‘Is there anything interesting in the paper today?’ she asked, glancing across at his coat.
‘Not really, Maddy,’ he answered. ‘I don’t know why I buy it sometimes. There’s another report about the Crimean War and that looks as if it might drag on for years. Oh, yes,’ he added, casually, ‘there was a brief mention of someone called the Railway Detective.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she scolded, hurrying across the room to pull the newspaper out of his coat pocket. ‘What does it say?’
‘Very little – it’s barely a mention.’
She opened the paper. ‘Where is it?’
‘Turn over the page. It’s at the bottom.’
Madeleine turned to the next page and ran her eye down the left-hand column. The item at the bottom was short but explicit. It informed its readers that Inspector Robert Colbeck had been called to the Railway Hotel in Cardiff to investigate the murder of a young man from London who had been on his way to deliver a silver coffee pot in the shape of a locomotive. It had been stolen. The victim’s name was not given but Madeleine nevertheless felt a surge of pity for him. She was also worried that the crimes might keep Colbeck away from London for some time. When her father had read the item, however, he had been less concerned about the fate of the victim. What interested him was the object that had been stolen.
‘A silver locomotive!’ he said with a whistle.
‘It’s supposed to be used as a coffee pot, Father.’
‘That would only tarnish the inside.’
‘It must have cost an absolute fortune,’ she observed.
‘I’m sure it did, Maddy – what a wonderful thing to own! I couldn’t bear to have a dog in the house but a silver locomotive is another matter altogether.’ He gave a cackle of delight. ‘Now that’s something that would stay at the foot of my bed at night – if not on the pillow beside me!’
Expecting to find her still distraught, Colbeck was pleased to see that Effie Kellow was a little more composed on the following morning. She was clearly making an effort to be brave in the face of tragedy. Though small and almost frail, she seemed to have an instinct for survival. She and her brother, he reminded himself, had been orphaned at a young age yet had managed to find a life for themselves that had some promise on the horizon. Robbed of her brother and deprived of her dreams of escape from service, Effie somehow gave the impression that she would not surrender to the vicissitudes of Fate. There was a muted determination about her.
She and Colbeck had breakfast together. While she was patently unaccustomed to eating in a hotel, she had regained her appetite and munched her food gratefully. Leeming joined them at their table, relieved to see that Effie was managing to control her anguish.
‘Has the inspector explained what’s happening today?’ he asked after placing his order with the waiter.
‘No,’ said Effie. ‘I want to take Hugh’s body back with me.’
‘That’s what I’ve arranged,’ Colbeck told her. ‘Superintendent Stockdale will have the coffin put on the eight o’clock train and there’ll be a ticket bought for you. Constable Roberts will then travel with you to London.’
She was upset. ‘But I want to be alone with Hugh.’
‘I think you need company, Miss Kellow, and the constable will have the necessary documents. He’ll supervise the transfer of the coffin from Paddington to Wood Street where you and Mr Voke can discuss details of the funeral.’
‘Very well,’ she said, meekly accepting the decision.
‘If you wish, Constable Roberts will make sure that you get back safely to your place of work.’
‘No, Inspector – he doesn’t need to do that. It’s not where I want to go, you see. Not at first, that is. I prefer to go to Mrs Jennings’ house.’
‘Of course,’ said Leeming. ‘Anything belonging to your brother is your property now. It’s a sort of inheritance.’
‘All I want are the books that Hugh showed me,’ she said. ‘They fired him to be a silversmith. I’d like to keep them because they meant so much to him.’ She looked up deferentially at Colbeck. ‘May I ask you a favour, Inspector?’
‘Of course, Miss Kellow?’
‘Could you write me a letter, please? If I tell the landlady that I’ve come for Hugh’s books, she might not believe that I’m his sister. Hugh said that she was very wary of strangers.’
‘That’s true,’ Leeming put in. ‘I had a job persuading her who I was. Mrs Jennings would be suspicious of her own shadow.’
‘I’ll happily jot a few lines down on paper for you,’ said Colbeck. ‘You won’t lose anything of your brother’s, Miss Kellow. I daresay there’ll be property belonging to him at Mr Voke’s shop as well. That will be rightfully yours.’
‘It’s those books that I really want,’ she said, turning to Leeming. ‘Can’t you take me back to London, Sergeant?’ she asked, plaintively. ‘You so were kind to me on the way here. I don’t know this other policeman.’
‘I’m afraid that I have to stay here in Cardiff,’ said Leeming, ‘but I’m sure that Constable Roberts will look after you – and he won’t be wearing his uniform. He’ll look like just another passenger.’
‘Oh, I see.’
That appeared to allay her fears somewhat and she continued to eat her food. When the meal was over, Colbeck probed for information.
‘Did you brother have any enemies, Miss Kellow?’ he asked.
‘None that I know of,’ she returned. ‘Hugh was a very friendly person. He could get along with anybody.’
‘What about Stephen Voke?’
‘They worked together quite well for a time then things changed. Hugh thought that Mr Voke’s son was jealous of him. He was always bickering with his father,’ she remembered. ‘Then one day, he was gone without any explanation. Hugh said that old Mr Voke would never talk about him after that.’
‘Did your brother ever mention Stephen having a close female friend?’
‘No, Inspector. He told me very little about him. We only met now and again and we had more important things to talk about than Mr Voke’s son.’
‘What about your own brother?’ enquired Colbeck. ‘He seems to have been a handsome young man. Was there anyone special in his life – apart from his sister, that is?’
‘Yes,’ she replied, ‘I think there was. Hugh mentioned her in one of his letters,’ she said, opening her reticule to look inside. ‘He didn’t write very often and only when he had something important to say. I carry all his letters around with me.’ She took one out and passed it to Colbeck. ‘This came over a month ago, Inspector.’
Colbeck read it through. It contained some gossip about his work and about his landlady then it ended on a hopeful note. Hugh Kellow confided that he had met someone called Bridget and that they had become good friends. Colbeck handed the letter to Leeming so that he could read it as well.
‘I’ve no idea who Bridget is,’ admitted Effie, ‘and I’m worried for her. She ought to be told what’s happened to Hugh. I’d hate her to find out the way that I did – by reading the newspaper.’
‘But she may already have done just that,’ Colbeck pointed out. ‘If they were good friends, the chances are that your brother told Bridget he was going to Cardiff with that coffee pot.’
‘Mr Voke forbade him to tell anyone about that, Inspector. Hugh may have told me but he wouldn’t have said a word to anyone else. Well,’ she added, searching for another letter, ‘I can prove it. I showed this to Sergeant Leeming and the superintendent.’