard. Colbeck opened the door to leave.
‘Goodbye, sir,’ he said, hovering. ‘I’m very sorry to discover that you are beyond the reach of persuasion. I’ll pass on the bad news to the commissioner.’
‘Wait!’ said Tallis, making up his mind. ‘I’ll come with you.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
A night in her lover’s arms did much to reassure Irene Adnam and to banish her fears of arrest. In spite of setbacks and scares, the fact remained that they were still at liberty and were now over a hundred and sixty miles away from London. Crewe was essentially a railway town, far more interested in its mundane daily round than in searching for dangerous criminals. The hotel was accustomed to people coming and going on a regular basis. It had no eagle-eyed manageress like Gwen Darker and no watchful staff. Oxley and Irene were not under surveillance.
At the same time, however, she nursed one justified anxiety. It was all very well for Oxley to point out that Inspector Colbeck would have no clue as to their whereabouts but that would not stop him continuing to look for them. He would never give up. Colbeck had already spent ten years in pursuit of Oxley and – from what she’d heard of him – was the kind of man prepared to spend another decade in the hunt. His persistence was legendary. It meant that the fugitives could never fully relax.
Irene came down late for breakfast. When she entered the dining room, she saw that Oxley was already occupying a table in the far corner. She sat down on the other side of the room and made a point of ignoring him. It was too early for the newspapers to have arrived from London. Eager to read an account of their escape, Oxley had told her that he’d walk to the railway station in due course. The meal was acceptable but it lacked the quality of the breakfasts they’d had at the Sherbourne. Indeed, the hotel could not compete on any terms with the one in which they’d stayed in Coventry. Its merits were that it was quiet, anonymous and close to the station. If they had to flee from the town, they could do so very quickly.
When he’d finished his meal, Oxley made a point of walking close to her so that he could let his hand gently brush her shoulder. Irene felt a delicious thrill coursing through her, heightened by the fact that nobody else in the dining room had been aware of the contact. If this was the game that they had to play for a while, she was ready to enjoy it. Passionate nights together would be balanced by times in the public rooms of hotels where the pair of them pretended to be complete strangers. It might leave her vulnerable to propositions from amorous gentlemen but Irene was used to rebuffing those. The sight of an attractive young woman travelling on her own always excited unwelcome interest. It was a fact of life to which she had long since adjusted.
Seated near a window, she was able to watch Oxley striding jauntily away from the hotel. He looked smart, imposing and urbane. He was a man of the world, at ease in every situation. At their first encounter, she had been struck by his courteousness. As he passed an elderly woman, Irene saw him touch the brim of his hat out of politeness. Oxley was every inch a gentleman. It was one of the things that she loved about him. He’d elevated her in every way. She was no longer an unfortunate girl, forced to enter domestic service. Irene Adnam was now a lady in her own right. She could book into a hotel on her own and order the staff around at will. It made her feel empowered.
She lingered at the table so that she could watch Oxley return and feast her eyes on him. It was not long before they’d be alone together in her room again, discussing what they should do next. First, however, he’d want to celebrate. Their latest escape was bound to have been reported in the London newspapers and Oxley would gloat over them. When he came back into view, however, there was no sense of gloating and still less of celebration. His head was down and his stroll had now become something of a scurry. Passing a lady who was exercising her dog, he didn’t even spare her a glance. There was no time for courtesy now.
Irene’s stomach lurched. Something was wrong. Leaving her tea untouched, she rose from the table and hurried out.
* * *
Leeming was impressed. ‘How on earth did you manage it, sir?’
‘I appealed to his sense of duty.’
‘The commissioner did that but to no avail.’
‘I had an ally, Victor.’
‘Oh – who was that?’
‘It was the Duke of Wellington,’ said Colbeck.
‘He’s dead. The superintendent went to the funeral.’
‘He’s still alive in Mr Tallis’s heart.’
‘I didn’t know that he had one,’ said Leeming, sourly. He brightened immediately. ‘But it’s a relief to have him back. When he bawled at me earlier on, I felt almost glad.’
They were in Colbeck’s office, collating a lot of information that had come in. On the wall was a large map of the British Isles. Colbeck explained how he’d convinced Tallis to return to work and how the Duke of Wellington had unknowingly lent his aid. Not for the first time, Leeming admired the inspector’s diplomacy.
‘It was the revelations about Dr and Mrs Oldfield that really secured his interest,’ said Colbeck. ‘It was quite miraculous. A treasure trove of crime was both unearthed and solved in one long conversation. I wish that it was always so easy.’
‘Yet they appeared to be highly respectable,’ said Leeming as he recalled his meeting with the Youngers. ‘Looking at them, I’d never have guessed what the truth was.’
‘They worked hard to reinvent themselves, Victor. Had it not been for the arrival of unexpected guests, the doctor and his wife might have lived happily ever after as Gordon and Susanna Younger. He might even have made an excellent churchwarden.’
‘Not anymore, sir – they’re back in Bradford now, answering for their crimes. They’ll get no mercy.’
Colbeck was philosophical. ‘Justice has a way of catching up with people in the end. It just takes a little longer in some cases.’
‘How long will it take before Oxley and Miss Adnam are caught?’
‘The net is slowly closing around them. Now that we’ve engaged the British public in the search, we’re getting real assistance.’ He opened another letter and scanned it. ‘Here’s another example.’
‘Who sent it?’
‘The manager of a hotel in Stafford,’ said Colbeck. ‘He believes that they might have stayed there after the escape from the train. His description of Oxley doesn’t tally in every particular with the one that we’ve circulated but it sounds as if it could be him, Victor.’
Leeming was sceptical. ‘Wait a moment, sir,’ he said. ‘Stafford is close to Wolverhampton, isn’t it? If you kill two policemen and make a run for it, surely you’d want to get as far away as possible.’
‘That’s what everybody would think and it’s what Oxley and his accomplice would
