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- Herausgeber: Allison & Busby
- Kategorie: Krimi
- Serie: Railway Detective
- Sprache: Englisch
Halloween 1861. A special train with two carriages steams across the Lake District at night on its way to a place notorious for its record of supernatural incidents. Most of those on board have been fortified by alcohol so the mood is boisterous. Lighting inside the carriages is poor and without warning, the lamp goes out in the last compartment of the second carriage, plunging it into darkness. When the special reaches the end of its journey, the passengers pour out on to the station platform. There are almost sixty of them in all, laughing and jostling. The prevailing excitement is shattered by a cry - a dead body has been discovered in the seats. This will prove to be a very puzzling new case for the Railway Detective.
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Seitenzahl: 417
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019
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FEAR ON THE PHANTOM SPECIAL
EDWARD MARSTON
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
Hallowe’en, 1861
It was dark as they clambered aboard the train, laughing and joking as if they didn’t have a care in the world. Hampers filled with food and champagne were loaded into the carriages. It was to be a riotous party on a very special night and they intended to enjoy it to the full. In the gloomy interior of the train, there was a mood of exhilaration. The moment that the gentle puffing of the engine disappeared, however, it changed abruptly. They were jolted by the sudden explosion of noise and movement. Pleasantly drunk when they’d arrived, they were instantly sobered. The ride on the Phantom Special was no longer the prelude to a midnight picnic in a haunted wood. It was a source of real fear. It was as if they realised for the first time the risk that they were taking. A couple of the women screamed involuntarily, and one demanded to be let off the train. But it was too late now. Their fate was sealed.
Everyone suddenly felt the cold and shivered. They were cowed, rueful and quietly terrified. The one exception was Alexander Piper, the handsome young man responsible for hiring the train and filling it with his friends. Tall, lean and commanding, he jumped to his feet and tried to raise the spirits of those in his compartment.
‘Cheer up, everyone!’ he shouted, arm aloft. ‘There’s nothing to be afraid of. We’ve set off on a great adventure. It’s something to relish. There’s safety in numbers, remember. We’re not in any danger.’
Most of them were rallied by his bravado and shook off their doubts and anxieties, but one or two remained in the grip of a deep unease. They were going to a place notorious for a series of supernatural events and they needed more than a few brave words from Piper. All they could do was to grit their teeth and pray that they’d come through the excursion unscathed.
Gathering speed all the time, the train clanked, rattled and swayed on through the darkness. The flickering lamps inside the carriages gave little reassurance. Having departed from Kendal, they had less than ten miles to go to Windermere where horse-drawn transport would take them on to their destination. That, at least, had been the plan. But there were passengers who were already thinking of ending their journey at the railway station and waiting there until the train took the entire party back to their point of departure.
‘I knew this would happen,’ said Piper, scornfully. ‘You’re losing your nerve. There’s no need. Ignore all that nonsense about weird events and mysterious deaths at Hallowe’en. None of it is true. They’re just tales devised to frighten credulous, weak-minded people. You’ll meet no witches. You’ll see no black magic. There are no grotesque creatures waiting to devour you alive. We’re having a midnight party to show our defiance of Hallowe’en myths. Eat, drink and be merry, my friends.’
He carried on in the same vein for minutes, putting heart into them while not entirely banishing their fears. Then something unexpected occurred.
Squealing and shaking, the train slowed down.
‘What’s going on?’ asked Piper. ‘We can’t be there yet.’
Unsettled by the sudden loss of speed, the passengers in his compartment were even more upset when one of the lamps went out, deepening the gloom until they could hardly see the people sitting opposite them. It caused fevered speculation. Piper was unable to reassure them this time. They were about to stop and he didn’t know why. When the train finally shuddered to a halt, Piper opened the door and looked out.
‘Why the hell have you pulled up here?’ he shouted.
But the only sound he could hear was the hissing of steam. It was pitch-dark outside, so he had no idea where they were. He was seething with anger.
‘I’ll sort this out,’ he said and jumped down beside the track. ‘The rest of you can wait there.’
Men in other compartments had also opened doors to see what was going on. A few of them joined Piper as he strode towards the locomotive. Standing beside it was the burly figure of the driver.
‘I’m Alex Piper,’ he yelled, ‘and I hired this train to get us to Windermere. Don’t you understand that we have a timetable to keep to? It’s imperative that we reach our destination before midnight.’
‘It’s no use bellowing at me, sir,’ said the driver.
‘I’ll do more than bellow if you don’t do as you’re told. Drive us on, man! That’s an order.’
The driver shrugged. ‘We can’t go anywhere as long as that’s in our way.’
He pointed a finger at the track ahead of them. Piper pushed him aside and walked past the locomotive. What he saw brought him to a dead halt. Fifty yards or more ahead of them, a fire was blocking the line. Red flames were climbing up into the air. The sound of mocking laughter was carried on the wind. It frightened the other passengers who’d alighted, but it only served to increase Piper’s fury.
‘Leave this to me,’ he called out, using an arm to wave everyone back. ‘Nobody is going to stop my excursion.’
And he went sprinting off along the track while the others watched in trepidation. More people had now climbed out of the train and rushed to join the audience beside the locomotive. They were absolutely horrified. To their eyes, the blaze seemed momentarily to take on human shape. Piper ran on regardless, as if ready to confront any danger but, when he actually reached the fire, it flared up into a solid wall of flame and he disappeared completely from view.
The excursion was over.
CHAPTER TWO
Robert Colbeck was seated at the desk in his office when he heard a polite tap on the door. It opened to reveal a young detective with a nervous manner.
‘The superintendent requests that you visit him at your earliest convenience, sir,’ he said.
Colbeck was surprised. ‘Are you sure that it was a request and not a demand?’ he asked.
‘I’m only repeating what I was told, Inspector.’
‘What sort of a mood is he in?’
‘He was very pleasant to me.’
‘We are talking about Superintendent Tallis, aren’t we?’ said Colbeck, mystified. ‘He’s never been remotely pleasant towards anyone of your rank before. In fact, he enjoys being prickly towards everyone but the commissioner. Very well,’ he went on, rising to his feet. ‘Thank you for the message. I’ll go at once. I’ve always wanted to witness a miracle.’
Colbeck walked along the corridor to the appropriate office, wondering what he’d find on the other side of the door. Ordinarily, it was an angry, brooding superintendent, wreathed in cigar smoke and ready to issue orders as if he were addressing soldiers on a parade ground. Could the man really have changed so much? Colbeck refused to believe it.
After knocking on the door, he opened it and went into the room. Three surprises greeted him. There was no hint of cigar smoke, the window was slightly open to admit an invigorating blast of cold air and – the biggest shock of all – Tallis actually smiled at him.
‘Good morning, Inspector,’ he said. ‘It’s good of you to come so promptly. Do please sit down.’
Colbeck couldn’t believe what he was hearing. As a rule, Tallis deliberately kept him standing while he himself remained in his high-backed chair. Offering the inspector a seat was an act of consideration that he rarely showed, and he’d never before done so with a friendly smile on his face.
‘You’ll have to make allowances for me,’ said Tallis, apologetically. ‘I’ve only been back in harness for a few hours and it may take time for me to … settle into my old routine.’
Colbeck sat down. ‘Welcome back, sir,’ he said. ‘We were delighted to hear that you’d made a full recovery.’
‘It was in no small way aided by the reports I got of your successes. Yes, I know that I was supposed to forget all about Scotland Yard during my convalescence, but old habits die hard. I just had to know what was going on here. I kept a close eye on all your investigations,’ said Tallis, ‘and I was delighted to see that you managed so well without me.’
‘It’s kind of you to say so, sir.’
‘To be honest, it was exactly what I’d expected.’
It was the superintendent’s first day back at work and he looked alert and healthy. The previous December, he’d been abducted by a former soldier from his old regiment who nursed a grudge against him. Tallis was cruelly treated and deeply shaken by the experience, yet he wouldn’t take time off to recover from the ordeal. As a result, he succumbed to the multiple pressures on him and was hopelessly unable to do his job. This time, he’d bowed to medical opinion and had a break for several months. Evidently, it had been productive.
‘Let’s not waste time in idle conversation,’ said Tallis, briskly. ‘A telegraph has just arrived and it asks – nay, it demands – that you leave for the Lake District immediately.’
‘Was there a murder on the railway there?’
‘There might well have been, though it’s still in doubt.’
‘What did the telegraph say?’
‘Read it for yourself, Inspector.’ Stretching out a hand, he gave it to Colbeck and allowed him time to read it. ‘Puzzling, isn’t it?’
‘It’s both puzzling and bizarre, sir. A crime was certainly committed – there’s clear damage to railway property – but was this young man actually burnt to death?’
‘Who knows?’
‘He can’t simply have vanished into thin air.’
‘Strange things happen at Hallowe’en.’
‘They don’t always have such dire consequences,’ said Colbeck. ‘There’s a peremptory tone to this telegraph. It’s obviously sent by a man who expects his orders to be obeyed. Have you ever heard of Lord Culverhouse before, sir?’
‘The name is vaguely familiar. I’m told that he’s Lord Lieutenant of the county. That probably means he’s one of those spiky, disagreeable individuals who doesn’t suffer fools gladly and who loves throwing his weight about.’ Tallis grinned, wolfishly. ‘In the course of your work here, I daresay you’ve met someone exactly like that.’
In the census taken that year, Kendal was discovered to have a total of 12,029 inhabitants. None was more important and assertive than Lord Culverhouse, a man whose influence ran well beyond the boundaries of Westmorland. Tall, rotund and gimlet-eyed, he wore a full beard peppered with white hairs. Like most people who had dealings with him, Geoffrey Hedley was slightly intimidated. A lawyer by trade, he was a fleshy man in his early thirties, with dimpled cheeks more suited to a small child. Hedley spread his arms in a gesture of despair.
‘I feel so guilty,’ he admitted.
‘It wasn’t your fault, man.’
‘To some extent it was, I fear. I was responsible for putting the idea into Alex’s head. We were in our cups at the time and it’s always fatal to make decisions in such a condition. I said – jokingly, as it happens – that we ought to do something very special for Hallowe’en and Alex seized on the idea at once. The next thing I knew,’ said Hedley, ‘was that he’d hired a train and named it the Phantom Special because it was going to take us on a journey into the unknown.’
‘My nephew has always been rather headstrong,’ said Culverhouse. ‘There are no half-measures with Alex.’
‘He was fearless. Most of us were shaking in our shoes, especially when the train ground to a halt in the middle of nowhere. Alex jumped out of our compartment in a flash. By the time I caught up with him,’ recalled Hedley, ‘he was pulsing with rage at the interruption to our outing. Before we could stop him, he went haring off in the direction of that blaze.’
‘Why didn’t you go after him?’
‘Alex didn’t give us the chance. He charged off as if he was in some kind of race. We’d never have caught up. The last we saw of him was when he disappeared in a wall of flame.’
‘Then why was there no body?’ asked Culverhouse. ‘An untimely death presupposes a corpse. None was found and, though we searched high and low all day yesterday, there was no trace of Alex.’
‘I know. I joined in the search party.’
They were standing in front of the fireplace in the library of Culverhouse Court, a magnificent country house just outside the town. On the wall behind the older man was a striking portrait of him in the dress uniform of a Lord Lieutenant. He looked proud, dignified and soldierly. Hedley tried to keep his gaze off the portrait. One Lord Culverhouse was more than enough to cope with. Two were overwhelming.
‘There was one suggestion,’ said Hedley, tentatively.
‘What was that?’
‘Someone wondered if the whole thing might be an elaborate prank devised by Alex.’
‘That’s arrant nonsense!’
‘He does have a weird sense of humour, Lord Culverhouse.’
‘Why did he hire this Phantom Special, then prevent it from reaching its destination? It doesn’t make sense. Besides,’ said Culverhouse, ‘there’s the small matter of Miss Haslam. I accept that my nephew is prone to moments of madness but even Alex wouldn’t cause deliberate distress to his betrothed. The poor woman is distraught.’
‘In retrospect, it’s as well that she refused to take part in the excursion. The very notion frightened her.’
‘Miss Haslam deserves peace of mind – as do we all. And the only way to achieve that is by calling in someone with the expertise to unravel this mystery.’
‘That’s well beyond the abilities of the local constabulary. They’re as baffled as the rest of us.’
‘I’ve gone above their heads and sent a telegraph to Scotland Yard, asking for the assistance of Inspector Colbeck, the famous Railway Detective.’
Hedley was impressed. ‘Even I have heard of him.’
‘We need the best man for the task.’
‘But will he be available? A man with his reputation will be in constant demand. What makes you think you’ll get a positive response to your request?’
‘I took no chances,’ said the other. ‘As it happens, I’m well acquainted with the commissioner. To ensure success, I sent my telegraph directly to him.’
‘In short, you pulled strings.’
‘That’s a deplorable expression. I merely adopted the right tactics to get the desired end.’ He struck a pose. ‘I have every confidence that Colbeck will be on his way here right now.’
Victor Leeming was frustrated. He disliked leaving London and he hated doing so by means of rail. He was a man who loved his home comforts and knew that an unwelcome summons from Westmorland would be an inadequate replacement for the joy of sleeping with his wife and waking to see his children in the morning. There was a secondary cause of his frustration. He still had no real idea why they were suddenly rushing north. During the cab ride to Euston Station, Colbeck had only been able to give him the briefest details. The sergeant still had several questions to put to him but, when they’d bought their tickets and boarded the train, they discovered that they were sharing the compartment with six other passengers and a yapping dog. There was simply no chance of having a private conversation.
Colbeck had bought a copy of The Times and was soon engrossed in it. All that Leeming could do was to listen to the dog and watch the London suburbs scud past through the window. He braced himself for a long, tedious, uncomfortable trip. His fears, however, were unfounded. At a series of stops, their companions left the train one by one. Last to go was the woman with the irritating little creature who’d sat in her lap for the entire journey and kept up a positive fusillade of barks. As they set off yet again, Leeming had his first question ready, but he was too slow to stop Colbeck from seizing the initiative.
‘There’s a most interesting article in here, Victor,’ he said.
‘I’m not a reading man, sir,’ grumbled the other.
‘You ought to be. It’s quite uncanny. This article might have been written specifically for you – and for those, like you, with a dislike of rail transport.’
‘It’s more than a dislike. I loathe trains.’
‘You have an irrational fear of them.’
‘Call it what you want, Inspector. Every time I get into one, my heart sinks and my stomach rumbles.’
‘What about your mind?’
‘I feel as if I’m on the verge of panic.’
‘Exactly!’ said Colbeck, folding the newspaper. ‘That’s what the article was about – the mental torment suffered by those who feel unsafe on the railway. Oddly enough, men are more likely to suffer than women. Some have even been driven insane and had to be confined in asylums.’
‘I’m not that bad,’ said Leeming in alarm. ‘I just prefer to travel by coach. You know where you are when you’ve got a team of horses pulling you along.’
‘Well, I won’t bore you by reciting the advantages of travelling by rail. You’ve heard me do so many times. Just take a glance at this,’ said Colbeck, handing him the newspaper. ‘Read it at your leisure.’
‘What leisure?’
Colbeck laughed. ‘That’s a fair comment. Anyway, I’m sorry that we were unable to talk until now. I can see that you’re bursting to say something.’
‘Why are we going all the way to Westmorland?’
‘We have a crime to solve.’
‘But we don’t even know that a crime has been committed. From what you told me in the cab, we’re being dragged out of London simply because a Hallowe’en excursion was cancelled.’
‘There’s more to it than that, Victor.’
‘You said the telegraph gave very few details.’
‘That’s true.’
‘Then why are we paying the slightest attention to it? More to the point, why did the superintendent take any notice of it? You know how much he dislikes sending us to a distant part of the country when there’s so much crime to solve in London.’
‘It was not Superintendent Tallis’s decision. What I didn’t know was that the man who dispatched the telegraph was a friend of the commissioner and the request first went to him. So you needn’t blame the superintendent,’ said Colbeck. ‘The person you need to thank for sending us on this little jaunt is Sir Richard Mayne.’
Leeming was surly. ‘It’s going to be a lot more than a little jaunt,’ he complained.
‘Try to show some compassion, Victor. Instead of worrying about your own discomfort, think of other people. A mysterious fire appeared on a railway track, an excursion was summarily abandoned, and a man has unaccountably vanished. He’ll have a family,’ Colbeck pointed out. ‘They’ll be consumed by grief.’
Melissa Haslam lay stretched out on her bed and dabbed at her red-rimmed eyes with an already damp handkerchief. She was an astonishingly beautiful young woman but her face was now distorted by anguish and her mind was clouded by despair. All hope of happiness had been abruptly stolen away from her. She was quite inconsolable. Two days earlier she’d been thinking about her forthcoming marriage, but there was no longer a future husband. Her beloved Alex Piper had gone.
CHAPTER THREE
‘The Lake District?’ cried Caleb Andrews, aghast. ‘Why on earth is Robert going there?’
‘He isn’t entirely sure, Father,’ said Madeleine Colbeck. ‘According to the letter he had delivered here by hand, he and Sergeant Leeming were sent off to solve a mystery concerning some event at Hallowe’en. It had to be abandoned because the person who organised it disappeared without trace. Foul play is suspected.’
Andrews grimaced. ‘Don’t talk to me about Hallowe’en, Maddy. It was the bane of my life. There were always some idiots who decided the best way to celebrate it was to sneak aboard the train I was driving to cause mischief, or pelt me and my fireman with rotten apples as we drove past. I used to hate working that particular night,’ he said, resentfully. ‘Some people have a twisted idea of fun.’
Though it was years since he’d retired from his job as an engine driver for the London and North Western Railway, memories of his working life remained vivid. The problem was that he felt his long experience as a railwayman entitled him to act as an unpaid advisor to his son-in-law, and he was annoyed that Colbeck somehow never felt the need to call on him.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘at least he’s travelling with the best railway company in the whole country. A locomotive belonging to the LNWR will take him there speedily and comfortably.’
‘I just hope that it brings him back home very soon.’
‘By rights, he should never have gone. Gallivanting around the country is not the way a father should behave. His wife and daughter need him here. In the course of this year, he’s travelled hundreds and hundreds of miles to arrest vicious criminals in faraway places. What’s wrong with London?’ he asked. ‘We have more murders here than anywhere. Aren’t our killers good enough for him?’
Madeleine laughed. ‘You’re so funny sometimes, Father.’
She was always pleased to see him and, since Colbeck was likely to be away for some time, she’d have to rely even more on the old man’s company. Ostensibly, he’d called to enjoy some time with his granddaughter, but his real purpose had been to see Madeleine again. When his wife had died, Andrews had been shattered and only his daughter’s unstinting love and support had carried him through a very difficult period. Every time he looked at her, he saw a younger version of his late wife. It always lifted his spirits.
‘When do I get to play with my granddaughter?’ he asked.
‘When she’s had her nap.’
‘That girl is always sleeping. It’s not healthy.’
‘She seemed to be awake for twenty-four hours a day when she was first born. I’m glad of any respite. It’s the one time I can get to my studio.’
‘You’re a mother, Maddy.’
‘You don’t need to remind me.’
‘Helen must come first. You can always work on your painting when you’ve put her to bed.’
There was no point in arguing with him. It was unfair to expect him to understand the impulses that had made her an artist or to share the intense pleasure it gave her to stand in front of an easel to create something entirely new. She moved to the door.
‘I’ll order some tea.’
‘In the old days,’ he said, wistfully, ‘you used to make it yourself. Now you have a servant to do it for you.’ He looked around the spacious drawing room. ‘You’ve come up in the world, Maddy. I’m proud of you.’
‘Thank you, Father.’
‘I must take some credit, mind you.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, if it hadn’t been for that robbery on my train, you’d never even have met Robert Colbeck.’
It was true. Andrews had been the engine driver on a train that was brought to a halt by a gang. When he refused to do what the robbers wanted, he was badly beaten. Madeleine still shuddered when she recalled the incident.
‘You were in a dreadful state when I got there,’ she said. ‘We weren’t at all sure that you’d recover.’
He chuckled. ‘It takes more than a bang on the head to finish me off,’ he boasted. ‘Besides, I had good reason to stay alive. I knew that one day I’d take you down the aisle to marry the clever detective inspector who caught those train robbers.’
Rail travel was such an unalloyed pleasure for Colbeck that he never minded how long a journey might be. There was always something interesting to see out of the window and he loved to plot his journey by referring to his copy of Bradshaw’s Descriptive Railway Hand-Book. Leeming, by contrast, was suffering. The combination of noise, discomfort, boredom and a musty smell made the trip an ordeal for him. Though he tried hard to read the article in The Times, it failed to hold his interest. He didn’t need a doctor to tell him that travelling by train could destroy the human mind. As Leeming put the newspaper aside, Colbeck glanced across at him.
‘What did you think of that article, Victor?’
‘It upset me, sir.’
‘Would you rather borrow my copy of Bradshaw?’ asked Colbeck, holding it up.
‘I can’t think of anything worse than reading that.’
‘But it’s an indispensable guide. Don’t you want to know where you’re likely to be staying in Kendal?’
Leeming sat up with interest. ‘Well, yes. I do.’
‘We’re offered a choice between the King’s Arms and the Commercial Hotel.’
‘Which one serves the best beer?’
‘That’s one thing Bradshaw doesn’t tell us,’ said Colbeck. ‘Besides, I’m sure there’ll be more than those two places where we can be accommodated during the investigation. I promise you that the quality of its beer will be taken into account.’
‘Tell me about the man who sent that telegraph.’
‘He’s the Lord Lieutenant of the county and his nephew went missing in peculiar circumstances.’
‘What does a Lord Lieutenant do, sir?’
‘From what I understand,’ replied Colbeck, ‘it’s largely a titular appointment. The Lord Lieutenant has taken on the responsibilities that fell in the olden days to sheriffs. That means, for instance, that he’s in command of the county militia. If there’s a breakdown in law and order, he can call them out.’
‘Superintendent Tallis would love a job like that.’
‘He’d also enjoy wearing a splendid uniform with a rose and crown badge on the cap and shoulder boards.’ They shared a laugh. ‘At least, that’s what the old superintendent would have done. The new one is rather different.’
‘He’ll be the same man-eating ogre underneath, sir,’ insisted Leeming, ruefully.
‘Suspend your judgement until you actually meet him again.’
Leeming lapsed into silence. After gazing through the window for a while, he made another attempt to read the article in the newspaper and sympathised with those who’d been, like him, hapless victims of rail travel. He was heartened by the fact that he was not alone in his misery. Casting The Times aside once more, he pulled out the watch from his waistcoat pocket and looked at it.
‘We’ve been on the way for hours,’ he moaned.
‘And there are still hours to go before we reach Oxenholme and change trains. I can, however, offer you some consolation,’ said Colbeck. ‘While we’ve been in transit, the search for the missing man has no doubt been going on with renewed intensity. It’s possible that he’s been found unharmed and we are therefore no longer needed.’ Leeming smiled hopefully. ‘In that case, we’ll have the pleasure of catching the next available train and enjoying another long and fascinating journey.’
When she was told that Lord Culverhouse had called to see her, Melissa Haslam was initially reluctant to see him. She felt that she was in no state to speak to any visitor, preferring to stay in her bedroom. It took time, but her mother eventually persuaded her that she ought to talk to Culverhouse if only out of the respect due to his position in society. Melissa made an effort to pull herself together, then spent several minutes brushing her hair in front of the mirror and trying to master her emotions. When she at last felt ready, she and her mother went downstairs.
Lord Culverhouse was sitting in the drawing room. As soon as she came in, he was on his feet at once, crossing to squeeze her hands in greeting and offering her his sympathy. Melissa immediately jumped to the wrong conclusion.
‘Does that mean you’ve found Alex?’ she asked, lower lip trembling. ‘Have you come to tell me that he’s dead?’
‘Not at all,’ he said, quickly. ‘The search continues and we remain hopeful that Alex is out there somewhere.’
‘Then why has there been no sign of him?’
‘I have a theory about that, Melissa, and it’s supported by what Geoffrey Hedley told me. When he saw that fire blocking the line, Alex ran off to investigate.’
‘I heard that a wall of flame suddenly shot up.’
‘That’s right,’ said Culverhouse. ‘Alex ran straight through it and, we believe, chased the man who’d caused that blaze in the first place. At some point, we feel, the rogue must have turned and fought with Alex, knocking him unconscious.’
‘Then Geoffrey and the others who launched an immediate search should have found him.’
‘It was pitch-dark, Melissa, and they had no lanterns. When he caught up with that man, Alex might have been a long way away from the railway track.’
‘Then he’d still have been there in daylight,’ suggested Bridget Haslam, a short, slight, agitated woman. ‘Why didn’t he simply walk back home or, at the very least, go to the nearest house and ask for help?’
‘There’s an answer to that, Mrs Haslam,’ he said, ‘and it bolsters my theory. If he had a severe blow to the head, he might have been badly concussed. Alex wasn’t able to find his way back here because he was in a complete daze. He’s just walked – or staggered – blindly around the countryside since the fight and may no longer even be in the county.’
‘That’s a dreadful thought!’ exclaimed Melissa, bringing a hand up to her mouth.
‘No, it isn’t,’ said her mother. ‘It means that he could still be alive.’
‘But he’s spent two nights out in the cold and doesn’t know where he is. Will he ever get his senses back again, my lord? Can Alex ever lead a normal life again?’
‘It’s only a theory, Melissa, and I hoped that it might comfort you. But I really came to pass on some important news. Since our search parties have so far failed, I have summoned a detective from London who is uncannily successful at solving crimes that take place on the railway.’
‘That means you think Alex was murdered,’ she gasped.
‘If that was the case,’ said her mother, putting an arm around her, ‘they’d have stumbled upon the body by now.’
‘Quite right, Mrs Haslam,’ he agreed. ‘What I came to ask your daughter was this. Think very carefully before you answer, Melissa. I know that you and Alex liked to go walking. It was one of the things that drew you together, wasn’t it?’
‘That’s true,’ said Melissa. ‘We love to explore.’
‘Is there a place that is particularly special to you, somewhere private that you often go to with him?’ She shook her head. ‘Are you quite sure? There are so many wonderful spots to visit – peaks, fells, moors, lakes and so on. You and Alex must have a favourite. If we knew where it was,’ he said, ‘we would see if he somehow found his way there by instinct.’
‘There is no favourite place, my lord,’ she confessed. ‘When I’m with Alex, everywhere we go is special.’
‘That’s as it should be.’
‘But tell me more about this detective from London. Can he really do what the search parties have so far failed to do?’
‘I firmly believe that he can.’
‘Yet we’ve already had police involved in the search.’
‘They lack the expertise of a man like Inspector Colbeck. He’ll be arriving this evening, and – here’s an example of his thoughtfulness – he had the foresight to send a telegraph telling me which train he’d be on. I feel certain that Colbeck will be the answer to our prayers.’ Culverhouse drew himself up to his full height. ‘I’ve ordered Hedley to be on the platform to welcome him.’
‘I’d like to meet him as well,’ she said.
‘All in good time,’ he told her. ‘He’ll want to speak first to those who were actually on that Phantom Special. That’s where his search must start.’
On the last leg of their journey, they had to go the short distance between Oxenholme and Kendal. Though it was an area of outstanding scenic beauty, the detectives were unable to enjoy the view because light was fading badly and a heavy drizzle was adding a second curtain between them and the passing landscape. While Colbeck was delighted that they were close to their destination, Leeming was simply glad that he’d survived the journey without joining the ranks of those driven into incurable madness by the rigours of rail travel.
‘All we ever did at Hallowe’en,’ he said, ‘was to duck for apples.’
‘It’s a harmless but amusing tradition, Victor.’
‘We could never afford to hire a train for the night.’
‘I suspect that the good people of Kendal will regret that they did so. What began as an enjoyable excursion seems to have ended in disaster.’
‘It’s obvious that the missing man is dead.’
‘I’m keeping an open mind,’ said Colbeck. ‘One thing is certain: alive or dead, it’s our job to find him.’
The train began to lose speed and it was not long before it drew into Kendal Station and came to a halt. Gathering up their luggage, the detectives alighted onto the platform. Two men approached them at once. Geoffrey Hedley introduced himself and gave them a cordial welcome. The porter he’d brought with him took charge of the luggage. As they moved towards the exit, Hedley passed on the bad news.
‘We still haven’t found Alex,’ he said. ‘Dozens of us have been involved in looking for him but to no avail.’
‘Who is coordinating the search?’
‘I suppose that I am, Inspector, though I’m operating under instructions from Lord Culverhouse.’
‘Did he take part in the excursion?’
‘No, but I did. In fact, I was in the same compartment with Alex when the train came to an emergency halt. He’s my closest friend. I simply can’t believe that he’s disappeared. By the way,’ he went on, ‘I’ve taken the liberty of booking you both in to the Riverside Hotel for the night. Needless to say, all your expenses will be paid.’
‘Thank you,’ said Colbeck.
‘What’s their beer like?’ asked Leeming.
‘We’ll soon find out, Sergeant. Meanwhile, let’s concentrate on our purpose for being here.’ He turned to Hedley. ‘What’s your opinion?’
‘To be honest,’ replied the other, ‘I’m struggling to remain optimistic. Lord Culverhouse has a theory and I pretend to endorse it when I’m with him, but I can’t really subscribe to it.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s too fanciful. He believes that Alex chased after the person who started that fire but, when he caught up with him, was knocked out in a fierce struggle. Lord Culverhouse argues that his nephew is in a daze, wandering blindly about the countryside without having a clue where he is.’
‘I feel like that after a long train journey,’ said Leeming under his breath. He raised his voice. ‘What exactly happened during the excursion, Mr Hedley?’
Having reached the waiting coach provided by Lord Culverhouse, they clambered into it. On the way to their accommodation, the lawyer gave them a succinct account of what had happened on the Phantom Special and of subsequent events. Colbeck was grateful to be dealing with someone so educated and articulate. In a matter of minutes, they’d heard all of the salient details.
‘You say that Mr Piper was about to get married,’ observed Colbeck. ‘Why didn’t his future bride travel with him on the excursion?’
‘Miss Haslam is unduly nervous.’
‘I’d say she made the right decision,’ Leeming interjected. ‘I wouldn’t have wanted to grope around in the dark for hours on end, searching for the missing man. The excursion was a total failure.’
Hedley winced. ‘I have to agree, Sergeant.’
‘You told us that Phantom Special brought you all back here to Kendal,’ noted Colbeck. ‘I daresay that the engine is now in service again. What about the two carriages?’
‘They’re in a siding near the station, Inspector. They were part of some disused rolling stock that we chose because it was much cheaper to hire.’
Colbeck snapped his fingers. ‘That’s where we’ll start first thing in the morning.’
‘Why bother with two old carriages?’ protested Leeming. ‘What can they possibly tell us?’
‘If you know how to listen, Sergeant, they can tell you quite a lot.’
CHAPTER FOUR
When a friend joined her for dinner that evening, Madeleine was reminded just how much she had – to quote her father – come up in the world. Until she’d met Colbeck, she’d led a typical working-class existence, with all its constraints and limited expectations. Her social circle was small, and the notion of meals cooked and served to her on a daily basis was unthinkable. Marriage had moved her out of the modest dwelling in which she’d been born into a fine house in Westminster. But it was in her friendship with Lydia Quayle that she’d realised how radically her life had changed.
While a train robbery had brought Colbeck into her life, an even more serious crime had introduced her to Lydia. The latter’s father, a prosperous businessman and prospective chairman of the Midland Railway, had been found dead in a Derbyshire churchyard. As it happened, Lydia was estranged from her family at that time, living in London with an older woman and maintaining only fitful contact with her relations.
Convinced that Lydia might have information relevant to the case, Colbeck asked his wife to take part in the investigative process, a decision he kept secret from his superiors at Scotland Yard. Madeleine not only interviewed Lydia, she befriended her and was very supportive to the young woman whom she discovered was tormented by competing loyalties. When the murder had been solved, the friendship between them became even closer.
‘Something puzzles me,’ said Lydia. ‘You told me that Robert was offered the position of Acting Superintendent. Why didn’t he accept the promotion?’
‘Robert is much happier as a detective inspector. He took on that role once before and he hated being chained to a desk. What he thrives on is action and that means freedom of movement. Besides,’ said Madeleine, ‘he was counting on the fact that Superintendent Tallis would eventually return to duty and didn’t want to look as if he’d tried to usurp him.’
‘You’d prefer your husband based at Scotland Yard, surely?’
‘I want him to be happy in his work, Lydia, even if it means that he has to travel all over the country.’
‘It’s the wrong time of the year to visit the Lake District.’
‘We know that. It would be lovely to take Helen on a family holiday in spring or summer.’
‘Does Robert ever get holidays?’
Madeleine sighed. ‘Yes and no …’
After all this time, she felt completely at ease with Lydia and able to confide in her. Madeleine had other women friends – Leeming’s wife, Estelle, was one of them – but none was as close as the person sitting with her in the drawing room. What she admired about Lydia was her intelligence, her sense of independence and her easy social graces. For her part, Lydia had even more cause to be grateful for the friendship. It had helped her to liberate herself from the more possessive relationship into which she’d somehow drifted and which had become both uncomfortable and irksome. What Madeleine had, in fact, helped to give her was an entirely new and more fulfilling life.
‘What are you working on at the moment?’ asked Lydia.
‘I’ll show you when it’s finished.’
‘You’re always so secretive about your paintings.’
‘I’m superstitious, that’s all,’ said Madeleine. ‘I’m afraid to let anyone see my work until a painting is finished.’
‘I’ll have to be patient, then. Do you think that Helen will inherit your artistic flair?’
‘Oh, it’s not really flair, Lydia. I had to study hard and learn from real artists. In any case,’ she added, ‘painting is a rather lonely way to pass the time. I’m hoping that our daughter will take after Robert. Who knows? When Helen has reached my age, we may even have female detectives?’
‘Yes, please!’ said Lydia with enthusiasm. ‘That day can’t come soon enough, if you ask me.’
The coach took them to the Riverside Hotel, a quaint seventeenth-century inn on the bank of the River Kent. It was too gloomy for the detectives to appreciate the finer points of its architecture, and they were not, as it happened, given much time to study its interior. They were simply able to leave their luggage in their respective rooms before they were hustled out by Hedley. With the three of them ensconced in the plush seating, the coach set off once again.
‘Lord Culverhouse insisted on meeting you as soon as possible,’ explained Hedley. ‘He will doubtless press you to stay at Culverhouse Court, but I felt that you’d probably prefer to have more freedom.’
‘We would, indeed,’ said Colbeck.
‘It’s difficult to work when someone is looking over your shoulder all the time,’ said Leeming. ‘We’d feel hampered.’
‘You made the right decision, Mr Hedley.’
‘His Lordship may not think so,’ warned the other.
‘Where does he live?’
‘Oh, it’s not far away, Inspector. The house is in the middle of a large estate. Needless to say, he released some of his servants so that they could join in the search.’
‘What about Mr Piper’s family?’ asked Leeming.
‘They live in Ambleside. That’s at the north end of Lake Windermere. They were aware that you were coming and hope to meet you tomorrow.’
‘They’re high on our list,’ said Colbeck. ‘The more we can learn about the missing person, the better.’
‘Look,’ said Hedley with slight embarrassment, ‘there’s something you should know. The Reverend and Mrs Piper have a rather jaundiced view of their son. They feel that he’s let the family name down. Alex is no angel – I’m the first to admit that – but he’s not the complete rake his parents seem to think he is.’
‘Rake?’ echoed Leeming.
‘He’s had a rather colourful life and formed what his parents considered to be unsavoury attachments. I was the only one of Alex’s close friends they deemed acceptable.’
‘Why is that?’
‘They felt I was a restraining influence.’
‘Did Mr Piper live at home?’
‘No,’ said Hedley, ‘he didn’t. Alex stormed out after what he described as a spectacular row with them. He’s had nothing to do with either of his parents since then. I’ve tried to act as a peacemaker between the warring parties but with little success. My hope is – or was – that his marriage would help to repair the rift with his family.’
‘You sound as if you’ve given up hope of ever finding him,’ said Colbeck. ‘Is that the case?’
‘The truthful answer is that I don’t know. One moment, I’m convinced that he’s still alive and that there’s a perfectly logical explanation for his disappearance; the next, I fear that something dreadful has happened.’ He made an effort to sound more positive. ‘No, I refuse to believe that Alex is dead. He’s one of nature’s survivors. He must still be alive.’
‘Then where is he?’
‘I think he’s being held captive by someone as a means of punishment. That’s something else you should know about him,’ said Hedley. ‘Alex made lots of enemies.’
Dressed in black, the runner was invisible in the darkness. His pace was steady, unforced and methodical. After cresting the hill, he came down the incline with sure-footed confidence and, when he’d reached even ground, turned instinctively to the right. He jogged on until he came to the railway lines, running parallel to them for the best part of a mile. When he finally stopped, he crouched down by the track, pricked up his ears and listened intently.
When they got to the house, Lord Culverhouse was in the hall to welcome them. His first impression of the detectives was not encouraging. He thought that Colbeck was too much of a dandy and that Leeming was impossibly ugly and uncouth. Reading the situation at once, Colbeck decided that he could glean far more information if he spoke to the old man alone. He therefore suggested that the sergeant took a detailed statement in private from Hedley. Culverhouse agreed readily with the idea and had the two men conducted to the library. He led Colbeck to his study, a large, well-appointed room with a fire blazing in the grate. There was a pervasive smell of cigar smoke, reminding Colbeck of the superintendent. Culverhouse waved him to an armchair and sat opposite him, subjecting him to a penetrating stare.
‘You’re not exactly what I was expecting,’ he said.
‘Appearances can be deceptive.’
‘I hope so. Your companion looks like the sort of person you should arrest on sight, not someone who’s been entrusted with the rank of a detective at Scotland Yard.’
‘The sergeant has many sterling qualities,’ said Colbeck, loyally, ‘among which are intelligence, tenacity and fearlessness. I can assure you that he is fully equipped to discharge his responsibilities as an officer of the law.’
Culverhouse sniffed. ‘I’ll take your word for it.’ He glanced in the direction of the library. ‘As he probably told you, Hedley is a lawyer. What do you make of him?’
‘He’s been extremely helpful. Having once worked as a barrister, I came into contact with many lawyers. Mr Hedley seems to have all of the virtues of the breed yet none of the abiding stuffiness.’ Culverhouse smiled for the first time. ‘He told me about your theory.’
‘It’s not as far-fetched as it may sound. I’ve read reports before of people who sustain a violent blow to the head that deprives them of all knowledge of who and where they are. Victims have been known to wander aimlessly for days.’
‘I’m well aware of what can happen when someone’s mind is disturbed,’ said Colbeck, thinking of Tallis. ‘Your hypothesis, however, is based on the notion that another person is involved.’
‘It stands to reason, Inspector.’
‘Does it?’
‘Someone deliberately lit that fire.’
‘I agree, but surely he’d have disappeared into the night so that he couldn’t be identified?’
‘My nephew must have found him somehow and tackled the villain. It’s the sort of thing Alex would do. He’d never walk away from a fight.’
‘Then why didn’t he get the better of the man? According to Mr Hedley, your nephew was young, fit and had taken boxing lessons.’
‘It’s a plausible theory,’ said Culverhouse, angrily, ‘and I won’t have it questioned. Even if there was no other person there, Alex could have charged off to search the area, tripped in the dark, banged his head on a rock and lost his bearings in every sense of the phrase.’
‘You’re quite right, Lord Culverhouse,’ said Colbeck, trying to calm him. ‘Yours is a suggestion that deserves respect. It would account for his sudden disappearance.’ He changed his tack. ‘Mr Hedley told us about your nephew’s estrangement from his parents.’
‘My brother-in-law was chiefly to blame for that.’
‘Oh?’
‘Foolishly, he expects his son to behave exactly as he did at that age.’
‘I’m not sure what you mean, my lord.’
‘Are you familiar with Tennyson’s poems?’
‘Yes, I’m a great admirer of his work.’
‘Then you’ll have read St Simeon Stylites, I daresay.’
‘I have, indeed,’ said Colbeck. ‘Tennyson takes a rather mocking view of the privations he imposed on himself.’
‘My brother-in-law is cut from the same cloth. He’s a latter-day Simeon. I’m not saying that Rodney spent years living on top of a pillar with almost no clothes on, but he does have more than a touch of the martyr about him. Not unnaturally,’ he went on, ‘Alex rebelled against all that suffocating piety.’
‘I gather that Mr Piper is a clergyman?’
‘He’s an archdeacon, Inspector. I love Rodney for my sister’s sake, but I just couldn’t bring myself to sit through one of his interminable sermons.’
‘I begin to see why he and his son fell out.’
‘It’s a sad business. Alex is an only child. His parents are heartbroken that they lost him before reconciliation could take place. I’ve told them that he’s still alive,’ said the old man, ‘but they refuse to believe me.’
‘You are right to retain hope.’
‘It’s not hope I feel, it’s a sense of certainty. Alex is out there somewhere, Inspector.’ He pointed a finger at Colbeck. ‘I’m counting on you and that unprepossessing sergeant of yours to find him.’
Leeming had spent the first couple of minutes in the library, staring up at the portrait of Lord Culverhouse in full fig. It was so lifelike that it unsettled him. Hedley didn’t even glance up at it. He was too busy taking something out of the valise he was carrying. When the sergeant finally turned to him, the lawyer handed him a sheet of paper.
‘That’s a list of all the people on the Phantom Special,’ he said. ‘I’ve put a tick beside those who were in the last compartment with Alex and me.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ He looked at the names. ‘I see that the ladies outnumbered the men in your compartment. Who was responsible for that?’
Hedley was evasive. ‘That’s just the way it worked out, Sergeant.’
‘Both carriages seem to have been filled to capacity.’
‘It was a very popular excursion. People are inclined to seek thrills at Hallowe’en.’
