The Railway Viaduct

'What interests me is the next stretch of line,' said Colbeck, draining his glass. 'The one that runs from Caen to Cherbourg.'

Brassey held up a palm. 'Give us a chance, Inspector,' he said, jocularly. 'We haven't finished this one yet.'

'And may never do so,' said Filton, gloomily.

'Of course we will, Aubrey.'

'I wonder, sir.'

'Will any French companies put in a tender for the other line?' asked Colbeck. 'Are any contractors here big enough to do so?'

'Yes,' replied Brassey. 'The French were slow starters when it came to railways but they are catching up quickly, and contractors have seen the opportunities that are there. When the time comes, I'm sure that we'll have a number of competitors.'

'What about labour? Are there enough navvies in France?'

'No, Inspector Colbeck, not really. Comparatively few railways have been built here so far. As a result, there's no pool of experienced men on which to draw. We found that out when we built the Paris to Rouen railway some years ago.'

'Yes, I believe that you imported 5,000 from England.'

'It was not nearly enough,' said Brassey. 'I had to cast the net much wider in order to double that number. They were mainly French but they also included Germans, Belgians, Italians, Dutchmen and Spaniards. Do you remember it, Aubrey?'

'Very well,' said Filton. 'You could hear eleven different languages in all. It was quite bewildering at times.'

'As for the line from Caen to Cherbourg, that remains in the future. We've not really had time to think about it.'

'Somebody else might have done so,' said Colbeck.

'I'm sure that other contractors are planning surveys already.'

'Only because they want to build the line.'

'It could be a very profitable venture.'

'Assuming that we do not have another revolution,' said Filton with a tentative laugh. 'You never know with these people.'

'Oh, I think that Louis Napoleon is here to stay.'

'For a time, Mr Brassey.'

'He's a man of great ambition, Aubrey.'

'That's the impression I've had of him,' said Colbeck. 'From all that I've read about Louis Napoleon, he seems to be a man of decisive action. He knows precisely what he wants and how best to achieve it. Well, you've met him, Mr Brassey,' he continued. 'Is that an unfair estimate of him?'

'Not at all. He's determined and single-minded.'

'Just like his namesake.'

'He patterns himself on Bonaparte.'

'That could worry some people. When I said a moment ago that somebody else might have thought about the extension to Cherbourg, I was not referring to your rival contractors. They simply want to build the railway,' said Colbeck. 'What about those who want to stop it from ever being built?'

'Why should anyone want to stop it, Inspector Colbeck?'

'We'll have to ask them when they're finally caught.'

Brendan Mulryne might have been working on the railway for a month rather than simply a day. He related so easily to the people around him that he gained an immediate popularity. Part of a crowd of navvies who descended on one of the inns in a nearby village, he proved to his new friends that he could drink hard, talk their language and tell hilarious anecdotes about some of the escapades in which he had been involved. Since there were others there who hailed from Dublin, he was also able to indulge in some maudlin reminiscences of the city. The night wore on.

To earn some easy money, he issued a challenge. He said that he would pay a franc to anyone who could make him double up with a single punch to his stomach. Those who failed would pay Mulryne the same amount. Liam Kilfoyle was the first to try. Slapping a franc down on the bar counter, he took off his coat and bunched his right hand. Everyone watched to cheer him on and to see how he fared. Mulryne grinned broadly and tightened his stomach muscles. When he delivered his punch, Kilfoyle felt as if he had just hit solid rock. His knuckles were sore for the rest of the night.

Several people tried to wipe the grin from Mulryne's face but none could even make him gasp for breath. In no time at all, he had earned the equivalent of a week's wage and he showed his benevolence by treating everyone to a drink. By the time they rolled out of the inn, Mulryne was more popular than ever. He led the others in a discordant rendition of some Irish ballads. When they neared the camp, the men dispersed to their respective dwellings. Mulryne was left alone with Kilfoyle and Pierce Shannon.

'When you won all that money,' said Shannon, 'why did you throw it all away on a round of drinks?'

Mulryne shrugged. 'I was among friends.'

'I'd have held on to it myself.'

'Then you don't have my outlook on life, Pierce.'

'And what's that?'

'Easy come, easy go.'

'Does it work the same for women?' asked Kilfoyle.

'Yes,' said Mulryne, chortling happily. 'Take 'em and leave 'em, that's what I believe, Liam. Love a woman hard but always remember the queue of other lucky ladies that are waiting for you with their tongues hanging out.'

'What about French women?'

'What about them?'

'Do you like them?'

'I like anything pretty that wears a skirt.'

'They can't compare with an Irish colleen.'

'Women are women to me.'

They walked on until they came to the two parallel tracks that had already been laid. Empty wagons stood ready to be filled on the following day. Kilfoyle saw a chance to win a wager.

'How strong are you, Brendan?' he said.

'Why – do you want to take another swing at me?'

'No, I was wondering if you could lift that.' He pointed to one of the wagons. 'Only a few inches off the rails. Could you?'

'Depends on what you're offering,' said Mulryne.

'A day's wages.'

'They'll be mine to keep, if I win. There'll be no buying you a free drink this time, Liam.'

'If you can shift that wagon, you'll have earned the money.'

'I'll match the bet,' said Shannon, 'if you take it on.'

Mulryne removed his coat. 'I never refuse a challenge.'

It was the last wagon in the line. He walked around it to size it up then uncoupled it from its neighbour. Taking a firm grip of it at the other end, he gritted his teeth and pretended to put all his energy into a lift. The wagon did not budge. Kilfoyle rubbed his hands with glee.

'We've got him this time, Pierce,' he said.

'I just need a moment to get my strength up.' Mulryne took a few deep breaths then tried again in vain. 'This bleeding thing is heavier than I thought. What's inside it – a ton of lead?'

'Do you give up, Brendan?'

'Not me – I'll have one last go.'

'You owe each of us a day's wages.'

'I'll make it two days, if you like,' said Mulryne.

'Done! What about you, Pierce?'

Shannon was more wary. 'My bet stands at one day.'

'Then get ready to hand it over,' said Mulryne, spreading arms further apart as he gripped the wagon once more. 'Here we go.'

Bracing himself with his legs, he heaved with all his might and lifted the end of the wagon at least six inches from the rail. Then he dropped it down again with a resounding clang.

Kilfoyle was amazed. 'You did it!'

'I usually only use one hand,' boasted Mulryne.

'You could have lifted it off the rails altogether.'

'Easily.'

'Here's my money,' said Shannon, paying up immediately. 'I'll have more sense than to bet against you next time.'

'Don't tell the others, Pierce.' Mulryne slapped the wagon. 'I think that this little trick might bring in even more profit. Let's have what you owe me, Liam.'

'Right,' said Kilfoyle, handing over the coins.

'And don't be stupid enough to challenge me again.'

'I won't, Brendan.'

'To tell you the truth,' admitted Mulryne, 'I never thought I could do it. But the chance of winning the bet put new strength into my arms. I'm like an old whore,' he added with a loud guffaw. 'I'll do absolutely anything for money.'