‘We’re still working on assumptions,’ Colbeck reminded them. ‘It would be mistake to build too much on them. Explain one thing to us, Dr Rees, if you can,’ he went on. ‘Even someone who enjoyed pain to a certain point would surely have cried out when he was struck on the head with a blunt instrument that broke open the scalp.
‘You’re quite right, Inspector.’
‘Then why did nobody hear the noise?’
‘You should have been there when I examined the back of the victim’s neck,’ said Rees, loftily. ‘There were unmistakable marks of something having been tied very tightly against it. My considered opinion is that, before he was killed, the victim was bound and gagged. He could neither move nor speak. The gag was only removed when the acid was about to be poured down his throat.’
‘That would explain the cry for help,’ said Colbeck. ‘One of the guests heard it as she walked past and it was quickly stifled.’ He gritted his teeth. ‘Whoever committed the murder did not simply wish to kill Hugh Kellow. They were determined to make him suffer.’
CHAPTER SIX
Since he perceived the definite link between the murder in Cardiff and the burglary in Wood Street, Edward Tallis decided to accompany Leeming to the silversmith’s shop. They found Leonard Voke in a state of utter despair. Having closed his shop for the day, the old man was wandering around the premises in a daze. The visitors noticed that he had forgotten to shave that morning. Voke took them into the back room and flopped into a chair, his head in his hands.
‘I’m ruined,’ he kept saying. ‘I’m absolutely ruined.’
‘We’re very sorry that this has happened, Mr Voke,’ said Leeming with genuine pity, ‘but I did warn you that the keys had been stolen.’
‘I have three locks on some doors.’
‘They were not enough, sir.’
‘What exactly was taken?’ asked Tallis.
‘Everything,’ groaned the old man. ‘Everything I hold most dear. The safe contained my most valuable stock as well as commissioned items not yet finished. Clients will demand their deposits back when I tell them that I won’t be able to deliver the items they requested.’
‘Can’t you start work on them again?’
Voke looked forlornly up at him. ‘I could never do that on my own. It would take me years to replace everything. If I still had Hugh beside me, then there’s a chance I could rebuild. He worked quickly as well as meticulously. Without him, Superintendent,’ he said, ‘I’m lost. It’s like having a right hand cut off. Besides,’ he added, wincing as if a nail had just been driven into his body, ‘I kept all my tools in that safe. The burglar stole them as well. That really hurt me.’
‘This was no random crime, sir,’ said Leeming. ‘The only person who would steal your tools is either someone who knew how much they meant to you or someone who might have planned on using them himself. That leads us to one particular person.’
‘Don’t mention his name under my roof!’ snarled Voke, wagging a finger. ‘I told you, Sergeant, if you want to speak to that detestable young man, you must go to Hatton Garden.’
‘That’s what I did, sir, but the bird has flown.’
Voke winced again. ‘He’s run away?’
‘Yes,’ said Tallis, taking over, ‘and we have reason to believe that he was not alone. Was your son – this young man we’re talking about, that is – married?’
‘No, Superintendent, he was not. He claimed that I never paid him enough to support a wife.’
‘Did he have anyone in mind?’
‘Not that I know of,’ said Voke, sourly. ‘He never brought anyone home but I knew that he frequented places where young women could be found in abundance. That disgusted me more than I can say. I thank God that my wife died without knowing about his habits.’
‘We need to contact him as soon as possible,’ said Tallis. ‘Can you give us any advice on how to do that? Did he have male friends with whom we could talk?’ Voke shook his head. ‘Well, can you give us the name of the places where he went drinking?’
‘I wish I could, Superintendent. I want him caught as much as you do. But the truth of it is,’ he went on, ‘we lived our lives in different ways. What I had to offer here was not enough for him. He sought excitement elsewhere.’ The lines in his brow deepened. ‘And you say that he left Hatton Garden?’
‘I spoke to Mr Stern himself,’ said Leeming.
‘I’ll be too embarrassed to do that myself. Sol was a good friend until this happened. He’s a hard task master and I thought he might do a certain person some good. How can I look Sol Stern in the face now this has happened? I told you,’ he said, mournfully, ‘I’m ruined.’
The two detectives did their best to console him but he was beyond help. After some futile attempts to get useful information out of him, Tallis decided that it was time to leave.
‘We’re wasting our time here, Sergeant,’ he said as they left the building. ‘We’ll have to find Stephen Voke without his father’s help.’
‘Somebody must know where he is,’ observed Leeming.
‘We’re not just looking for him, I fancy. My instinct tells me that there’s a woman involved here as well. Did you get a description of Stephen Voke from his employer?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then it needs to be given to the newspapers,’ said Tallis with rancour. ‘It’s high time the press actually did us some good for a change instead of just sneering at our efforts.’
The locomotive belonged to the Firefly class. It emerged from the tunnel with clouds of thick, dark, acrid smoke billowing in its wake. Legs braced, the driver stood on the footplate and stared at the line ahead. His fireman was reaching into the tender for more coal to feed into the firebox. A railway policeman in top hat and frock coat stood near the opening of the tunnel, right arm outstretched to signal the ‘all clear.’ His dog waited obediently beside him. Four figures were resting against a wall nearby, taking no interest in the clanking monster that was powering its way past them on the next stage of its journey on the Great Western Railway.
It was Madeleine Andrews’ favourite drawing, lithographed in colour to give it more character and definition. Her only regret was that she was not the artist. It was the work of John Cooke Bourne, a London lithographer, who had taken it upon himself to produce a series of illustrations for his History and Description of the Great Western Railway. Some early copies had been available in 1843 but Madeleine had the main edition published three years later. It was a gift from Robert Colbeck, a spur to her own artistic ambitions and proof that she was not the only person in thrall to the railway system. Whenever she needed encouragement in her own work at the easel, she invariably turned to the volume.
Caleb Andrews always reproached his daughter for spending so much time with her head in a book about a railway company that was a fierce rival of his own. He urged her to look at Bourne’s Drawings of the London & Birmingham Railway because that company had been incorporated into the one for whom Andrews worked as a driver. Madeleine knew that his reprimands were half-hearted because she had often caught him studying the volume about Brunel’s railway. Bourne’s work was a remarkable record of its early development and she admired the accuracy of its detail every time. When she had finished scrutinising the lithograph, she turned to something that she always read before closing the book. It was the message that Colbeck had inscribed for her on the title page. His firm hand had expressed the hope that the book might serve to inspire her. Madeleine smiled. The very fact that he had bought it for her did that.