'And who was that?'
'Inspector,' pleaded Lockyer, 'I had no idea that he intended to kill Guttridge. I swear it. He said that he just wanted to scare him. If I'd known what I know now, I'd never have taken on the job.'
'Give me his name, Mr Lockyer.'
'I was a policeman. I'd never willingly break the law.'
'his name,' demanded Colbeck.
'Adam Hawkshaw.'
Inspector Colbeck took no chances. Aware that Hawkshaw was a strong young man in a shop that was filled with weaponry, he stationed Leeming and Butterkiss at either end of Middle Row to prevent any attempt at escape. When he confronted the butcher in the empty shop, Colbeck was given a sneer of contempt.
'What have you come for this time?' said Hawkshaw.
'You.'
'Eh?'
'I'm placing you under arrest for the murders of Jacob Guttridge and Narcissus Jones,' said Colbeck, producing a pair of handcuffs from beneath his coat, 'and for the attempted murder of a police officer.'
'I never murdered anybody!' protested the other.
'Then why did you pay Amos Lockyer to find the hangman's address for you?' Hawkshaw's mouth fell open. 'I don't think it was to send him your greetings, was it? What you sent him was a death threat.'
'No,' said Hawkshaw, defiantly.
'You'll have to come with me.'
'But I'm innocent, Inspector.'
'Then how do you explain your interest in Jacob Guttridge's whereabouts?' asked Colbeck, snapping the handcuffs on his wrists. 'How do you account for the fact that you were seen taking a train to Paddock Wood on the night of the chaplain's murder?'
'I can't tell you that.'
'No, and you probably can't tell me where you were yesterday evening, can you? Because I don't believe that you were in your lodging. You were cowering in a doorway opposite the Saracen's Head, waiting for me to come out so that you could shoot me.'
'That's not true,' said Hawkshaw, struggling to get out of the handcuffs. 'Take these things off me!'
'Not until you're safely behind bars.'
'I had nothing to do with the murders!'
'Prove it.'
The butcher looked shamefaced. Biting his lip, he grappled with his conscience for a long time. Eventually, he blurted out his confession.
'On the night of the chaplain's murder, I did take a train to Paddock Wood,' he said, the words coming out slowly and with obvious embarrassment, 'but it was not to go after him. I went to see someone and I took the train over there again last night.'
'Can this person vouch for you?'
'Yes, Inspector, but I'd rather you didn't ask her.'
'A lady, then – a young lady, I expect. What was her name?'
'I can't tell you that.'
'Is that because you just invented her?' pressed Colbeck.
'No,' rejoined the other, 'Jenny is real.'
'I'll believe that when I see her, Mr Hawkshaw. Meanwhile, I'm going to make your mother aware of your arrest then take you back to London.'
'Wait!' said Hawkshaw in desperation. 'There's no need for this.' He swallowed hard. 'Her name is Jenny Skillen.'
'Why couldn't you tell me that before?'
'She's married.'
'Ah.'
'Her husband is coming back today.'
Colbeck knew that he was telling the truth. If he had a witness who could absolve him of the murder of Narcissus Jones then he could not be responsible for the other killings.
'Why did you pay Amos Lockyer to find that address?' he asked.
'I wanted revenge,' admitted Hawkshaw. 'When I saw the way that he made my father suffer on the scaffold, I just wanted to tear out his heart. I didn't say that to Amos. I told him that I just wanted to give the man a fright. He agreed to find his address for me, that was all. When he came back, he told me that Guttridge would be at a prizefight in a few weeks' time.'
'So you decided to go on the same excursion train?'
'No, Inspector – I give you my word. If I'm honest, I thought about it. I even planned what I'd do when I caught up with him. But I don't think I could have gone through with it.'
'Did you discuss this with anyone else?'
'Yes,' said Hawkshaw, 'and he talked me out of it. He told me that I couldn't bring back my father by killing the man who hanged him. He made me see how wrong it would have been and got me to promise that I'd forget all about it. He stopped me.'
'Who did?'
'Gregory – Gregory Newman.'
There were tears in his eyes as he stood beside the bed and looked down at his wife. Meg Newman had not woken all day. She lay in a sleep so deep that it was almost a coma. On the rare occasions when she did open her eyes for any length of time, she inhabited a twilight world of her own in which she could neither speak, move nor do anything for herself. Her husband gazed down at her with a mixture of love and resignation. Then he bent down to give her a farewell kiss that she never even felt.
'You once begged me to do this,' he said, 'and I didn't have the courage to put you out of your pain and misery. I have to do it now, Meg. Please forgive me.'
Gregory Newman put the pillow over her face and pressed down hard. It was not long before his wife stopped breathing.
Having released his prisoner, Colbeck went marching off to the railway works with Leeming and Butterkiss. As a precaution, he deployed them at the two exits from the boiler shop before he went in. When he found the foreman, he had to shout above the incessant din.
'I've come to see Gregory Newman again,' he yelled.
'You're too late, Inspector.'
'What do you mean?'
'He left half an hour ago,' replied the foreman. 'Someone brought word that his wife had taken a turn for the worse. I let him go home.'
'Who brought the message?'
'A young woman.'
Colbeck thanked him then hurried outside to collect the others. When he heard what had happened, Leeming was able to identify the bearer of the message.
'Kathleen Brennan,' he said. 'I think she came to warn him.'
'Let's go to his house,' ordered Colbeck.
They hurried to Turton Street and found the door of the house wide open. The blind had been drawn on the downstairs front window. Colbeck went quickly inside and looked into the front room. Weeping quietly, Mrs Sheen was pulling the sheet over the face of Meg Newman. She looked up in surprise at Colbeck.
'Forgive this intrusion,' he said, removing his hat. 'We're looking for Mr Newman. Is he here?'
'Not any more, sir. He told me Meg had passed on and he left.'
'Where did he go?'
