Peril on the Royal Train Page 9

  ‘Mr Craig is feather-bedding us,’ he observed. ‘We’ve never stayed in a hotel as lavish as this.’

  ‘My room is enormous,’ said Leeming. ‘I won’t be able to sleep in there.’

  ‘Why ever not?’

  ‘It just doesn’t feel right, sir.’

  Colbeck laughed. ‘Oh, I don’t think you’ll have any difficulty dozing off, Victor. It’s been a long day and you’ve worked hard. Make the most of this place while you can. We may never see such opulence again.’

  ‘I’m glad about that.’

  ‘Can’t you take any enjoyment out of it?’

  ‘No,’ confessed Leeming. ‘The truth is that I feel so guilty. Why should we have people waiting on us hand and foot while most ordinary people live in the sort of tenements I saw in the Gorbals?’

  ‘There’s always a huge chasm between the rich and the poor. It’s at its most marked in a city like Glasgow.’

  ‘It’s so unfair, sir.’

  ‘I couldn’t agree more,’ said Colbeck. ‘Unfortunately, we’re not in a position to do anything about it. But you’ve touched on something I meant to ask you about.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Why did Lackey Paterson live in such straitened conditions? Engine drivers are relatively well paid. Look at my father-in-law. You’ve seen the house he was able to buy. Paterson should have had something equivalent to that.’

  ‘Yet he didn’t – he lived in a slum.’

  ‘It’s one more question we’ll have to put to him.’

  They were in the hotel lounge, relaxing in well-upholstered armchairs. Other guests were chatting over a drink or summoning waiters with a snap of their fingers. They all looked supremely at home. Leeming didn’t envy them. He just wondered what they’d done to deserve a life of such extravagance. Colbeck was practical.

  ‘We could easily have stayed in more modest accommodation,’ he said. ‘The money could have been better spent, not on us but on the families of those three victims of the crash. They’ll be in despair.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Leeming, sadly. ‘Dougal Murray, I discovered, was engaged to be married. Think how his bride-to-be must be suffering.’

  ‘I feel sympathy for anyone touched by this disaster. It’s one of the reasons I’m so eager to solve the crime. If Paterson is behind it – and evidence is beginning to point that way – he needs to be caught and hanged. However,’ said Colbeck, ‘we must continue to explore other avenues as well. Paterson may be quite innocent.’

  ‘You wouldn’t think that if you’d seen his wife, sir. He was guilty of beating the poor woman and leaving her to bring up their child alone. In my opinion, they’re appalling crimes. What about his marriage vows? Well, you took them yourself at your wedding and you know how solemn they are.’

  ‘I do indeed, Victor.’

  ‘A husband should respect his wife.’

  Leeming was about to expand on the theme when he saw someone walking towards them. Inspector Rae had his familiar smile in position. After handing his hat to a passing waiter, he sank into a chair opposite the two detectives.

  ‘May I join you, gentlemen?’ he asked.

  ‘Please do,’ rejoined Colbeck.

  Rae looked around. ‘Well, this certainly does give lie to the belief that all Scotsmen are skinflints. This hotel is oozing with wealth. Money is being poured away like so much water.’

  ‘That’s what worries me,’ said Leeming.

  Colbeck ordered a drink for the newcomer then told Rae about his visit to the quarry. The latter was interested to hear about the disappearance of Paterson.

  ‘It may or may not be a coincidence,’ he decided. ‘What else have you learnt?’

  Leeming described his visit to the headquarters of the railway company and his subsequent activities. Rae seemed quietly pleased that they had made no apparent progress. At the same time, however, he had to concede that he and his detectives had unearthed no significant new evidence. What he had brought to show them was a letter from the general manager of the North British Railway, categorically denying that the company had anything whatsoever to do with the train crash. Colbeck read the missive before handing it back.

  ‘I think the gentleman doth protest too much,’ he remarked.

  ‘I’ll interview him tomorrow,’ said Rae, ‘and question this spirited denial. It’s come far too soon. He’s pleading the NBR’s innocence before it’s been accused.’

  ‘Suspicion is bound to fall on a close rival, Inspector. He realises that. I daresay you’ll have similar letters from other railway companies before too long.’

  ‘The NBR remains my main source of interest.’

  ‘Is that because Superintendent McTurk believes it to be the prime suspect?’

  ‘No – I came to that conclusion of my own volition. But I’m glad you mentioned McTurk,’ said Rae, smile disappearing. ‘When I left him earlier on, he was behaving strangely.’

  ‘In what way?’ asked Colbeck.

  ‘He’d suddenly become rather secretive. Until then, I couldn’t stop the man from talking. He was giving me advice on every aspect of the case. Something has happened to stop him gushing forth.’

  ‘Have you any idea what it might be, Inspector?’

  ‘I can only guess,’ said Rae, ‘but there was a smugness about him that I thought indicative. It’s almost as if he knows something that the rest of us don’t. McTurk has picked up a scent that’s eluded our nostrils. We’re not just in competition with each other, Inspector Colbeck. Unless I’m very much mistaken,’ he warned, ‘we have a rival with a black beard and a firm resolve to embarrass the pair of us.’

  Convinced that he was on the trail of the culprits, Rory McTurk rode to the nearest inn to enquire if two men had stayed there recently. When he drew a blank, he went on to a tavern near Beattock. That, too, was unable to assist him. Riding further afield on his bay mare, he came to The Jolly Traveller, a wayside inn with a spectacular view of the dale. It was a case of third time lucky. The landlord, a portly man in his sixties with a mane of white hair, was able to supply valuable information.

  ‘Aye, sir,’ he said. ‘That’s reet. Two men stayed heer on the Saturday afore that terrible crash on the railway.’

  ‘How old would they be?’

  The landlord grinned. ‘Oh, a lot younger than either of us.’

  ‘Thirty or thereabouts, perhaps?’

  ‘How did ye know that?’

  ‘Never ye mind – am I right?’

  ‘Ye are, sir.’

  ‘Describe them.’

  ‘They were tall and well built with long, dark hair. Ye’d no’ call ’em handsome. They were rough-looking and could both have used a razor. In my job, I weigh people up at a glance and I didnae like them one bit. They were no’ people ye’d ever trust.’

  ‘And did they look alike?’

  ‘Aye,’ replied the landlord, ‘but that’s no’ surprising, is it?’

  ‘I don’t follow.’

  ‘They were brothers.’

  McTurk’s interest quickened. The landlord was confirming what the shepherd had seen. The two men did exist and they had stayed in the locality prior to the crash.

  ‘Did they tell you their names?’ he pressed.

  ‘No,’ said the landlord, ‘they went straight up to their room. We saw neither hide nor hair of them. But ma daughter heerd what they called each other when they’d an early breakfast on the Sunday.’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘One of ’em was Ewen and t’other was Duncan.’

  ‘Ewen and Duncan,’ repeated McTurk, committing the names to memory.

  ‘That’s all I can tell ye. They paid the bill and I unlocked the stable.’

  ‘Did they have a cart with them?’

  ‘Aye, sir, they did and they were very partic’lar aboot it. If I’d not been able to lock it safely away, I doobt if they’d have stayed at The Jolly Traveller.’

  ‘Why were they so concerned? All they had on the cart was some rope,
a pile of sacks and an old tarpaulin.’

  ‘Who told you that, sir?’

  ‘Isn’t it true?’

  ‘No,’ said the landlord, clicking his tongue. ‘They’d quite a cargo on board. It was under the tarpaulin and tied down wi’ the rope. I couldnae see it but it was obviously something worth having. That’s why they were fretting aboot it so much.’

  McTurk made him go over the details again then gave him a few coins by way of thanks. He was now certain that he’d identified the men responsible for the crash. All that he had to do was to track them down.

  ‘When they left here,’ he asked, ‘did they say where they were going?’

  ‘Not to me, sir, but my daughter overheard them talk about going home.’

  ‘Where were they heading?’

  ‘Glasgow.’

  McTurk was thrilled. The men lived in a city he knew well. Armed with their Christian names and a description of them that tallied with the one given by the shepherd, he believed that he had enough information to go off in pursuit. He was not going to share the evidence he’d just gathered. It belonged solely to him. He wanted all the glory for himself. Striding out of the inn, he mounted his horse. As he cantered away, he could almost feel the four hundred pounds reward in his hand.

  When he took the train to the nation’s capital next morning, Colbeck was able to travel on lines owned by another company. The Edinburgh and Glasgow Railway, connecting Scotland’s two main centres, was a thing of magnificence with impressive viaducts, deep cuttings and three long tunnels. It had easier curves and gentler gradients than the Caledonian. Colbeck marvelled at the genius of its construction. At the invitation of Inspector Rae, he was going to meet the general manager of the North British Railway. Though he didn’t believe that the men they were after were in the pay of the company, he was nevertheless pleased to make the acquaintance of Alastair Weir and to learn more about the politics of running railways in Scotland.

  They met in a private room at a small hotel near the station. Weir was a cold, impassive man of middle years who kept fiddling with the watch chain that dangled from the pocket of his waistcoat. After introductions had been made, he went on the attack at once.

  ‘This meeting is quite unnecessary,’ he said. ‘My letter should have been enough in itself to quash any suspicions you might entertain. Nobody in our employ has any link whatsoever with the unfortunate incident on the Caledonian.’

  ‘How do you know that, sir?’ asked Rae, levelly.

  ‘We have no criminals in the NBR.’

  ‘That’s patently untrue, Mr Weir. Like every other railway company, you suffer at the hands of pilferers. Many of them are your own employees. Instead of sitting in your ivory tower of an office, you should do what I did and study the record of dismissals from the NBR.’

  ‘Don’t you dare presume to tell me how to do my job,’ growled Weir.

  ‘Inspector Rae is only pointing out what is the bane of any major enterprise,’ said Colbeck, striking a note of appeasement. ‘When you have a large number of people on your payroll, the law of averages comes into play. It’s inevitable that you’ll have a few bad apples in the barrel – it’s the same for the Caledonian and for the Edinburgh and Glasgow.’

  ‘Petty crime is very different from engineering a train crash.’

  ‘I agree.’

  ‘And so do I,’ said Rae, ‘but that doesn’t absolve the NBR. The simple fact is that you stood to gain from any disruption on a rival line. Now, I’m not for a moment suggesting that you deliberately hatched a plot to disable the Caledonian. You’d never dream of doing that,’ he added, absolving Weir of any personal blame. ‘But someone else might, someone with the interests of the NBR at heart, someone with a financial stake in the company.’

  ‘That’s a monstrous allegation!’ snapped Weir.

  ‘Calm down, sir. This is not an attack on you.’

  ‘I speak for the company and I’ll defend it against malicious slander.’

  Colbeck lifted his shoulders. ‘I’ve heard no slander,’ he said.

  ‘And none has been intended,’ said Rae with an emollient smile. ‘We do, however, have to face facts. The NBR and the Caledonian have been at each other’s throats for years. Apart from anything else, both of you have been fighting to take over the Edinburgh and Glasgow.’ Weir glowered at him. ‘Is that correct, sir?’

  ‘The NBR is always looking to expand,’ admitted the other.

  ‘But your methods of doing so are not always gentlemanly.’

  ‘I can see that you’re not a businessman, Inspector.’

  Rae smiled. ‘It’s something for which I’m eternally grateful.’

  Colbeck took little part in the conversation. He was content to sit there and watch Inspector Rae joust with the pompous general manager. It was not long before Weir’s expressionless face was animated, eyes flashing, hair tossing, lip curling and cheeks turning a bright shade of crimson. Colbeck learnt an immense amount about railways north of the border. While they were built predominantly with English capital, they were run almost exclusively by Scotsmen like Alastair Weir, though they tended to keep token Englishmen on their respective boards.

  They also retained the services of tame members of parliament who could advance their interests at Westminster. As Colbeck knew, this was also standard practice in England. Railway companies were monumentally expensive to set up. Rather than risk the loss of their vast initial outlay, boards of directors made sure that they had sympathetic voices in the House of Commons to smooth the progress of any bill. Colbeck was well versed in the political infighting that took place in parliament over rival plans. What he’d not encountered to the same degree before was the naked aggression between railway companies. Weir described it as fair competition but it went well beyond that. Colbeck watched with admiration as Inspector Rae probed away until the general manager was virtually frothing at the mouth. When there was a lull in the storm, Colbeck stepped in.

  ‘Did you know that the driver of the train used to work for you?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ grunted Weir, ‘I did not.’

  ‘If the NBR is the wonderful company you describe, why did Jock Laidlaw turn his back on it?’

  ‘I don’t know and I don’t care.’

  ‘But you ought to care, sir. He’s not the first driver to defect to the Caledonian and he won’t be the last unless you divine the cause of the exodus.’

  ‘It’s not an exodus,’ snarled Weir. ‘Drivers leave for all sorts of reasons and not only from us. We employ men who used to work for the Caledonian. Why don’t you ask Mr Craig why they fled from his company?’

  ‘They’re the very people that interest me,’ said Colbeck. ‘They’d know about the way the Caledonian was run and be aware of the timetabling of its freight.’

  Weir exploded. ‘Don’t you start hurling unfounded accusations at the NBR as well. I’ve had enough of that from Inspector Rae. I came in the hope of receiving an apology, yet all that I’ve got so far is a string of insults.’

  ‘They were not intentional,’ Rae told him.

  ‘Be that as it may,’ said Weir, hauling himself out of his seat. ‘I’ve stayed long enough. My time is money. This conversation is over.’ He snatched up his top hat and headed for the door. ‘Good day to you, gentlemen.’

  Colbeck waited until he’d left the room before turning to his companion.

  ‘I thought you treated him with just the right amount of polite disrespect.’

  ‘Thank you, Inspector,’ said Rae, ‘but I’ll pay for it. As soon as he gets back to his office, he’ll dictate a letter of complaint about me to the procurator fiscal. In the mood he’s in, he might even send one about you to Scotland Yard.’

  ‘Criticism never hurts me,’ said Colbeck, suavely. ‘I’ve had so much of it over the years that I’ve become inured to it. As a rule, it comes from people I’ve upset because they have something to hide.’

  ‘What do you think Mr Weir was hiding?’

 
‘He was trying to conceal his fear that you might, after all, be right. It’s not inconceivable that there is a connection between the NBR and the crash. Needless to say, the crime was in no way prompted by Mr Weir, but he can’t be certain that someone on his payroll didn’t take the law in their own hands. That’s what was behind all that righteous indignation,’ argued Colbeck. ‘A seed of fear has been sown. Mr Weir is terrified that one of us will find proof that the NBR is implicated, after all. If it is – and I know you incline to that view – it may well cost him his position.’

  Victor Leeming was glad of an assignment that took him out of the hotel and relieved him of his discomfort in its sumptuousness. His task was to begin the search for Lackey Paterson. If the man had left the quarry, there was a strong possibility that he’d return to the city where he was born. At Colbeck’s suggestion, Leeming first sought the help of the police. While the rank of detective sergeant had real status in England, it did not impress his Scottish counterparts. They claimed to be the oldest police service in the world, having been set up almost thirty years before the Metropolitan Police came into being.

  Before he had any actual assistance, Leeming was treated to a brief history of the Glasgow force and learnt that, over ten years earlier, it had merged with the Gorbals, Calton and Anderston Burgh Police to form a single unit comprising some three hundred and sixty officers. Four divisions existed. The men looked smart enough in their top hats and three-quarter-length dress coats with their standing collars and nine shiny buttons but, as in London, their numbers were wholly inadequate to police such a large and populous city. Having listened to the lecture with good grace, Leeming was rewarded with some advice about where he might start the search for Lackey Paterson. The inspector to whom he spoke also promised to spread the word among his officers that Paterson was wanted for questioning.