by Unknown
‘There’s your answer, Inspector McTurk.’
‘Is it?’
‘The tunnel was supposed to collapse just before the train reached it. The driver would have been going too fast to stop. The locomotive would have ploughed into the rubble and the whole train would have been derailed. That was their intention,’ declared Colbeck. ‘To block the tunnel, destroy a train and kill passengers in the process.’
‘But there were no passengers on board the train.’
‘Then what was it carrying?’
‘Goods.’
‘Any particular kinds of goods?’
‘Why do you ask?’
‘Because it may be significant.’
‘I don’t see how,’ said McTurk, irritably. ‘My information is that the wagons were simply carrying huge pieces of glass from the Chance Brothers’ Factory.’
‘Of course!’ cried Colbeck. ‘That explains it.’
McTurk looked blank. ‘Does it?’
‘I’m as mystified as Inspector McTurk,’ confessed Leeming as he joined them. ‘How can some sheets of glass provide the explanation?’
‘Think of where they would be going, Victor,’ advised Colbeck.
‘To the customer who bought them, I suppose.’
‘What’s so remarkable about that?’ said McTurk.
‘The customer in question happens to be Joseph Paxton,’ replied Colbeck, ‘the man who designed the Crystal Palace. And who had the contract for supplying all that glass? Chance Brothers.’
McTurk lifted his hat to scratch his head. ‘I’m still lost.’
‘So am I,’ said Leeming.
‘Then you have obviously not been reading all the advertisements for the Great Exhibition. What is it,’ said Colbeck, ‘but a celebration of British industry? One of the main elements in that is the primacy of our railway system. A number of locomotives will be on display – but only if the structure is finished, and that depends on the supply of the glass panels that were commissioned from Chance Brothers.’
Leeming blinked. ‘They were trying to stop the Great Exhibition?’
‘At the very least, they were doing their best to hamper the completion of the Crystal Palace,’ argued Colbeck. ‘The explosion was contrived by someone who not only wanted to put the tunnel out of action, he also hoped to delay an exhibition in which the steam locomotive will have pride of place.’
‘All I see is wanton damage,’ said McTurk, looking around.
‘Look for the deeper meaning, Inspector.’
‘I’ve tried. But I’m damned if I can spot it.’
‘What happened to the train carrying the glass?’ said Leeming.
‘I told you, Sergeant. It was late. The driver was a mile or so short of the tunnel when the explosion went off. Must have sounded like an earthquake to him.’
‘The noise would have echoed along the whole tunnel.’
‘And well beyond,’ said McTurk. ‘When the driver heard it, he slowed the train immediately. The signalmen at the other end of the tunnel were, in any case, flagging him down.’
‘So the sheets of glass were undamaged?’
‘They were taken on to London as soon as the line was cleared.’
‘Thank you, Inspector McTurk,’ said Colbeck, shaking his hand. ‘You have been a great help. Forgive us if we rush off. We need to catch the next train back to Euston.’
‘Do we?’ asked Leeming. ‘But we have not seen everything yet.’
‘We’ve seen all that we need to, Victor. The man we are after has just given himself away. I know what he will do next.’
Leaving a bewildered Inspector McTurk in his wake, Colbeck led his companion back towards Crick Station. There was a spring in the Inspector’s step. For the first time since the investigation had begun, he felt that he might have the advantage.
It was Gideon Little who told them about the incident. His ostensible reason for calling at the house was to see how Caleb Andrews was faring and to pass on details of the attack on the Kilsby Tunnel. A train on which Little had been the fireman that morning had been as far as Northampton and back. He had picked up all the news. In telling it to Andrews, he was also able to get close to Madeleine once more. She was as alarmed as her father by what she heard.
‘Was anyone hurt, Gideon?’
‘Only the railway policemen on duty,’ said Little, enjoying her proximity. ‘They were ambushed and knocked on the head.’
Andrews was rueful. ‘I know how that feels!’
‘Why would anyone damage the tunnel?’ asked Madeleine.
‘I wish I knew,’ said Little. ‘It’s very worrying. If a train had been coming through at that time, there would have been a terrible crash.’
‘Thank heaven that never happened!’
‘Railways still have lots of enemies,’ said Andrews. ‘I’m old enough to remember a time when landowners would do anything to stop us if we tried to go across their property. Boulders on the line, track pulled up, warning fires lit – I saw it all. And it was not just landowners.’
‘No,’ added Little, mournfully. ‘People who ran stage coaches feared that railways might put them out of business. So did canal owners. Then there are those who say we destroy the countryside.’
‘We are not destroying it, Gideon. Railways make it possible for people to see our beautiful countryside. The many who are stuck in ugly towns all week can take an excursion train on a Sunday and share in the pleasures that the few enjoy. We offer a public service,’ Andrews went on with conviction. ‘We open up this great country of ours.’
They were in the main bedroom and the driver was resting against some pillows. His arm was still in a sling and his broken leg held fast in a splint. An occasional wince showed that he was still in pain. Pressed for details, Little told him everything that he could about the explosion but his eyes kept straying to Madeleine, hoping to see a sign of affection that never materialised. When it was time for him to go, she showed the visitor to the door but did not linger.
‘Goodbye, Madeleine,’ said Little.
‘Thank you for coming to see Father.’
‘It was you that I came to see.’
She forced a smile. ‘Goodbye.’
Madeleine closed the door after him then went back upstairs.
‘Is there anything I can get you, Father?’ she said.
‘A pair of crutches.’
‘The doctor told you to stay in bed.’
‘I’ll die of boredom if I’m trapped in here much longer.’
‘You’ve had plenty of visitors,’ Madeleine reminded him. ‘Frank Pike came yesterday, so did Rose. Today, it was Gideon’s turn.’
‘He’d be here every day if he had some encouragement.’
She inhaled deeply. ‘You know how I feel on that score.’
‘Give the lad a chance, Maddy. He dotes on you.’
‘Yes,’ she said, sadly, ‘but I do not dote on Gideon.’
‘Your mother didn’t exactly dote on me at first,’ he confided with a nostalgic sigh, ‘but she took me on and – God bless her – she learnt to love me in time. I think I made her happy.’
‘You did, Father. She always said that.’
‘I miss her terribly but I’m glad that she’s not here to see me like this. I feel so helpless.’ He peered up at her. ‘Gideon will be a driver one day, Maddy – just like me. You could do a lot worse.’
‘I know that.’
‘So why do you give the poor man a cold shoulder?’
‘I try to be polite to him.’
‘He wants more than politeness.’
‘Then he wants more than I am able to offer,’ she said.
His voice hardened. ‘Gideon is not good enough for you, is that it?’
‘No, Father.’
‘You think that you are above marrying a railwayman.’
‘That’s not true at all.’
‘I brought you up to respect the railway,’ he said with a glint in his eye. ‘It served me well enough all
these years, Maddy. Your mother was proud of what I did for a living.’
‘So am I.’
‘Then why are you giving yourself these airs and graces?’
‘Father,’ she said, trying to remain calm, ‘the situation is simple. I do not – and never could – love Gideon Little.’
‘You’ve set your sights higher, have you?’
‘Of course not.’
‘I’m not blind, Maddy,’ he told her. ‘Something has happened to you over the past few days and we both know what it is. Run with your own kind, girl,’ he urged. ‘That’s where your future lies. Why look at a man who will always be out of your reach?’
‘Please!’ she said. ‘I don’t wish to discuss this any more.’
‘I only want to stop you from getting hurt, Maddy.’
‘You need rest. I’ll leave you alone.’
‘Stick to Gideon. He’s one of our own. Be honest with yourself,’ he said. ‘No man in a silk top hat is going to look at you.’
Madeleine could take no more. Her feelings had been hurt and her mind was racing. Holding back tears, she opened the door and went out.
Superintendent Tallis did not even bother to knock. He burst into Colbeck’s office in time to find the Inspector poring intently over a copy of the Illustrated London News. Colbeck looked up with a dutiful smile.
‘Good afternoon, sir,’ he said.
‘Where have you been, Inspector?’
‘To the Kilsby Tunnel and back.’
‘I know that,’ said Tallis, leaning over the desk at him. ‘Why did you not report to me the moment that you got back?’
‘I did, Superintendent. You were not in your office.’
‘I was in a meeting with the Commissioners.’
‘That’s why I came back here to do some work.’
‘Since when has reading a newspaper been construed as work?’
‘Actually,’ said Colbeck, turning the paper round so that Tallis could see it, ‘I was studying this illustration on the front page. I suggest that you do the same, sir.’
‘I do not have time to look at illustrations, Inspector,’ rasped the other, ignoring the paper, ‘and neither do you. Now what did you learn of value in Northamptonshire?’
‘That it really is a charming county. Even Victor was impressed.’
‘Did you establish how the tunnel was damaged?’
‘I did much more than that.’
‘Indeed?’
‘I discovered why they chose that particular target. More to the point,’ Colbeck announced, ‘I believe that I know where they will direct their malign energies next.’
‘And where is that, Inspector?’
‘At this.’ Colbeck tapped the illustration that lay before him. ‘The Lord of the Isles. It’s a steam locomotive, sir.’
‘I can see that, man.’
‘The pride of the Great Western Railway. What more dramatic way to make his point than by destroying this symbol of excellence?’
‘Who are you talking about?’
‘The man who organised the train robbery and who instigated the attack on the Kilsby Tunnel. If you take a seat, Superintendent,’ he said, indicating a chair, ‘I will be happy to explain.’
‘I wish that somebody would.’
As soon as Tallis sat down, Colbeck told him about the visit to the scene of the latest crime and how he had become convinced of where the next attack would be. Tallis had grave doubts.
‘It’s a wild guess, Inspector,’ he said.
‘No, sir. It’s a considered judgement, based on what I know of the man and his methods. He is conducting a vendetta against railways.’
‘Then why not blow up another tunnel or destroy a bridge?’
‘Because he can secure infinitely more publicity at the Crystal Palace. Every newspaper in Britain and several from aboard would report the event. After all, the Exhibition has an international flavour,’ said Colbeck. ‘The whole civilised world will be looking at it. That is what this man craves most of all, Superintendent – an audience.’
‘Why should he pick on the Lord of the Isles?’
‘Because that will set the standard of locomotive construction for years to come, sir. It repeats the design of Daniel Gooch’s Iron Duke, built for the Great Western Railway at Swindon. Other locomotives will be on display,’ he continued, ‘including the famous Puffing Billy and the Liverpool, designed by Thomas Crampton. Our man may choose one of them instead or create an explosion big enough to destroy all the railway exhibits. Inside a structure like the Crystal Palace, of course, any explosion will have a devastating effect.’
‘Only if it were allowed to happen.’
‘That is why we must take preventative measures.’
‘They are already in hand,’ Tallis informed him. ‘I attended a first meeting with the Commissioners about security at the Exhibition in November of last year. We recommended that an extra 1000 police officers were needed.’
‘Yes, but only to control the massive crowds that are expected.’
‘A moment ago, you mentioned the Iron Duke. It may interest you to know that the real Iron Duke, the Duke of Wellington, advocated a force of 15,000 men. I put forward the notion of swearing in sappers as special constables but it was felt – wrongly, in my opinion – that they would be seen as too militaristic.’ He stroked his moustache. ‘As an army man, I believe in the power of the uniform.’
‘The problem is,’ said Colbeck, ‘that a uniform gives the game away. It sends out a warning. Besides, Superintendent, you are talking about security arrangements during the Exhibition. I think that the attack will be made before it.’
‘How have you arrived at that conclusion?’
‘By putting myself in the mind of the man we are after.’
‘But you do not even know his name.’
‘I know his type, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘Like you, he was a military man. He understands that he must use surprise to maximum effect and strike at the weakest point. Look at the train robbery,’ he suggested. ‘The weak points were William Ings and Daniel Slender. Once their loyalty had been breached, the ambush could be laid.’
Superintendent Tallis ruminated. Crossing to the desk, he picked up the paper and looked at the illustration of the Lord of the Isles. After a moment, he tossed it down again.
‘No,’ he decided. ‘Simply because there was an explosion in the Kilsby Tunnel, I do not foresee an outrage at the Crystal Palace.’
‘What if you are mistaken, sir?’
‘That is highly unlikely.’
‘But not impossible,’ reasoned Colbeck. ‘If there is some sort of attack on those locomotives, you will be blamed for not taking special precautions when you had been advised to do so. All that I am asking for is a small number of men.’
‘To do what?’
‘Mount a guard throughout the night. Nobody would be reckless enough to attempt anything in daylight – there would be far too many people about, helping to set up the exhibits.’
‘Are you volunteering to lead this guard detail?’
‘Provided that I have a free hand to choose my team.’
‘It could be a complete waste of time, Inspector.’
‘Then I will be the first to admit that I was wrong,’ said Colbeck, firmly. ‘If, on the other hand, we do foil an attempt to damage the locomotives, you will be given the credit for anticipating it.’
Tallis needed a few minutes to think it over. Inclined to dismiss the idea as fanciful, he feared the consequences if the Inspector were proved right. Robert Colbeck had a habit of coming up with strange proposals that somehow, against all the odds, bore fruit. A man who was ready to endure sleepless nights at the Crystal Palace had to be driven by a deep inner conviction. After meditation, Tallis elected to trust in it.
‘Very well, Inspector,’ he said. ‘Take the necessary steps.’
Thomas Sholto had known him for several years. Educated at the same school, they had been commissioned in the same regim
ent and served together in India. For all that, he could still be amazed at the dedication that Sir Humphrey Gilzean brought to any project. It was in evidence again when they met that morning to discuss their latest scheme. A large round mahogany table stood in the library at Gilzean’s house. Sholto was astounded to see what was lying on it. As well as a detailed floor plan of the Crystal Palace, there was a copy of the Official Catalogue for the Great Exhibition.
‘How on earth did you get hold of these?’ asked Sholto.
‘By a combination of money and persuasion,’ replied Gilzean, picking up the catalogue. ‘This is the first of five parts but the printers only have this one ready for the opening ceremony on May Day. Did you know that there are over 100,000 separate items on show, sent in from all over the world by individual and corporate exhibitors?’
‘Prince Albert wants it to be a truly unforgettable event.’
‘We will make sure that it is, Thomas.’ He put the catalogue down and scrutinised the plan. ‘Everything on show is divided into four different classes – Raw Materials, Machinery, Manufactures and Fine Arts.’
‘Any mention of the British Army? That’s what made the Empire.’
‘Only a display of Military Engineering and Ordnance.’
‘No bands, no parades, no demonstrations of military skills?’
‘No, Thomas. The emphasis is on industry in all its forms.’ He drew back his lips in a sneer. ‘Including the railways.’
‘Where are the locomotives housed, Humphrey?’
‘Here,’ said Gilzean, indicating a section of the ground floor plan. ‘What we are after is in an area devoted to Machinery for Direct Use.’
‘On the north side,’ observed Sholto. ‘It should not be difficult to gain access there. I took the trouble to have a preliminary look at the Crystal Palace when I accosted Lord Holcroft in Hyde Park. It is a vast cathedral of glass that looks like nothing so much as a giant conservatory. But, then, what else should one expect of a man like Joseph Paxton who is a landscape gardener?’
‘As far as I am concerned, Thomas, his notoriety lies elsewhere.’
‘Yes, Humphrey. He is a director of the Midland Railway.’
‘Had he not been,’ said Gilzean scornfully, ‘he might never have been employed to design that monstrous edifice. I am told, on good authority, that Joseph Paxton came down to the House of Commons last year for a meeting with Mr John Ellis, Member of Parliament and chairman of the Midland Railway, a ghastly individual with whom I’ve crossed swords more than once in the Chamber.’
