The Excursion Train

'It's not fair,' he protested. 'All that I expected to do was to ride to Charing to pick someone up. Instead of that, I'm drenched by rain, bored stiff by Constable Butterkiss, beaten black and blue by that vicious cart of his, then flung to the ground like a sack of potatoes.'

'You have my sympathy, Victor.'

'And on top of all that, we came back empty-handed.'

'That was unfortunate,' said Colbeck.

They were in his room at the Saracen's Head, free at last from the inquisitive crowd that had rushed out into the street to see what had caused the commotion. Colbeck's injured arm had now been bandaged and the doctor had then treated Leeming's wounds. Back in dry clothing again, the Sergeant was puzzled.

'Why are you taking it so calmly, sir?' he asked.

'How should I be taking it?'

'If someone had fired at me, I'd be livid.'

'Well, I was annoyed at the damage he did to my frock coat,' said Colbeck, seriously. 'I doubt if it can be repaired. And the blood will have ruined my shirt beyond reclaim. No,' he continued, 'I prefer to look at the consolations involved.'

'I didn't know that there were any.'

'Three, at least.'

'What are they?'

'First of all, I'm alive with only a scratch on me. Luckily, the shot was off target. The man is clearly not as adept with a pistol as he is with a piece of wire.'

'You think that it was the killer?'

'Who else, Victor? He's frightened because we are closing in on him. That's the second consolation. We've made more progress than we imagined. The man is right here in Ashford. He's given himself away.'

'What's the third consolation, sir?'

'He thinks that he killed me,' said Colbeck. 'That's why I fell to the ground and stayed there. Also, of course, I didn't want to give him the chance to aim at me again. Believing I was dead, he ran away. There was no point in trying to chase him because I had this searing pain in my arm. I'd never have been able to overpower him. Much better to give him the impression that his attempt on my life had been successful.'

'He's in for a nasty surprise.'

'Yes, but it does behove us to show additional caution in future.'

'I will,' said Leeming. 'I'll never ride on that blessed cart again!'

'I was talking about the killer. He's armed and ready to shoot.'

'You mentioned a pistol just now.'

'That's what it sounded like,' said Colbeck, 'though I couldn't be sure. It all happened in a split second. One of the first things we need to do is to find the bullet. That will tell us what firearm was used.'

'We'll have to wait until daylight to do that.'

'Yes, Victor. In the meantime, we need to talk to Butterkiss.'

'Keep him away, Inspector! He almost did for me.'

'He tried his best to control that runaway horse.'

'But he still managed to overturn the cart,' said Leeming, ruefully. 'And while I hit the ground and took the impact, Constable Butterkiss simply landed on top of me. He wasn't really hurt at all.'

'Nevertheless, I'd like you to fetch him.'

'Now, sir?'

'If you feel well enough to go. His local knowledge is crucial to us. Give him my compliments and ask if he can spare us some time.'

'I don't need to ask that. If we're not very careful, he'd spare us twenty-four hours a day. The man is so blooming eager.'

'Eagerness is a good quality in a policeman.'

'Not if you have to ride beside him on a cart!' Leeming went to the door. 'Will you come down to meet him, sir?'

'No,' said Colbeck, glancing round, 'this room is more private. And nobody will be able to take a shot at me in here. Be careful how you go.'

'Yes, Inspector.'

'And you might ask him to bring needle and thread.'

'Why?'

'He was a tailor, wasn't he? Perhaps he can repair my coat.'

When the visitor called, George Butterkiss was regaling his wife with the story of how he had fought to control the galloping horse in the high street. He broke off to answer the door and was delighted to hear the summons delivered by Victor Leeming.

'I'll get my coat at once, Sergeant,' he said.

'Talking of coats,' said the other, detaining him with a hand, 'the Inspector has a problem. That bullet grazed his arm and left a hole in his sleeve. He's very particular about his clothing.'

'Inspector Colbeck would be a gift to any tailor.'

'Can you help him?'

'I'll need to see the damage first. A simple tear can be easily mended but, if the material has been shot away, it may be a question of sewing a new sleeve on to the coat.'

Butterkiss ran swiftly up the stairs. When he reappeared soon afterwards, he was back in police uniform even though he only had to walk thirty yards or so to the Saracen's Head. His enthusiasm was quite undiminished as they strolled along the pavement together. The Sergeant found it lowering.

'I haven't told you the good news,' said Butterkiss.

'Is there such a thing?'

'Yes, Sergeant. When I took the horse back and explained what had happened, the owner examined the animal carefully. It had no injuries at all. Isn't that a relief?'

'I'd have had it put down for what it did to me.'

'You can't blame the horse for bolting like that.'

'Well, I'm in no mood to congratulate it, I can tell you.'

'How do you feel now?'

'Vengeful.'

'I thought that we had a lucky escape.'

'What's lucky about being thrown head first from a moving cart?'

Butterkiss laughed. 'You will have your little joke, Sergeant.'

They turned into the Saracen's Head and went up the stairs. When they were let into Colbeck's room, they were each offered a chair. The Inspector perched on the edge of the bed.

'Thank you for coming so promptly, Constable,' he said.

'Feel free to call on me at any hour of the day,' urged Butterkiss.

'We need your guidance.'

'It's yours for the asking, Inspector.'

'Then I'd like you to take another look at these names,' said Colbeck, handing him the petition. 'Are you ready, Victor?'

'Yes, sir,' said Leeming, taking his notebook dutifully from his pocket. 'I'll write down all the relevant details.'

'We drew a blank with the first batch of names. Can you take us slowly through the next dozen or so, please?'

'If I can read their handwriting,' said Butterkiss, poring over the document. 'There are one or two signatures that defy even me.'

'Do your best, Constable.'

'You can always count on me to do that.'

Taking a deep breath, he identified the first name and described the man in detail. As soon as he learnt the age of the person, Colbeck interrupted and told him to move on to the next one. Leeming's pencil was busy, writing down names then crossing them out again. Of the fifteen people that Butterkiss recognised, only seven were deemed to be worth closer inspection.

'Thank you,' said Colbeck. 'Now turn to the women, please.'

Butterkiss lifted an eyebrow. 'The women, sir?'

'As opposed to the men,' explained Leeming.

'But a woman couldn't possibly have committed those murders on the trains nor could one have fired that shot at you, Inspector.'

'You are mistaken about that,' said Colbeck. 'Earlier this year, the Sergeant and I arrested a woman in Deptford who had shot her husband with his army revolver. The bullet went straight through his body and wounded the young lady who was in bed with him at the time.'

'Dear me!' exclaimed Butterkiss.

'Never underestimate the power of the weaker sex, Constable.'

'No, sir.'

He addressed himself to the petition once more and picked out the female names that he recognised. Most were found to be very unlikely suspects but three names joined the Sergeant's list.

'Did you make a note of their details, Victor?' asked Colbeck.