"The iron horse" - читать интересную книгу автора (Marston Edward)

CHAPTER SIX

Victor Leeming was relieved to be going on a journey that did not involve a railway. Instead, he and Robert Colbeck sat side by side in a hansom cab as it picked its way through a labyrinth of streets in east London. There was something about the gentle swaying of the vehicle that the sergeant found reassuring. It was like being rocked in a giant cradle with the rhythmical trot of the horse providing a soothing lullaby. Even when they turned down a narrow lane, bouncing and sliding over a cobbled surface, Leeming felt snug and unthreatened.

'This is better than hurtling along in a train,' he opined.

'It's an agreeable alternative on a short journey,' said Colbeck, 'but I'd hate to have gone all the way to Anglesey by cab. Horses and railways are not mutually exclusive, Victor. They're complementary.'

'Give me horses every time, sir.'

'You'll have a wide choice of those today.'

'Will I?'

'Yes,' said Colbeck. 'We're going to see a bookmaker. He'll offer you whole cavalry regiments. Horses are Hamilton Fido's business. Judging by the success he's had, I'd say that he was an expert.'

'Does he know who's going to win the Derby?'

'I'm sure that he'll tell us.'

'Why does such a rich man live in one of the poorest districts of London?' asked Leeming. 'Since the weaving industry fell on hard times, Bethnal Green is starting to look like a graveyard.'

'Mr Fido only works here, Victor. His house is in a far more salubrious part of the city. Some of his more questionable activities would not be allowed there whereas they suit the character of Bethnal Green perfectly.'

'Milling and cock-fighting, you mean?'

'It's not only boxers and birds who entertain the crowds here,' said Colbeck. 'Hamilton Fido will arrange any contest in which blood can be drawn and on which bets can be laid.'

'Why has he never been arrested?'

'That, I suspect, will become obvious when we meet him.'

The cab eventually came to a halt outside the Green Dragon, a large, rambling, double-fronted tavern built with an eye to Gothic extravagance but now badly besmirched. As he alighted and paid the driver, Colbeck glanced around him. Signs of extreme poverty were unmistakable. Small, dark, mean, neglected houses and tenements were clustered together in the filthy street. Emaciated and unwashed children in tattered clothes were playing games. Old people sat on stools outside their dwellings and looked on with vacant stares. Filling the air with their strident cries, street vendors sold wares from their handcarts. Dogs and cats had ear-splitting disputes over territory. Hulking men with darting eyes sauntered past. There was a hint of danger in the air.

Victor Leeming was troubled by the stink from the accumulated litter and open drains. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. Within seconds, he and Colbeck were approached by a couple of ancient beggars with threadbare suits, battered hats and ingratiating smiles. From other denizens of the area the visitors collected only hostile stares and muttered curses. They went into the tavern and found it full of rowdy patrons. In the boisterous atmosphere, Colbeck had to raise his voice to be heard by the barman. In answer to the inspector's enquiry, they were directed upstairs.

Hamilton Fido's office occupied the front room on the first floor. What surprised them as they were invited in was how little of the hubbub below rose up through the floorboards. A thick oriental carpet helped to insulate the room against the noise from the bar. The office walls were adorned with sporting prints and every shelf was covered with silver cups and other trophies. Yet there was no sense of clutter. Everything was neatly in place. Hamilton Fido was clearly a man who valued order.

He rose swiftly from his seat as the introductions were made.

'How fortunate!' he exclaimed, beaming at Colbeck. 'I've always wanted to meet the famous Railway Detective.'

'And I've always wanted to meet the infamous bookmaker,' Colbeck returned pleasantly. 'You have a spacious and well-appointed office, Mr Fido. It's the last thing one might expect to find in a place like Bethnal Green.'

'I was born and brought up here,' explained Fido, looking fondly through the window. 'My father was a weaver – his loom took up most of the space on the ground floor. When he was too ill to work, we had no money coming in. When he recovered his health, the trade had declined and he could find no employment. Life was a daily struggle for us and, from an early age, I had to learn how to survive. Though I say so myself, I became very adept at survival.' He held the lapels of his frock coat. 'What you see before you is a self-educated man who was fortunate enough to make good. Most people in my position turn their backs on their humble origins but I rejoice in mine.'

'That's creditable, sir,' said Leeming.

'Bethnal Green folk are the salt of the earth. When I bought this tavern and set up my business here, I wanted to put something back into the district. But I forget my manners,' he said, indicating the chairs. 'Do make yourselves comfortable, gentlemen.'

The detectives sat down and Fido lowered himself into a seat opposite them. Like Colbeck, the bookmaker was impeccably dressed but he had a flamboyance that the inspector lacked. Gold rings shone on both hands and an ornate gold pin anchored his cravat. He produced a ready smile for the detectives.

'What brought you here was that hatbox, I presume,' he said helpfully. 'There's no need to tell me the name of the unfortunate young man whose head was found inside it. He was John Feeny.'

Colbeck was taken aback. 'May I ask how you come to know?'

'The fact was important to me.'

'But the name of the deceased has not yet been released.'

'It was released to me, Inspector,' said Fido complacently. 'In my walk of life, accurate information is vital so I employ every means of acquiring it.'

'Even to the extent of bribing a police officer?'

Fido held up both hands in a comic gesture of surrender. 'Inspector, please – I would never dare to do that.'

'Then how did you find out?' asked Leeming.

'Not because I put the head in the hatbox, Sergeant.'

'Then how, sir?'

'An anonymous letter was slipped under my door,' said Fido glibly. 'It claimed that the dead man was John Feeny, a lad who used to work as a groom at my stables. Is that correct?'

'It is, Mr Fido,' conceded Leeming.

'Of course, I never met him. My trainer employs several grooms. He's always had a free hand in his choice of lads. Until this morning, I had no idea that someone called John Feeny even existed.'

'And when you did discover his existence,' said Colbeck, 'and learnt of his bizarre murder, how did you react?'

'With pity and apprehension,' said Fido.

'Apprehension?'

'Feeny was Irish. According to my anonymous informant, he once worked at the stables owned by Brian Dowd. I was horrified.'

'Why?'

'Mr Dowd and I have exchanged hot words,' said Fido sourly, 'on and off the racecourse. He's totally unscrupulous. All that the public sees is the endless stream of success that he's enjoyed. What's hidden from them is the deep-dyed villainy behind that success.'

'You sound as if you're accusing Brian Dowd,' said Colbeck.

'He deliberately infiltrated my stables.'

'Is that what you believe, sir?'

'It's obvious, Inspector,' argued Fido. 'My filly, Merry Legs, has an excellent chance of winning the Derby. John Feeny was sent over to England to make sure that Merry Legs did not even run in the race.'

'Then it would have been in your interests to stop him.'

'I'd never have employed him in the first place.'

'Why did your trainer take the lad on?'

'I mean to ask him that selfsame question when I meet him later today. Who killed John Feeny, I'm unable to tell you, but the person who dispatched him to England to spy on my filly was Brian Dowd.'

'Could it be that someone at the stables took the law into his own hands?' wondered Colbeck. 'When he suspected that the lad had been deliberately planted on them, he struck back.'

Fido was fuming. 'I do not employ killers, Inspector.'

'How do you know?' said Leeming. 'Until today, you didn't even know that John Feeny worked at your stables.'

'Do you have any proof that that is where he was murdered?'

'No, sir.'

'Or any evidence to connect the crime to me?'

'None at all, Mr Fido.'

'Then I'll trouble you not to make any unfounded allegations. Instead of badgering me about this murder, you should be chasing that crooked Irishman, Brian Dowd.'

'I've already spoken with Mr Dowd,' said Colbeck.

'You have?' said Fido. 'I didn't realise that he was in this country yet.'

'I went to Dublin to see him. What your anonymous informant failed to tell you was that the severed head was destined for Ireland. It was Mr Dowd who identified a rough portrait of the deceased and thus enabled us to move this investigation on to another stage.'

'Don't believe a word that liar told you!' snarled Fido.

'He said much the same about you, sir.'

'Dowd set out to disable Merry Legs in some way.'

'That's pure supposition,' said Colbeck. 'According to Mr Dowd, the reason that Feeny left Ireland was that there were no prospects of his becoming a jockey there. That must have rankled with the lad. Why should he help a man who told him frankly that he had no future in the saddle?'

Hamilton Fido took a moment to absorb what he had been told. His face remained impassive but his mind was racing. He seized on one piece of information.

'What makes you think the severed head was destined for Brian Dowd?' he asked. 'It was found in Crewe.'

'Inspector Colbeck looked closely at the railway timetables,' said Leeming. 'Not long after that hatbox arrived in Crewe, there was a connecting train to Holyhead.'

Colbeck took over. 'There was also the fact that Limerick Lad posed a serious challenge to your filly and to Lord Hendry's Odysseus. Since I was certain that the crime was linked to the Derby,' he went on, 'I deduced that Mr Dowd was the most likely recipient of that ghastly present in the hatbox. He agreed with me.'

'On what grounds?' said Fido.

'The false assumption already made by you, sir – namely, that Feeny was paid to report on the progress of Merry Legs and was thus seen as an enemy in the camp. The killer's motive was revenge.'

'You're being fanciful, Inspector Colbeck.'

'I am merely telling you how it looks to me.'

'You made the mistake of listening to Brian Dowd.'

'I'm giving you the chance to set the record straight.'

'Then let me deny categorically that neither I – nor anyone in my employ – was involved in this murder. If that's what Dowd is claiming, I'll sue the bastard for slander.'

'Some of the things you've said about Mr Dowd could be considered slanderous,' noted Colbeck. 'They are also very unhelpful. A shouting match between the pair of you will achieve nothing beyond giving you both a sore throat.'

'Keep him away from me – that's all I ask.'

The conversation had reached a natural end. Before he could stop himself, Leeming blurted out the question that had been on the tip of his tongue since they had entered the room. 'Which horse will win the Derby, sir?'

'The first past the winning post,' replied Fido.

'Will that be Odysseus, Merry Legs or Limerick Lad?'

'Odysseus has to be favourite, Sergeant.'

'But you want your own horse to win.'

'I hope and pray that she does,' said Fido guardedly. 'But I draw back from overrating her chances. All I will say is that Merry Legs has a wonderful opportunity to beat the field.'

'That's not what tradition tells us,' said Colbeck knowledgeably. 'The only filly to win the Derby was Eleanor in 1801. Before and since that year, colts have always taken the honours. Why should it be any different this year?'

'Speaking as a bookmaker, I'd say that Merry Legs was an unlikely winner even though, as a filly, she'll have a slight weight advantage. Speaking as an owner, however,' Fido continued, 'I'm ruled by my heart rather than my head.'

'Does that mean you'll be betting on Merry Legs?' said Leeming.

'The odds I'm setting are well advertised. Odysseus is 5-2; Limerick Lad is 4-1; and Merry Legs is 8-1. But there are eighteen other runners in the race. One of them might surprise us all.'

'Bookmakers are rarely surprised,' observed Colbeck.

Fido smiled. 'We know how to cover every eventuality.'

'Even an attack on your own horse?'

'Merry Legs is under armed guard day and night, Inspector.'

'I'm glad to hear it. Interested as I am in the race, my prime concern will always be the murder of John Feeny. All that you and Brian Dowd have done so far is to speak disparagingly of each other. Answer me this, Mr Fido,' said Colbeck. 'It occurs to me that the death of the groom might simply be a device to turn you and Mr Dowd into a pair of fighting cocks, trying to tear each other to bits. Who would profit most from that?'

'One name leaps out of the pack immediately,' said Fido.

'And who is that, sir?'

'Lord Hendry.'

'I had hoped to speak to Inspector Colbeck,' said Lord Hendry as he was shown into the superintendent's office. 'I know that he's in charge of this case.'

'Colbeck is answerable to me,' said Tallis, staying on his feet as he waved his guest to a chair. 'I control the investigation from here.'

'Then I bring my complaint to you.'

'Your complaint, Lord Hendry?'

'Yes, Superintendent – if the blame lies with you.'

'What exactly is the nature of your grievance?'

'I deplore your methods,' said Lord Hendry, tapping the floor hard with his silver-topped cane. 'It was quite unnecessary for two detectives to come all the way to my house for the sole purpose of asking about a hatbox that was stolen from my wife.'

'How else could the information have been obtained?'

'By letter, Mr Tallis – I'm a prompt correspondent.'

'Inspector Colbeck was anxious to meet you in person.'

'Then he could have done so at my club,' said Lord Hendry testily. 'I'm there on a regular basis. It's unsettling when two of your men bang on my front door. What are my servants to think? That their master is under suspicion for some dastardly crime? This whole business could have been handled more discreetly.'

'We wanted an immediate answer, Lord Hendry.'

'Damn it, man – you offended me, don't you see that?'

Tallis met his gaze without flinching. In view of what his detectives had found out, he was glad that they had visited Lord Hendry at his home. He certainly felt no need to apologise. There was a lengthy and uncomfortable pause. Lord Hendry finally broke the silence when he took a handkerchief from his sleeve and held it to his mouth as he sneezed.

'God bless you!' said Tallis.

'I'm still waiting for your comment.'

'I've none to make, Lord Hendry.'

'Won't you admit you were wrong to send your men to my house?' demanded the other, slipping the handkerchief back into his sleeve. 'Or do I have to take my complaint to the commissioner?'

'I'd advise against that.'

'Why?'

'Because the commissioner has been made fully aware of the details of this case,' said Tallis, tired of being glared at. 'Like me, he knows that you lied to my detectives when they called on you. And, like me, he knows that the lady for whom you bought a hat and hatbox in Jermyn Street was not, in fact, Lady Hendry.'

'How dare you, sir!' yelled Lord Hendry, getting to his feet and frothing with rage. 'That's a monstrous allegation and I insist on a retraction.'

'Insist all you will,' said Tallis. 'But before you issue any more denials, I should tell you that Sergeant Leeming visited the Angel Hotel in Cambridge recently. He not only discovered that you and a certain young lady had stayed there on more than one occasion, he learnt that the hatbox was not stolen from the hotel. Why did you tell my officers that it had been, Lord Hendry?'

'This is insufferable!' howled the other. 'Is a peer of the realm to be allowed no private life? Since when has it been the function of detectives to pry into the personal affairs of a man who has committed no crime whatsoever?'

'Your private life has a bearing on a brutal murder.'

'I'll not be watched, Superintendent,' warned Lord Hendry. 'I'll not be treated like the basest scoundrel in London.'

'You've been treated with the respect you deserve,' said Tallis levelly. 'Inspector Colbeck believed that you bore false testimony and he set out to prove it. Had you told him the truth in the first place, the visit to Cambridge would not have been necessary.'

'Heavens above – I'm married!'

'At moments like this, I'm pleased I remained a bachelor.'

Lord Hendry frowned. 'Are you mocking me, Mr Tallis?'

'I am simply observing how much easier life is for a single man.'

'I have no interest in your observations, sir.'

'Then I'll keep them to myself.' Sitting behind his desk, Tallis clasped his hands together. 'Now that you've made your complaint, Lord Hendry,' he said, 'I'll avail myself of the opportunity to make mine.'

'I haven't finished yet.'

'You have another grievance?'

'I need to report a crime,' said Lord Hendry petulantly. 'That's why I hoped to see Inspector Colbeck. Yesterday, near the stables where my colt is trained, an attempt was made to kill Odysseus.'

'An unsuccessful attempt, I hope.'

'Fortunately, it was. Odysseus was due to be moved to Epsom in his travelling box but my trainer had a strong suspicion that someone was keeping a close watch on the stables. Fearing danger, he took steps to avoid it.'

'In what way?'

'Instead of putting Odysseus in the travelling box, he used a substitute – one of the bullocks from the adjoining paddock. As it was going up a hill, the travelling box was uncoupled from the cart pulling it and it careered down the slope before turning over.'

'Was the bullock injured?'

'One of its legs was broken,' said Lord Hendry. 'Do you see what I am up against, Superintendent? Someone is out to destroy my chances of winning the Derby. Had my horse been in that box, he would have broken his leg instead and we'd have had to put him down. I want you to find the man behind this outrage.'

'We'll do all we can to apprehend him as soon as we can,' Tallis promised him. 'Can you suggest the name of anyone capable of such a heinous crime?'

'Two names command especial attention.'

'And who might they be, Lord Hendry?'

'Hamilton Fido and Brian Dowd.'

'Your great rivals, as I understand it.'

'I mean to win by fair means – they'll resort to foul ones.'

'I'll need to take a fuller statement,' said Tallis, reaching for his pen and moving a piece of paper into position. 'I want the time and place of this incident and the names of any witnesses whom we can contact.'

'First things first, Superintendent – when we do move Odysseus to Epsom, I'll need police protection for the horse. There may be a second attack.'

'We'll look into that, Lord Hendry.'

'Make sure you question Fido and Dowd.'

'Inspector Colbeck has already spoken to both gentlemen.'

'Really?' Lord Hendry was amazed. 'Why did he do that?'

'Because he is accustomed to leaving no stone unturned,' said Tallis. 'There are certain things of which you have clearly not been apprised, my lord, and they may alter your view of events. The severed head has been identified as belonging to John Feeny, a groom at the stables owned, coincidentally, by Hamilton Fido. The hatbox was on its way to Brian Dowd in Ireland before it was intercepted in Crewe. Feeny, it transpires, once worked for Mr Dowd.'

'How do you know all this?' asked Lord Hendry.

'As I told you, Inspector Colbeck is famed for his thoroughness.'

'So both Fido and Dowd are tied in some way to the murder?'

'Let's move one step at a time,' said Tallis, pen poised. 'What brought this crime to light was a hatbox that sprung open on a railway platform. That leads me to a question I'm compelled to ask, Lord Hendry, and I'm sure that you understand why.' He cleared his throat. 'What was the name of the young lady from whom it was stolen?'

'She has no name,' retorted Lord Hendry, eyes blazing with defiance. 'The young lady ceased to exist several weeks ago. That being the case, Superintendent, I regret that I'm unable to help you identify that person.' He thrust out his jaw. 'Do I make myself clear?'

The long cab ride back to Scotland Yard gave Robert Colbeck and Victor Leeming plenty of time to discuss their visit to the Green Dragon. The sergeant was impressed.

'Mr Fido must have made a fortune,' he said enviously. 'He owns a stable of racehorses, a tavern in Bethnal Green and a big house somewhere else. Yet he comes from a poor family.'

'Perhaps that's what spurred him on, Victor. But he's not the only person from the working class who went on to succeed. I'm sitting beside another example right now.'

'Me?' Leeming gave a dry laugh. 'I don't think I'm a success.'

'You are, in my eyes,' said Colbeck, letting his affection show. 'Most people with your background never escape it. They're doomed to live the same kind of hard, joyless, unrelenting lives as their parents. By sheer determination, you managed to better yourself and – unlike Hamilton Fido – you did so by entirely legal means.'

'That's no consolation, sir.'

'It is to me, Victor.'

'I'd love to have some of his money.'

'Then back the winner in the Derby.'

'You know what I mean, Inspector,' said Leeming. 'When I see someone like Mr Fido, dripping with wealth, I feel so jealous. I'll never earn that amount of money in the Metropolitan Police Force.'

'Look at it another way,' suggested Colbeck. 'You'll never spend part of your life behind bars.'

'Is that what will happen to Mr Fido?'

'Sooner or later.'

'He seemed so sure of himself.'

'Yes, he was very plausible. That's often a danger sign. He had all the answers. Hamilton Fido is clearly an accomplished liar.'

'What was all that about an anonymous letter?'

'His first and biggest lie,' said Colbeck. 'He must have a source at Scotland Yard and that's worrying. Only a handful of people knew the name of the murder victim and the fact that he once worked for Brian Dowd. It behoves us to move with extreme care, Victor.'

'Why?'

'We have a spy in our ranks – someone who can help Mr Fido to stay one step ahead of us.'

'How, sir?'

'By reporting on our movements, for a start,' replied Colbeck. 'Didn't you notice how unsurprised Mr Fido was when we turned up at his door? He knew that we were coming.'

Leeming was unsettled. 'A spy in our ranks – surely not, sir.'

'Mr Fido will employ a whole network of informers, Victor. How can he set the odds for a race if he doesn't have precise details about the runners taking part?'

'What about the Derby?'

'He'll know exactly how the fancied horses fare during their training gallops. A man like Hamilton Fido has eyes everywhere.'

'Do you think he's involved in the murder of John Feeny?'

'He didn't persuade me that he's not involved,' said Colbeck, 'so it's an open question. If he is party to the crime, of course, then he may not have a source in the Detective Department, after all. He would know Feeny's name because he ordered his execution.'

Leeming fell silent. A chevron of deep concentration appeared on his brow as he turned something over in his mind. Colbeck waited patiently until his companion was ready to speak.

'I was just thinking,' said the sergeant at length. 'What would have happened if the severed head had not been discovered in Crewe?'

'It would have been delivered to Brian Dowd.'

'Yes – but what would have happened then, sir? Would he have reported it or chosen to keep the whole thing secret?'

'That depends on whether or not he deliberately put John Feeny in a rival stables to act as an informant. If he did,' said Colbeck, 'he might not wish to involve the police at all. Having met Mr Dowd, I'm inclined to believe his explanation – namely, that Feeny left Ireland of his own accord before finding work in England. But,' he went on, 'it's always wise to have a second opinion. That's why I'm sending you to meet Brian Dowd at a secret location.'

Leeming steeled himself. 'Will I have to travel by train, sir?'

'I'm afraid so – but only for a short distance. One thing that even Hamilton Fido doesn't know is the location of Limerick Lad. Mr Dowd confided in me and I've disclosed the address to nobody.'

'Not even to Superintendent Tallis?'

'No, Victor,' said Colbeck, 'and, in hindsight, I'm glad. If we do have a spy in our midst, this is one piece of information that won't fall accidentally into his hands. When we get to Whitehall, you can drop me off and go on to Paddington.'

'What will you be doing?'

'Reporting to the superintendent, in the first instance.'

'Better you than me, sir,' said Leeming gratefully.

'I thought that he'd mellowed of late.'

'Then I'll have to show you the bite marks he left on me.'

Colbeck laughed. 'You'll find Brian Dowd far less intimidating,' he said. 'Sound him out, Victor. See what you make of him.'

'Do you think he'll give me advice about the Derby?'

'You may even be lucky enough to see Limerick Lad now he's in England. That's the advice he'll give you – bet on the Irish horse.'

'Who are you going to put money on, sir?'

'I'm still considering the options,' said Colbeck. 'One of them has to be Merry Legs. When I've spoken to the Superintendent, I'll travel to Hamilton Fido's stables to take a closer look at the filly. I felt from the start that a female would play a crucial role in our investigation.'

Kitty Lavender sat at a table in the corner of the tavern and ignored the curious stares she was getting from most of the men present. As a rule, she enjoyed arousing male interest but she had other things on her mind at that moment. She was grateful when the tall, gangly figure of Marcus Johnson entered the room and crossed over to her. Kitty rose from her chair to accept a kiss on the cheek and an effusive greeting from the newcomer. A collective murmur of disappointment went up from the other tables. She was spoken for.

In fact, Marcus was her half-brother but the familiar way in which he leant across the table towards her hinted at a more intimate relationship. He ordered drinks and exchanged niceties with Kitty until they were brought. After clinking glasses, they sipped their respective drinks.

'I haven't seen you for ages, Kitty,' he complained.

'I've been busy.'

'On my behalf, I hope.'

'And on my own,' she said tartly. 'I don't see it as my purpose in life to run your errands, Marcus.'

'I'm your brother.'

'My half-brother – there's a big difference.'

'Yes,' he said, 'you only love me half as much as I love you.'

He grinned broadly. There were certainly no physical similarities to proclaim their blood relationship. Kitty's beauty was thrown into relief by Johnson's long, thin, bony face with its aquiline nose and prominent chin. While she was poised, his features were mobile. In place of her perfect set of teeth, he had a mouthful of over-large incisors and canines. A few years older than Kitty, he seemed to glow with confidence. He took her hand.

'What can you tell me?' he asked.

'It's far too early, Marcus.'

'You must have picked up some information.'

'I've picked up far too much,' she said. 'I only have a very limited interest in horses and I'm fast approaching that limit.'

'Think what this could mean to us, Kitty.'

'That's what I have been doing and I'm coming to the conclusion that this is just another of your madcap schemes to get rich. They always fail, Marcus. Why should this one be any different?'

'Because we're working together this time.'

'That's not true,' she denied.

'You swore that you'd help me.'

'First and foremost, I'm in this for myself.'

'I accept that,' he said, squeezing her hand, 'but you ought to remember who contrived the introduction for you. Without me, you might never have got to meet Hamilton Fido.'

'I'd have found a way somehow.'

'But your clever half-brother made it so much easier for you.' He bared his teeth in another grin. 'We both stand to gain, Kitty.'

'That's a matter of opinion.'

'Fido is much more companionable than Lord Hendry.'

'Don't mention him,' she said sharply.

'Too tight with his money?'

'Oh, he was generous enough, I suppose. But he was too frightened to be seen with me at a racecourse. He wanted private pleasure without any public acknowledgement of it. Hamilton is the opposite. He loves to be seen at the races with me.'

'You're gorgeous – any sane man would want to show you off.'

'Lord Hendry didn't.' She sipped her drink and studied him with a blend of fondness and faint despair. 'When are you going to find a profession worthy of your talents, Marcus?'

'I've found a number in my time.'

'But you never stay long in any of them.'

'I'm a restless spirit, Kitty,' he said grandiloquently, 'forever in search of the life on a higher plane that my talents deserve. You've elevated yourself by means of beauty. I'm doing it by other means.'

'By gambling on horses?'

'Fortunes have often been made that way.'

'And lost just as often.'

'Only by people with insufficient information,' he boasted. 'That's why I hold the whip hand over them. I have someone who's in the perfect place to guide me.'

'All I can tell you are the odds that Hamilton is setting.'

'I can get those myself, Kitty. What I need is inside knowledge. Which horse does he really think will win the Derby? Those odds might just be a smokescreen to make people back Odysseus or Limerick Lad. That would lengthen the odds on Merry Legs. If I put a heavy bet on the filly, I could be made.' He smiled coaxingly. 'You'll get your share, of course.'

'Fillies never win the Derby – I know that much.'

'Merry Legs could be the exception that proves the rule.'

'Hamilton thinks she has a good chance but no more than that.'

'That's what he says, Kitty, but you should bear in mind that one of his horses won the Derby three years ago. As I recall, he hid his true feelings on that occasion as well, dismissing the colt's chances as no more than average. He knows,' insisted Johnson. 'He's already run the race a dozen times in his head. Get me the name of the winner.'

'I like Hamilton,' she pointed out. 'I enjoy his company. I hope to enjoy it for a lot longer. I agree that you helped to get me introduced to him, Marcus, and I'm grateful but I've been increasingly uneasy about what you expect of me.'

'All you have to do is to keep your ears open.'

'I'm worried.'

'Why?'

'Certain things have happened. Frankly, I'm scared.'

'Of what?'

'That's the trouble,' she confessed, 'I don't know. Something very strange and very alarming is going on. My hatbox was stolen from a hotel. It was later found with a man's head in it.'

'Never!' he said, grimacing. 'How perfectly dreadful!'

'It shook me to the core, Marcus.'

'I can imagine. Oh, you poor thing – no wonder you're so uneasy about my plan. Look,' he went on, kneading her hand sympathetically, 'forget all about that wicked half-brother of yours. You have enough to worry about, I can see.'

'I'm afraid of what might happen next.'

'Are you in touch with the police?'

'No – and I don't wish to be.'

'You're like me – you have an aversion to authority.'

'That hatbox belongs to part of my life I'd rather forget.'

'That's readily understandable. But don't trouble yourself on my account. Marcus Johnson will find another way to make his fortune.' He beamed. 'And when I do, Kitty, I promise that you'll be a chief beneficiary.'

Robert Colbeck gave the superintendent an edited version of the visit to the Green Dragon and announced his intention to call at the stables belonging to Hamilton Fido that afternoon. Tallis was brusque.

'Be sure to take your handcuffs with you.'

'Why?'

'To effect an arrest, of course,' said Tallis. 'The more I learn, the more convinced I am that Fido is the culprit.'

'He pleaded his innocence.'

'Villains always do that, Inspector.'

'Granted,' said Colbeck, 'but, on this occasion, I pay some heed. While Mr Fido is no candidate for sainthood, there's nothing in his past to indicate he would connive at murder.'

'There's a first time for everything.'

'I'd rather give him the benefit of the doubt.'

'Had you been here earlier,' said Tallis, grinding the remains of his cigar in the ashtray, 'you might not be so ready to give Mr Fido any leeway. I had a visit from Lord Hendry.'

'Indeed – what did he want?'

'To complain about you and Sergeant Leeming, as it happens.'

Tallis sat back in his chair and related the conversation he had had with Lord Hendry. While he was interested to hear of the attempt to injure Odysseus, Colbeck was not as ready as the superintendent to attribute the blame to Hamilton Fido. One regret was uppermost in his mind. He was sorry that Tallis had been unable to elicit the name of Lord Hendry's former mistress.

'We'll have to find it by other means,' said Colbeck.

'How relevant do you think it will be?'

'Very relevant – the lady may want her hatbox returned.'

'Given what happened to it, I find that highly unlikely.'

'I still wish to talk to her, Superintendent. She will at least be able to tell us when and where the item was stolen. We intercepted it at Crewe on its way to Ireland. Did it begin its journey in London or elsewhere?' Colbeck stood up. 'Perhaps I should speak to Lord Hendry myself,' he said. 'It may be that he'll divulge the name to me.'

'The young lady has vanished forever from his life. I don't think he'd yield up her name if you stretched him on the rack. In his codex, to all intents and purposes, she is dead and buried.'

'Then I may need to exhume her.'

Colbeck bade him farewell and went out into the corridor. He had intended to collect his top hat and leave the building. When he entered his office, however, he found that he had a visitor. A short, plump, middle-aged man leapt to his feet apologetically, as if sitting in a chair were a felony. He had the hunted, hangdog look of man who is uncertain if he is doing the right thing.

'Are you Inspector Colbeck?' he asked.

'I am, sir – who might you be?'

'My name is Dacre Radley.'

'Do sit down, Mr Radley,' said Colbeck, wondering why his visitor was so nervous. 'What can I do for you, sir?'

Radley sat down. 'This may be a fool's errand, Inspector.'

'Let me decide that.'

'I can't stay long. I'm on duty again soon.'

'And where would that be, Mr Radley?'

'At the Wyvern Hotel – that's just off the Strand.'

'I know it well,' said Colbeck. 'Expensive but tasteful.'

'We try to maintain high standards.'

'Are you the manager?'

'No, no,' said Radley sheepishly. 'I occupy a more lowly position. The manager is Mr Claude Fielding and – had he been aware of what I proposed – he would certainly have stopped me coming here.'

'Why is that?'

'He believes that the privacy of clients is sacrosanct. And so do I, of course, but not when a murder investigation is concerned. It may just be a weird coincidence, Inspector – I rather hope it is – but I was struck by that article in the newspaper about a stolen hatbox.'

'Go on,' urged Colbeck.

'Well,' said Radley, licking his lips, 'the simple fact is that we had a hatbox taken from the hotel not so long ago. I was on duty when the theft was reported.'

'Do you remember the name of the lady who owned it?'

'No, sir, it was never given to me. But I know the name of the gentleman who booked the room for the night.'

'Well?'

'Mr Hamilton Fido.'

Colbeck shook his hand. 'Thank you, Mr Radley,' he said. 'That information is very valuable. You've rendered us a great service in coming forward like this.'

'You won't mention anything to Mr Fielding, will you?'

'I've no need to speak to him.'

Radley gasped. 'I'm so relieved, Inspector. I've been torturing myself about whether or not I should come. It preyed on my mind, you see. That hatbox might have been the one taken from the hotel.'

'I'm fairly certain that it was,' said Colbeck.

'Then I'm glad I came.' He rose to his feet and bit his lip as he wrestled with his conscience. 'There is something else I could tell you, Inspector, though I'm not sure that I should. I hope you don't think I make a habit of this. I'm known for my discretion.'

'Anything you can tell us will be very welcome, sir.'

'The thing is…' Radley bit his lip again before plunging in. 'The thing is that the young lady who accompanied Mr Fido, and whom we assumed was Mrs Fido, had been to the Wyvern Hotel once before.'

'But not with the same gentleman, I take it.'

'No, sir.'

'Who was her husband on that occasion?'

'I'd hate you to think that our hotel caters for such irregular alliances,' said Radley with a simpering smile. 'Most of our guests are highly respectable. We attract only the cream of society. They value the facilities we can offer.' He leant forward. 'It was pure chance that I recognised this particular young lady.'

'With whom was she staying?' prompted Colbeck.

'Lord Hendry.'