'Shall I roust them out, sir?' volunteered Leeming.
'No, Victor,' replied Colbeck. 'This is a job for Constable Praine, I think. And no rousting out is required. The only person we need is Samuel Triggs. He sounds as if he'd be the right size. Constable.'
'Yes, Inspector?' said Praine.
'Invite him, very politely, to come and talk to me.'
'I will, sir.'
Pleased with his assignment, Praine went off willingly towards the inn. On the journey there, Colbeck had questioned him closely about the Liverpool Constabulary and, in the course of describing activities at the central police station, the constable had let slip the information that he had conceived a romantic interest in Heyford's daughter. Since Praine was too frightened of the inspector to pursue it any further, Colbeck hoped that he could put in a good word for the young lover by praising his conduct as a policeman. It was the reason he had dispatched Walter Praine to the Traveller's Rest.
'What's going on?' said Micah, warily.
'You tell us, sir,' suggested Colbeck.
'We've done nothing wrong. We helped you.'
'That's true, Mr Triggs, and we were grateful. But another witness has come forward and his statement contradicts all three that were made on the Red Rose.'
Micah became aggressive. 'Is someone calling me a liar?'
'Not at all.'
'I told those policemen exactly what I saw.'
'I'm sure, sir.'
Colbeck looked around the barge. Sailing along the canal, the Red Rose had a certain grace about it. Close to, however, its defects were glaringly obvious. It was old, dirty and neglected. The sail had been repaired in several places and some of the planks in its deck were badly splintered. Also, it stank. Micah could read his mind.
'It's not my fault,' he said, bitterly. 'I can't afford a new barge. There's not the same money in the canal any more. That bleeding railway is to blame. It's took lots of our trade away from us. And what has it given us in return – a bleeding corpse!'
'I'd much prefer to travel by water,' said Leeming.
'It's in our blood.'
'By water, horse or on my own two feet. Anything but a train.'
Leeming was about to explain his dislike of the railway when he saw two people emerge from the Traveller's Rest. Constable Praine was strolling towards them with Samuel Triggs by his side. Triggs was wearing the same rough clothing as his grandfather and a similar hat, but the sun picked out something that set him apart from the other bargees. On his feet was a pair of expensive, shiny, black leather shoes. He was a slim young man in his twenties with a defiant smile and an arrogant strut. Triggs saw the detectives looking at his shoes.
'Finders, keepers,' he said.
'They belong to someone else,' Colbeck told him.
'Yes, but 'e's got no bleedin' use for 'em, poor devil.'
'That doesn't give you the right to steal from him, Mr Triggs.'
'It was my reward for pullin' 'im out of the canal.'
'Where's the jacket?'
'What jacket?' returned Triggs with a blank expression on his face. 'There was no jacket. Grandpa?'
'No,' said Micah, firmly. 'He had no jacket on, Inspector.'
'Father will tell you the same. Ask 'im.'
'Constable Praine,' said Colbeck, smoothly, 'we are confronted here with what amounts to a collective loss of memory. Three people have somehow forgotten that the corpse was wearing a suit when it fell into the canal. How do you deal with this sort of problem when you come across it?'
'Like this, sir.'
Seeing an opportunity to impress, the policeman grabbed Triggs by the collar and lifted him bodily before dangling him over the edge of the canal. Triggs squawked in protest but he could not get free.
'If I hold him under the water long enough, we might eventually get an honest answer out of him.'
'Leave him alone,' yelled Micah, snatching up a wooden pole to brandish at Praine, 'or I'll split your skull open.'
'That wouldn't be very wise, Mr Triggs,' said Leeming as he squared up to the old man. 'We're already in a position to arrest your grandson for the theft of a pair of shoes. Do you want to share the same cell on a charge of assaulting a police officer?' Micah spat into the water with disgust then flung the pole aside. 'That's better, sir.'
'Now, then,' said Praine, dipping Triggs in the water before pulling him out again, 'have I jogged your memory?'
'Yes!' cried Triggs, capitulating. The constable set him down again. 'It's under the tarpaulin. I was goin' to wear it on special days.'
'But it must have a hole in the back,' observed Colbeck.
'It's only a slit – and you can 'ardly notice the bloodstains.'
Samuel Triggs climbed aboard the barge and lifted the tarpaulin so that he could haul out the smart jacket. Like the black shoes, it looked incongruous against the rest of his apparel. Before he surrendered it, he put a hand to his heart.
'I swear to God there was nothin' in the pockets, Inspector.'
'Sam's right,' confirmed Micah. 'If there'd been a wallet or some papers, we'd have given them to the police. We're not criminals. If we had been, we'd have stripped all his clothes off and slung him back in the canal for someone else to find.'
Colbeck could see that they were telling the truth. He put out a hand. With great reluctance, Triggs passed the jacket to him. Colbeck turned it over and held it up. There was a neat slit where the knife had gone through the material and an ugly stain left by the blood. Its unexpected visit to the dark water of the canal made the jacket lose a little of its shape. Colbeck examined the front of it.
'This was not made by an English tailor,' he decided, studying the cut of the lapels. 'You'll not see this fashion in London.'
'Then where does it come from?' asked Leeming.
Colbeck checked the label inside the jacket then looked up.
'Paris,' he said. 'The murder victim was a Frenchman.'
CHAPTER FOUR
Superintendent Edward Tallis had dedicated himself to his work with a missionary zeal. Faced with what he saw as a rising tide of crime, he put in far more hours than anyone else in the Detective Department in the hope of stemming its menacing flow. With too few officers covering far too large an area, he knew that policing the capital city was a Herculean task but he was not daunted. He was determined that the forces of law and order would prevail. Tallis was not the only man to leave the army and join the Metropolitan Police, but the others had all retained their rank to give their names a ring of authority. The only rank that he used was the one confirmed upon him in his new profession. It filled him with pride. Being a detective superintendent was, for Tallis, like sitting at the right hand of the Almighty.
Accustomed to arrive first at Scotland Yard, he was surprised to find that one of his men was already there. Bent over his desk, Robert Colbeck was writing something in his educated hand. Spotting him through the half- open door, Tallis barged into the room.
'What the devil are you doing here, Inspector?' he said.
'Finishing my report on the Harrison-Clark trial, sir,' replied the other. He turned to face Tallis. 'If you recall, I had to postpone it.'
'You are supposed to be in Liverpool.'
