Clifford and Winifred Tomkins had shared a frosty breakfast during which neither of them spoke. It was only when the plates had been cleared away that she finally broke the silence.
'I must say that I find your attitude very hurtful, Clifford.'
'I did not get where I am by throwing money away,' he said, pompously. 'I'll not be duped a second time.'
'How little you must care for my feelings!' she complained.
'Your well-being has been the major concern of our marriage.'
'Then why do you turn against me now?'
'I'm not turning against you,' he said, trying to appease her with a flabby smile, 'but you must see sense, Winifred. The thief has no intention of parting with the silver coffee pot. He simply wishes to grab as much money as he can from us. We've already had it dangled in front of our eyes once and you saw what happened.'
'Yes,' she rejoined, 'Sergeant Leeming was assaulted because we did not comply with the instructions we were given. Had you handed over the money, you would almost certainly have been given that coffee pot in return.'
'I disagree.'
'We must do as they tell us.'
'Then we give up all hope of capturing these villains.'
'I'm far more interested in retrieving my coffee pot than seeing anyone arrested,' she admitted. 'Just pay up and have done with it.'
'Winifred,' he scolded, 'these people have committed a murder.'
'That's a separate matter and we can leave it to Inspector Colbeck to deal with that. We mustn't confuse the issue. All that we need worry about is our stolen property.'
'I think that you should forget all about it.'
She was indignant. 'I could never do that – Lady Pryde would mock me unmercifully.'
'You no longer have anything to do with the woman.'
'We have mutual friends, Clifford, and she would goad me through them somehow. Don't you see? My social standing in the town is at stake. That coffee pot is not simply a memento of dear Father, it's the one secure way of regaining my position here.'
'That was never under threat, Winifred.'
'I feel that it is.'
The sound of the doorbell ended the conversation. Not used to visitors at that time of the morning, they wondered who it could be. It was not long before the butler came into the dining room.
'Inspector Colbeck is here to see you,' he announced.
Her hopes rose. 'Perhaps he has good news for us!'
'Show the inspector into the drawing room, Glover,' said Tomkins. 'We'll be there directly.'
'Very good, sir,' said the butler, going out.
'It may be that he's made an arrest,' said Winifred.
'I beg leave to doubt that.'
'Superintendent Stockdale's men have been searching the whole town. They might have cornered the villains. Who knows? It may even be that the inspector has brought my coffee pot with him.'
'I think you're being far too optimistic.'
'Why else should he come at this hour?'
'Let's go and find out,' said Tomkins, 'but don't bank on hearing good news. That silver coffee pot is cursed.'
'Don't be nonsensical.'
'It is, Winifred. It's caused us nothing but trouble and my guess is that there's a lot more to come.'
'I don't believe that for a second.'
'We shall see.'
They went into the drawing room and found Robert Colbeck studying a portrait on the wall. To Winifred's dismay, he had brought nothing with him. She looked up at the oil painting.
'That's my father,' she said, proudly. 'He was a far-sighted man. As soon as railways began to be built, he realised that they had a wonderful future ahead of them. He once brought Mr Brunel to the house. Father thought that he was a miracle-worker.'
'I'd endorse that, Mrs Tomkins,' said Colbeck. 'When the notion of the Taff Vale Railway was first discussed, critics said that that it could never be constructed over such difficult terrain. Mr Brunel took up the challenge and made light of the problems.'
'We know that, Inspector,' said Tomkins. 'When the line opened in 1841, I was able to transport iron and steel from Merthyr to Cardiff in less than an hour. Until then, we'd had to rely on road and canal hauliers and they moved like snails.'
'I'd be happy to discuss the topic in more detail with you, sir, but this is not the appropriate moment, alas.' He took out the letter. 'This was delivered to me at the hotel yesterday.'
'Why to you and not us?' demanded Winifred.
'Because the person who sent it feared that this house might be under surveillance. Also, of course, he wanted to issue a warning.'
She started. 'He hasn't threatened to destroy my coffee pot?'
'No, Mrs Tomkins. The warning was aimed at me. I – and, by implication, Superintendent Stockdale – was ordered to keep out of the ransom negotiations altogether.' He gave the letter to Tomkins. 'See for yourself, sir. The instructions are for you and your wife alone.'
Winifred was impatient. 'What does it say? Let me see it.'
'Give me chance to read it first,' said her husband.
'Do they still have my coffee pot?'
'Yes,' Colbeck told her, 'but it comes at a price.'
Tomkins was horror struck. 'Double the cost,' he yelled in disbelief. 'They expect me to pay double the cost? That's quite inconceivable. In all, it would mean paying three times the value of the item, plus the fifty pounds already paid to Mr Voke as a deposit.'
'Give it to me,' said Winifred, snatching the letter from him and reading it quickly. 'At least, they do have it and they promise that they'll hand it over next time.' The conditions made her shiver. 'They want me to make the exchange.'
'Then it's out of the question on two grounds,' said Tomkins. 'I would never part with the sum of money demanded and I refuse to let my wife imperil herself by handing it over.'
'In that case,' said Colbeck, flatly, 'the thieves will simply vanish and try to find a buyer elsewhere. More to the point, our chance of catching them will disappear as well.'
'You're surely not advocating that we agree to their demands?'
'I believe that you should consider doing so, sir.'
'My wife could be bludgeoned to death, Inspector.'
'If you read the letter again, Mr Tomkins, I think you'll find there's a firm promise that your wife will come to no harm. All that they want is the money.'
'They can go to the devil!'
'Clifford!' said his wife, reproachfully.
'I'll not deal with blood-suckers.'
'We have to think this through very carefully,' she said, making a supreme effort to keep calm. 'There has to be a way to get what we want out of this situation.'
'Yes – we ignore this to start with,' said Tomkins, grabbing the letter from her and scrunching it up into a ball. 'Nobody is going to give me orders.'
Colbeck extended a hand. 'If you don't want that, sir,' he said, 'then perhaps you'd give it to me. It's a piece of valuable evidence. I'm sure that you noticed how different this was from the two earlier ransom notes. It's written in block capitals. There has to be a reason for that.'
'Take the damn thing!' said Tomkins, thrusting it at him.
'But we may need it, Clifford,' cried his wife.
'The whole matter is closed.'
'I refuse to accept that.'
'Winifred, the demands are beyond all reason.'
'They are to you,' she said, 'so I suggest that you are no longer involved in the transaction. I have money of my own. Since you are too grudging even to consider paying for my coffee pot, then I may have to do so myself. Inspector,' she added, holding out her palm. 'May I have it back, please?' Colbeck gave it to her and she unscrewed the paper. 'I need to study this in private – do excuse me.'
'Come back!' ordered Tomkins as she waddled out of the room. He turned to Colbeck. 'Do something, man. We can't have my wife exposing herself to the kind of attack that the sergeant suffered.'
'That's a decision only Mrs Tomkins can take,' said Colbeck.
'You must talk her out of it.'
'I would have thought that was your privilege, sir.'
'Winifred can be very headstrong at times.'
'She's clearly determined to get her coffee pot back.'
'But she's taking an enormous risk going there alone.'
'Mrs Tomkins won't be alone,' Colbeck reminded him. 'She's been told to travel by carriage so she'll have a driver with her. That, I think, is where we can seize the advantage. If it were not for the fact that I am clearly known to them, I would suggest that I drove your wife. Instead, one of Superintendent Stockdale's men can pose as the coachman. I'll be concealed inside the carriage, ready to leap out when the exchange is made.'
'The exchange is not going to take place,' decreed Tomkins. 'I refuse to allow it, Inspector. It's up to you to catch these villains and reclaim my wife's property. Don't you have any idea who you're up against here?'
'We do, as a matter of fact.'
'Then why can't you make an arrest?'
'We have insufficient evidence, sir.'
'A murder is committed, a man is robbed and Sergeant Leeming is knocked unconscious – how much evidence do you want?'
'Two possible suspects have been identified.'
'Who are they?'
'I can't tell you that,' said Colbeck, 'until we're certain of our facts. As you know, we believe that we're looking for a man and a woman. A detailed description of the man in question has been printed in the London newspapers. Sooner or later, someone is bound to come forward with the information that we need.'
Edward Tallis was disappointed with the lack of response. In a city as large as London, he felt, there had to be somebody who could give him some indication as to the whereabouts of Stephen Voke. Yet a whole day had passed without anyone coming forward. While it had not linked Voke's name with a murder in Cardiff, the newspaper report had stressed the Detective Department's eagerness to make contact with him. Tallis had hoped that one of his former colleagues at Solomon Stern's shop might be able to help him but none of them appeared at Scotland Yard. Nor could Leonard Voke provide any real guidance. Demanding his son's immediate arrest, he confessed that he did not have the faintest idea where he might be. Stephen Voke had left no discernible trail behind him.
It was not until the second morning that someone eventually answered the call. Claude Meyrick was a quiet, inoffensive, studious man of middle years with spectacles perched on a long nose and dark hair flecked with grey at the temples. Shown into the superintendent's office, he explained that he had, until recently, been Stephen Voke's landlord.
'At last,' said Tallis, rubbing his hands. 'What can you tell me?'
'I can tell you that Mr Voke was an exemplary lodger. We were sorry to see him go. The only time my wife had to speak to him was when the tapping noise got out of hand.'
'What tapping noise?'
'He was a silversmith. He used a little hammer to fashion the silver into all manner of wondrous shapes. It was not a problem during the day but our other lodgers complained when he worked on into the night. Once my wife spoke to him,' he went on, 'Mr Voke apologised. It never happened again.'
'How long was he living under your roof?'
'It must have been five or six months, Superintendent. Then, out of the blue, he announced that he was leaving us.'
'Did he say why?'
'Yes,' replied Meyrick. 'Mr Voke told us that he'd resigned from his employment so that he could strike out on his own.'
'What – here in London?'
'No, no, he said that there were already far too many jewellers and silversmiths here. Besides, his father was in the same profession.'
'I know,' said Tallis, heavily. 'I've met Mr Voke. He and his son were not on the best of terms, it seems.'
'According to young Mr Voke, his father held him back and refused to pay him a proper wage. I don't know the truth of the matter, sir, and I make it a rule never take sides in family disputes like that. It's foolish to do so. Whenever Mr Voke talked about his father,' Meyrick recalled, 'I just nodded in agreement. My wife and I knew that he would not stay with us indefinitely.'
'Why not?'
'He was an ambitious young man. He wanted to make a name for himself and he could never do that working for someone else.'
'Did he ever mention a Hugh Kellow?'
'Oh, yes,' said Meyrick, 'that was a name that often came to his lips. He was quite bitter about him. He claimed that the worst thing his father ever did was to take on Mr Kellow as an apprentice.'
'Would you say that your lodger was a vengeful man?'
'Not vengeful, sir – just very determined to get what he felt were his just deserts in life. He was single-minded. I admired that.'
Tallis sat back in his chair and tried to assimilate what he had just heard about Stephen Voke. The landlord took a much kinder view of him than Voke's own father did but that was not difficult. Tallis could see that Claude Meyrick had a tolerant and uncritical attitude towards his fellow-men. Preferring to think well of people, he would not look too closely into their faults and foibles. The young man he had known had been a welcome tenant. Meyrick did not realise that Stephen Voke had been disinherited by his father and then had deserted his employer in Hatton Garden. Only the more appealing aspects of his lodger's life and character had been revealed to him.
'Did he have any friends?' asked Tallis.
'I assume that he did, Superintendent,' said Meyrick, 'because he often went out in the evenings.'
'So he brought no young men to the house?'
'None at all, sir – the only person who ever came for him was a young lady.'
'Do you know her name?'
'I'm afraid not. She never actually knocked on the door. She would simply appear on the pavement opposite and Mr Voke would go off with her. Female visitors are not allowed in our lodgers' rooms,' said Meyrick, sternly. 'My wife is very particular on that score. Her father is a clergyman and inculcated the highest moral standards in her. My instincts accord with hers. It's something that all our lodgers must accept if they wish to stay under our roof.'
'I commend that wholeheartedly,' said Tallis, warming to the man. 'There are far too many landlords who allow unmarried couples to cohabit on their premises and who permit all kinds of licence. It is sinful, Mr Meyrick. They are actually encouraging indecency. I'm pleased to hear that you and Mrs Meyrick are more discriminating.'
'It's a matter of conscience to us, Superintendent.'
'Then I applaud you. Coming back to this young lady,' he went on, 'how would you describe her?'
'I only saw her on a few occasions and always through the window, of course. She was well-dressed and looked respectable to me. I thought her attractive and agreeably wholesome.'
'Did she and Mr Voke seem like close friends?'
'Oh, yes – she always took his arm as they walked away.'
'Is there anything else you can remember about her?'
'Only my wife's observation,' said Meyrick, 'and she has sharper eyes for such things.'
'What sort of things?'
'Age and class, sir. She felt that the young lady was a little older than Mr Voke and came from a higher station in life. For all that, they seemed well-suited.'
'When did he actually leave your house?'
'Last Saturday – a cab came to pick him up at the door. I helped him to carry down his luggage. Mr Voke was very grateful. He thanked us for looking after him so well.'
'Do you know where the cab was taking him?'
'Yes, Superintendent,' said Meyrick, 'I heard him tell the driver to take him to Paddington Station. He was leaving London altogether.'
On his way back to the hotel, Colbeck called in at the police station to keep Stockdale informed of the latest developments. When he heard of the reaction to the latest ransom demand, the superintendent was very impressed.
'Winifred Tomkins is a braver woman than I took her for,' he said with mild astonishment. 'I'm not surprised that her husband refused to provide the money even though he could afford to pay fifty times that amount and not miss it. It's the wife that I admire. There are not many women who would take such a risk.'
'I agree,' said Colbeck, 'and that was before Mrs Tomkins knew that I intended to hide in the carriage with her. She will not be entirely unprotected.'
'How was the situation left?'
'According to that letter, the exchange will not take place until twilight. That gives them the best part of a day to decide what they're going to do. Mr Tomkins will try to talk his wife out of what he sees as an act of madness while she, I suspect, will hold firm.'
'Even if it means that she has to pay the ransom money herself?'
'Appear to pay it,' corrected Colbeck. 'Mrs Tomkins must look as if she's obeying the instructions. As well as keeping her from any harm, I hope to retrieve both her money and her coffee pot.'
'We'll catch them this time,' said Stockdale, confidently. 'I feel it in my bones. It's a pity that the sergeant won't be here to enjoy the moment.'
'What Victor needs to enjoy is the comfort of his wife and family. That's why I put him on the train back to London this morning. He'll have to give a full report to Superintendent Tallis, of course, but he'll be able to sleep in his own bed tonight. That's important to Victor.'
'The love of a good woman is important to any man.'
'Too true,' said Colbeck, thinking of Madeleine Andrews.
'Yet you've remained single, Inspector.'
'Yes, I have.'
'It can't be for want of opportunities,' said Stockdale with grin. 'Even someone as ugly as me has caused the odd female heart to beat faster. A handsome fellow like you could pick and choose.'
'At the moment, I choose to devote all my energies to my work,' said Colbeck, crisply, 'and I know that you're as keen as I am to solve this particular case.'
'I am, Inspector, but these villains are proving devilishly hard to find. They must be in Cardiff somewhere,' he said, 'yet we've drawn a blank in all the hotels and boarding houses. There's no sign of them. My men have looked into every nook and cranny.'
'They've been searching for a man and woman but the chances are that the pair of them split up to avoid detection. They'll only get back together again when they're ready to seize the ransom money. And as we've discussed before,' said Colbeck, 'it could be that the woman in question actually lives in the town.'
'Miss Carys Evans.'
'We must keep watch on her, Superintendent.'
'I've been doing just that,' Stockdale told him. 'I paid her a call this very morning. I told her that we'd become aware of the fact that she was in the hotel at roughly the time of the murder and asked her if she saw anything unusual while she was there. Miss Evans said that she did not.'
'Did she explain what she was doing at the hotel?'
'She was visiting a friend though she refused to give me a name. It could, as we speculated, simply have been Sir David Pryde. From the way that she rebuffed my question, however, I felt that it was not him. It may not even have been a man, of course.'
'Then why was she so evasive?'
'That's in her nature, I'm afraid.'
'Yes,' said Colbeck, 'I noticed that about her.'
'Miss Evans did admit one thing of interest.'
'What was that?'
'She actually visited Mr Voke's shop in London. She went there on the recommendation of a friend – the same one, no doubt, who recommended the silversmith to Mrs Tomkins.'
'Sir David Pryde.'
'Surely, he can't be involved in these crimes.'
Colbeck had no time to reply. Someone rapped on the door then it opened to disclose the figure of a burly uniformed sergeant. He told the superintendent that someone was demanding to see him.
'Who is it?' asked Stockdale.
'That actor from the Theatre Royal, sir,' said the man. 'He seems very upset.'
Colbeck's curiosity was aroused. He followed the superintendent through into the outer office where a distracted Nigel Buckmaster was pacing restlessly up and down. When he saw Colbeck, the actor rushed impulsively forward to grab him by the shoulders.
'You must help me, Inspector!' he cried, shaking him. 'We are facing calamity – Miss Linnane has been abducted.'
It was a new weapon and it was used to great effect. During their long marriage, Winifred Tomkins had always got her way either by nagging her husband incessantly or resorting to a fit of temper. He had usually bowed to her will. She deployed none of her customary tactics now. Retreating into silence, she simply ignored him. Clifford Tomkins did not know how to cope with such treatment. He reasoned, he shouted, he threatened and he even pleaded but all in vain. Her mind was made up and nothing could dissuade her. As she was putting on her coat to leave the house, he made one last intervention.
'This is insane, Winifred!' he cried.
'Out of my way, please,' she said, coolly.
'The bank manager will tell you the same thing.'
'It's my money and I can do what I wish with it.'
'Before he'll sanction it, he'll want to know why you're withdrawing such a large amount of capital at short notice.'
'Then I'll tell him the truth,' she replied. 'The money is to meet an emergency and my husband has declined to help me.'
Tomkins flushed. 'Think how that will make me look!'
'It makes you look like the miserly and unloving husband that you are, Clifford.'
'Now that's unfair!'
'When I really need you, I'm badly let down.'
'Everything I own is at your disposal,' he said, recklessly, 'as long as it's for a worthy purpose, that is. In this case, you're proposing to throw away a large sum on a whim and it's my duty to stop you.'
'It's your duty to support me,' she snapped. 'Were Lady Pryde in this position, I'm sure that Sir David would come to her aid without any delay or prevarication.'
'That's a false comparison and you know it. Lady Pryde would never dare to risk her life for a silver coffee pot.'
'You heard what Inspector Colbeck told you – the exchange must go ahead.'
'That's only because he expects to catch the villain when it takes place. His priority is to safeguard you. I'm not sure that he can.'
'You saw what that letter said. On no account must the police be involved at all. Remember what happened to Sergeant Leeming. It will be far easier if I just hand over the money and get what I want.'
'At three times its original price!' he exclaimed.
'It would be worth it, Clifford.'
'That coffee pot was supposed to be a gift from me.'
'You seem to have forgotten that,' she said, icily. 'When I visit the bank, I will be withdrawing enough money to reimburse you for your loss. That way I'll have paid the full price for it so it will be truly mine. You'll have no cause to harass me then.'
'I'm not harassing you.'
'Then please step out of my way.'
'At least, talk this over sensibly.'
'You're incapable of understanding my point of view.'
'I'm trying to stop you doing something you'll afterwards regret.'
'Oh, no,' she said, nostrils flaring. 'What I regret is that I believed you'd stand by me in a situation like this. We are not really talking about a silver coffee pot, Clifford. Much more is at issue here. The whole basis of our marriage has been rocked. When I look for your uncritical support in a crisis, I find you wanting. Goodbye.'
Sweeping past him, she went into the hall and headed for the front door. The butler was at hand to open it for her and give an obsequious bow. The phaeton stood ready outside. Winifred was about to walk across to it when she noticed a letter on the doormat in the porch. Written across it in bold capitals was her name.
It took Colbeck several minutes to calm the actor down so that he could relate the facts of the case. Taken into Stockdale's office, Nigel Buckmaster went through his full range of dramatic gestures. He explained that he had gone to Kate Linnane's room to take her down to a late breakfast, only to find the door wide open and the room in disarray. Buckmaster reported his findings to the manager and Pugh had immediately questioned his staff. A waiter remembered seeing a woman being hustled down the back stairs by a man in a cloak. One of the cooks had seen the couple leaving by the rear entrance. Both of the witnesses agreed that the woman had looked in distress.
'Kate has been kidnapped!' howled Buckmaster.
'It certainly looks that way,' said Colbeck, 'though I wonder that she didn't cry for help as she was taken past those witnesses.'
'Some kind of weapon must have been held on her under the man's cloak – a knife, perhaps, even a pistol.'
'Who could want to do such a thing?' asked Stockdale. 'I'm sure that she has many admirers but they'd hardly go to those lengths.'
'I don't think we're looking for someone who reveres Kate,' said Buckmaster, 'but a rival who detests and envies me. He's determined to wreck my company because it's had such resounding success. What lies behind this crime is artistic jealousy of the worst kind.'
'That's one possible explanation,' said Colbeck.
'What other one is there, Inspector?'
'The answer to that must lie in Miss Linnane's private life, sir. She's a very beautiful woman. Has there been an entanglement in her past that left someone feeling vengeful towards her?'
Buckmaster was peremptory. 'There's been no such thing.'
'How can you be so certain?'
'Kate has no secrets from me.'
'Then she's unlike any woman I've known,' said Stockdale with a dry laugh. 'Women are secretive creatures – it adds to their allure.'
'I'm not interested in your opinions, Superintendent,' said the actor, treating him to a glare. 'Kate Linnane has been my leading lady for some years now and the trust between us is complete. If there had been any dark shadows in her past, she would surely have told me about them.'
Colbeck remembered the figure he had seen flitting into Kate's room earlier that week. It had obviously not been Buckmaster or there would have been no need for stealth. Colbeck sensed that she had not felt obliged to tell the actor-manager about her furtive caller. What else had she decided not to confide?
'Kate's safety is paramount, of course,' said Buckmaster, 'but the fate of the whole company now hangs in the balance. We have a full house for this evening's performance. It will be a catastrophe if we have to cancel it. The damage to my reputation will be irreparable.'
'We'll do our best to find the lady,' promised Stockdale. 'Any woman as striking as Miss Linnane will surely have been seen after she left the hotel. I'll organise a search for her at once, sir.'
'Thank you.' As Stockdale went out, the actor turned to Colbeck. 'I was hoping that you'd take charge of the case, Inspector.'
'I already have my hands full, Mr Buckmaster.'
'This could prove disastrous for us.'
'I sympathise with you,' said Colbeck with unfeigned sincerity. 'Accounts of Miss Linnane's performance have been uniformly glowing. It's been a source of great annoyance to me that I've been unable to see the two of you in Macbeth. Unfortunately,' he went on, 'I have no jurisdiction beyond the case that brought me to Cardiff. The superintendent is responsible for law-enforcement in the town and he is known for his tenacity. There is one crumb of comfort, however.'
'I fail to see it.'
'When she was taken from the hotel, Miss Linnane was apparently unharmed. If someone had meant to injure her in order to prevent her from appearing onstage, they could have done that in her room. I would expect her to be found in good health.'
'And when will that be?'
'I trust that it will be in the very near future.'
'I need Kate now,' insisted Buckmaster. 'She is more than just our leading lady, Inspector, she is our good luck charm. Without her, we face potential ruin.'
'I think you exaggerate a little, sir.'
'She's a vital part of the company.'
'That goes without saying,' conceded Colbeck, 'but you would not have had such continuous success in your profession if you had cancelled a performance because someone was indisposed. For a role like Lady Macbeth, you must surely have an understudy.'
'I do and I do not,' said Buckmaster, uneasily. 'There is someone who could step into Kate's shoes but she's young and untried. What if she lets us down? How can I scale the heights if I am held back by a Lady Macbeth who is floundering in the part?'
'Would the understudy happen to be Miss Tremaine?'
Buckmaster blinked. 'How did you know that?'
'I had the good fortune to meet the young lady when she gave me a playbill in the street,' said Colbeck, smiling at the memory. 'I was taken with her patent dedication. To lose Miss Linnane in this manner is very troubling but your predicament may not be as serious as you fear. I have a feeling that Miss Tremaine will rise to the occasion.'
Laura Tremaine was torn between delight and quiet terror. The message had simply told her to come at once to the actor-manager's hotel for a rehearsal of her role as an understudy. The thought that she might actually play Lady Macbeth opposite Nigel Buckmaster gave her a dizzying thrill. It was beyond anything she had ever dreamt about, expecting to occupy lesser parts for many years before even being considered for a leading role. Yet it now seemed possible. There had been no explanation as to why Kate Linnane was unable to repeat her triumph that evening but Laura knew that she would never yield up a part lightly, especially to someone she openly despised. She tried to put the other actress from her mind. Kate's loss was Laura's gain. She needed to seize the unexpected chance of greatness.
With opportunity, however, came fear and uncertainty. Was she ready? Did she have enough talent to be an adequate substitute for such an experienced actress? Would she let everyone down? Could she remember the lines and repeat the correct moves? She had watched Kate Linnane play the part often enough but that was not the same as taking it on herself. Would Laura Tremaine – whatever her fantasies about theatrical glory- be able to hold her own against a titan of the stage like Nigel Buckmaster? The challenge was both exhilarating and daunting. She would not simply be fulfilling her ambition of taking a leading role, she would be doing so as one of the most famous wives in world drama. In the course of that evening, pretty, young, shapely, well-spoken, respectable Laura Tremaine had to undergo a veritable transformation. Shedding the sweetness of Lady Macduff, she had to turn herself into a murderous fiend.
As she sat patiently in the hotel foyer, she felt the sheer weight of expectation. The whole company would depend on her. Her friends would will her to succeed while her enemies – and she had one or two in the company – would pray for her to fail. Every move she made and every gesture she gave would be subjected to intense scrutiny. And what would happen when Kate Linnane came back to reclaim her rightful role? However well she had played it, Laura would get neither thanks nor praise. Once the imperious leading lady had returned, her understudy would have to slink back into obscurity. It was a thought that made Laura resolve to make the most of her opportunity. She would play Lady Macbeth as if the part had been expressly written for her.
Nigel Buckmaster strode into the hotel and she jumped to her feet obediently. He did not even look at her as he went past.
'Come to my room,' he said. 'We have much work to do.'
Laura followed him up the stairs as if floating on air.
Jeremiah Stockdale did not have a large force at his disposal but he managed to deploy over a dozen men in the search for the missing actress. They questioned anybody who lived or worked in the vicinity of the hotel. It was when one of the constables went to the railway station that firm evidence was at last obtained. Stockdale passed on the information to Colbeck at the police station.
'They caught a train to London.'
'Are you sure about that?' said Colbeck.
'The stationmaster remembered them clearly – a startling young woman and a man in a cloak who had her by the arm. They got into a first class carriage.'
'That sounds like Miss Linnane.'
'One of the porters saw them as well. He thought they were a husband and wife who'd just had a quarrel because the woman was very tense and the man brusque.'
'I'm still surprised that she made no resistance, Superintendent. Miss Linnane is very self-possessed. I can't imagine her letting anyone make her do something against her will.'
'Maybe the porter was right,' suggested Stockdale. 'The man could have been a jealous husband who suddenly leapt out of her past. Or it might have been someone who was blackmailing her. He didn't need to have a weapon because he was holding some guilty secret over her. That's why she went with him. Forget what Mr Buckmaster told us,' he said, airily. 'In my experience, an actress is a lady with a very colourful history.'
'It's not a profession renowned for its saints.'
Stockdale chuckled. 'Sinners are far more interesting.'
'What steps have you taken?'
'I sent two of my men after them on the next train. They can make enquiries at Paddington. It's the second time Idris Roberts has been there this week.'
'Of course,' said Colbeck. 'He was the constable who took Effie Kellow back to London. Was the body delivered to Mr Voke?'
'Yes, Inspector – Idris saw to that. After they'd talked about funeral arrangements, he escorted Miss Kellow to her brother's lodgings and made sure that she got the books she was after.'
'What then?'
'He gave her money for a cab to Mayfair and caught the train back to Cardiff. He was sad to leave her. She was so downcast.'
'The only thing that will lift her spirits is if we catch those responsible for her brother's murder. With luck and with the active cooperation of Mrs Tomkins,' added Colbeck, hopefully, 'I expect to do that this very evening.'
Winifred Tomkins did not even tell her husband that there had been a change of plan. The letter she had found outside her house had given her fresh instructions and she was determined to obey them. Her husband would only have tried to stop her or insisted that she showed the latest missive to Inspector Colbeck. She refused to do that. She had an inner conviction that the only way to get her hands on the silver coffee pot was to pay the excessive amount of money demanded. Her father had bequeathed her over eighty thousand pounds. It seemed appropriate that some of that inheritance should be spent on an item that would keep his memory fresh in her mind.
Clifford Tomkins was surprised when she ordered the carriage that afternoon. He followed her out of the house.
'Where are you going, Winifred?'
'I thought I'd call on Carys Evans,' she said.
'Is she expecting you?'
'I promised to take tea with her one day this week.'
'Would you like me to come with you?'
'Don't be silly, Clifford. You'd only be in the way.'
'We haven't really spoken since you came back from the bank,' he said, worriedly. 'What did the manager say?'
She shot him a withering look. 'You'll have to ask him.'
'I hope you said nothing to my detriment. I'm held in high regard at the bank.' She climbed into the carriage and closed the door after her. 'Do you still mean to go through with the exchange this evening?'
'I'll see you later, Clifford.'
'When shall I expect you back?'
Ignoring his question, she gave the coachman a signal and they pulled away. Once clear of the house, she felt strangely elated. There was an element of danger but it was offset by a sense of adventure. Everything she had done in her adult life had been guided by her relationship with her husband. For once she was doing something entirely of her own volition, something that he would have strongly opposed. It was a small victory and the coffee pot would forever be an emblem of that victory. She was content.
They went for a mile before they reached the designated spot, a stand of trees on the road to Fairwater. Winifred ordered the coachman to stop and the carriage rolled to a halt. Though she could see nobody, she was certain that she was being watched. She suddenly began to tremble with fear, realising how vulnerable she was. The coachman was with her but he was a slight man and unarmed. He would be no match for a desperate criminal ready to commit murder.
'Mrs Tomkins?' called a man's voice.
'Yes, yes,' she answered aloud. 'It's me.'
'Please get out of the carriage.' She did as she was told. 'Do you have the money with you?'
'I do – every penny of it.'
A young man stepped out from behind a tree, his face largely obscured by the brim of his hat. Winifred gasped when she saw that he was holding a pistol in his hand.
'Let me have the money,' he said.
'I want to see my coffee pot first,' she insisted, amazed that she had the courage to say the words. 'I'm ready to pay for it.'
'Then here it is.'
He reached behind the tree and pulled out a large leather bag. Opening it up, he tilted it towards her so that she could see the silver locomotive nestling inside. It glinted in the late afternoon sunshine. Winifred was overwhelmed with joy.
'Here, here,' she said, holding out the money. 'Count it if you must but please let me have my coffee pot.'
'All in good time, Mrs Tomkins,' he said, closing the bag. 'I'll want rather more than the money from you.' He turned the pistol on the coachman and barked a command. 'Get down before I shoot you!'
The coachman jumped down instantly to the ground. The man used the weapon to motion them off behind the trees then he ordered Winifred to give him the money. When she did so, her hands were shaking so much that she dropped some of the banknotes. She scrambled to pick them up. Without bothering to count them, he thrust the money into his pocket then told her and the driver to turn their backs. The next thing they heard was the departing carriage.
'We'll have to walk back,' protested the coachman.
'No matter,' she said, hurrying over to the leather bag. 'We have what we came for – I'd have walked a hundred miles to get this.'
Opening the bag, she took out the silver locomotive to gloat over it but the moment she felt the object, she knew that it could not be silver. It was far too light. Now that she could see it properly, she observed that the workmanship was poor and the detail wanting.
'We've been tricked!' she bellowed. 'This is made of tin!'