The Railway Viaduct

'With your husband?'

'Yes, Miss Andrews.' Hannah sat down. 'I love him very much and I do not want to hurt him in any way. The simple fact is that Alexander – my husband – is somewhat older than me and is always preoccupied with business affairs.'

'The inspector thought that he had a connection with railways.'

'It's more than a connection. He's one of the directors of the London and North-West Railway. That's what seems so cruel. Gaston was murdered on a railway in which my husband is so closely involved.' She hunched her shoulders. 'I suppose that some might see that as an example of poetic justice.'

'How did you first meet M. Chabal?' asked Madeleine.

'It was at a reception in Paris. A major rail link was planned between Mantes and Caen. Since he already has some investments in French railways, my husband was interested in buying shares.'

'And you were invited to go with him?'

'All that I saw was an opportunity to visit Paris,' said Hannah. 'To be candid, I expected the reception itself to be very boring – they usually are. When you get a group of men talking business, you can feel very isolated. Fortunately,' she went on, a wan smile touching her lips, 'Gaston was there. We began talking. A few months later, there was a meeting in London for investors in the project. My husband had to be there, so I made sure that I was as well.'

'Did you meet M. Chabal again?'

'Yes. I suppose that it all sounds a trifle sordid to you. I'm a married woman. I had no right to let a friendship of that nature develop. But the simple fact was that he made me feel unbelievably happy. Gaston reminded me that I was a woman.'

'How did you keep in touch?'

'By letter.'

'So you have an address for him?'

'Yes, Miss Andrews – it's in Mantes. His home was in Paris but he took a lodging in Mantes when they began to build the railway. My letters went there.'

'Inspector Colbeck would like that address, Mrs Marklew.'

'Of course.'

'And any details you have of his life in Paris.' Hannah nodded sadly. 'It must have come as a terrible blow to you when you realised that he was the murder victim on that train.'

'It did. I cried for days.'

'And are you absolutely sure that it was Gaston Chabal?'

'There's no possible room for error, Miss Andrews.'

'How can you be so certain?'

'My husband was away from Liverpool on business,' said Hannah frankly. 'I was waiting at Lime Street station that day to meet the train. Gaston was coming to see me.'

CHAPTER FIVE

'France!' exclaimed Superintendent Tallis, reaching for a cigar to absorb the shock of what he had just been told. 'Heavens above! For centuries, they were our mortal enemies until we put paid to them at Waterloo. Why must you go to France?'

'Because that's the only place we'll find out the full truth,' said Robert Colbeck. 'The crime may have taken place on British soil but I believe that its roots lie across the Channel.'

'We have no jurisdiction there, Inspector.'

'I'm sure that the French police would cooperate with us. The murder victim was a Parisian, after all. They have a stake in this.'

'But they would insist on being in charge,' said Tallis, irritably. 'Before we know it, we'd have their officers crawling about over here.'

'I dispute that, sir.'

'I've had dealings with them before.'

'So have I,' said Colbeck, 'and I found members of the Police de Surete very helpful. We are kindred spirits.'

'If only that were the case! You seem to have forgotten that the man responsible for founding the Surete was a known villain who had served time in prison.'

'Vidocq saw the folly of his ways, Superintendent. It was to his credit that he chose to work on the right side of the law. And he achieved some remarkable results.'

'Yes,' said Tallis, lighting his cigar and puffing on it until the end glowed. 'But how did Vidocq get those remarkable results? There was a suspicion that many of the crimes he solved were actually committed by his henchmen. I'd not have allowed anybody under me to resort to that kind of skulduggery. Vidocq was a born criminal. Look what happened to him.'

'He became a private detective twenty years ago, sir.'

'And then?'

'The police eventually closed down his agency because he was using dubious methods.'

'I rest my case – as you barristers say.'

'But that does not invalidate all the good work that he did earlier,' affirmed Colbeck. 'Besides, the Surete is a much improved police force now. It's not full of men like Eugene Vidocq. How could it be? He was inimitable.'

'He was French,' said Tallis, darkly. 'That's enough for me.'

He pulled on his cigar then exhaled a cloud of thick smoke. It was one more problem with which Colbeck had to contend as he stood before the superintendent's desk. He was not merely hampered by the other man's prejudices against the French, he was forced to conceal both the source and extent of the information that he had received. In using Madeleine Andrews as his unauthorised assistant, Colbeck had risked dismissal but he felt that it had been worth it. What she had discovered from Hannah Marklew had been extraordinary. Once the older woman had started talking about her relationship with Gaston Chabal, she had not stopped. When she reported back to him, Madeleine was able to tell Colbeck a great deal about the character and career of the Frenchman.

'In the first instance, sir,' said Colbeck, 'we do not have to deal with the French police at all. It would be a preliminary inquiry.'

'To what end?'

'Establishing if there were any clear motives why someone would seek the life of the victim.'

'How could you hope to do that in a country full of foreigners?'

'I have a fair command of the language, Superintendent, so I would not be at a disadvantage. In any case, most of the people to whom I intend to speak are English.'

'Really?' said Tallis in surprise.

'You are obviously not familiar with French railways.'

'I regard that as a virtue, Inspector.'

'Their system is far less developed than ours,' said Colbeck, 'so it was natural that they looked to us for expertise. Many of the locomotives they use over there were designed by Thomas Crampton and three-quarters of the mileage of all French railways so far constructed was the work of Thomas Brassey and his partners.'

'What relevance does this have to the case in hand?'

'Gaston Chabal worked for Mr Brassey.'

'Then you do not have to go haring off to France,' said Tallis, flicking cigar ash into a metal tray. 'If this contractor is English, you can call on him at his office.'

'He is not in this country at the moment.'

'How do you know?'

'Because he always supervises major projects in person. This line will run for well over a hundred miles, sir, so it will take a long time to build. Until it's finished, Mr Brassey has moved to France.'

'What about his family?'

'They've gone with him, sir. His wife, Maria, I believe, speaks tolerable French and acts as his interpreter. It's a language that her husband cannot bring himself to learn.'

'Then he's a man after my own heart. Dreadful lingo!'

'Perhaps you can understand now why I need to go there,' said Colbeck. 'Mr Brassey will be wondering what's happened to one of his senior engineers and Chabal's family need to be informed of his death so that they can reclaim the body.'

Edward Tallis thrust the cigar between his teeth. He was loath to send Colbeck abroad on what he believed might be an expensive and unproductive visit. At the same time, he could appreciate the logic of the inspector's argument. Unless the crime was solved, the railway company would keep hounding him. Worse, in his view, was the intensive scrutiny of the press. Newspapers were very willing to trumpet any success the Detective Department achieved but they were equally ready to condemn any failures. Having christened Colbeck as the Railway Detective, they would have no qualms about finding a more derisive nickname for him.