It was a simple, unvarying routine. Having watched it three times, Oxley knew it off by heart. His next step was to get inside the building so that he could learn its geography. It involved dodging various court officials but he was adept at that. He eventually worked his way around to the entrance where the prisoners were admitted and made a note of the rooms through which they’d have to pass. At that point, he was disturbed by a janitor.
‘Can I help you, sir?’ asked the man.
‘I was looking for a …’
A smile and a gesture replaced the word. The janitor led him to the lavatory at the side of the building, explaining pointedly that it was not generally accessible to members of the public. Oxley had already taken the trouble to change some of his money into the local currency. He responded to the broad hint from the janitor by pressing some coins into the man’s hand. It was a sound investment. Thanks to the janitor, Oxley had stumbled on another vantage point. Through the small, rectangular window in the lavatory, he had a good view of the yard into which Irene would be driven next day.
Oxley was pleased with his preparations. All he had to do now was to familiarise himself with the rest of the interior so that he could plan an escape through a rear exit. When he was challenged by one of the court ushers, he pretended that he was unwell and in need of fresh air. The man kindly showed him the quickest way to the exit at the back of the building. There was a cab rank thirty yards away. If he could smuggle Irene out of the courthouse, they could be lost in traffic within a minute. Only one thing remained. Walking around the block to the front of the courthouse, he entered the public gallery in order to watch part of a trial. As he perched on the hard bench and looked down at the wretch standing in the dock, Oxley permitted himself a complacent smile. He’d found the perfect refuge. No matter how intense the manhunt for him, the one place they’d never dream of looking for him was in a court of law.
Habits of a long working life could not easily be changed. Though he had talked about staying in bed until late morning, Caleb Andrews was downstairs at his usual time. Madeleine was awakened by the sound of her father walking around the uncarpeted kitchen. Unable to sleep, she too resumed the early breakfasts. The problem was that he was almost always there. She encouraged him to go out but Andrews preferred to stay in the house, chatting to her when she wanted to be alone, standing behind her and clicking his tongue in disapproval as she tried to paint. It was more than irritating. In taking his retirement, Andrews had effectively stopped her from working as well. Her patience began to fray.
The situation became so bad that she decided to take up the offer made by Colbeck. His house was in John Islip Street and he’d urged her to make use of it. Madeleine paid a preparatory visit. The servants knew her well and treated her with the respect befitting a future mistress of the house. They were happy to let her roam around at will. She was familiar with the downstairs rooms, particularly the library. It was the source of her education and had provided her with an endless succession of books. As she entered it once more now, she was impressed afresh by the ornate bookshelves around three walls, by the nest of occasional tables and by the elaborate desk. Colbeck’s father had been a successful cabinetmaker and the library was a striking example of his handiwork.
Madeleine realised with a start that it was the first time she had ever been in the house without Colbeck. Her immediate response was that she was trespassing, intruding on his privacy. Then she reminded herself that she would one day live there and have to shed any feelings of humility. Wandering around the downstairs rooms, she was bound to compare Colbeck’s situation with her own. He’d inherited a comfortable home and enough money to permit an existence of relative idleness. It was to his credit that he chose instead to pursue a career in the Metropolitan Police Force. Coming from a very different background, Madeleine had more modest expectations. In the event of her father’s death, she would inherit the house and what little of his savings he left behind him. In moving to John Islip Street, she would be climbing several rungs up the social ladder. It was a forbidding yet curiously inspiring prospect. Luxuriating in the home she would share with Colbeck, she was determined to prove herself worthy of him.
As she looked to the future, however, doubts began to cloud her mind. Would he survive the voyage to and from America? After all that time apart, would his feelings for her remain unchanged? Why had there been an element of mystery about the investigation? Was he still thinking about her? When would he return? All her fears ultimately rolled into one crucial question.
Where was he?
‘It’s too tight,’ said Leeming as he did up the buttons. ‘And the hat is far too big for me.’
‘This is not a fashion parade, Victor,’ said Colbeck, amused. ‘Stop complaining. You look fine to me.’
‘And to me,’ agreed Riley, appraising them both. ‘The uniforms might have been made for you.’
It was not true. Reduced to the ranks, Colbeck was wearing a constable’s uniform that was baggy on him. At least it gave him freedom of movement. Leeming felt he was being pinched under the armpits. He had to wear the hat at a rakish angle to stop it from falling too low over his forehead. They were in Riley’s office, going through the last details of their plan.
‘What if Oxley doesn’t turn up?’ asked Riley.
‘Then I can get out of this uniform and breathe properly again,’ said Leeming with a grimace.
‘He’ll turn up,’ insisted Colbeck. ‘It’s too good a chance to miss. Oxley will know that there may not be another one. Will your men be in position, Captain?’
‘Have no worries about them,’ said Riley. ‘They’ll be placed in strategic positions around the courthouse. I took your advice. We don’t want to spook him with the sight of too many uniforms. All my men will be in plain clothes.’
‘I wish that I was,’ grumbled Leeming.
‘It’s not like you to miss an opportunity to arrest a killer,’ said Colbeck, ‘especially one who murdered a colleague of ours.’
‘That’s what worries me,’ admitted Riley. ‘This man is armed. We know he doesn’t hesitate to kill. All it takes is a warning from the prisoner and one of you will be shot dead.’
‘Miss Adnam won’t raise the alarm, Captain Riley.’
‘You can’t be sure of that.’
‘Oh yes I can.’
‘She’s in love with this man,’ said Riley. ‘If she sees that he’s in danger, she’s bound to yell out.’
‘That’s a good point,’ said Leeming. ‘We’re taking a big risk.’
‘And there’s something else to bear in mind, Inspector. Didn’t you tell me that he’s tried to shoot you before? When he sees you right in front of him, he won’t be able to resist the temptation.’
‘He won’t recognise me,’ explained Colbeck. ‘It was because of mistaken identity that Constable Peebles was shot in my place. And he’s never set eyes on the sergeant either. He’ll assume that we are what we look like – two New York policemen.’ When he saw Leeming desperately trying to adjust his uniform, he laughed. ‘It’s only for one morning, Victor,’ he said. ‘Once he’s in custody, you can change back into your own clothing.’