‘Does that mean that this man’s family will be offered reparation?’ asked Colbeck, comforting the girl and offering her a handkerchief. ‘They’re certainly in need of it.’
‘The matter will be considered,’ said Sir Marcus, huffily.
‘But you are holding a large amount of money in your hands.’
‘This is the ransom for my daughter and her maid.’
‘Besides,’ said Leeming, ‘it wasn’t Sir Marcus who shot him. It was Mr Tunnadine who had the gun. He’s the one who should cough up.’
‘I can hardly reach for my wallet when I’m handcuffed like this,’ said Tunnadine, nastily, ‘and, in any case, I refuse to pay anything. I shot a man engaged in a criminal act. Any barrister will be able to get me off scot-free.’
‘Don’t be too sure of that, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘Before I became a detective, I practised at the bar myself. If I was involved in the prosecution, I guarantee that you’d end up with a custodial sentence.’
‘Now, now,’ said Sir Marcus with a conciliatory smile, ‘there’s no need for any of this to reach that stage. I appeal to your discretion, Superintendent. Have him released. In my view, he has no case to answer.’
‘The law is the law, Sir Marcus,’ said Tallis, solemnly.
‘See it for what it was, man. A random shot happens to hit a man who, by the look of him, is nothing but a labourer. His life is worthless compared to that of a leading politician like Mr Tunnadine? It’s a question of degree.’
‘With respect, Sir Marcus,’ said Colbeck, one arm around the weeping girl, ‘I find that argument both specious and insulting. This man is a murder victim and therefore deserving of our compassion. In my opinion, his death has equal value to that of a ranting politician with an ill temper and a vicious tongue.’
‘Take care, Inspector,’ warned Tallis, starting to become fearful of the consequences of upsetting Sir Marcus. ‘This discussion is becoming too heated.’
‘Then release Mr Tunnadine,’ suggested Sir Marcus, ‘and we can talk this over sensibly.’
‘He’ll have to give us his word that he won’t try to escape.’
‘He will do so.’
Sir Marcus nodded at Tunnadine who glowered hard at the detectives.
‘You have my word of honour,’ he grunted.
Tallis gave a signal and Leeming unlocked the handcuffs and stowed them under his coat. The prisoner rubbed his wrists. With great reluctance, Tunnadine opened his wallet, took out some banknotes and gave them to Colbeck before being led away by Leeming in the direction of the landau. Tolley went with them. Sir Marcus glanced at the girl, choking back her tears as she talked to Colbeck, who made sure that she could no longer see the lifeless body of her father. It was a touching scene. Sympathy aroused, Sir Marcus opened the bag and took out a few banknotes. He thrust them at Colbeck then strode off towards the carriage.
‘What will you do, Inspector?’ asked Tallis.
‘I’ll take her back home with her father,’ replied Colbeck. ‘She told me that they came here by horse and cart. I’ll use the cart to transport him. If you can spare the sergeant, I’ll be glad of his help.’
‘I’ll send him back to you.’
‘We leave it to you to take Mr Tunnadine before a magistrate.’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Tallis, irritably, ‘I don’t need advice about police procedure. Do what you have to do then meet me back at Burnhope Manor.’
‘I will, sir.’
About to leave, the superintendent looked at the girl, crying piteously into Colbeck’s handkerchief. Moved by her plight, he took out his wallet and extracted some banknotes before giving them to the inspector. He then trudged off towards the carriage. While he was waiting, Colbeck tried to get more information from the girl.
‘What’s your name?’ he asked.
‘Mary, sir — I didn’t know we was doing wrong.’
‘You were cruelly misled, Mary. A man paid your father money, didn’t he?’
‘That’s right, sir.’
‘What did he ask you to do?’
‘I was to put on this dress,’ she said, looking down at it in dismay. ‘I’ve never seen anything as beautiful. It’s not the sort of thing the likes of me wears, sir. I was so pleased when he gave it to me. But now …’ She glanced down at her father. ‘I wish we’d never met that man.’
‘Can you describe him?’
‘He was tall like you and very smart. Oh, and he had a nice voice.’
‘What age would he be?’
‘He was about the same as you, sir.’
‘Did he give you a name?’
‘No, sir, he just gave us money and told us what to do.’
‘What was he riding?’
‘It was a fine horse, sir — a roan, sixteen hands. He was a good horseman.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘I’ve never seen anyone ride that well, sir. My father said he looked as if he’d been born in the saddle.’
The same could not be said of Victor Leeming. Summoned by Colbeck, he took no chances with his mettlesome horse. In the interests of safety, he led her by the reins. After letting himself and the mare into the field, he walked across to them.
‘This is Mary,’ introduced Colbeck. ‘And this,’ he said to her, ‘is Sergeant Leeming. He’ll look after you for a minute.’
‘Where are you going, sir?’ asked Leeming.
‘You’ll soon see.’
Taking the reins from Leeming, he put his foot in the stirrup and hauled himself up into the saddle. One dig of the heels sent the bay mare cantering up the hill. Leeming was amazed at the inspector’s control of the animal.
‘Why didn’t she behave like that for me?’ he complained.
Emma had been so delighted to see her younger brother that she’d clung to him for minutes. It was some time since George Vaughan had been in Oxford and she’d only seen him once during the interim when they met in London at the home of a mutual friend. Pleased with the warmth of his welcome, he did not expect the same response from his father. In the event, it was hours before he even met him. Dominic Vaughan was at a meeting in Corpus Christi College and didn’t return until the afternoon. When he came back to the Master’s Lodging and saw his son there, he was momentarily aghast.
‘What are you doing here, George?’ he asked.
‘Hello, Father — it’s good to see you again.’
‘I thought you’d wiped the dust of Oxford from your feet forever.’
‘It seems that I haven’t done so, after all.’
‘Then welcome back,’ said Vaughan, shaking his hand. ‘It’s a pleasure to see you again.’ He eyed his son’s flamboyant apparel, ‘though I wish that you’d been wearing something more in keeping with college attire.’
His son grinned. ‘Would you have me in subfusc, then?’
‘There’d be no need to go to that extreme.’
‘Isn’t it wonderful to see him again?’ asked Emma. ‘It seems that Sergeant Leeming called on George and told him what had happened. George was keen to hear news of Imogen so he came here this morning.’
‘I’m just sorry that Mother isn’t here as well,’ said her brother. ‘I’m told that she’s gone off to Burnhope Manor.’
‘That’s right.’ Vaughan inspected him from top to toe. ‘You look different, George. I can’t put a finger on it but … you’ve changed somehow.’
‘I don’t think so, Father,’ said Emma. ‘He looks the same as ever to me.’
‘That’s odd,’ teased George Vaughan. ‘You look ten years older than when I last saw you — and you’re twice as fat.’
‘It’s not true!’ she protested.
‘Of course, it isn’t,’ said her father, ‘but George has to have his little joke. Could you leave us alone for a while, please, Emma?’
‘But I want to stay with George.’
‘I won’t keep him long, I promise. I just wanted a private word.’
Emma pouted then moved towards the door. She blew her brother a kiss. He pulled a face at her and she laughed as she let herself out. When he turned to his father, he saw a grave expression on his countenance.