Madeleine Andrews was busy in the kitchen when she heard a knock on the front door. Since her father sometimes forgot to take his key with him, she assumed that it was he and went to let him in. Before she did so, however, she decided that it might be safer to see who was outside first. Tugging the curtain back an inch, she peered out into the gloom then let out a cry of joy. Silhouetted against a gas lamp was the familiar figure of Robert Colbeck. She opened the door at once and gave him a radiant smile.
'I was hoping you were still up,' he said, stepping into the house and embracing her. 'I was relieved to see the light still on.'
'I was waiting for Father. I have to cook his supper.'
'Mr Andrews had better come soon.'
'Why is that?'
'It's just starting to rain. I felt the first few spots as I got out of the cab. We're in for a downpour.'
'Father doesn't mind a drop of rain,' she said, shutting the front door. 'He's used to being out in all weathers. But how are you?' she went on, standing back to take a good look at him. 'And how is the investigation going?'
Colbeck whisked off his hat. 'I'm fine, Madeleine,' he said. 'As for the investigation, we continue to gather evidence.'
'Are you close to arresting someone yet?'
'No, but we're eliminating possible suspects one by one.'
'Father still insists that it's a crime of passion.'
'In one sense, he's right – it was certainly instigated by someone who has a passion for horseracing.' An amusing thought struck him. 'Perhaps we should change places.'
'Who?'
'Your father and I.'
Madeleine laughed. 'What a ridiculous idea!'
'Is it?' he asked. 'Mr Andrews clearly has a detective's instinct and I've always wanted to be an engine driver.'
'I think you're both far better off doing the jobs you have.'
'Perhaps you're right – but what about you, Madeleine? How is your work going?'
'I've all but finished my latest commission.' She took him across to her easel and indicated the painting. 'It's a Crampton locomotive.'
'I can see that,' he said, recognising the distinctive features of Thomas Crampton's design. 'What puzzles me is why so few of them were made for this country and so many for France. When I crossed the Channel last year, I twice travelled on trains that were pulled by a locomotive just like that.' He shot her a look of mock suspicion. 'Don't tell me you're going to export this to France as well?'
'Not unless the French start drinking tea.'
'Tea?'
'That's where this may end up, Robert – on a tea caddy. It's a design they want to put on hundreds of them. They intend to sell them at railway stations.'
'I'd certainly buy one.'
She giggled and he leant forward to give her a kiss. When they sat beside each other, he put his top hat on her head in fun and it dropped down to her ears. They laughed as she took it off and set it aside. Not having seen her for a while, Colbeck was so pleased to be close to her again, reminded of all the things that had attracted him to Madeleine Andrews in the first place. Her vitality was a positive tonic to him. But he did not forget the main purpose of his visit.
'Do you remember what I asked you?' he said.
She responded eagerly. 'About helping in the investigation?'
'Yes, Madeleine – I may need to call on you now.'
'That's wonderful!'
'You haven't heard what I want you to do yet. I spent a long time at the stables owned by Hamilton Fido today. Then I was driven to an inn called the Shepherd and Shepherdess.'
Colbeck went on to tell her about his meeting with Bonny Rimmer and how devastated she had been by the news about John Feeny. Madeleine was sure that he had been as considerate as always when passing on bad tidings but there was no way that even he could have softened the blow on this occasion.
'I feel so sorry for the poor girl,' she said.
'That's why I want you to speak to her.'
'Me?'
'There's only so much I can do, Madeleine,' he explained. 'As a detective from Scotland Yard, I must be very intimidating to her. I never felt that I reached Bonny Rimmer, and once she knew the hideous truth about how Feeny died she could not even speak. I left her in a complete daze.'
'What do you think I can do, Robert?'
'I felt that she knew more than she actually told me – not because she was deliberately holding anything back but because she was overwhelmed by the situation. Bonny is young and vulnerable. She could simply not cope with the information that the lad she loved had been killed.'
'Very few women could,' said Madeleine, 'especially when they discovered that he'd been beheaded. It must have been horrifying for her. I'm surprised she didn't faint.'
'She came very close to it.'
'I can see why you want me to speak to her instead.'
'You're a woman – that gives you an immediate advantage over me. You can draw her out more easily. Do nothing for a day or so. Bonny needs time to grieve and to get over the initial shock.'
'And then?'
'Go to the Shepherd and Shepherdess and meet her. Talk to the girl about her friendship with John Feeny. How close were they – did they ever think of marriage? Without realising it,' said Colbeck, 'Bonny Rimmer knows things that could be useful to me. I'd hoped you'd be talking to the woman who owned that hatbox but she's yet to be identified. It may be more helpful if you spoke to Bonny.'
'I'll try, Robert.'
'Thank you.'
As he leant across to kiss her again, they heard the scrape of a key in the lock and moved guiltily apart. They got to their feet. The door suddenly opened and Caleb Andrews darted in to escape the rain that was now falling outside. He closed the door behind him.
'It's teeming down out there,' he said.
'I managed to miss it,' said Colbeck. 'I hope it clears up before Derby Week begins.'
'Why?' asked Madeleine.
'I can see you know nothing about horseracing, Maddy,' said Andrews. 'Heavy rain can affect the result of a race. Some horses prefer a hard, dry course. Others do best when the going is soft. If it rains on the morning of the Derby, the betting odds will change.'
'True,' agreed Colbeck. 'Odysseus might drop back and Limerick Lad might replace him as favourite. Brian Dowd told me that his colt liked a soft, damp surface. They have a fair bit of rain in Ireland, by all accounts, so Limerick Lad is used to it.'
'I'm going to bet on an outsider,' said Andrews. 'That way, if I do win, I'll get a decent return on my money.'
'Which horse have you picked?' asked Madeleine.
'Princess of Fire – the name reminded me of you, Maddy. When you're in a good mood, you're my very own princess. And when you're not, it's like being in the middle of a fiery furnace.'
'That's a terrible thing to say,' she protested over his laughter.
'Your father is only teasing,' said Colbeck.
'I'm the most tolerant daughter in the world.'
'You are at that,' said Andrews, giving her a kiss of appeasement and soaking her dress in the process. 'I'm sorry, Maddy. I'll get out of these wet things before I have supper.'
'What are the odds on this Princess of Fire?'
'20-1.'
'Good luck!' said Colbeck 'Who owns the horse, Mr Andrews?'
'A man with an eye for fillies – he has two of them in the race.'
'Hamilton Fido?'
'Yes, Inspector,' replied Andrews. 'My reasoning is this, see. No bookmaker would enter a horse unless it had a fair chance of winning. I reckon that he's made sure all the attention has gone on Merry Legs when, in fact, the filly he expects to romp home is Princess of Fire.'
It was her second unexpected visitor that day and Kitty Lavender was torn between pleasure and discomfort. While she was glad to see Hamilton Fido again, she was unsettled by the fact that he had caught her unawares. She was grateful that she was wearing a necklace he had given her. Inviting him into her drawing room, she received a kiss.
'I didn't think to see you for a couple of days,' she said.
'Is that a complaint, Kitty?'
'No, no, of course not.'
'Are your feathers still ruffled?' he said, caressing her shoulders and arms. 'When you came to my office, you were very upset.'
'I had good reason to be, Hamilton.'
'Well, you seem much calmer now, I'm glad to say. And I kept my promise, Kitty. I found out the name of the murder victim even though the police still haven't released it to the press.'
She braced herself. 'Whose head was it?'
'John Feeny's.'
'And who is he?'
'He was a groom at my stables,' said Fido, 'though, in my opinion, he should never have been employed there. Feeny used to work for Brian Dowd. I think he was sent to England as a spy.'
'Who killed him?'
'That's what I came to talk to you about. The man in charge of the investigation is Inspector Colbeck.'
'Yes – I saw his name in the newspapers.'
'His nickname is the Railway Detective but he knows a lot about the Turf as well,' conceded the bookmaker. 'He also knows how to pick up a scent and that's where you come in, Kitty.'
'I don't follow.'
'Colbeck discovered that we stayed at the Wyvern Hotel.'
Kitty was scandalised. 'How on earth did he do that?'
'I wish I knew. The hotel was your recommendation.'
'I'd heard it was very discreet,' she said, not wishing to admit that she'd been there before. 'A woman friend of mine spoke well of it.'
'You can tell your friend that she was wrong. They let us down badly. Inspector Colbeck came out to the stables this afternoon to question me about our stay there. I must confess that it gave me a bit of a jolt, Kitty. He knew far too much. What he really wanted to find out was your name.'
'She started. 'My name?'
'It was your hatbox.'
'What difference does that make?'
'Colbeck thought there might be significance in the fact. The only way he can be certain is to talk to you in person.'
'Did you give him my name?' said Kitty anxiously.
'You know me better than that,' he soothed, taking her hands and kissing both of them. 'I refused to tell him, Kitty. The problem is that that could be construed as holding back evidence. If he wants to, Inspector Colbeck could make life very difficult for me at a time when I need to concentrate all my energies on Derby Week.'
'There's nothing I can tell him, Hamilton. My hatbox was stolen. That's the beginning and the end of it.'
'He won't be satisfied until he's heard that from your own lips.'
'I don't want to talk to any detective.'
'It could save me a lot of embarrassment, Kitty. When he saw that I'd never reveal your name, Colbeck suggested a compromise. He said that you could come forward of your own accord and that the meeting with him would be in the strictest privacy.'
'No,' she said, turning away. 'I want no part of this.'
'Not even to help me?'
'I don't wish for any dealings with the police.'
'To give him his due, Colbeck seems very trustworthy.'
'I don't care what he is.'
'Well, I do,' he said, crossing to turn her round so that she faced him. 'Unless you talk to him, he'll keep hounding me and I simply can't allow that. You know how busy I'm going to be, Kitty. The last thing I need is to be hauled into Scotland Yard.'
'I'm sorry, Hamilton – I just can't do it.'
Their eyes locked and there was a silent battle of wills. They had been together for a relatively short time but it had been long enough for Kitty to glimpse the rewards that might come her way. Fido was rich, amorous and highly indulgent. The few nights they had spent together had been wonderful, marked by pitches of excitement she had never known before. It would be reckless of her to put their friendship at risk. After mulling it over, she gave a noncommittal nod.
'I'll think about it.'
'Thank you,' he said, giving her a warm hug. 'Oh, by the way, I saw your brother last night.'
'Marcus is only my half-brother.'
'I called in at a club I belong to and there he was – sitting at the card table with some of the most notorious gamblers in the city. From what I could see, Marcus was doing quite well.'
'He had a lucky streak. He told me about it.'
'That's a good omen for Derby Week.'
'He means to bet heavily.'
'Then send him to me,' said Fido. 'I like a man who knows how to throw his money around. Cautious punters are the bane of my life.'
'Marcus is never cautious.' She remembered her discussion with him and saw an opportunity to probe a little on his behalf. 'And neither are you, Hamilton. Because you've taken big chances, you've reaped big rewards.'
He grinned at her. 'You're one of them, Kitty.'
'I may place a small bet myself.'
'Then don't come to me. Small bets are for small bookmakers.'
'They all agree that Odysseus is the favourite.'
'Put your money on him and you'll lose it.'
'What would you advise?' she asked, nestling up to him.
'Look to the lady,' he suggested. 'It's high time that a filly won the Derby again and that's exactly what Merry Legs will do. I saw her being put through her paces today and she reminded me of you.'
She spluttered. 'A horse reminded you of me?'
'A filly,' he corrected with a wicked smile. 'Merry Legs was sleek, beautiful and a class apart from all those around her – just like you.'
Robert Colbeck and Victor Leeming arrived early at Scotland Yard next morning so that they could compare notes about their respective visits the previous day before reporting to the superintendent. Colbeck was interested to hear Leeming's assessment of Brian Dowd.
'He's a hard man,' said the sergeant. 'Mr Dowd was pleasant enough to me but I'm not sure I'd like to work for him.'
'Why not, Victor?'
'He has a real temper. One of his stable lads felt the full force of it. The last time I heard that kind of language was in a dockyard. He cursed him until the lad was shaking.'
'Brian Dowd likes to assert his authority. I saw that in Ireland.'
'There's no love lost between him and Hamilton Fido.'
'I know,' said Colbeck. 'They loathe each other and neither of them has a good word to say about Lord Hendry. Of the three of them, I think I liked Dowd the best.'
'He seemed the most straightforward of them to me.'
'And he obviously inspires loyalty. That's why Tim Maguire has stayed with him. If I owned a racehorse, Maguire would always be my first choice as a jockey. I've seen him ride before.'
'No wonder Mr Fido tried to bribe him.'
'We don't know that he did,' said Colbeck, glancing at the letter again. 'That was an assumption that Dowd made when he saw that this. The offer could have come from one of the many owners who'd love to have Maguire in their colours.'
'It didn't come from Lord Hendry,' said Leeming.
'How do you know?'
'Because of something Mr Dowd told me. According to him, Lord Hendry is always short of money. He certainly couldn't afford the five hundred pounds to tempt Maguire.'
'He could afford to keep a mistress – until she walked out.'
'How could he manage that?'
'On credit, probably,' said Colbeck. 'People still respect a title. It can buy a lot of financial leeway.' He handed the anonymous letter to Leeming. 'Time to face the wrath of Mr Tallis,' he added, getting up from his chair. 'He expected arrests long before now.'
When they entered the superintendent's office, they walked into a fug of cigar smoke. Tallis was behind his desk, glowering at one of the newspapers on the pile in front of him. After puffing on his cigar, he looked up at them with controlled fury.
'Which one of you idiots did this?' he demanded, tapping the newspaper. 'Who released the name of John Feeny to the press?'
'Not me, sir,' said Leeming.
'Nor me,' said Colbeck.
'It must have been one of you. Nobody else outside this room knew who the murder victim was and I wanted to keep it that way until I felt it appropriate to identify him publicly. Admit it,' he went on, rapping his desk. 'Which one of you let the name slip?'
'Neither of us, Superintendent,' said Colbeck, 'and you're wrong to think that we are the only three people aware of Feeny's identity. You're forgetting his uncle and Brian Dowd. More importantly, you're forgetting his killer – he was very much aware of who and what the lad was. You can add someone else to that list as well.'
'And who might that be?' said Tallis.
'Hamilton Fido.'
'The bookmaker?'
'When we called on him this morning, he already knew that it was John Feeny's head in that hatbox.'
'Incredible!'
'Not if you've met Mr Fido,' said Leeming.
'He has agents everywhere, sir,' said Colbeck. 'One of them, I'm ashamed to tell you, works in this very building.'
Tallis was rocked by the news. 'Are you certain, Inspector?'
'Beyond a shadow of a doubt,' Colbeck assured him. 'We need to flush him out and I have an idea how it might be done. Before we get diverted by that, however, I think you should hear what Victor and I managed to find out yesterday afternoon.'
'Yes, yes, please go ahead.'
'Victor,' prompted Colbeck.
'Oh, I see,' said Leeming uneasily. 'You want me to go first.'
He launched into a long, rambling account of his visit to Brian Dowd's stables and he handed Tallis the anonymous letter sent to the jockey. When the report finally came to an end, the superintendent waved the letter in the air.
'Five hundred pounds for a jockey?' he bellowed. 'Is any man worth that amount for simply riding in a horse race?'
'Tim Maguire is worth every penny,' said Colbeck. 'He's ahead of his rivals in both skill and experience. The Derby is not an ordinary race, sir. Apart from bringing great kudos to the winner, there's prize money of over six thousand pounds this year.'
'Six thousand!'
'That's in addition to what the owner can make by betting on his horse,' said Leeming. 'You can see why they all want the best jockey. Mr Fido has tried to lure him away before.'
'Is Dowd certain that Hamilton Fido offered this bribe?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Then all we need to do is to get another sample of Mr Fido's handwriting in order to compare it with this letter.'
'With respect,' said Colbeck, 'that would be utterly pointless. If Hamilton Fido is the man behind the bribe – and there's no proof of that – he'd never risk penning the letter himself. He's too guileful.'
'I agree,' said Leeming. 'He's the sort of man who could walk through snow without leaving a single footprint.'
'Somebody wrote this letter,' insisted Tallis.
Colbeck took it from him. 'It's an educated hand,' he noted, 'and he's used stationery of good quality. Lord Hendry, perhaps – now there's a thought! If he had Tim Maguire in the saddle, Odysseus really would be unbeatable.'
'Tell me about your visit to Mr Fido's stables.'
'It was very productive, sir.'
Unlike the sergeant, Colbeck had taken the trouble to prepare his report beforehand so that it was clear and succinct. Though he told the superintendent about his meeting with Bonny Rimmer, he omitted all reference to the fact that he would be using Madeleine Andrews to extract further information from the barmaid. It was another woman who excited Tallis's curiosity.
'Mr Fido spent the night in a hotel with this person?' he asked censoriously. 'Whatever happened to Christian values?'
'He is a bachelor,' said Colbeck.
'My point exactly.'
'He refused to give me the young lady's name.'
'Then he must be compelled to do so, Inspector.'
'I think I found a way around that particular problem, sir. Mr Fido will advise her to come forward voluntarily. I've every hope that she'll take his advice.'
'Gentlemen consorting with unmarried women,' said Tallis, exhaling a cloud of smoke. 'Where will it end? First of all we have Lord Hendry sharing a bed with his mistress in Cambridge and now we have Fido indulging in lewd conduct here in London.'
'It's an intriguing coincidence, isn't it?' said Colbeck.
'I think it's abominable!'
'I don't hold with it myself,' said Leeming. 'Especially in the case of Lord Hendry – he's married.'
'There's something that both of you should know,' said Colbeck who had been saving the revelation until he could spring it on the two of them at once. 'The young lady involved with Lord Hendry was, in point of fact, the same one who had her hatbox stolen from the Wyvern Hotel where she had been staying with Hamilton Fido.'
Tallis was flabbergasted. 'The same one?'
'That's indecent!' gasped Leeming. 'She must be a prostitute.'
'I fancy she'd prefer to be called a courtesan,' said Colbeck, 'and considers herself to be continuing a long and honourable tradition.'
'Honourable!' The superintendent almost exploded.
'In her eyes, sir.'
'Sheer depravity!'
'You can see why I'm so keen to meet her.'
'I'll leave that disagreeable task to you, Inspector,' said Tallis with disdain. 'I don't want the creature near me.'
'As you wish, sir.'
'Wait a moment,' said Leeming, weighing up the possibilities in the situation. 'Did both gentleman realise what was going on?'
'I doubt it very much, Victor.'
'What if she was being used as a spy?'
'At whose behest?'
'Mr Fido's,' said Leeming. 'What better way to learn how Odysseus is faring than by getting someone to win Lord Hendry's confidence?'
'No,' decided Colbeck. 'Hamilton Fido may be manipulative but I don't believe that even he would loan a young lady for whom he really cares to another man. I learnt today that he has a romantic streak.'
'Romantic!' echoed Tallis incredulously. 'What's romantic about fornicating with a fallen woman? I saw too much of that in the army. I lost count of the number of drunken fools in the lower ranks who persuaded themselves they were in love with some damned whore because she offered them forbidden pleasures.'
'I think you're being unkind to Mr Fido, sir,' warned Colbeck.
'If the caps fits, Inspector, the man must wear it.'
'I've just had another thought,' said Leeming. 'Suppose that a third person is involved here.'
Tallis rounded on him. 'Third, fourth, fifth and all the rest of them, sergeant,' he said harshly. 'This woman is no vestal virgin.'
'Hear me out, please, sir. My feeling is this, you see,' continued Leeming. 'A third person could be using this young lady to get information about the Derby from the two people who are his closest rivals. In other words, the man we should look at is Brian Dowd.'
'I've already done that,' said Colbeck, 'and dismissed the notion at once. He has all the information he needs about the other horses and he would never resort to the tactics you suggest, Victor. Well, you've met the man. What was your overriding impression?'
'He was blunt and direct.'
'What about Hamilton Fido?'
'I've never met anyone so sure of himself.'
'Exactly,' said Colbeck. 'He's supremely confident, clever and well acquainted with the ways of the world. A man as urbane as Fido would never let a woman be planted on him by a rival, however skilful she might be in the arts of deceit. He's a handsome man who could have his pick of the most attractive young ladies in London. Since he chose this particular one, she must have outstanding appeal.'
'Yes,' added Tallis, putting his cigar down. 'And we can all guess the nature of that appeal. Find this person, Inspector,' he ordered. 'We must know where she fits into the picture.'
'Before I do that, sir,' said Colbeck, taking a slip of paper from his pocket, 'I wonder if I might remind you of the amount you owe me for my travel expenses to Ireland. As you will recall, I met them out of my own pocket.'
'I'm still not convinced your journey was entirely necessary.'
'I brought back the name of the murder victim.'
'What I'm after is the name of the killer,' said Tallis.
'That will come in time, sir.'
'Then we'll defer any reimbursement until then, Inspector. If and when we do finally put someone behind bars, I'll accept that your jaunt to Ireland should be paid out of our budget.'
'Thank you,' said Colbeck, putting the piece of paper on the desk. 'This is a record of my expenses. I think you'll agree that a small investment of time and money yielded a large reward.'
'Make an arrest and secure a conviction.'
'We're bending all our energies to that end, sir. However,' Colbeck went on, 'it might be sensible to take time off to confront the problem we have here at Scotland Yard – namely, a spy.'
'A traitor in our ranks?' said Tallis. 'He must be rooted out.'
'That's easier said than done,' Leeming commented.
'I don't think so, Victor,' said Colbeck. 'We can catch him very quickly and you are the person to help us do that.'
'Am I, sir – how?'
'There are four people here who are above suspicion – we three and the commissioner. Somewhere among the rest of our colleagues is Hamilton Fido's source. The bookmaker operates on the principle of scientia est potentia.'
'What's that?' rasped Tallis.
'Knowledge is power. Fido collects intelligence all the time from his network of spies. That's why he's so well informed. I suggest that you gather the detectives together, sir,' said Colbeck, 'and give them a piece of information that would be very valuable to Fido. His informer will want to communicate it as soon as possible to him. Victor will be watching from an upstairs room in the Lamb and Flag. When someone leaves surreptitiously, we'll know who our man is.'
Leeming liked the idea. 'Do I arrest him, Inspector?'
'You follow him until he meets up with Fido.'
'Right.'
'And when the rogue is apprehended,' said Tallis mercilessly, 'hand him over to me. I'll make him wish he was never born.'
'You approve then, sir?' asked Colbeck.
'I do, Inspector. We'll put the plan into operation at once.'
'Give Victor time to get across to the Lamb and Flag first.'
'Off you go, Leeming,' instructed Tallis.
The sergeant went to the door. 'Yes, sir.'
'And remember that you're in that tavern to watch out for the criminal in our midst – not to sample the beer.' Leeming nodded and left the room. 'What is it that I'm supposed to tell my men, Inspector?' continued Tallis. 'You called it a valuable piece of information.'
'Were it true,' said Colbeck, 'it would certainly be valuable to Hamilton Fido. When you tell the others about the progress we've made in the investigation, go on to say that I intend to arrest Mr Fido this very afternoon.' He smiled conspiratorially. 'That should inject a note of urgency.'
Victor Leeming was delighted with his assignment. He would be helping to unmask an informer, he would be doing so from the vantage point of his favourite establishment and no train journey was required of him. As he took up his position at the window in an upstairs room of the Lamb and Flag, the landlord came in with a tankard of beer for him.
'I'm not allowed to drink on duty,' said Leeming.
'This is on the house, Sergeant.'
'Then it would be rude to refuse.'
The landlord handed him the tankard. 'You've been such a good customer for us over the years – so have your colleagues. We always like to keep on the right side of the law.'
'I wish everyone had that attitude.' Leeming took a long sip of his beer then licked his lips appreciatively. 'This is good.'
'We aim to please.'
'Well, you've certainly pleased me.'
'Recommend my beer, that's all I ask.'
'Oh, I always do,' said Leeming, gazing through the window. 'I sing your praises to everyone. Though I have some bad news, I fear.'
'Oh dear – what's that?'
'I may have to deprive you of one of your regular customers.'
Quaffing some more beer, he remained vigilant.
White's was the oldest and most celebrated gentlemen's club in St.James's Street. It was renowned for its illustrious history, its elite membership and its penchant for gambling. Prime Ministers, generals, admirals, poets, diarists, Regency bucks and other luminaries had belonged to it in their time and left the place charged with their memory. Some had joined in search of civilised conversation while others had wanted a desirable refuge from their wives and children. Once a member of White's, they entered a magic circle.
Lord Hendry had belonged to the club for many years and was a familiar sight at the card tables. That morning, he was enjoying a drink with friends and fending off their enquiries about the Derby. A uniformed steward soon entered with a business card on his silver tray. He offered the card to Lord Hendry.
'The gentleman wishes to speak to you now, sir,' said the man.
Lord Hendry read the name on the card. 'Very well,' he agreed.
Excusing himself from his friends, he followed the steward to an anteroom near the vestibule. When he went in, Lord Hendry found Robert Colbeck waiting for him. After an exchange of greetings, they sat down opposite each other. Lord Hendry adopted a patrician tone with his visitor.
'At least you didn't bother me at home this time,' he said loftily.
'I recalled your saying how often you came to your club, my lord,' said Colbeck, 'and you indicated to Superintendent Tallis that you'd rather be contacted here.'
'How did you know I was a member of White's?'
'It seemed the most likely place for someone of your eminence.'
'I divide most of my time between here and my stables.'
'I trust that Odysseus is still in fine fettle.'
'He's fully justified his position as Derby favourite,' said Lord Hendry, 'and that's why our rivals are so worried. I hope you've come to tell me that you've arrested the man who tried to put my horse out of the race altogether.'
'I wish that I had, Lord Hendry, but it's not the case.'
'Fido and Dowd are the chief suspects.'
'Both of them have been interviewed at length,' said Colbeck. 'I spent yesterday afternoon at Mr Hamilton's stables and he denied all knowledge of the attack on Odysseus.'
'He would,' snarled the other.
'As it happens, I've come here on another errand.'
'And what, pray, is that?'
'To discuss your visit to the Wyvern Hotel,' said Colbeck.
'I've never been anywhere near such a place.'
'Then let's start with the Angel Hotel in Cambridge, shall we? Or perhaps you've never heard of that either.'
'You're being impertinent, Inspector Colbeck.'
'I am merely trying to save time.'
'By resorting to insolence?'
'No,' said Colbeck, 'by reminding you how thorough we are. I sent my sergeant to the Angel Hotel to confirm that you stayed there. And I'm equally satisfied that you stayed at the Wyvern Hotel. I can tell you the precise date, if you wish.'
'I warned your superintendent about this,' railed Lord Hendry, cheeks reddening by the second. 'It's intolerable! I demand the right to privacy. I'll not have the police intruding into my life like vultures pecking at a carcass. Damn it all, Inspector! You're supposed to be tracking a vicious killer, not checking up on where I choose to stay.'
'The murder and the Wyvern Hotel are inextricably linked.'
'I fail to see how.'
'It was from the hotel that the hatbox was stolen.' He saw the way that Lord Hendry winced. 'But you already knew that, didn't you? In the interests of solving this crime, you should have come forward with that information instead of letting us find out for ourselves.' Colbeck waited for a response that never came. 'I know this must be embarrassing for you,' he said at length, 'but there's a question you refused to answer when Superintendent Tallis put it to you.'
'And I still refuse,' asserted Lord Hendry.
'The name of that young lady is of great interest to us.'
'And none whatsoever to me.'
'We'll find her one way or another,' said Colbeck. 'If she proves instrumental in helping us to solve this murder, then your refusal to name her will be taken as an act of wilful obstruction. There could be consequences.'
'I don't give a fig for your consequences!' yelled Lord Hendry, snapping his fingers. 'And I don't accept that this person can be of any value to you. She neither beheaded the murder victim nor planned the attack on Odysseus. Look elsewhere, Inspector. I've told you who the likely villains are.'
'They appear to be injured parties, my lord.'
'Dowd and Fido are the two biggest rogues in horseracing.'
'That doesn't stop them from being a target for their rivals,' said Colbeck. 'Did you know that someone has been trying to entice Tim Maguire away from Mr Dowd with an offer of five hundred pounds?'
'No,' admitted Lord Hendry. 'I didn't.'
'And did it never occur to you that the reason John Feeny was killed was to throw suspicion onto Hamilton Fido? He resents that.'
'Don't believe his protestations of innocence. Fido is a two-faced villain of the first water. It wouldn't surprise me if he's behind the murder and the assault on Odysseus. He's an appalling fellow. How anyone can have any dealings with him is beyond me.'
Colbeck was about to tell him that his former mistress did not share his low opinion of Fido but he changed his mind. He felt that it would be too cruel and that the information should not come from him. It would certainly not encourage Lord Hendry to divulge the name that he was after. His only hope was that the young lady would come forward at the prompting of Hamilton Fido. He shifted his interest to another racehorse owner.
'Why do you dislike Brian Dowd so much, Lord Hendry?'
'I don't dislike him – I hate, detest and revile the man!'
'On what grounds?' asked Colbeck.
'He's beneath contempt.'
'Yet every racing correspondent describes him as a brilliant trainer. How did he achieve that reputation?'
'By dint of cheating and connivance,' said Lord Hendry. 'Dowd can pick out a good horse, I'll grant him that. But he can also make sure that lesser horses somehow contrive to win races. Exactly how he does it is a mystery to me – but it's criminal.'
'Has he ever been charged with any offence?'
'I've made frequent allegations against him, Inspector, but I've been unable to back them up with firm evidence.'
'Evidence should come before any allegation, Lord Hendry.'
'He must be cheating – his horses win too many races.'
'What about the Derby?'
Lord Hendry was unequivocal. 'That's one race he won't win.'
'Limerick Lad is a fine colt – my sergeant has seen him.'
'But did he time him over the Derby distance, Inspector? I think not. I know exactly how fast the Irish horse can run on that course and it puts him seconds behind Odysseus.'
'I can't believe that Mr Dowd was kind enough to tell you about Limerick Lad,' said Colbeck. 'You must have obtained details about the horse's speed by underhand means.'
'My trainer likes to weigh up the competition.'
'I'd be interested to hear how he goes about it, Lord Hendry. But I've detained you far too long,' he continued, getting up and reaching for his top hat. 'I'm sorry that you feel unable to assist us in our enquiries.'
'I have assisted you, Inspector,' said the older man. 'I pointed out the two obvious culprits – Brian Dowd and Hamilton Fido.'
'Having met Mr Dowd, I'm inclined to absolve him of the charges you make against him. Mr Fido, however is a different matter. He sails very close to the wind. In fact,' said Colbeck, 'I expect to be speaking to him on that very subject in the near future.'
Sergeant Leeming's vigil did not last long. Twenty minutes after he had taken up his post in the Lamb and Flag, he saw someone coming out of Scotland Yard and glancing around furtively. When he recognised the man, the shock momentarily took his breath away. It was Detective Constable Peter Cheggin, a friend of the sergeant's. They had served in uniform together and, since their move to the Detective Department, they had often chatted over a drink in the very public house where Leeming was concealed. As a policeman, Cheggin had always been fearless and reliable. Leeming was distressed to learn that his friend had been corrupted.
He left the room at speed and raced down the stairs. Opening the front door, he slipped through it and hid in the porch of the neighbouring building. There was no danger of his being seen. Peter Cheggin was too preoccupied with trying to find a cab. When one finally came along Whitehall, he stepped out to flag it down. Leeming was afraid that a second cab would not come in time for him to follow the first but his fears were groundless.
Cheggin did not climb into the cab. He merely gave something to the driver and issued some instructions. When the driver was paid, he nodded his thanks. Cheggin hastened back to his office. A message was being sent. Leeming knew that he had to intercept it. As the cab set off, therefore, he dashed out into the middle of the road and held up both arms. The driver pulled the horse to a halt and rid himself of a torrent of expletives. His rage turned to meek apology when Leeming identified himself as a detective.
'I want that letter you were just given,' said Leeming.
'But the gentleman paid me, sir,' wailed the driver.
'That was Constable Cheggin and he was breaking the law in sending that message. If you deliver it, you'll be arrested and charged as an accomplice.'
'I did nothing wrong, sir!'
'Then give me the letter and be on your own way.'
'The driver was downcast. 'Do I have to give the money back as well?' he asked morosely.
'What money?' said Leeming, feeling that the driver deserved to keep it. 'I didn't see any money being exchanged between you. All I need is that letter.'
'Then it's yours.'
The driver handed over the missive and flicked the reins to set the horse off again. Leeming, meanwhile, glanced at the name and address on the letter. It was being dispatched to Hamilton Fido. The ruse had worked. Anger bubbled inside Leeming. He knew that he should report what he had seen to the superintendent but this was no time to follow instructions. Putting the letter in his pocket, he went after the man who had written it.
Peter Cheggin was a tall stringy man in his thirties. He was in the office belonging to Robert Colbeck, leafing through the case file that related to the murder investigation. When Leeming walked in, the other man immediately put the file back on the desk and pretended to move a few other items around.
'Hello, Victor,' he said cheerfully. 'I was told to tidy up in here.'
'Not by Inspector Colbeck – he keeps the place spotless.'
'That's why there was so little to do.'
'I'm glad I bumped into you, Peter,' said Leeming. 'Some mail arrived for you.' He took out the letter and held it out. 'A cabman delivered it just this minute.'
Cheggin turned white. Seeing the letter, he knew at once that he had been caught. He shrugged, gave a strained smile then, without warning, hurled himself at Leeming, intending to push him aside so that he could make his escape. The sergeant was ready for him. Moving swiftly to one side, he grabbed Cheggin by both arms and swung him hard against the wall before using both fists to pummel him. Cheggin fought back and they grappled wildly in the middle of the room. A chair was knocked over, a potted plant was toppled from its perch and all the papers on Colbeck's desk went flying as the two men flailed about.
Cheggin had the strength of desperation but Victor Leeming slowly got the upper hand. Subduing an offender was the part of police work that he liked best. Fuelled by resentment and by a sense of betrayal, he shoved, shook, punched, pulled and squeezed hard before using his knee to explore Cheggin's groin. When the constable doubled up in agony, Leeming took his opportunity to fell him with a swift uppercut. Cheggin collapsed in a heap on the floor and groaned. Breathing hard, Leeming stood over him.
'You were one of us, Peter,' he said, 'and you let us down.'
'I needed the money,' croaked the other.
'You won't need money in prison and that's where you're going for this.' Leeming glanced at the debris they had caused. 'Look at the mess you made. Inspector Colbeck won't like that at all.'
The noise of the fight had brought a knot of onlookers and they stood at the open door. Superintendent Tallis pushed through them and came into the office. He looked with dismay at the dishevelled state of the two men.
'What, in heaven's name, is going on here?' he shouted.
'I made an arrest, sir,' explained the sergeant, taking Cheggin by the scruff of the neck to hoist him to his feet. 'This is the man who's been spying on us, Superintendent – he's all yours.'