means of developing ties of friendship with local people and that was important.
A nocturnal explosion meant trouble. The two detectives got up at once, dressed in the dark then walked swiftly in the direction from which the sound had come. There was no danger of their getting lost. They simply followed the track that had already been laid. As each new extension was added, it was used to bring fresh supplies of iron, timber, ballast, bricks and other materials required on site. Movement by rail was so much quicker and more efficient than having to rely on horses and carts or using barges on the river. It also helped to raise morale. When they saw that their track was already in operation, those working on it could measure the progress they had already made. They could take pride.
As they got closer, Colbeck and Leeming could see a mass of torches and lanterns. Raised voices were then carried on the breeze towards them. They quickened their step until figures were slowly conjured out of the gloom. Dozens of people were moving about as they tried to establish the full extent of the damage. Thomas Brassey was supervising the operation. Colbeck and Leeming walked through the scattered wreckage to get to him.
'What happened, Mr Brassey?' asked Colbeck.
'We're still not entirely sure,' replied the contractor, 'but it looks as if someone planted gunpowder beneath one of the wagons and blew it to pieces. We'll have to wait until dawn before we can make a complete inventory of the damage.'
'It must have been the stuff that was stolen earlier,' said Leeming, confidently. 'Mr Filton told me about it.'
'Whoever used it knew what he was doing, Sergeant. One wagon was blown apart and four others were damaged beyond repair. As you can see, the track was ripped up as well.'
'Was anyone hurt?'
'Some of the nightwatchmen were injured by the debris but nobody was killed, as far as we know.' He looked around and sighed. 'This is the worst incident yet. Someone is trying to cripple us.'
'No, sir,' said Colbeck. 'This was simply another warning.'
'Warning?'
The detective recoiled from the clamour all round him.
'Is there somewhere a little quieter where we might talk?'
'Of course, Inspector. Come to my office.'
Carrying a lantern, Brassey picked his way carefully through the gathering crowd and led them to the wooden hut. Once inside, he put the lantern on a ledge and lit some oil lamps, one of which was set on the large safe that stood in a corner. Brassey waved them into chairs before sitting down behind his desk.
'What's this about a warning?' he said.
'Somebody wishes you to think again about building this railway. I know that you have a contract to do so,' said Colbeck before Brassey could protest, 'but contracts can be revoked. The object of the exercise, I believe, is to frighten you off.'
'I'm not a man who's easily frightened, Inspector,' said the other with defiance. 'Whatever happens, I'll press on.'
'I admire your courage, sir, but you must expect worse attacks than the one you suffered last night.'
'What could be worse than this?'
'Lots of things,' said Colbeck. 'Blowing up the locomotive, for instance. That would have been far more costly and inconvenient than destroying some wagons. Breaking in here would be another option,' he went on, pointing to the safe. 'If they stole whatever you keep in there, I should imagine that it could create some serious problems for you.'
'It could,' admitted Brassey. 'That safe holds money. My men like to get their wages on time. If the navvies were not paid when they expect it, there'd be ructions. That's why a nightwatchman always patrols this area in the hours of darkness – to guard the safe.'
'You had plenty of men on duty tonight, sir,' Leeming pointed out, 'but the explosion still took place.'
'It means the people responsible must work for you,' reasoned Colbeck. 'They know exactly where any guards are deployed and they can find their way around in the dark. In short, they're familiar with everything that happens on site. It enables them to stay one step ahead of you all the time.'
'What do you suggest?' said Brassey. 'Do I call in the police?'
'That's a decision only you can make, sir.'
'Well, I wouldn't make it lightly, Inspector. I've tried until now to contain the various setbacks we've suffered. Once I involve the police, our difficulties become common knowledge and newspapers start to take an interest. I'd hate that to happen,' he confided. 'Not everyone in this country is entirely happy to see an English contractor building a French railway. Adverse comment by the press could make things very awkward for us.'
'Then we tackle the situation another way,' decided Colbeck. 'We have to catch the men who are behind all these incidents.'
'And how do we do that?'
'By having someone working alongside them. At the moment, we're trying to solve the problem from the outside. That's a handicap. What we need is someone inside the labour force who can sniff out these villains by rubbing shoulders with them.'
'Such a man would be courting grave danger,' said Brassey.
'Only if he were found out.'
'Navvies are very close-knit. They resent outsiders.'
'Not if the outsider can win their confidence.'
'Inspector Colbeck is right,' said Leeming, glibly. 'We've used this device before and it's always worked. If the right man is chosen, he could unmask the villains in no time.'
'I'm glad that you agree,' said Colbeck, putting a hand on his shoulder, 'because you are the person I had in mind.'
Leeming gasped. 'Me, sir?'
'Yes, Victor – you can start work this very morning.'
When light finally came, there was no shortage of volunteers to help in the work of clearing up the mess. The fires caused by the explosion had been swiftly put out but, ironically, another one now had to be lit to burn the remnants of the wagons. Two men had been badly hurt in the blast and half a dozen had sustained minor injuries. The dog was duly buried. When the work was finally done, the men stood in a circle around the railway lines that had been hideously distorted by the blast. Threats of violence were made against the culprits.
'They should be hung by their balls from the tallest tree,' snarled Pierce Shannon, 'then we could all throw rocks at the cruel bastards until they bleed to death.'
'I agree with the principle that they should suffer,' said Father Slattery, gently, 'though I'd express myself with more restraint.'
'That's because you're a priest. I can speak the truth.'
'You'll certainly speak something, Pierce, for I've never known a man with such a runaway mouth on him as you, but I'm not always sure that it's the honest truth that passes those lips of yours.'
'Whoever did this deserves to be crucified!'
Slattery bristled. 'And I'll not have you filching from the Holy Bible like that. Our Lord died upon a cross – he was martyred on our behalf. Never forget that. It would be sheer sacrilege to punish these evildoers in the same way.'
'What would you do to them, Father?'
'First of all, I'd ask them why they've been harrying us.'
'I can tell you that,' said Shannon, vengefully. 'They're swinish Frenchmen who can't bear the thought that we build better railways than they do. They want to drive us all away.'
'Well, I'm not going anywhere, Pierce.'
'Neither am I – whatever the dirty buggers do to us.'
Many of the navvies had been found accommodation in the surrounding farms and villages, but hundreds of them lived in the makeshift camp they had erected. Pierce Shannon was one of them, a short, compact, powerful Irishman in his thirties with a fondness for strong drink and a hard fight. Since there were so many people like
