the fact to Mr Tallis, that is. He might not understand. He has a preference for making all operational decisions himself.'
'I won't breathe a single word to him.'
'Not even serendipity?'
'I'm saving that one for my wife.'
'Does that mean you're willing to help us, Victor?'
Leeming struggled to his feet. 'I'm on my way, sir.'
They noticed the difference at once. It was as if a threatening black cloud that had been hanging over the site had suddenly dispersed to let bright sunshine through. In fact, it was raining that morning but nothing could dampen their spirits or that of the navvies. Hectic activity was continuing apace. They were now certain to complete the stipulated amount of work on the railway by the end of the month. The sudden and dramatic improvement made Aubrey Filton blossom into an unaccustomed smile.
'This is how it should be, Mr Brassey,' he said. 'Now that we've got rid of the rotten apples from the barrel, we can surge ahead.'
'Word spread quickly. When they heard about the arrests, the men were as relieved as we were. And you can't blame them,' said Brassey, reasonably. 'If work had ground to a halt here, I'd have been in danger of losing the contract. Thousands of them would have been thrown out of work. Their livelihoods have been saved.'
'And your reputation has been vindicated.'
'I care more about them than about me, Aubrey.'
'You treat them like members of a huge family.'
'That's exactly what they are.'
They were at the window, gazing out at sodden navvies who laboured away as if impervious to rain. There was a new spirit about the way everyone was working. It was almost as if the many wanted to atone for the dire shortcomings of the few by demonstrating their commitment to the project. Eamonn Slattery had noticed it. The priest was standing between the two men.
'Look at them,' he said with pride. 'There's not a navvy alive who can match an Irishman when it comes to hard physical work. The Potato Famine nearly crippled our beloved country but it was a blessing to someone like you, Mr Brassey.'
'I agree, Father Slattery,' conceded the other. 'A lot of the men here emigrated from Ireland. I was glad to take them on. What's the feeling among them now?'
'Oh, they reacted with a mixture of thanks and outrage.'
'Inspector Colbeck deserves most of the thanks.'
'So I hear,' said Slattery with a cackle. 'And there was me, thinking that dandy was working for the Minister of Public Works. He took me in completely but, then, so did Brendan Mulryne.'
'He's the real hero here,' opined Filton.
'The others will miss him. He made himself very popular. Well, there's one good thing to come out of all this.'
'And what's that, Father?'
'I can count on a decent congregation on Sunday,' explained the priest with a grin. 'It's strange how adversity turns a man's mind to religion. They know how close they came to losing their jobs. A lot of them will get down on their knees to send up a prayer of thanks. I'll make the most of it and preach a sermon that will sing in their ears for a week. By next Sunday,' he added, philosophically, 'most of them won't come anywhere near the service.'
'Were you surprised to find out who was trying to disrupt the railway?' asked Brassey.
'I'd always suspected that Shannon might have something to do with it. He was the type. Kilfoyle disappointed me. I thought that Liam would have more sense.'
'What about the other two men?'
'Dowd and Murphy? Weak characters. Easily lead.'
'They'll get no mercy in court,' predicted Brassey. 'This railway has the backing of Louis Napoleon and his government. Anyone who tries to bring it to a halt will be hit with the full weight of the law.'
'The whole sad business is finally over,' said Slattery. 'I think that we ought to console ourselves with that thought.'
'But it isn't over yet.'
'No,' said Filton. 'The murder of Gaston Chabal has still to be solved. What happened here was entangled with that, Father Slattery.'
'How?'
'The only person who knows that is Inspector Colbeck.'
'Does he know the name of the killer?'
'He will do before long.'
'You sound very confident of that, Mr Filton.'
'He's an astonishing man.'
'It was an education to see him at work,' said Brassey. 'In his own way, Inspector Colbeck reminded me of Gaston. Both share the same passion for detail. They are utterly meticulous. That's why I know that he'll apprehend the killer in due course, Father Slattery.'
'More power to his elbow!'
'The inspector is tireless,' said Filton.
'Yes,' confirmed Brassey. 'His energy is remarkable. Even as we speak, the hunt is continuing with a vengeance.'
Robert Colbeck did not like him. The moment he set eyes on Gerald Kane, he felt an instant aversion. Kane was a short, neat, vain, conservatively dressed, fussy man in his forties, with long brown hair and a thick moustache. His deep-set eyes peered at the newcomer through wire-framed spectacles. His manner was officious and unwelcoming. Even after he had introduced himself, Colbeck was viewed with a mingled suspicion and distaste.
'Why are you bothering me, Inspector?' asked Kane, huffily. 'As far as I'm aware, we have broken no laws.'
'None at all, sir.'
'Then I'll ask you to be brief. I'm a busy man.'
'So am I.'
'In that case, we'll both profit from brevity.'
'This cannot be rushed, Mr Kane,' warned Colbeck.
'It will have to be, sir. I have a meeting.'
'Postpone it – for his sake.'
'Whom are you talking about?'
'Gaston Chabal.'
Gerald Kane raised his eyebrows in surprise, but the name did not encourage him to adopt a more friendly tone. He simply treated his visitor to a hostile stare across his desk. They were in his office, a place that was as cold, ordered and impeccably clean as the man himself. Everything on the leather top of the desk was in a tidy pile. All the pictures on the walls had been hung at identical heights. Kane was the secretary of the Society of Civil and Mechanical Engineers and he seemed to look upon his post as a major office of state. He sounded an almost imperious note.
'What about him, Inspector?' he said.
'I believe that you wrote to him, sir.'
'I don't see why that should concern you. Any correspondence in which I am engaged is highly confidential.'
'Not when one of the recipients of your letters is murdered.'
'I'm well aware of what happened to Chabal,' said Kane without the slightest gesture towards sympathy. 'It's caused me no little inconvenience.'
