Peril on the Royal Train Read online

  Still no answer came but a vague shape was slowly emerging nearby. Before he could make it out properly, Colbeck was under attack. Duncan Usher flung himself at the inspector, knocking him backwards and going for his throat. As strong hands tightened around his neck, Colbeck had to fight for his life.

  When they dragged him back into the house, Ewen Usher was still spitting with fury. Holding him by the scruff of his neck, McTurk forced him down into a chair then stood beside him with his hands on the man’s shoulders. Leeming was diverted by the commotion from above. He went quickly upstairs and stood in the open doorway of the front bedroom. Noise, dust and grunts of pain were coming from the roof space. He could hear the sounds of bodies rolling over and of heavy blows being exchanged. Wanting to go to Colbeck’s aid, he saw that it would be a difficult exercise. He was not as lithe and athletic as the inspector. Getting up into the roof space would take a real effort. Leeming was still wondering how to go about it when the problem was eliminated. Instead of waiting for assistance, Colbeck came down in search of it. There was a loud crash as the ceiling opened wide and two bodies hurtled down onto the bed in an avalanche of lath and plaster.

  As they continued to fight, it was clear that Colbeck had the upper hand, grappling with his opponent before delivering a series of telling punches. Leeming stepped in to hold the groggy Duncan face down while Colbeck pulled back the man’s arms and snapped the handcuffs on him. Leeming yanked their prisoner to the floor and pinned him down with a foot in the middle of his back.

  ‘Thank you, Victor,’ said Colbeck, standing up.

  ‘His brother is waiting downstairs, sir.’

  ‘I hope that he was easier to catch than this one.’

  When he stood up, Colbeck was covered in dust and grime. His hair was matted, his face was dirty and his immaculate clothing was smeared with the dust of decades. Leeming looked at the grubby trousers and the torn waistcoat.

  ‘And you had the gall to criticise me,’ he observed, dryly.

  Inspector Rae was peevish. ‘Why wasn’t I informed?’ he demanded.

  ‘There was no time,’ replied Craig.

  ‘You knew where I was. Word should have been sent.’

  ‘Inspector Colbeck felt the need to take immediate action.’

  ‘Well, it should have involved me.’

  ‘That’s a matter of opinion.’

  ‘It’s a matter of fact, Mr Craig.’

  They were in the general manager’s office and Rae had just been made aware of the latest development in the investigation. Like Craig, he was disgusted that McTurk had sought to use the information gleaned from the shepherd for his own advantage, ousting both Rae and Colbeck in the process and making them look inept. Spared that embarrassment, Rae had nevertheless been excluded. He was exasperated.

  ‘The villains are in custody,’ said Craig, ‘and that’s the salient point. Why quibble about rights of jurisdiction when the crime has been solved?’

  ‘We don’t know for certain that it has.’

  ‘These men are lifelong rogues.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean they caused a train crash,’ Rae contended. ‘Gunpowder was involved, remember. That can be very dangerous in the wrong hands. Did either of these brothers have experience in handling it?’

  ‘One of them must have, Inspector.’

  ‘I beg leave to doubt that. It’s a specialist skill.’

  ‘They are the culprits,’ said Craig irritably, ‘and it was Inspector Colbeck who captured them. The case is closed. I feel it in my bones.’

  ‘Then they’re misleading you, sir. I’ve been a detective too long to make hasty decisions. On the face of it, I agree, these men are worthy suspects but they’re no more than that. The evidence is not compelling. And even if they are guilty, proving it will present grave difficulties. If they’re the deep-dyed villains of report, they certainly won’t oblige us with a full confession.’

  ‘Colbeck will drag the truth out of them. They’ll be forced to admit that they were hired by the NBR to commit the outrage.’

  ‘Where are they being held?’

  ‘At the central police station – questioning will already be under way.’

  Having delivered the brothers into custody, Colbeck took Leeming back to the hotel so that they could clean themselves up and change their clothes. When the two of them returned to the police station, the inspector was as elegant as ever and the sergeant was marginally less scruffy. One of the first things they’d learnt as detectives was that accomplices had to be kept apart so that they couldn’t rehearse an alibi or invent a persuasive story together. Ewen and Duncan Usher were therefore held in separate cells, each wondering what his brother would say under interrogation.

  Since he’d arrested the older brother, Leeming was given the task of questioning Ewen. The interview took place in a featureless room with bars in the window. Leeming and the handcuffed prisoner sat either side of a table. Two uniformed policemen stood behind Ewen Usher. The door was locked. There was no possibility of escape. Notwithstanding this, the prisoner was not intimidated. He regarded Leeming with a smirk. The sergeant leant forward.

  ‘You know why you’re here, Mr Usher,’ he began.

  ‘I’ve no’ done anything wrong,’ claimed the other.

  ‘Then why did you try to run away?’

  ‘I’m innocent, I tell ye.’

  ‘Innocent people don’t assault a police officer,’ said Leeming, ‘and they don’t hurl vile abuse at him from that sewer you call a mouth. We have conclusive evidence that places you near a section of the Caledonian Railway where a dreadful crime took place.’

  Ewen’s face darkened. ‘It’s a lie.’

  ‘You and your brother were seen by witnesses.’

  ‘Tha’s no’ true.’

  ‘One of them is the landlord of the inn where you stayed.’ Ewen shifted uneasily in his chair. ‘He got a very good look at you and his daughter remembers the names she overheard – Ewen and Duncan.’

  ‘It wasnae us.’

  ‘Who else could it have been?’ pressed Leeming. ‘You both arrived in a horse and cart with something tied under a tarpaulin? The landlord wouldn’t dream up a thing like that. Other people at that inn remember you well. The description they gave of you tallies in every detail. You were there on the night before you committed that horrible crime.’

  Ewen stiffened. ‘What’re ye talking aboot, man?’

  ‘You know full well.’

  ‘It’s a pack o’ bleedin’ lies.’

  ‘You’re the liar, Mr Usher. Do you deny that you stayed at that inn?’

  ‘Aye, I do.’

  ‘And do you deny that you travelled with your brother in a horse and cart?’

  ‘Aye, I do!’ shouted Ewen.

  ‘Witnesses will be called in court to identify you,’ said Leeming. ‘What interests me is whether you were acting alone or whether you had some other accomplices. If there were others beside you, they deserve to share your appointment with the hangman.’

  The prisoner blanched. ‘What’s this aboot a hangman?’

  ‘Murder carries the death penalty and what you did led to the death of three individuals. You created chaos. Who paid you to do it? Who told you to block the line so that the train would crash into it? Come on,’ said Leeming, ‘the game is up now. You might as well tell us the truth at last. Who was behind the disaster, Mr Usher?’

  The prisoner had heard enough. Maddened by the accusation, he jumped up and launched himself across the table, butting Leeming hard in the chest and knocking him from his chair. As the sergeant struggled to push his attacker off, Ewen was overpowered by the two policemen and held tight. He continued to yell abuse at Leeming and to plead his innocence.

  ‘I’m no’ a killer!’ he howled in despair. ‘Duncan and me’ve never murdered a soul! I’ll swear it on the holy Bible. Ye must believe me!’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Colbeck adopted a different approach. Having heard from Leeming what had
occurred during the first interview, he decided not to provoke Duncan Usher into a similar rage. More might be gained from a calm discussion. Though he used the same room, Colbeck had no policemen present. He and the prisoner were quite alone. Duncan glowered at him. He still bore the marks of Colbeck’s fists. There were livid bruises on his face and one eye was half-closed. What made the stabbing pain more intense was the fact that the inspector seemed to have come through the encounter unscathed. Still in handcuffs, he sat at the table. Colbeck took the seat opposite.

  ‘Does the name Lackey Paterson mean anything to you?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ said Duncan.

  ‘Are you quite sure?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘What about the name of Jock Laidlaw?’

  ‘I’ve never heerd o’ the mahn.’

  ‘And I suppose you’ve never heard of Dougal Murray and Alan Grint either.’

  Duncan frowned. ‘Who are these people?’

  ‘The last three were victims of a train crash on the Caledonian Railway.’

  ‘So? What’s tha’ to do wi’ me?’

  He was more cautious and watchful than his brother. Taking care not to raise his voice, he answered the questions straightforwardly. Colbeck pressed on.

  ‘Let me take you back to Saturday night,’ he said.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘If you don’t mind, Mr Usher, I’ll ask the questions.’

  Duncan glanced towards the door. ‘What’ve ye done wi’ my brother? I heerd Ewen shouting.’

  ‘You’re much too sensible to do that,’ said Colbeck, ‘because you know that you’ll gain far more by cooperation. Your brother denied everything. That was silly. We have reliable witnesses. Their evidence will stand up in court.’

  He gave the prisoner time to absorb what he’d said. Duncan’s expression gave nothing away. He knew that he was in serious trouble and was careful to say nothing to make his predicament even worse.

  ‘Do you remember an inn called The Jolly Traveller?’

  ‘Aye, I do.’

  ‘Have you and your brother ever stayed there?’

  ‘Aye, we did – last Sat’day.’

  ‘Why did you drive all the way from Glasgow?’

  ‘We didnae do tha’. We took the train to Elvanfoot and hired the cart there.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Ewen and me’d heard tell how beautiful it was around there. We’d a mind to find out if it was true.’

  ‘Why not hire a trap? It would have been more comfortable than a cart.’

  ‘Aye, we found tha’ oot.’

  ‘The Jolly Traveller is some distance from Elvanfoot.’

  ‘We drove around for a long time.’

  ‘Did you buy anything on your way?’

  Duncan drew back warily. ‘What do ye mean?’

  ‘The landlord of the inn claims that you had something on the back of your cart, hidden under a tarpaulin and roped tight.’

  ‘Aye,’ replied Duncan, easily, ‘it was a rocking chair we bought for our granny in Carstairs. There was a market in a village we went through.’

  ‘What was the name of the village?’

  ‘It’s slipped my mind.’

  ‘And I suppose that your granny’s address has slipped your mind as well.’

  ‘No, no, I’ll gi’ it to ye. She was fair delighted wi’ the chair.’

  He spoke with such confidence that Colbeck was momentarily checked. The prisoner was unperturbed by the thought that the police could visit the grandmother to confirm the claim. The old woman clearly had received the gift.

  ‘What else was under that tarpaulin?’ resumed Colbeck.

  ‘Why do ye ask tha’?’

  ‘Could it, for instance, have been two barrels of gunpowder?’

  Duncan laughed. ‘Gunpowder!’

  ‘It was used to cause a blockage on the railway line.’

  The prisoner’s laughter died in his throat and a look of fear came into his eyes.

  ‘Ewen and me had nothing to do wi’ tha’,’ he said, earnestly.

  ‘So why did you spend the night at The Jolly Traveller?’ asked Colbeck. ‘You might as well tell me the truth. If you don’t, you and your brother will be charged with causing a train crash that led to excessive damage and to the deaths of the three men on a goods train. I’ve no need to tell you what the penalty for those crimes will be.’ He looked hard at the man. ‘Do you really want to go to the gallows?’

  Duncan Usher’s mouth had gone completely dry. As he contemplated the prospect just offered to him, he began to shudder. During some arrests, he’d been able to talk himself out of trouble. That was not an option here. Colbeck was too astute to be fooled. There was only one thing left to do.

  After licking his lips, the prisoner told his story.

  Deprived of the opportunity to earn the reward by capturing the brothers on his own, McTurk at least had the satisfaction of taking part in the arrests. When he went to his local pub that evening, there were some other off-duty railway policemen enjoying a drink. McTurk joined them. The talk inevitably turned to the investigation and he was able to tell them that he’d been instrumental in catching the two malefactors. After a pint of beer, he portrayed himself as a hero who’d overpowered one of the brothers then saved Sergeant Leeming from being beaten by the other. After a second pint, his tongue ran away with him and his audience grew in size. McTurk added colour to his narrative, inventing details to show himself in a good light.

  ‘They’d never have found the house without me,’ he boasted. ‘I sent the sergeant down the lane to cut off any escape through the garden then I kicked in the door and got into the house. One of them ran away but the other attacked the inspector and I had to pull him off. I knocked seven barrels of shit out of the bastard and put the handcuffs on him. Then,’ he went on, taking a drink from his third pint, ‘I heard this noise from the lane so I charged out there. Ewen Usher was sitting astride the sergeant and punching him. Grabbing him by the neck, I hauled him off. It was then that he pulled a knife on me. I was unarmed, of course, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to let him escape. So I whipped off my hat, threw it in his face and kicked him in the balls before he knew what was happening. He went down in agony.’

  There was general laughter. Newcomers urged him to tell the story again and McTurk added further embellishment. As a fourth pint was handed to him, he’d really come to believe that he’d caught the brothers single-handed. What he didn’t realise was that among the large crowd now gathered around was a man who spied the chance of a profit. Such a stirring tale deserved wider circulation. Finishing his drink, the man left the pub and headed for the offices of one of Glasgow’s main newspapers.

  McTurk, meanwhile, was still sailing on a wave of imaginary valour.

  ‘Remember my name,’ he told them. ‘When Ewen and Duncan Usher go to their deaths, remember that it was I who put the rope around their scrawny necks.’

  Nairn Craig was still in his office when word came through from the police station. He read Colbeck’s neat hand with growing disappointment. The contents of the letter were not what he’d expected. In view of what had happened earlier, he felt duty-bound to pass on the information to Inspector Rae even though it meant calling on the man at home. Surprised to see him, Rae gave him a guarded welcome and conducted the general manager to his study. They settled into high-backed leather armchairs.

  ‘Well?’ asked Rae.

  ‘I’ve come to eat some humble pie, Inspector.’

  ‘That sounds promising.’

  ‘I was too ready to believe that we’d caught the devils at last.’

  ‘Whereas, I suspect, the prisoners are not guilty.’

  ‘Oh, they’re guilty enough,’ said Craig, ‘but they didn’t commit the crime for which they were arrested. Inspector Colbeck’s letter gave me a detailed account. Ewen and Duncan Usher denied having any involvement in the crash. What took them to the area on the day before was another crime altogether.’

  C
olbeck had extracted a full confession from Duncan Usher. He and his brother were thieves who’d widened their field of operation by stealing from goods trains. Their work called for planning and audacity. Duncan chose stretches of the line where freight was slowed down by a gradient. Armed with a pile of sacks, his brother would leap into a wagon, stuff items into a sack and throw it into the grass. He was agile enough to move from wagon to wagon in search of booty, choosing things that would not break and which were easy to sell. Duncan’s task was to follow the train with the cart and pick up the stolen goods. Since they took only small amounts from the total cargo, the thefts went largely unnoticed. That emboldened them to strike more often and to venture further away from Glasgow. Under the threat of facing a murder charge, Duncan Usher had even volunteered the whereabouts of the shed where the brothers kept the proceeds of their crime until they could sell them.

  ‘So,’ said Craig, gloomily, ‘we’ve rid the Caledonian of a pair of vultures but we haven’t found the people behind the train crash.’

  Rae smiled wryly. ‘In short,’ he remarked, ‘you’ve caught a sprat instead of a mackerel, let alone a whale. Don’t be so downhearted. Now that you’re aware of how easily your freight can be pillaged, you can guard against it. Inspector Colbeck should be praised for bringing the practice to light.’

  ‘I’d much rather he did what I brought him here for.’

  ‘Does that mean you’re losing faith in him?’

  ‘No, no,’ said Craig, quashing the idea at once. ‘I back him to the hilt. He showed his true mettle during the arrest of those brothers. According to McTurk, both Colbeck and Leeming were fearless.’

  ‘Unfortunately, they were apprehending the wrong men.’

  ‘They were apprehending the right men for a different crime. I suppose that there’s some solace in that. But,’ he went on, rising out of his chair, ‘I’m sorry to disturb you so late in the evening, Inspector. I’ll take my leave.’

  Rae was on his feet at once, waving his visitor back to his seat.