The Iron Horse irc-4

by Edward Marston

  ‘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.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  Kitty Lavender spent most of the morning on a shopping spree, buying what she considered to be the last few vital accessories for her visit to Epsom Downs during Derby Week. She wanted to look at her best for the occasion. A hansom cab returned her to her lodgings and, when she alighted from it, she was laden with boxes and packages. Her landlady was at the window as she arrived and, seeing what Kitty was carrying, she came to open the front door for her.

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Collier,’ said Kitty, stepping into the house. ‘I didn’t have a spare hand to ring the doorbell.’

  ‘You have a visitor, Miss Lavender,’ said the landlady, a small, rotund, motherly woman. ‘I showed him up to your room.’

  Kitty was wary. ‘It’s not Mr Johnson again, is it?’

  ‘No, Miss Lavender.’

  ‘Then it must be Mr Fido.’

  ‘It’s not him either.’

  ‘Oh – then who is it?’

  ‘Your father.’

  Kitty was nonplussed. Since her father had died years before, she knew that it could not possibly be him. Somebody had entered her lodgings under false pretences and that disturbed her. Hiding her alarm from the landlady, she struggled upstairs with her shopping then put down one of the boxes so that she could open the door of her drawing room. Lord Hendry was sitting in a chair. When he saw how burdened she was, he got up and walked over to her.

  ‘Let me help you, Kitty,’ he volunteered.

  She was shocked. ‘What are you doing here, George?’

  ‘Let’s get everything inside first, shall we?’ he said, picking up the box from the floor and ushering her into the room. He closed the door behind him. ‘We don’t want your landlady to overhear us. She believes that I’m your father. We can’t have her thinking that we committed incest.’

  Kitty put her shopping down. ‘You’ve no right to be here,’ she said belligerently. ‘Even when we were friends, I kept you away from my lodgings. I like to preserve some privacy.’

  ‘I needed to speak to you, Kitty.’

  ‘Then you should have asked me to meet you somewhere.’

  ‘After what happened last time,’ he said reasonably, ‘I had no guarantee that you’d agree to see me again.’

  ‘So you tricked your way past my landlady with an arrant lie.’ She became suspicious. ‘How long have you been here?’

  ‘Long enough to have a good look around.’

  ‘I hope you didn’t dare go into my bedroom.’

  ‘Why – what secrets have you got hidden in there?’

  ‘Is that why you came?’ she demanded. ‘To snoop on me?’

  ‘Calm down, Kitty,’ said Lord Hendry, putting a hand on her shoulder. ‘I’ve only been here five minutes or so.’

  Reacting to his touch, she pulled away smartly and went to open the door of her bedroom. She glanced inside to make sure that nothing had been moved or taken. Satisfied that all was well, she turned back to face him again.

  ‘I was interested to see where you lived,’ he said. ‘It’s exactly the kind of place I imagined – comfortable, tasteful and essentially feminine.’ He became serious. ‘I had a visit from Inspector Colbeck this morning. Does that name mean anything to you?’

  ‘Yes – he’s leading the murder investigation.’

  ‘God knows how but he somehow discovered that you and I spent that night at the Wyvern Hotel. He asked me to divulge your name. I refused to give it, of course, but he’s the kind of man who won’t let the matter rest there.’

  ‘He has no need to speak to me,’ she said irritably.

  ‘Colbeck believes that he does.’

  ‘I have nothing whatsoever to do with the crime.’

  ‘Unfortunately, you do,’ he told her. ‘It was your hatbox that contained the severed head. The Inspector feels that it was no random choice. Your property was stolen for a specific purpose.’

  ‘How could it have been? Nobody knew I was at that hotel.’

  ‘Someone must have done.’

  ‘No,’ she stressed, walking across to him. ‘For obvious reasons, I didn’t tell a soul that I was going there.’

  ‘What about the person who accompanied you?’

  ‘He was equally circumspect.’

  ‘That’s what he claimed, I daresay, but men are men, Kitty. Some of them simply can’t resist boasting about their conquests. It may well be that this fellow unwittingly let the cat out of the bag.’

  ‘He’d never do that, George.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Because he’s very discreet.’

  ‘By instinct or necessity?’ he asked, eyelids narrowing. ‘Is he married? Having a wife forces a man to be extremely discreet.’

  ‘You’d know more about that than I do, George.’

  ‘So who is your mysterious lover?’

  ‘Mind your own business.’

  ‘You won’t be able to say that to Inspector Colbeck,’ he warned. ‘He’ll find out who the man is and follow the trail to you. One thing is certain. Your new admirer is patently not accustomed to clandestine encounters in hotels or he’d have known exactly where to take you. Instead of that, he let you recommend the Wyvern.’

  Kitty flared up. ‘I did that for with good reason, George.’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘I wanted to purge the memory of spending time there with you. In fact, I’d like to forget every single thing that ever happened between us. It was all a regrettable mistake.’

  ‘You didn’t think so at the time.’

  ‘I didn’t know the sort of person you really were then.’

  ‘I cared for you, Kitty. I indulged your every whim.’

  ‘But you didn’t,’ she countered. ‘You denied me the thing that I coveted most and that was a public acknowledgement of my status. You kept me out of sight because you were ashamed of me.’

  ‘Ashamed of myself, more likely,’ he said under his breath. ‘How could I be seen with you in public? I have a wife. That fact inevitably imposed restrictions on our friendship. I told you from the start that Caroline’s feelings had to be considered.’

  ‘What about my feelings?’

  ‘You seemed happy enough to me.’

  ‘Did you ever ask how I felt? Did you ever show any real interest in what I actually wanted? No, George – you simply wished to have me at your beck and call.’ She struck a dignified pose. ‘I’m worth more than that.’

  ‘I took you for what you were, Kitty – a scheming adventuress.’

  She pointed to the door. ‘I think you should leave.’

  ‘I’ll not depart until I find out who he is,’ he resolved. ‘I don’t believe that you deserted me because I didn’t take you with me to the races. There was someone else, wasn’t there? All the time we were friends, you were intriguing behind my back with another man.’

  ‘I’m not that unprincipled, George.’

  ‘Who is the fellow?’

  ‘We only met after I’d parted company with you.’

  ‘I want to know his name!’ he howled, stamping a foot.

  Kitty was shaken by the intensity of his anger and she took a precautionary step backwards. There was no way
that she could conceal her relationship with Hamilton Fido indefinitely and she had no wish to do so. It had been her intention to flaunt it at the Derby when everyone would see her and where it could be used as a potent weapon against Lord Hendry. Nothing would hurt him more than the realisation that the woman he had lost was now on intimate terms with a despised rival. The revelation could not be postponed until then. Cornered in her own lodgings, she responded with spirit.

  ‘I’ll tell you his name,’ she said, raising herself up to her full height, ‘but I’ll only do so on one condition.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘That you leave this house immediately.’

  ‘With pleasure,’ he said, picking up his top hat and cane. ‘Now, then, what benighted fool have you enticed into your bed this time?’

  ‘Hamilton Fido.’

  He was stunned. ‘You’d never do that to me, Kitty.’

  ‘Hamilton Fido,’ she repeated with a smirk of delight. ‘You’ll see us both at the Derby next week. What do you think of that, George?’

  Unable to find words to express his fury, Lord Hendry resorted to actions. Drawing back his cane, he used it to hit her across the side of the head and knock her down. Then he stormed out of the room and slammed the door after him.

  Derby Week did not begin until the following Monday but preparations were already well under way. When he took the train to Epsom that Saturday, Robert Colbeck found that it was already covered with tents, marquees, stalls, sideshows and gypsy caravans. It was a sunny afternoon in late May and more people were arriving in carts, wagons, drays, cabs and coaches or on horseback and foot. Even at that early stage, a carnival atmosphere prevailed. By the time the Derby was run on Wednesday of the next week, the whole place would be transformed into a giant fairground.

  Like Victor Leeming, Colbeck had been saddened to learn that the informer inside Scotland Yard was Constable Peter Cheggin, a competent and hard-working detective, but he was relieved that the man had been caught. The letter that Cheggin had tried to send to his paymaster was addressed to the office in Bethnal Green and Colbeck had dispatched his sergeant there, choosing himself to seek Hamilton Fido at the venue where the bookmaker would be working during the races. He was in luck. Fido was there. After making enquiries, he was directed towards the betting office.

  Hamilton Fido was outside the grandstand, talking to Marcus Johnson with an affability that suggested a measure of friendship. The bookmaker was displeased to see Colbeck again but he performed the introductions with suave politeness.

  ‘I’ve read about you, Inspector,’ said Johnson, pumping his hand. ‘You are the celebrated Railway Detective.’

  Colbeck was modest. ‘That’s not a title I ever use, sir.’

  ‘Have you come to place a bet on the Derby?’

  ‘Not yet, Mr Johnson.’

  ‘I’ve been trying to get some guidance from Hamilton but he’s too canny to give it. His only advice is to bet on the horse I fancy.’

  ‘Look at the odds I’ve set,’ said Fido. ‘They tell you everything.’

  ‘But they don’t,’ said Johnson, displaying his teeth. ‘They tell us enough to mislead us. Do you know what I think, Inspector?’

  ‘What, sir?’ said Colbeck.

  ‘I believe that Hamilton is playing a deep game. Merry Legs is only 8–1 but her chances are much better than that. Did you know that he has a second horse in the race?’

  ‘Yes, sir – Princess of Fire.’

  ‘One filly might not win against all those colts but two might. That’s his plan, I suspect,’ argued Johnson. ‘He’ll use Princess of Fire to set the pace so that Merry Legs can sit in behind her until the final couple of furlongs. Am I right, Hamilton?’

  Fido’s smile was enigmatic. ‘Put your money where your mouth is, Marcus,’ he counselled. ‘Rely on your instinct.’

  ‘I did that two years ago,’ boasted Johnson, ‘when the favourite was Little Harry. My instinct told me that Daniel O’Rourke was a tempting bet at 25–1 and I walked off with a full wallet when he won by half a length. Little Harry, by the way, was unplaced.’

  ‘I remember it only too well,’ said Colbeck. ‘I had money on Little Harry that day. If my memory serves, there were over thirty runners in that race. Merry Legs will have fewer to contend with this year.’

  ‘Twenty other runners in all.’

  ‘Nineteen,’ corrected Fido.

  ‘Since when?’

  ‘Since this morning, Marcus.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘My spies tell me that Tambourine has sprained a tendon and been withdrawn. His owner, Sir Richard Duggleby, will be livid – he had high hopes of Tambourine.’

  ‘That means we only have twenty runners.’

  ‘A much smaller field than usual,’ observed Colbeck, ‘but it’s still infernally difficult to pick the winner.’

  ‘Not unless you’re a bookmaker,’ said Johnson, clapping Fido on the back. ‘However, I can see that the inspector wants a private word with you, Hamilton, so I’ll make myself scarce.’

  There was a flurry of farewells then Johnson withdrew. Colbeck watched him bounding off with a spring in his step then raising his hat to two ladies who walked past.

  ‘A born gambler, by the sound of it,’ he said.

  ‘Marcus Johnson lives off his wits,’ observed Fido. ‘If he’s not at the races, he’ll be at the card table. If not there, he’ll be betting on something else.’

  ‘Illegal blood sports, for instance?’

  Fido laughed. ‘You’ll have to ask him yourself, Inspector.’

  ‘You’re the only person who interests me at the moment, sir. It’s odd that you mentioned spies a moment ago because that’s exactly what I came to talk to you about. First,’ he went on, taking a letter from his pocket, ‘I’m delivering this on behalf of Detective Constable Peter Cheggin. He was unable to come here as he’s now in custody.’

  ‘I see,’ said Fido calmly, taking the envelope and opening it to read the letter. He grinned. ‘Is this some kind of joke, Inspector?’

  ‘I’m here to do exactly what he says – to arrest you.’

  ‘On what charge?’

  ‘Corrupting one of our detectives so that he passed on privileged information from Scotland Yard.’

  ‘Is that what I did?’

  ‘The letter is proof of that.’

  ‘I don’t think so, Inspector. Have you talked to Peter Cheggin?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Did he say that I asked him to act as an informer?’

  ‘He didn’t need to do that.’

  ‘Did he claim that I paid him for information?’

  ‘Cheggin is being rather bloody-minded at the moment,’ said Colbeck. ‘He’ll admit nothing beyond the fact that he wrote that letter.’

  ‘I wish that it had arrived before you did, Inspector.’

  ‘So that you could take to your heels?’

  ‘On the contrary,’ said Fido. ‘I’d have saved you the trouble of coming here by giving myself up. Then I could have told you the story that lies behind this letter.’

  ‘That’s only too apparent, Mr Fido.’

  ‘Is it? How well do you know Peter Cheggin?’

  ‘Reasonably well. I judged him to be a good officer.’

  ‘I’ve no doubt that he is but Peter has two glaring problems. The first is that he loves to gamble and the second is that he doesn’t earn enough to cover his losses. Peter Cheggin owes me money,’ said Fido quietly. ‘A fair amount of money, as it happens. Most bookmakers are not as patient as I am, Inspector. If someone can’t settle his debts, he gets a visit from two strong men with the gift of persuasion. I prefer to do business on a more civilised basis.’

  ‘Very noble of you, sir,’ said Colbeck with light sarcasm.

  ‘Peter is obviously so grateful that he sends me the occasional nugget of information as a sign of goodwill. I don’t ask for it and I most certainly don’t pay for it. Did I corrupt one of your men?’ he as
ked rhetorically. ‘No, Inspector – he was already corrupted by the desire to gamble and that’s what landed him in debt.’

  ‘I only have your word for that, Mr Fido, and – if you’ll forgive my saying so – I don’t accept that at face value.’

  ‘In that case,’ said Fido, enjoying the situation, ‘you must do your duty and arrest me so that you can question me at Scotland Yard. But bear this is mind – the burden of proof lies with you. And there is no court in Creation that can prove I paid Peter Cheggin to act as a spy. He did it entirely of his own accord.’

  His readiness to be arrested rang a warning bell for Colbeck. Before he had joined the Metropolitan Police Force, the inspector had been a successful barrister, spending every day in court and testing the limits of the English legal system with regularity. He knew how difficult it sometimes was to persuade juries of a malefactor’s guilt even when the evidence against him was fairly strong. In view of what Fido had just told him, the evidence against the bookmaker could look decidedly flimsy in court. Though he had certainly encouraged a detective to act as an informer, proving it would be difficult. Hamilton Fido was a wealthy man who would retain the ablest defence counsel he could find. The case against him would be ripped to shreds and Colbeck did not want that to happen.

  ‘How many of them are there, Mr Fido?’ he asked.

  ‘How many what?’

  ‘People like Peter Cheggin – decent men who get led astray by you and who end up taking the punishment that should really be yours alone.’

  ‘I told you once before, Inspector,’ said Fido gleefully. ‘I have a gift for survival. When others fall by the wayside, I carry on unscathed.’ He thrust out both wrists. ‘Well – come on,’ he goaded. ‘Aren’t you going to put handcuffs on me?’

  Late that afternoon, Brian Dowd had ridden over to Epsom to inspect the course and get a feel of the place where he expected Limerick Lad to achieve a resounding success. He talked to some of the officials who were there and also chatted to a couple of the men whose job it was to cut the grass and ensure that the course was in good condition. Dowd was standing reflectively near the winning post when a carriage pulled up beside him. Sitting in the back of it was Lord Hendry, still smarting from his earlier encounter with Kitty Lavender. The sight of his rival enraged him.