‘That young fireman,’ decided Leeming, snapping his fingers. ‘It must have been Alfred Neale. I thought he had a wild look about him.’
‘That was caused by deprivation, Victor.’
‘Deprivation?’
‘Mr Neale was only married a couple of months ago,’ said Colbeck with wry amusement. ‘I daresay that he was feeling deprived of the joys of wedlock. With a loving wife to care for, I don’t believe that he’d take chances on the roof of a moving train. As for Mr Hawley, our guard,’ he pointed out, ‘he’s too old and fat to climb up there — particularly when he’s been drinking.’
‘That only leaves the driver.’
‘James Barrett has to be our man.’
‘What was his motive?’
‘I don’t know,’ admitted Colbeck. ‘I’ll go and ask him.’
Without another word, he climbed back out through the window.
The speed of the train had increased perceptibly, making for more noise and a greater roll. When Colbeck hauled himself back up onto the roof, he had some difficulty steadying himself. He was not helped when a passenger train raced past in the opposite direction, deafening him with the sound of its whistle and momentarily doubling the amount of thick black smoke with which he had to contend. As he rose to his feet, the smoke began to clear, only to reveal a new hazard. Walking towards him along the roof of the second-class carriage was James Barrett with a fire shovel in his hand. The driver was moving with practised ease.
‘You’re too clever for your own safety, Inspector,’ he said.
‘Put that shovel down, Mr Barrett.’
‘Not until it’s sent you to kingdom come.’
‘There’s no escape, man.’
‘Yes, there is,’ argued Barrett. ‘You signed your own death warrant by travelling on my train. When I’ve got rid of you, I’ll see to that Sergeant Leeming as well. By the time the alarm is raised, I’ll be a long way away from here.’
‘With the money you stole from Matthew Proudfoot no doubt.’
‘Yes, I know exactly where to find it.’
‘That’s why you were so ready to let me search you,’ recalled Colbeck, taking a step backwards. ‘Because there was no chance I’d find anything incriminating, was there?’ Barrett leapt onto the first-class carriage. ‘Just tell me this — what drove you to kill him?’
‘Revenge.’
‘For what?’
‘All the things he did to the people employed by this railway,’ said Barrett, curling his lip. ‘Mr Proudfoot was ruthless. He went looking for reasons to have drivers fined or reprimanded. Dan Armitage, my closest friend, was dismissed because of him — Dan hasn’t worked since. And I could name you dozens more who fell foul of Matthew Proudfoot. We give blood for this railway, Inspector. We work long hours in all weathers yet we never got a word of thanks or a touch of respect from Mr Proudfoot. You should have heard the way he talked to me at Paddington. He treated me like dirt. That’s why he deserved to die.’
‘Not that way,’ said Colbeck, keeping one eye on the shovel as his adversary inched his way towards him. ‘You must’ve known that you’d never get away with it.’
‘But I have, Inspector. Nobody will ever arrest me.’
‘Do you want two more deaths on your conscience?’
‘What conscience?’
‘You’ll be hounded for the rest of your life, Mr Barrett.’
‘I’ll take that chance.’
Lunging forward, he swung the shovel hard in an attempt to dislodge Colbeck but the inspector managed to duck under the blow. Barrett was about to strike again when a voice rang out behind him.
‘Stop it, Jim!’ yelled Neale, standing on the tender.
‘Mind the engine!’ called Barrett over his shoulder.
‘Are you going to kill him as well?’ taunted Colbeck. ‘He knows the truth about you now. I’ll wager that you told him you were going to have a drink in the brake van yesterday evening, didn’t you? Mr Neale trusted you. When you swore that you didn’t commit the murder, he believed you. So did Mr Hawley.’
‘Be quiet!’ snarled Barrett.
‘Come back here,’ pleaded Neale.
‘And you can shut up as well.’
‘What’s got into you, Jim?’ asked the fireman in dismay.
Barrett turned round. ‘Just drive the train!’
Colbeck did not hesitate. Alfred Neale had provided a timely distraction. Taking advantage of it, the inspector stepped forward to grab the shovel and tried to wrest it from the driver’s grasp. There was a fierce battle as both men pushed and pulled, barely maintaining their balance on the roof. Alfred Neale was yelling from the tender and Victor Leeming, hearing the pounding noise on the roof above his head, put his head out of the window even though he could not see what was happening. Castor steamed on as if in some kind of race.
Holding on to the shovel, each man struggled desperately to shake off the other and gain control of the weapon. Barrett was a powerful man with a murderous impulse but Colbeck was more guileful. As the driver heaved on the shovel with all his might, the inspector simply let go and Barrett was suddenly at the mercy of his own momentum. Staggering backwards along the roof, he lost his footing and slipped to the edge before being thrown violently from the train. He hit the ground with such force that his neck was snapped like a twig. Yet, at the moment of death, he did not relinquish his hold on the shovel.
Frock coat flapping in the wind, Colbeck knelt down to get his breath back. Alfred Neale was horrified by what he had seen. Since he was now in charge of the train, he applied the brakes and put the engine into reverse, bringing the locomotive to a screeching halt a long distance down the line. When Colbeck got to him, the fireman was in tears.
‘Jim Barrett, a killer?’ he whimpered. ‘I don’t believe it.’
‘He told me that he wanted revenge.’
‘We all did, Inspector, but none of us would have gone that far.’
‘Mr Barrett did,’ said Colbeck. ‘There was too much anger penned up inside him, and too much injured pride. It was like steam building up inside an engine — when it was released, it had frightening power.’
A full report of the investigation was submitted to Superintendent Edward Tallis. After studying it with interest, he summoned Robert Colbeck and Victor Leeming to his office in Scotland Yard.
‘Congratulations are in order,’ said Tallis, stroking his moustache.
‘Thank you, Superintendent,’ said Leeming, modestly, ‘but I can’t take much credit. It was the inspector who identified the killer.’
‘Unfortunately, he was unable to take the man alive. It’s a great pity. Had the fellow been caught and convicted, we would have enjoyed some good publicity in the newspapers for a change.’ His eyes flicked to Colbeck. ‘Try to remember that next time.’
‘Arrest was not an option, sir,’ explained Colbeck. ‘I couldn’t put handcuffs on a man who was armed with a fire shovel on the roof of a moving train.’
‘You shouldn’t have got involved in such heroics.’
‘With respect, Superintendent,’ said Leeming, loyally, ‘I think that the inspector deserves profound gratitude. He risked his life in the course of doing his duty. I wouldn’t have dared to climb up there.’
‘The risk was unnecessary.’
‘It didn’t seem so at the time,’ argued Colbeck.
‘Perhaps not.’
‘I had to find out how it was done before I could accuse James Barrett of the murder. When he realised that I’d found him out, he chose to resist arrest.’
‘Resist arrest?’ echoed Leeming with a hollow laugh. ‘He tried to knock you off the top of that train with a fire shovel. He tried to murder you. That’s rather more than resisting arrest, Inspector.’
‘It was, Victor. I can vouch for that.’
‘The main thing,’ said Tallis, waving the report in the air, ‘is that the murder was solved swiftly by my officers. The Great Western Railway is delighted with the speedy resolution — though shocked to learn that one of its own drivers was responsible for the crime.’ He put the report back on his desk. ‘The search that you instituted has also borne fruit. The wallet and watch stolen from Matthew Proudfoot were found on an embankment about a mile away from Twyford station. They were wrapped in a silk handkerchief taken from the victim. The watch, I am told, is still in working order.’