11 - Ticket to Oblivion Read online

  ‘Yes,’ said Leeming, taking his cue. ‘There was a priest, an old lady with a walking stick, another with a small dog under each arm, a group of giggling young girls and an elderly gentleman with a monocle. Then there was a—’

  ‘Thank you, Sergeant,’ said Colbeck, cutting him off. ‘The point has been made, I fancy. Even though we were not looking for those individuals, they impinged on our consciousness. Did something similar happen to you, Mrs Vaughan?’

  ‘Why, yes – as a matter of fact, it did.’

  ‘Please go on.’

  ‘I remember the woman with her arm in a sling and a man with a violin case. Emma will certainly recall the four children who got off the train with their parents because one of the boys bumped into her. Both of us spotted the soldier, of course.’

  Colbeck’s ears pricked up. ‘What soldier was that?’

  ‘He was waiting on the platform with us, Inspector. He was tall and rather resplendent. When the train pulled in, he welcomed another soldier who had bandaging over one eye. The wounded man was travelling with a woman. I only caught a fleeting glimpse of them because I was too busy keeping my eyes peeled for Imogen.’ Cassandra was taken aback. ‘Why are you smiling like that, Inspector?’ she asked. ‘Have I said something amusing?’

  ‘No, Mrs Vaughan,’ he replied, ‘quite the contrary.’

  ‘Please explain yourself.’

  ‘You said exactly what I was hoping you’d say.’ Colbeck turned to her husband. ‘Would it be possible to speak to your daughter?’

  ‘Is that necessary?’ wondered Vaughan. ‘Emma can give you no information that my wife has not already vouchsafed.’

  ‘Nevertheless, we’d appreciate a word with her.’

  ‘In that case, I’ll send for her at once.’

  ‘To be honest,’ said Colbeck as the Master got to his feet, ‘we’d prefer to speak to your daughter alone, if at all possible.’

  ‘Emma would prefer that I was there,’ said Cassandra, puzzled by the request.

  ‘We must comply with the inspector’s wishes, my love,’ advised Vaughan.

  ‘I’m her mother, Dominic. I have a right.’

  ‘If you wish to enforce it,’ said Colbeck, pleasantly, ‘then, of course, you’re most welcome to join us. But consider this, Mrs Vaughan. Your daughter and her cousin are of a similar age. When left alone together, they would be likely to share confidences. They would exchange the kind of harmless little secrets that would not come to the ears of their parents.’

  ‘The inspector is correct,’ decreed Vaughan, overriding his wife’s wishes for once. ‘He and the sergeant must speak to Emma alone. Were you there, my love, our daughter might unwittingly hold back things that are germane to the investigation. She must be allowed the freedom to express herself.’

  Cassandra’s protest was quelled by a decisive gesture from her husband.

  ‘Follow me, gentlemen,’ invited Vaughan, moving to the door.

  ‘Thank you for your cooperation,’ said Colbeck, rising to his feet.

  ‘I’ll want to know everything that Emma tells you,’ said Cassandra.

  ‘Nothing will be kept back from you, Mrs Vaughan.’

  But even as he spoke the words, Colbeck suspected that there might well be certain things that the daughter might not wish her mother to know and he was more than ready to conceal them if they would save Emma Vaughan from embarrassment.

  On receipt of the news of the disappearance of his daughter, Sir Marcus Burnhope had reacted with speed and determination. He’d ridden at a gallop to Shrub Hill station and used its telegraph system to fire off messages hither and thither. Not only had he alerted Scotland Yard to the crisis, he made sure that senior figures working for the Oxford, Worcester and Wolverhampton Railway were aware of it as well. At his behest, teams were sent out from intermediate stations between Shrub Hill and the intended destination of Imogen and her maid. There were well over twenty possible stops on the line, many of them little more than a halt in the middle of open countryside. Such places lacked the manpower to join in the hunt. While some stretches of the line were searched, therefore, long tracts of it were untouched. To those trudging along the line, the hunt seemed a forlorn exercise.

  ‘We’re wasting our time,’ grumbled the policeman.

  ‘Aye, Tom, I know.’

  ‘We can never look behind every bush.’

  ‘It’s what Sir Marcus ordered.’

  ‘Then let him join in the search. It’s his daughter, after all.’

  ‘They say she’s a real beauty.’

  ‘Oh, she is. I’ve seen her. She doesn’t take after her father, I’ll tell you that. Sir Marcus is an ugly old bugger.’

  Instead of walking along the track, the railway policeman wanted to be at home with his wife. His companion was an off-duty stationmaster, ordered to spend his evening joining in the hunt for the missing women. Like the policeman, he was weary and disenchanted. He used a stick to push back some shrubs.

  ‘There’s nobody here, Tom. How much longer must we do this?’

  ‘We go on until it gets too dark to see.’

  The stationmaster looked slyly upwards. ‘I’d say it was pretty dark already.’

  In fact, there was still plenty of light in the sky but there was nobody about to contradict him. The two men traded a conspiratorial grin. If they abandoned what they saw as an aimless plod, nobody would be any the wiser. They were just about to give up and retrace their steps when the policeman caught sight of something in the long grass some forty yards or so ahead of them. He nudged his companion and pointed. The stationmaster saw it as well. It was the long, trailing hair of a woman. Convinced that they’d found one of the missing passengers, after all, they shook off their fatigue and ran towards her, their boots clacking on the hard wooden sleepers. The noise had an instant effect. A scantily clad woman suddenly came to life and sat up with the young man hiding in the grass beside her. When they saw the policeman’s uniform, they didn’t stand on ceremony. They snatched up their discarded clothing and fled the scene. The two men stopped to catch their breath.

  ‘Poor devil!’ said the stationmaster with a laugh. ‘We spoilt his fun.’

  ‘It’s a pity. She was a nice-looking girl with a lovely arse on her.’

  ‘Do you think we should report it?’

  ‘No, I think we should go home and forget all about it.’

  ‘What about Sir Marcus’s daughter?’

  ‘Let someone else find her.’

  As they walked along the track in the opposite direction, they heard a train approaching in the distance. They jumped quickly aside and watched it come into view, hurtling towards them, then racing past so fast that they were forced back by the rush of air. They waited until its deafening tumult had faded.

  ‘I tell you one thing,’ said the policeman. ‘If Sir Marcus’s daughter jumped off the train at that speed, she’d be as dead as a door-nail.’

  Emma Vaughan had been moping in her room for hours, praying fervently for the safety of her cousin and reliving the horror of realising that she had simply vanished. When her father introduced her to the detectives, she was at first alarmed, thinking that their arrival meant that a heinous crime had been committed. It took Colbeck some time to calm her down and to offer a measure of reassurance. At the Master’s suggestion, they adjourned to the drawing room with his daughter. Emma was uneasy at being left alone with them and she found Leeming’s features disquieting. Colbeck’s charm and sensitivity slowly won her over.

  ‘You’re very fond of your cousin, are you not?’ he asked.

  ‘I love Imogen. She’s my best friend.’

  ‘How often do you see her?’

  ‘It was not nearly enough,’ she replied. ‘Imogen only came here twice a year but I stayed at Burnhope Manor three or four times.’

  ‘Which place did you prefer?’

  ‘Oh, it was much nicer when she came here. We could talk properly.’

  ‘Couldn’t you do that at he
r house?’

  ‘Not really, Inspector,’ she said. ‘Lady Burnhope always seemed to be there. I love my aunt, naturally, but I did get the feeling of being watched all the time. Imogen was forever apologising for it.’

  ‘Did she resent being under her mother’s watchful eye?’

  ‘Yes, she did.’

  ‘I can see why she looked forward to coming here where she had a little more freedom. Tell me,’ Colbeck went on, ‘about the arrival of the train from Worcester. You and your mother were waiting on the station, weren’t you?’

  ‘That’s right. I was so excited when it came in and so heartbroken when Imogen wasn’t on it. I was certain that she must have caught the train.’

  ‘Who got off it?’

  ‘Lots of people – every single carriage had been occupied.’

  ‘Mrs Vaughan mentioned a soldier,’ recalled Leeming.

  ‘Yes, I saw him as well. He had a bandage over one eye. Before I could take a proper look at him, I was bumped into by a little boy who leapt out of a carriage. Mother chided him for being so careless. But I do remember the soldier on the train,’ she said, ‘and the one who greeted him on the station.’

  ‘You’ve met Mr Tunnadine, I take it,’ said Colbeck.

  ‘We’ve seen him a couple of times.’

  ‘And was he in company with your cousin?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Emma with a smile. ‘They made such a handsome pair. Clive Tunnadine was entranced by Imogen and she was enchanted by him. She told me that he swept her off her feet.’

  ‘She was happy with the match, then?’

  ‘Who wouldn’t be happy with a man like that? He’s very wealthy and comes from a good family. My uncle says that he has a brilliant career in politics ahead of him. Imogen was taken completely by surprise when he proposed. He gave her the most gorgeous engagement ring,’ she said, enviously. ‘Imogen couldn’t stop smiling when she showed it off to me.’

  The information made Colbeck look at Tunnadine afresh. He and Leeming had found the man both arrogant and somewhat rebarbative. Clearly, he had a different effect on young women. He encouraged Emma to say more about his relationship with her cousin then he turned his attention elsewhere.

  ‘You have a brother called George, I hear.’

  ‘George is my younger brother. The elder is Percy. They couldn’t be more unlike each other,’ she said with an affectionate smile. ‘George is an artist, living in London while Percy is a curate in Gloucestershire. Father loves poetry, you see. That’s how he came to choose their names.’

  Leeming was dumbfounded but Colbeck was quick to understand.

  ‘Could Percy be named after a certain Percy Bysshe Shelley, by any chance?’

  ‘Yes, Inspector, he was.’

  ‘Shelley was an undergraduate at this college, wasn’t he? It’s odd that a curate like your brother should bear his name. My memory is that Shelley was sent down for writing a pamphlet called The Necessity of Atheism.’

  ‘You’re very well informed.’

  ‘I, too, admire his poetry, Miss Vaughan.’

  ‘Father speaks very highly of it. In fact, he believes that we should have some kind of memorial dedicated to him. Unfortunately, the fellows won’t hear of it. They think that Shelley brought discredit on the college.’

  ‘Who is your other brother named after?’ asked Leeming.

  ‘It is another favourite poet of my father’s – Lord Byron.’

  ‘Even I have heard of him.’

  ‘It sounds as if it might have been a more appropriate christening,’ said Colbeck. ‘Lord Byron was famed for his wildness and it seems that your younger brother is not without a reckless streak in his nature.’

  She laughed. ‘George is a loveable madman.’

  ‘Mr Tunnadine believes that he is behind your cousin’s disappearance. He claims that your younger brother kidnapped her and spirited her away.’

  ‘That’s absurd!’ she cried.

  ‘George has been the family clown, by all accounts.’

  ‘I freely admit it, Inspector, but that doesn’t mean he’d do anything to hurt Imogen – or to upset us, for that matter.’

  ‘What if he wanted to upset Mr Tunnadine?’

  ‘It doesn’t sound as if he and your brother would see eye to eye,’ said Leeming. ‘How did they get on, Miss Vaughan?’

  ‘George only met Clive once,’ she replied, ‘and there was some friction between them, I must confess.’

  ‘Then your brother had a motive to strike back at Mr Tunnadine.’

  ‘He’d never do anything to spoil Imogen’s happiness.’

  ‘What about his own happiness?’ asked Colbeck. ‘We gather that your cousin was famed for her beauty. It can’t have gone unnoticed by your brother. Perhaps he was nursing hopes on his own behalf.’

  ‘You obviously don’t know my brother. George loved Imogen as a friend and as a cousin. It never went beyond that. The sort of young women to whom he was attracted were always …’ Emma left the words unspoken. ‘Let’s just say that they were of a wholly different character to Imogen. George likes to describe himself as a free spirit. He seeks female company of a like persuasion.’

  ‘Thank you for eliminating that theory once and for all, Miss Vaughan,’ said Colbeck. ‘When I first heard Mr Tunnadine voice it, I thought it lacked credibility. Your brother is exonerated. He has no reason at all to abduct his cousin. However,’ he added, looking at the sergeant, ‘it won’t do any harm for you to meet the gentleman, Victor. I’m sure that he’d like to be made aware of the predicament in which his cousin finds herself and – based on his knowledge of her – he may be able to offer a suggestion as to what might have happened to her.’

  ‘I’ll give you George’s address,’ volunteered Emma. ‘He ought to be told about this terrible situation. Underneath all that wildness, he’s a very caring person.’

  ‘Then he’ll want his cousin found.’

  ‘And so will Percy. He should be told as well. In fact, Percy should be the first to hear about Imogen’s disappearance.’

  ‘Why is that?’

  ‘Well,’ she explained, ‘it’s something of an open secret. Percy would never admit it, of course, but I’m his sister and I can read his mind. George will tease Imogen and laugh at her expense but Percy wouldn’t dream of doing that. In his own quiet way,’ she said, ‘my elder brother has been in love with her for years.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  Caleb Andrews was never satisfied. When he was working as an engine driver, he was always complaining about the long hours, the attendant dangers of hurtling around the country at speed and the inevitable grime he picked up in the course of a normal day. Now that he’d finally retired, he moaned about having nothing to do and nowhere to go. Eager to leave the London and North West Railway after a lifetime’s service, he was equally eager to be back on the footplate. Ideally, he’d have liked a halfway stage between work and retirement but the LNWR didn’t employ part-time drivers or cater for the individual demands of someone as capricious as Andrews. When he called on his daughter that evening, he brought his usual list of grievances. Madeleine gave him no chance to unpack his heart.

  ‘I’m afraid that Robert won’t be joining us,’ she explained.

  ‘Why is that, Maddy?’

  ‘He’s involved in a case that’s taken him to Worcestershire. The note he sent mentioned two passengers who’d disappeared on a train journey to Oxford.’

  ‘That’s hardly surprising, is it?’ he said, contemptuously. ‘They must have been travelling on the OWWR and it has no right to call itself a railway company. It’s a disaster. The person I blame is Brunel. He was the chief engineer when the project was first started. No wonder they had problems.’

  ‘Robert thinks that Mr Brunel is in a class of his own.’

  ‘Yes – it’s a class of fools and village idiots. The man is a menace.’

  Madeleine Colbeck had achieved her aim of deflecting him away from his regular litany of woes but she
had to endure a diatribe against Brunel instead. It went on for a few minutes. Since her husband was unlikely to return that day, she was glad of some company and had long ago learnt to tolerate her father’s impassioned lectures on anything and everything concerning the railway system. He was like a cantankerous old locomotive, pulling into a station and filling it with an ear-splitting hiss of steam. The noise slowly subsided and Andrews’ rage cooled.

  ‘Don’t ask me for details,’ she said, ‘for I have none.’

  ‘You don’t need any, Maddy. I can tell you what happened. If two people vanished on the Old Worse and Worse, it means that they were so horrified by the way that the train shook and rattled that they jumped off in a bid for safety.’ He wagged a finger. ‘You need to make your will before you travel on that line.’

  Madeleine laughed. ‘You will exaggerate.’

  ‘I know what I know.’

  Andrews was a short, wiry man of peppery disposition. Approaching sixty, he was showing signs of age, his back bent, his hair thinning and his fringe beard in the process of turning from grey to white. Madeleine, by contrast, was looking younger than ever as if marriage to the Railway Detective had rejuvenated her. She was an alert, attractive, buxom woman in her twenties with endearing dimples in both cheeks that reminded Andrews so much of his late wife at times that he had to look away. Madeleine had first met Colbeck as a result of the daring robbery of a train that her father had been driving. Andrews had been badly injured during the incident but had made a full recovery and was eternally grateful to Colbeck for catching those behind the robbery.

  ‘I wish that your mother could see you now,’ he said. ‘She wouldn’t believe the way you’ve settled into this lovely big house. It’s a far cry from our little cottage in Camden Town, yet you seem completely at home here.’

  ‘I don’t always feel it,’ she admitted. ‘It took me ages to get used to the idea of having servants at my beck and call.’

  ‘I don’t see why, Maddy. You had me at your beck and call for years.’