Peril on the Royal Train (27 page)

Nevertheless, Leeming was confident that he’d be able to identify the man if they came face-to-face because he’d already got close to the man. It had been a year earlier and Scanlan had made a rare mistake. The police closed in on him and, after wrestling him to the ground, Leeming had handcuffed him. He remembered the feeling of satisfaction as the burglar was taken into custody. Conviction would surely follow and a master criminal would be imprisoned for many years. That, at least, had been Leeming’s belief. In fact, imprisonment failed to last one night. Although he’d been searched beforehand, Scanlan had somehow picked the lock of his cell and the locks on the three doors between him and freedom. He’d been at liberty ever since, burgling houses at will and indulging in some profitable blackmail as well.

It was Colbeck who suggested a new line of inquiry. As a result, Leeming set off for a rehearsal room near Drury Lane. It was there that he encountered a man he’d met before and he quailed slightly in front of him.

‘What is the meaning of this interruption, pray?’ asked Nigel Buckmaster.

‘I’d like a few minutes of your time, sir.’

‘We are rehearsing
Othello
. It requires all my concentration.’

‘You may be able to help us solve a crime,’ said Leeming.

‘Barging in here like this is a crime, in my opinion. Please depart, Sergeant.’

‘Inspector Colbeck sends his regards, sir.’

Buckmaster’s manner softened at once. He’d met the detectives in Cardiff when on tour there with his troupe. Colbeck had turned out to be unusually knowledgeable about the theatre and highly appreciative of the actor’s skills. The sergeant, however, found those skills intimidating. Buckmaster was a tall, lean, lithe man in his thirties with flowing dark hair and an arresting handsomeness. His voice had a natural authority and his eyes were whirlpools of darkness. Looming over his visitor, he came to a decision and clapped his hands peremptorily. The motley group of actors turned towards him.

‘I will return shortly,’ announced Buckmaster as if declaiming a speech from the battlements. ‘Do not waste time in idle discourse. Learn your lines and rehearse your moves.’ With an arm around Leeming’s shoulders, he swept him off to the adjoining room. ‘Now, then,’ he said, eyes flashing, ‘how may I help you?’

Leeming blurted out his request. ‘Inspector Colbeck wishes to know if you could recommend a good elocution teacher.’

‘But the fellow has no need of one,’ said the actor in surprise. ‘He speaks beautifully. Were he not wedded to the police force, I’d employ him instantly. You, on the other hand, have a voice in sore need of help. Its timbre is unpleasing on the ear and you have the distressing habit of talking out of the side of your mouth.’

‘This is nothing to do with the inspector or me, sir.’

‘Then why do you come bothering me?’

‘Allow me to explain.’

Without mentioning Scanlan by name, Leeming told him about a burglar who’d come from Willenhall to settle in London. What made him stand out among Cockney criminals was his Black Country accent. Indeed, it was his distinctive vowels that led to the arrest in which Leeming was involved. Yet they’d not given him away again and Colbeck suspected that Scanlan had taken the trouble to get rid of them. Money would have been no object. He could pay well for a new voice.

‘Who is the finest speech tutor in London?’ asked Leeming, respectfully.

Buckmaster drew himself up. ‘He stands before you,’ he said, striking a pose. ‘I’ve rescued every voice in that rehearsal room. They come to me as gibbering idiots and I turn them into something resembling – and sounding like – professional actors. Needless to say, I only do this for members of my own company. I’d never lower myself to give elocution lessons to members of the public.’

‘Do you know anyone who
does
?’

‘I know dozens of people – failed actors, every one of them.’

‘And who is the best?’

‘That’s a matter of opinion,’ said Buckmaster, wrinkling his nose in disdain. ‘Most of them are not fit to carry spears on stage, let alone take a leading role. They’d mangle every iambic pentameter in Shakespeare. That’s why the theatre has discarded them as rank failures. So they set themselves up as self-appointed experts on voice instead.’

Leeming was still struggling to work out what iambic pentameters were. As the actor went on to praise his own work at the expense of those driven out of the profession, the sergeant barely heard a word. He suddenly realised why he was there.

‘There must be someone you can recommend, sir,’ he said.

‘Only two of them would pass my rigorous standards.’

‘What are their names?’

‘Do you have a notebook?’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Leeming, producing it from his pocket with a pencil.

Buckmaster snatched both from him. ‘I can give you their names and their addresses,’ he said, scribbling on an empty page. ‘Don’t mention me, whatever you do. It will only excite envy. While I’ve soared, they both fell to earth.’

Taking notebook and pencil back from him, Leeming looked at the open page.

‘Do they
both
live in taverns?’

‘No – but that’s where you’ll find them. Rejection turns a man to drink.’

‘Thank you for your help, Mr Buckmaster.’

‘I must return to my rehearsal,’ said the other with a grand gesture. ‘But do give my regards to Inspector Colbeck. He’s an astute theatregoer. He was once kind enough to describe my performance of Othello as masterly. Audiences will be able to feast on it once again at the Theatre Royal. I daresay that you saw the playbills on display as you came past.’

‘Yes, sir, a blind man couldn’t miss them.’

‘And don’t despair about your own voice. It’s not beyond a cure. If I had you in my company,’ said Buckmaster, taking him by the shoulders, ‘I could improve it in every way. Instead of talking like a costermonger with a mouth ulcer, you could pass as an aristocrat in six weeks.’

‘Thank you,’ said Leeming, defiantly, ‘but I like my voice the way it is.’

When he got back from market, the first thing that Jamie Farr did was to run to her cottage. As he came over the hill, he saw Bella in the garden, taking the washing down from the line. She looked bored and fatigued. As soon as she noticed him, however, her face was split by a grin and her whole body came alive. After taking the washing indoors, she came out again and raced up the hill to meet him, flinging herself breathlessly into his arms.

‘I was hopin’ to see ye,’ he said.

‘How was the market?’

‘It was a’right.’

‘Did ye get a guid price for the lambs?’

‘Let’s no’ talk about tha’. Come wi’ me, Bella.’

‘Why?’ she asked. ‘Where are we goin’?’

‘I’ve somethin’ to show ye.’

She was excited. ‘Is it for
me
, Jamie?’

‘It’s for both of us.’

Taking her by the hand, he led her upwards until they crested the hill. They walked along the ridge then stopped to take in the view. It was still afternoon but dark clouds were robbing the sky of some of its light. Farr had a canvas bag slung from his shoulder. Reaching into it, he took out the telescope and held it out to her. He expected a cry of delight but she looked disappointed. It was not the gift for which she’d hoped.

‘What is it?’ she asked.

‘Can ye no’ see, Bella? It’s a telescope.’

‘I’ve heerd tell of them but never seen one before.’

‘Hold it,’ he invited, thrusting it at her. ‘Take it, feel it.’

She did as he bade her. ‘It’s heavy, Jamie.’

‘Put your eye to it.’ He laughed when she did so. ‘Tha’s the wrong end to look into. Turn it round like this.’

He twisted it round for her then urged her to peer into it. When she did so, she let out a gasp of wonder. She let the telescope move slowly across the landscape.

‘It’s magic,’ she said, turning to him with a giggle. ‘Everything seems close enough to touch.’

‘I bought it for us, Bella. Are ye pleased?’

‘I love it. I can see for miles. I could even see the people in tha’ trap.’

Farr stiffened. ‘What people?’ He looked downwards. ‘I don’t see them.’

‘Try lookin’ through this,’ she advised, handing him the telescope.

He put it to his eye and adjusted it. ‘Thank ye.’

It didn’t take him long to pick out the figures moving slowly in the distance. The trap was travelling parallel with the railway line. Well off the beaten track, it seemed an odd place for visitors to be.

‘Can ye see them now?’ said Bella.

‘Aye,’ he replied, with growing interest, ‘I can.’

‘How did Mr Renwick react to the news?’

‘I think it’s fair to say that he was staggered by it, sir.’

‘Did it never cross his mind that
that
was what the burglar was after?’

‘No,’ said Colbeck. ‘He assumed that the man came in search of valuables. Why should anyone break into a house to look at a timetable for the royal train?’

‘We know the answer to that now,’ said Tallis, grimly.

‘Until I explained what had happened in Scotland, Mr Renwick refused to accept the truth. He thought it too ludicrous for words at first.’

‘I’m glad that he’s taking it seriously now.’

‘Oh, he is,’ said Colbeck. ‘There’s no question about that. When I finally left him, he was still chiding himself for not seeing a connection between the burglary and the royal family’s visit to Balmoral. The one consolation for him, of course, is that the suspected attack is due to take place not on the LNWR but on the Caledonian.’

‘What was Renwick’s advice?’

‘He wanted to cancel the train altogether.’

‘That’s the sensible thing to do.’

‘But it won’t be the most productive, sir.’

On his eventual return to Scotland Yard, Colbeck had delivered his report to Tallis in the latter’s office. Having been earlier deprived of what he saw as his right to visit Buckingham Palace, Tallis was in a peevish mood. He kept interrupting Colbeck with additional questions, harrying him relentlessly and trying to catch him out so that he could administer a reproach. To his chagrin, he was never given an opportunity to do so. Coping with every demand made on him, Colbeck answered clearly, calmly and concisely. It served to increase the superintendent’s irritability.

‘And what’s taken you so long?’ asked Tallis, glancing up at the clock on the wall. ‘I expected you back hours ago.’

‘Mr Renwick took me to his office,’ replied Colbeck, ‘and he later invited me to join him for luncheon.’

‘Luncheon! You shouldn’t have wasted your time over a leisurely meal. I needed you back here. There’s a crime to be investigated.’

‘Talking to Mr Renwick was an important part of that investigation, sir. I learnt an immense amount from him. Until we went to his office, I hadn’t realised just how much planning went into a royal train journey. The detail is remarkable,’ said Colbeck. ‘Using information about who will be travelling in the royal party, Mr Renwick submits a plan to Buckingham Palace for approval. In this case, the plan was ratified without any correction. A copy of it was kept in Mr Renwick’s safe.’

‘And it was inspected by the burglar.’

‘It would have told him everything he needed to know, including the speed of the train. Did you know that Her Majesty refuses to travel at any speed in excess of 40 miles per hour? That, by the way, is reduced to 30 miles per hour after dark.’

‘But that would help the conspirators,’ said Tallis, fingering his moustache. ‘If the train hared along at full speed, it would be more difficult for them to time their explosion to the right second.’

‘They’ll strike where a gradient slows the train down.’

Colbeck went on to explain what else he’d discovered during his visit to the general manager’s office. Renwick had shown him the plan for the royal train’s journey to Balmoral the previous spring. Immediately behind the engine was a brake van with another at the back of the train. Carriages at either end of the train were set aside for royal footmen and attendants. The royal saloon was at the centre of the train with carriages either side reserved for members of the royal family and foreign dignitaries. Queen Victoria had travelled with a large and illustrious party to what she described as the ‘dear Paradise’ of Balmoral.

‘On the way north,’ added Colbeck, ‘Her Majesty broke the journey at Perth station. When she alighted to retire to her accommodation, there was a huge crowd on the platform as well as a band from a Highland regiment.’

‘That was
last
year,’ said Tallis, acidly. ‘If these villains get their way, the royal train will never even reach Perth. In the interests of safety, Her Majesty would be far better off sailing to Scotland.’

‘The railway is much quicker and more comfortable, sir. Bad weather can turn even a short voyage into a harrowing experience. The royal yacht cannot compete with a train or Her Majesty would still be sailing in it by choice.’

‘The question is academic until we know what decision has been taken at Buckingham Palace. The commissioner should have returned by now. I’ve been expecting a summons any minute.’

‘In that case,’ said Colbeck, seeing a chance to escape and rising from his chair, ‘I’ll leave you alone.’

‘Stay where you are, man. There’s something I must remind you about.’

Colbeck resumed his seat. ‘What’s that, sir?’

‘I have taken this investigation into my own hands. You do
nothing
unless it’s approved by me in advance.’

‘That does rather limit my effectiveness, sir.’

‘That’s deliberate. You need to be restricted to specific tasks instead of disappearing on impulse to chase something that usually turns out not to be there.’

‘I dispute that,’ said Colbeck, firmly.

‘Dispute what you wish. It’s a waste of breath. I’ll overrule you at every turn.’

‘You’re supposed to handcuff
prisoners
, sir, not your own detectives.’

Tallis erupted. ‘I’ll brook no criticism from you, Colbeck!’ he yelled. ‘If I have any more carping, I’ll have you removed from this case altogether.’ There was a knock on the door. ‘Come in!’