‘What if we can’t find Nathan Furnish?’
‘I’m keeping my fingers crossed that we will.’
‘Mr Brassey may be thousands of miles away. Didn’t you tell me that he’s taken on projects in places like India and Canada?’
‘Yes, I did, but that doesn’t mean he’s somewhere like that now. I imagine that his wife is not happy for him to be so far away for any length of time and he still has many projects in this country. As a contractor, he’s very much in demand.’
Leeming sighed. ‘So are we, unfortunately.’
‘Success may have its disadvantages, Victor, but who wishes to be known for his failures?’
‘Nobody, I suppose.’
‘Frankly, since we came north, we haven’t achieved much success but I feel that the tide turned today. I’m fairly certain that we’ve identified the killer.’
‘But he’s a railway engineer. Like Mr Brassey, he could be working on a project overseas somewhere.’
‘If that’s the case, we go after him.’
‘What if he happens to be thousands of miles away?’
‘That won’t stop us.’
Leeming groaned. ‘I hate sailing even more than travelling by rail.’
‘Then you’ll be glad to know that it’s unlikely we’ll have to board a ship. Ask yourself one question. Where did the murder take place?’
‘It was not all that far from here.’
‘And it was in a secluded spot,’ Colbeck reminded him. ‘That means Furnish knows this area well. In other words, it’s more than likely that his home is somewhere in Northumberland.’
‘How will we get his address?’
‘With luck, Thomas Brassey will be able to provide it. There was a telegraph station in Shrewsbury so I made use of that. I asked him if he could send his reply to Newcastle. When we’ve finished this splendid meal, we’ll go along to Central Station to see if there’s anything waiting for me.’
‘I promised to go back to the circus.’
‘Do you want to miss the opportunity of arresting a killer?’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘Then you can send word to Mulryne that something important has come up. He’ll understand. He used to be a policeman.’
Leeming chuckled. ‘Something always came up when Brendan was around.’
‘You’ll get back to the camp at some point,’ said Colbeck, ‘and you may be in a position to pass on some good news.’
‘Yes – we’ve solved a murder.’
‘Mulryne will be more interested in the consequence. With one investigation closed, we’ll be able to give all our time to the circus. He’ll enjoy passing on that message. It will be music to Mr Moscardi’s ears.’
Until she read the letter herself, Madeleine Colbeck didn’t understand what her friend meant. Lydia Quayle had put so much faith in her younger brother being able to help her by revealing the identity of Daniel Vance that she felt let down. Madeleine now realised why. The man who’d been tormenting Lydia had used a pseudonym that would only be recognised by former pupils of the exclusive public school to which both of her brothers had been sent. The establishment had a strange tradition, named after the eccentric and light-hearted man who had founded the school and been its first headmaster. On the last day of the summer term, one of the senior boys was appointed as Daniel Vance, Lord of Misrule, a free spirit who was given licence to devise hoaxes, play tricks, cause a rumpus and generally run riot for the amusement of the other pupils. There were limits on what was allowed and there was a strict rule that no damage would come to school property. Within those limits, however, Daniel Vance had great scope.
Madeleine drew more comfort from the letter than her friend had done.
‘But he’s given you a name, Lydia.’
‘It’s only a suggestion. During his time at the school, Lucas would have seen over ten Lords of Misrule and there have been many others since. All that we really know is the school where this man was educated.’
‘It’s also where he enjoyed playing practical jokes.’
‘What’s happening to me is not a practical joke,’ said Lydia, sharply.
‘I still think you should take this name seriously.’
‘Why?’
‘To start with,’ said Madeleine, ‘look at the reason why Lucas suggested this Bernard Courtney. Of all the Daniel Vances that your brother saw, Courtney was the most memorable because he went completely wild. He broke windows, hid furniture in the coal cellar and stole a gown from one of the housemasters before throwing it into the fountain. Your brother says that he was completely out of control.’
‘That doesn’t mean he’d take an interest in me. I never met him.’
‘Are you certain?’
‘I remember all the school friends of Lucas’s who came to stay with us and Bernard Courtney – or Daniel Vance – wasn’t one of them.’
‘Does the name mean nothing at all to you?’
‘Actually, it means a great deal, Madeleine.’
‘Really?’
‘Everyone in Nottinghamshire is aware of the Courtney family. They own lacemaking and other factories in the county. Philip Courtney, the head of the family, is a man of real substance.’
‘Then your father must have known him.’
‘They belonged to the same club.’
‘There’s your answer, then,’ said Madeleine, handing the letter back. ‘You said that you’d never met Bernard Courtney but he may well have met – or seen – you.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Think back to your father’s funeral. Every major businessman in the county must have been there. Philip Courtney certainly was and, since his son will be part of the family empire, he’d have been likely to attend. The Courtneys would have been invited back to the house afterwards.’
‘I never spoke to the son.’
‘You didn’t need to, Lydia. Can’t you see what might have happened?’
‘No, I can’t.’
‘Bernard Courtney will have seen you. Even in a crowd, you’d always stand out. Isn’t it possible that this is how it all started? He took an interest and found out where you were living.’
‘But my father was killed over a year ago, Madeleine.’
‘Obsessions can take a long time to build up.’
Lydia read the letter again, slowly moving from profound dissatisfaction to a measure of hope. She thought back to the events surrounding the funeral when so many people had been milling around the family home.
‘Do you know what your problem is?’ asked Madeleine, gently.
‘What?’
‘You don’t look in a mirror, Lydia. If you did, you’d see what an attractive woman you are. In any gathering, you’re bound to turn heads.’
‘I don’t do it deliberately.’
‘You just can’t help it. Bernard Courtney noticed you. Remember what your brother says about him. As a boy at school, he always went too far. He probably used the name of Daniel Vance because it reminded him of a time when, for one day, he could do almost anything he wanted. He obviously hates rules.’
Madeleine’s argument was persuasive. Lydia eventually accepted it.
‘What shall I do?’ she asked.
‘Show that letter to Detective Constable Hinton as soon as you can.’
Having changed out of his ringmaster costume, Moscardi had supper with his wife then went for a walk through the camp. He was relieved that there’d been no attack on the circus during the day but feared it might come at night. The first person he sought was Mulryne and he found him near the lion cages.
‘Have you ever thought of becoming a lion tamer?’ he asked.
‘I don’t have the skills for it, Mr Moscardi.’
‘Yes, you do. You proved that yesterday. You imposed your authority.’
‘Otto was the one who did that. I just backed him up. But I must admit that it was very exciting.’
‘We can do without that kind of excitement.’
‘It won’t happen again. There are padlocks on all the cages now. He won’t be able to open one of them again. Besides, he’ll never get this close.’
‘It’s all very well to keep him out but I want him caught.’
‘We all do.’
‘Then why hasn’t Inspector Colbeck done his job and arrested him?’
‘It’s because he’s up against a very clever man,’ said Mulryne. ‘There have been lots of those in the past and the inspector always gets the better of them in the end. He was slowed down this time by people who had different theories.’
‘I was one of them,’ admitted Moscardi. ‘I’d have bet my life savings that Sam Greenwood was at the back of it all.’
‘Then you’d have lost your money. Inspector Colbeck rescued you from doing that. But you weren’t the only person demanding attention. There was Mr Darlow, the chairman of the railway company. He provided the names of three possible suspects and insisted that one of them derailed the train. According to Sergeant Leeming, he made a real nuisance of himself.’
‘So did I, Mulryne.’
‘The inspector will forgive you.’
‘Where is he now?’
‘I had a note from the sergeant to say that something’s afoot. That sounds very promising to me,’ said Mulryne. ‘They’ve obviously picked up a scent. We might get some good news before morning.’
The house was near Wylam, a small village some ten miles west of Newcastle. It was disfigured to some extent by the colliery, which brought noise, coal dust and industrial ugliness to an otherwise tranquil location. Nathan Furnish lived in a large detached house with outbuildings. Darkness had fallen by the time that the detectives got there in their hired trap, so they could only see it in outline at first.
‘I told you that Mr Brassey would help us,’ said Colbeck. ‘After what we did in France for him, he owes us a favour or two.’
‘Suppose that Furnish is not at home?’
‘There are lights in the downstairs windows so someone is there. At the very least, we’ll be told where we can find him.’
‘It looks as if there’s a stable at the rear, sir.’
‘That’s exactly where I’d like you to go, Victor. If he’s there and does try to bolt, he’ll come hurtling out of the back door to saddle his horse.’
Leeming grinned. ‘I’ll introduce myself.’ He looked at the silhouette in front of them. ‘It’s a big place. Railway engineers are obviously well paid.’
‘This particular one is about to retire.’
Colbeck sent the sergeant off, allowing him plenty of time to take up his position at the back of the property. He then walked down the track to the front door of the house. Since there was no bell, he rapped on the timber with his knuckles. A curtain was drawn back from a window and someone looked out quizzically. He withdrew immediately. When the door opened, a tall, slender man of Colbeck’s own age was standing there.
‘Can I help you?’ he asked.
‘Are you Mr Nathan Furnish?’
‘Yes, I am. Who might you be?’
‘I’m Inspector Colbeck from Scotland Yard and I’d appreciate some of your time, sir. May I come in?’
Furnish was phlegmatic. ‘Yes, of course,’ he said, calmly.
After showing Colbeck into a study, he went off to speak to his wife. During the time he was alone, the inspector was able to look around the room. It was filled with books, drawings and photographs relating to railways. In one of the photographs, Colbeck recognised Furnish standing next to Thomas Brassey. Turning his gaze on the books, he saw a copy of the volume on railway engineering that he’d noticed in Margaret Pulver’s library. Beside it, however, was a book that seemed strangely incongruous among the rest of the collection.
It was only when Furnish came back into the room that he was able to appraise him properly in good light. The man had interesting rather than handsome features and there was a keen intelligence in his eyes. Well dressed and clean-shaven, he had remarkable self-possession. He indicated a chair and Colbeck sat down. Furnish sat opposite him in the chair nearest the door. He looked relaxed and confident.
‘Do I need to explain why I’m here, Mr Furnish?’
‘No, Inspector, your fame preceded you. I saw your name mentioned in the newspapers and hope that your visit has a successful outcome.’
‘This conversation is about you, sir, not about me.’
Furnish was blank. ‘I don’t see what interest I can have for you.’
‘Did you know a Mrs Margaret Pulver?’
‘Yes, I did – and I was grieved to hear of her death.’
‘When did you last see the lady?’
‘It was some years ago – four, at least. I was the engineer on a branch line that ran through her property. Mrs Pulver and her husband took pity on me, standing out in the pouring rain while we took measurements. They invited me into the house.’
‘That was when the husband was alive.’
‘Yes, Inspector.’
‘Did you go into the house afterwards?’
‘I’d moved on to another project by then, Inspector. It’s in the nature of my job. I tend to travel around.’
‘I see that you worked with Mr Brassey.’
‘That was a stroke of fortune. His name is a recommendation in itself.’
‘I agree, sir. I had the pleasure of meeting him in France when he was involved with the line between Mantes and Caen. He was a model employer.’
Furnish eyed him shrewdly. ‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘I’d like you to know that Mr Brassey is a good friend of mine. It’s the reason I’ve always kept abreast of his activities. The only reason that I found you is that he provided me with your address.’
‘Yes,’ said the other, warily, ‘but why did you need it in the first place?’
‘Do you really need to ask me that?’
‘As a matter of fact, I do.’
‘Then it’s because I saw the framed copy of the plan that you gave to Mrs Pulver. It’s on the wall by her desk and bears your signature.’
‘There’s nothing questionable about that, is there?’ said Furnish, smoothly. ‘Mrs Pulver took an unusually close interest in the building of that line. When she requested a copy of the plan, I was glad to oblige.’
‘Is that all you gave her, sir?’
‘What are you suggesting?’
‘I fancy that you might have given her a diamond ring.’ The other man’s facial muscles tightened. ‘You also gave her a list of your accomplishments. There are very few women who could be wooed with a record of engineering projects.’
Furnish regained his poise. ‘Mrs Pulver was kind enough to ask about my work. I jotted down some of the lines I worked on. There’s nothing wrong in that, is there?’
‘What about the diamond ring?’
‘The only diamond ring I ever bought is the one that my dear wife wears.’
‘That’s only right and proper, sir – if it happens to be true.’
‘Are you saying that I’m a liar, Inspector?’
‘I’m saying that, when I open a secret drawer in a woman’s desk and find something you’ve written nestling beside a diamond ring, there’s only one conclusion I can reach.’
‘I can think of an alternative.’
‘And what’s that, sir?’
‘The ring was an unwanted present from a solicitor in Shrewsbury. Mrs Pulver told me that he’d been bothering her.’
‘But that was well after her husband’s death and you claimed that you didn’t see her once your work in the area had been done.’
‘I did have to go back once, as it happens,’ said the other, recovering instantly. ‘There was a project near Wenlock that I was offered but I turned it down because the line was only four miles long. As I was travelling back, I paid a courtesy call on Mrs Pulver.’
‘Did you ask her if she was still wearing your ring from time to time?’
‘I gave her no ring,’ snapped Furni
sh. ‘How many times must I say it?’
‘Oh, I think you’ll go on telling lies as long as anyone will listen. Let me give you another opportunity to do so,’ said Colbeck. ‘Acccording to Mr Brassey, you’ve been working on a line in Epping. When did you come back here?’
‘I returned three days ago.’
‘Is that the truth?’
‘You can ask my wife and I can produce other witnesses.’
‘I’ve no doubt that you can, sir. We both know that you were here days earlier to take your victim to the place where you buried her. Once that was done, you fled the area and stayed away long enough to give yourself an alibi.’
‘You’ve no proof of that.’
‘There’s no such thing as a kind murder but you sought to minimise the pain of your victim by administering a poison.’ He reached a book off the shelf and held it up. ‘This is rather out of place among all these engineering manuals. If Mrs Pulver had realised that you were reading an encyclopaedia of toxicology, she might have been less willing to visit you in Northumberland.’
Furnish was unmoved. ‘We have a problem with vermin out here,’ he said, coolly. ‘That book gives good advice on how to kill them.’
‘Are you telling me that you regarded the lady as vermin?’
‘I’m merely telling you the truth.’
Colbeck looked him up and down. There was an annoying confidence about the man, a trait he’d seen in other killers who felt that they’d left no trail of evidence to link them with their victim. He changed tack.
‘You must be away from home a lot, sir.’
‘As I told you, it’s in the nature of my work.’
‘Then we’re two of a kind. I, too, have to travel a great deal. My wife always records my absences in her diary. I daresay that Mrs Furnish does the same thing with regard to you.’
‘She certainly does,’ said Furnish, seizing on the comment, ‘and you’re welcome to see it. You’ll find confirmation of the day when I got back here.’
‘What about the days you spent in London with Mrs Pulver? Are they all listed in your wife’s diary?’
‘That’s a very insulting question, Inspector.’
The Circus Train Conspiracy Page 27