The Circus Train Conspiracy

by Edward Marston

  It only served to enrage him. Throwing the man off as easily as he might discard a coat, the Strong Man struggled to his feet and faced his enemies like a wounded bear at bay. Anyone who got too close was beaten back by a huge fist or kicked by a vicious foot. Forming a circle around him, the crowd jeered and threatened but nobody could bring him down. It was left to Mulryne to capture him. Light on his feet, he swayed in front of Rogers and dodged every blow that was thrown, getting in some counter punches each time. One of them landed on the other man’s nose. Little by little, he took all the energy out of his opponent and made him stagger. Mulryne then chose his moment, stepped in and felled him with an uppercut.

  Half a dozen men dived on Rogers. Someone held up a rope.

  ‘Let’s string him up right here!’ he cried.

  ‘No!’ shouted Leeming above the clamour. ‘Stand back.’

  Though he was almost out of breath, he still had the strength to drag people off Rogers one by one. Cyrus Lill joined him.

  ‘Yes,’ said Leeming, looking around the faces, ‘I know how you feel. You think this man tried to kill some of you and you may be right. But that doesn’t mean you can behave like an unruly mob. He’s our prisoner.’

  He turned Rogers over so that Lill could handcuff him from behind.

  ‘Listen to the sergeant,’ said Mulryne. ‘I want to tear this bastard limb from limb just like the rest of you. But that would mean the hangman would make me dance and I’ve no taste for that kind of jig, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘After what he did to us,’ yelled Gianni, waving a hatchet, ‘he deserves to be cut up into slices and fed to the animals.’

  ‘They’d only get indigestion from his rotten carcass.’

  The laughter at the Irishman’s comment helped to ease the situation. People with murder on their minds now drew back. Leeming helped Rogers to his feet. Blood was streaming from the Strong Man’s nose. Mulryne pointed at him.

  ‘That ugly face of his looks better since I tapped his claret.’

  There was more laughter. Gianni raised the hatchet as if to strike but Leeming stood between him and his target. After a long exchange of glares, the Italian backed away. Cyrus Lill explained the situation to him.

  ‘This man will be taken to the police station and interrogated,’ he said. ‘If he is guilty of the crimes you blame on him, he’ll feel the full weight of the law. As for you, I suggest that you remember why you’re here. You’re circus folk, come to entertain the people of Newcastle. What will they think if they hear that you’re nothing but a bloodthirsty gang of ruffians? Who will pay to see you perform then?’

  ‘Off you go,’ added Leeming. ‘We’ll take care of him now.’

  ‘You heard,’ said Mulryne, reinforcing the order with a wave of his arm. ‘Go back to what you do best. That marquee will be full this evening. Give them all a performance that they’ll remember.’

  The crowd began slowly to disperse. Gianni was the last to go, albeit reluctantly. The detectives were relieved that the danger was over and they praised Mulryne’s intervention.

  ‘Ah, it was nothing,’ he said, chuckling. ‘I need a good fight now and again. It reminds me that I’m an Irishman.’

  Probert was an enigma. He appeared to live a contented and law-abiding life yet had an irrational dislike of the police. Colbeck and Leeming had both discovered that. The man’s only interest was in getting rid of them as soon as possible. He had not been able to do so on this occasion. Colbeck was far too tenacious. Having given the Welshman a fright, he put him under greater pressure.

  ‘Have you ever been in court, Mr Probert?’

  ‘Of course, I haven’t.’

  ‘Then let me introduce you to the concept of perjury. It means lying under oath. If a witness is found guilty of it, the punishment can be severe. Most of what you’ve told me so far would be considered as perjury in a court of law, so I’d suggest you’d confine your answers from now on to the plain, unvarnished truth.’ Colbeck wrinkled his brow. ‘Do you agree?’

  ‘Yes, Inspector,’ murmured the other.

  ‘You did not have a chance meeting in Bangor with Mrs Pulver, did you?’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘To begin with, it was not a chance meeting.’

  ‘I suppose not,’ said the other after a long pause.

  ‘Was it in London?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Was it prearranged?’

  ‘To some extent, it was.’

  ‘Do you stand by your claim that it only happened once?’

  ‘Of course I stand by it,’ said Probert, earnestly.

  ‘When was this?’ asked Colbeck. ‘I don’t want an approximate time. I want to know the exact date. My feeling is that it was a meeting of some significance so you’ll remember it well.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘When was it?’

  ‘It was some months after the … accident.’

  ‘Mrs Pulver would have been in mourning.’

  ‘We both were, Inspector.’

  ‘So soon after the tragedy, she’d have been in a highly emotional state.’

  ‘That’s why she asked for the meeting.’

  ‘Oh?’ Colbeck was surprised. ‘It was not at your instigation, then?’

  ‘No – after what happened, I never expected to see her again.’

  ‘Why was that?’

  ‘I thought that the friendship had come to a natural end.’

  ‘Ah, so it’s a friendship now, is it?’ said Colbeck. ‘Earlier on you said that you were no more than an acquaintance of the Pulvers. I can’t see you going all the way to London for a mere acquaintance.’

  ‘Make of it what you wish,’ said Probert, sparked into life again.

  ‘I have insufficient facts, sir.’

  ‘Mrs Pulver and I met once in London and that was that. From that day forward, I never set eyes on her or had any communication with her.’

  ‘Did you want the friendship to continue?’

  ‘That’s irrelevant.’

  ‘Then I can only assume that you did, sir.’ Probert said nothing. ‘Do you know what I think? I believe that you’re still unable to cope with the guilt.’

  ‘You’re quite wrong. The past is the past. I never look back.’

  ‘But you’ve been talking about what must have been a harrowing experience.’

  ‘It’s faded into obscurity.’

  ‘I refuse to accept that, Mr Probert.’

  ‘I’m a different person now.’

  Colbeck held his gaze for a full minute before asking his question.

  ‘Does that mean you’re now being faithful to your wife?’

  Too shaken to reply, Probert shrunk away. After glancing at the door again, he chewed his lip and lowered his head. Colbeck pressed on.

  ‘That’s why you met in London, wasn’t it?’ he said. ‘Both of you were overwhelmed with guilt. Margaret Pulver should have been in the boat that day but I suspect that she had a prior engagement with you.’ He saw the Welshman twitch. ‘While you were together, she lost her entire family. Given her religious conviction, she must have seen it as some kind of divine retribution. It’s no wonder she dedicated herself to the Church by way of a penance.’

  ‘We both made vows to live a better life, Inspector.’

  Colbeck asked the final question like an assassin quietly sliding a knife between the ribs of his victim.

  ‘How long did you keep them?’

  At the time when Bevis Rogers had been caught, Mauro Moscardi was being interviewed in an office in the city by reporters from the Evening Chronicle and the Newcastle Courant. It was only when he returned to the circus that he heard that Rogers had been seen, chased and caught. The news sent him hurrying to the police station to demand access to the Strong Man. The duty sergeant explained that the prisoner was being questioned and was therefore unavailable. Moscardi protested in vain. When he finally stopped shouting, he folded his arms defiantly.

  ‘I’ll wait.’
>
  Seated behind a table in a bare, featureless room, Bevis Rogers looked better now that his nose had stopped bleeding and his face had been cleaned but he was still in pain. Cyrus Lill and Victor Leeming sat opposite him. The sergeant led the interrogation.

  ‘You were sent to cause trouble for the circus, weren’t you?’

  ‘No, I wasn’t,’ replied Rogers.

  ‘I went to Bristol to meet Mr Greenwood. Some of the performers told me that you’d been ordered to come here.’

  ‘That bit is true.’

  ‘Were you told to derail the circus train?’

  ‘No!’ howled the prisoner. ‘I’d never do a thing like that.’

  ‘Did you arrange for someone else to do it on your behalf?’ asked Lill.

  Rogers was insulted. ‘It would never cross my mind,’ he said. ‘I was born and brought up in a circus. It’s been my whole life. I respect people like Mr Moscardi.’

  ‘So why did you spy on him?’

  ‘That’s all that Mr Greenwood asked me to do. I was to watch and send back reports. He’s always looking for new artistes. If there was someone who stood out, I was to see if I could interest him in joining us instead.’

  ‘Did you approach anyone?’ asked Leeming.

  ‘I couldn’t get near enough,’ complained Rogers. ‘After the train came off the line, everyone was on guard. All I could do was to watch from a distance.’

  ‘You were seen in the crowd at one point.’

  ‘That was stupid of me. I stayed out of sight after that.’

  ‘What about that fire among the trees?’

  Rogers looked blank. ‘What fire?’

  ‘Then there were those sheep that were stolen. I suppose you know nothing about those either?’ Rogers shook his head. ‘Why did Mr Greenwood pick you?’

  ‘He needs someone to do odd jobs.’

  ‘You were a bad choice in this case,’ said Lill. ‘You stand out too much.’

  Rogers was offended. ‘I can’t help that.’

  After taking it in turns to aim questions at him for another ten minutes, the detectives came to the same conclusion. The Strong Man was telling the truth. He had not been sent to damage the circus in any way. He was simply there to gather intelligence for a rival. By straying too close that day, he’d been recognised, chased and beaten. Sitting up, he flexed his muscles.

  ‘He’d never have knocked me down in the old days,’ he bragged. ‘You’d have needed a sledgehammer to stop me.’

  ‘I believe you,’ said Leeming.

  ‘What happens now?’

  ‘That’s an interesting question.’

  ‘It’s not as if I committed any crime.’

  ‘You were spying. Mr Moscardi would call that a crime, though he does the same thing himself.’

  ‘What about those people who jumped on me when I was knocked to the ground? I was assaulted, Sergeant. I was wounded. They’re the ones who should be prosecuted.’

  ‘They were provoked,’ said Lill.

  ‘All I did was to wander round the edge of the camp.’

  They sympathised with him. Mistakenly thought to be at the root of the circus’s woes, he’d been hounded by a mob in the grip of hysteria. If the detectives had not arrived when they did, Rogers could have suffered serious injuries. As it was, his face was bruised and his clothing was covered in grass stains.

  ‘Thank you for saving me,’ he said, ‘but you have to let me go.’

  ‘That may not be advisable at the moment,’ said Leeming. ‘I thought I heard Mr Moscardi’s voice a while ago. He sounded angry. Holding you here might be the best way of keeping you alive.’

  The process of recovery was almost complete. When she first moved into the Colbeck residence, Lydia Quayle had been in a state of terror because she was victimised by a stranger. It was impossible for her to step outside the house. Days later, she not only went through the front door without trepidation, she went for long walks on her own. The surprise visit home by Colbeck had injected even more confidence into her because his advice had been so sound. Keeping his promise, he’d somehow persuaded the superintendent to send a detective to speak to her. As a result of the man’s visit, Lydia felt like skipping along the pavement. She was not only being given police protection, there was an active search for her stalker. When she received a letter from her younger brother, she hoped, she would be able to provide a name. The man would then be arrested and the persecution would cease.

  Her walk took her as far as the river. Late afternoon sunshine was turning the water to silver. Craft of all sizes glided to and fro and she enjoyed the simple pleasure of taking in the familiar scene. People went past her in both directions and she caught snatches of their conversations. She was still watching the birds skim over the water when she felt someone brush gently against her shoulder. When she turned round, all she could see was the back of the man’s frock coat as he walked away. Under his arm was a flat box, which he put on a coping stone before strolling on. Lydia wondered what the box contained and why it had been left behind. She was just about to pick it up and run after the man when a warning bell rang inside her head.

  Moving forward tentatively, she reached the box and lifted it up carefully. It felt very light. Lydia couldn’t resist opening it. When she saw what was inside, she felt all of her new-found confidence being stripped away in a flash.

  The man had returned her dress. And he’d touched her.

  Robert Colbeck arrived at the police station in Newcastle and walked into the middle of a violent argument. Moscardi had grown tired of waiting. Gesticulating madly, he was demanding to be allowed to see the prisoner. The duty sergeant was refusing to allow him anywhere near Rogers and threatened to lock him up if he kept on causing such a scene. The noise had brought a couple of uniformed constables out to see what was going on. Colbeck put a restraining hand on Moscardi’s shoulder.

  ‘There’s no need to shout, sir. The duty sergeant has excellent hearing.’

  ‘Then why won’t the idiot listen to me?’ said the Italian.

  ‘What exactly is your complaint, sir?’

  ‘They’ve got Sam Greenwood’s spy locked up in there and they won’t let me see him. He’s the man who derailed our train.’

  ‘That’s simply not true,’ said Colbeck, patiently. ‘And even if it were, you’re not entitled to act as judge and jury.’ He looked at the clock on the wall. ‘You’ve clearly forgotten what time it is. By my calculation, the performance in your marquee will start in just over an hour. I hope they have another ringmaster standing by.’

  Moscardi was stunned. ‘Is that the time?’ he gasped. He turned on the duty sergeant. ‘This is your fault.’

  ‘I think you should go, sir,’ advised Colbeck.

  ‘What about Rogers?’

  ‘He’ll still be behind bars when the performance is over.’

  ‘Then I’ll be back.’

  After snarling at the duty sergeant once more, Moscardi rushed out. Colbeck apologised on the man’s behalf, describing the intense pressure he’d been under to get his circus safely to the city. The duty sergeant was simply glad to get rid of him. He gave the inspector more detail about the arrest of Bevis Rogers. A few moments later, a door opened and Leeming stepped out. Colbeck didn’t at first recognise him in his disguise.

  ‘You look more like the prisoner than the man who arrested him.’

  ‘We did that to rescue him, Inspector.’

  ‘Has he been charged?’

  ‘There are no grounds for doing so.’

  ‘Then he has to be released.’

  ‘We’re not doing that until the circus is under way,’ said Leeming. ‘If Mr Moscardi or his brother gets their hands on him, they could easily end up facing a charge of murder. We need to get Rogers away from here altogether.’

  ‘I’d like a word with him first,’ said Colbeck. ‘Where is he?’

  Leeming opened the door. ‘Follow me, sir …’

  Madeleine had never seen her in such
a state before. Sobbing on her friend’s shoulder, Lydia was trembling all over. It was minutes before she had enough control to be able to speak coherently.

  ‘There’s no rush,’ said Madeleine. ‘Speak when you feel ready.’

  ‘I never thought that I’d get back here. My legs almost gave way.’

  ‘But you did get back and you brought that dress with you. Where did you get it and who does it belong to?’

  ‘It’s mine, Madeleine. It’s the one he stole.’

  The memory of his touch set Lydia off into another bout of sobbing. When she’d dried her eyes, she apologised and gave Madeleine a brief account of what had happened. Her friend was appalled.

  ‘He knew where you were all the time.’

  ‘I felt him brush against my shoulder. It was horrible, Madeleine. I was defenceless. Just think what he might have done to me.’

  ‘You mustn’t go out alone again, Lydia.’

  ‘I’m not going out of this house with anybody,’ cried the other. ‘I’m staying here until someone finally catches that monster.’

  Mauro Moscardi was in a towering rage when he got back to the circus. It took all of his wife’s skill and patience to calm him down and make him see that he had an important job to do that evening. His most urgent duty, she said, was to instil some self-belief into the artistes. In order to reach the city, they’d endured some terrible setbacks and there was bound to be fear at the back of their minds. Her husband had to expel it completely.