a few moments but it has to be done for legal reasons. Would you consent to come to the morgue to make that identification?'
Guttridge was uncertain. 'I don't know.'
'Let her go,' said Rebecca. 'It's not your place.'
'In the absence of the wife, an only son is the obvious person,' remarked Colbeck. 'It's crucial that we have the right name on the death certificate. A false one will not suffice. We don't want to compel a family member to perform this duty,' he cautioned, 'but it may come to that.'
The young carpenter walked to the window and looked out into the darkness. His wife stood at his shoulder and whispered something in his ear but he shook his head. Guttridge eventually turned round.
'I'll do it, Inspector.'
'Thank you, sir,' said Colbeck, glad to have wrested the concession from him. 'It can wait until morning, if you prefer.'
'No, I need to get it over with as soon as possible.'
'Wait until tomorrow,' advised Rebecca. 'That will give us time to talk about it. I don't want you to go at all.'
'The decision has been made,' said Colbeck, anxious to separate husband and wife. 'We'll take a cab there immediately.'
Guttridge nodded. 'I'm ready, Inspector.'
'Michael!' protested his wife.
'It has to be done, Becky.'
'Have you forgotten everything that he did to us?'
'No, I haven't,' said Guttridge, grimly. 'I'm only doing this to spare Mother the trouble and to give myself some pleasure.'
'Pleasure?' reiterated Colbeck in surprise. 'I can't promise that you'll find much pleasure in the police morgue, sir.'
'Oh, but I will, Inspector.'
'How?'
'I'll enjoy something that I've wanted for over twenty years.' He was triumphant. 'I'll be able to see for certain that my father is dead.'
CHAPTER FOUR
Because of its proximity to Scotland Yard, one of the pubs frequented by members of the Detective Department was the Lamb and Flag, a well-run establishment with a friendly atmosphere, a cheery landlord and excellent beer. While he waited for Colbeck to arrive, Victor Leeming nursed a tankard of bitter, taking only occasional sips so that he could make it last. Seated alone at a table on the far side of the bar, the Sergeant consulted his watch. The lateness of the hour worried him. He was still wondering what had kept the Inspector when Colbeck came in through the door, exchanged greetings with other police colleagues and made his way across the bar through the swirling cigarette smoke.
'I'm sorry to keep you waiting, Victor,' said Colbeck, joining him. 'Can I get you something else to drink?'
'No, thank you, sir. One is all that I dare touch. If I'm late back, as I will be, I can tell my wife that it's because of my work. Estelle accepts that. Let her think that I've been drinking heavily, however, and all hell will break loose. She'll call me names that I wouldn't care to repeat.'
'I'm glad you brought up the subject of names.'
'Are you, sir?'
'Yes, I've a tale to tell you on that score. Excuse me a moment.'
Colbeck went across to the counter and ordered a whisky and soda for himself. When he returned to the table, he took off his hat and sat opposite Leeming, who was in his customary sombre mood. Colbeck raised his glass to his companion.
'Good health, Victor!'
'I could do with it and all, sir,' admitted Leeming. 'Five minutes in that morgue and I feel as if I'm ready for the slab myself. It fair turns my stomach to go in there. How can anyone work in a place like that?'
'It takes special qualities.'
'Well, I don't have them. I know that. It's eerie.'
'I didn't find it so when I was there earlier,' said Colbeck, tasting his drink. 'Nor should you, Victor. By now, you should have got used to the sight of dead bodies. Over the years, we've seen enough of them and the one certain thing about policing this city is that we'll be forced to look at many more before we retire.'
'That's what depresses me, Inspector.'
'Learn to take it in your stride, man.'
'If only I could,' said Leeming, solemnly. 'But did you say that you'd been to the morgue as well?'
'I was accompanying the son of the murder victim. He made a positive identification of the body – all too positive, as it happens.'
'What do you mean?'
'That I've never seen anyone laugh in those circumstances before. And that's what Michael Guttridge did. When he looked at his father, he seemed to think it an occasion for hilarity.'
Leeming was nonplussed. 'Michael Guttridge?' he said. 'How could he be the son? The dead man's name was Bransby.'
'It was and it wasn't, Victor.'
'Well, it can't have been both.'
'As a matter of fact, it can.'
Colbeck told him about the visit to Hoxton and drew a gasp of amazement from the other when he revealed that the man who had been killed on the excursion train was none other than a public hangman. The Sergeant was even more surprised to learn of the way that Michael Guttridge and his wife had behaved on receipt of the news of the murder.
'That's disgraceful,' he said. 'It's downright indecent.'
'I made that point very forcefully to the young man.'
'And he actually laughed over the corpse?'
'I took him to task for that as well.'
'What did he say?'
'That he couldn't help himself,' said Colbeck. 'In fairness, once we left the building, he did apologise for his unseemly conduct in the morgue. I suppose that I should be grateful that his wife was not with us. Given her intransigent attitude to her father-in-law, she might have stood over the body and applauded.'
'Has she no feelings at all?'
'Far too many of them, Victor.'
Colbeck explained about her relationship with the Guttridge family and how it had made the iron enter her soul. A father himself, Leeming could not believe what he was hearing.
'My children would never treat me like that,' he said, indignantly.
'You'd never give them cause.'
'They love me as their father and do as they're told – some of the time, anyway. If I was to die, they'd be heartbroken. So would Estelle.'
'What if you were to become a public executioner?'
'That would never happen!'
'But supposing it did, Victor. Let me put it to you as a hypothetical question. In that event, would your children stand by you?'
'Of course.'
'How can you be so sure?'
'Because we're a real family,' said Leeming with passion. 'That's all that counts, sir. Blood is thicker than
