“I’m fairly confident he didn’t,” replied Augusta, recalling her recent visit to Great Titchfield Street. “I took a little walk around the area, do you remember? I couldn’t see any way that the yard might be accessed from Great Titchfield Street because the buildings are terraced, so I decided to visit the street the Mitchells’ house backs on to. It’s called Hanson Street and the buildings are all terraced there too. There are no little lanes or alleyways that would afford anyone access to the back yards. There is, however, a public house. It wouldn’t surprise me if the pub had a yard from which Bewick managed to throw the sack into the Mitchells’ yard. It’s just a theory, but it could explain how he was able to get it there without anyone noticing.”

  “Do you know for sure that the pub’s yard is close enough to the Mitchells’?”

  “I wasn’t completely sure but we could go there and check. After we’ve apprehended Bewick himself, that is.”

  “I hope we’re not too late.” Philip glanced out of the window. “The traffic’s building up.” He knocked on the partition separating them from the driver. “Can’t we get round this somehow? We need to be at Euston within twenty minutes!”

  “I’m doin’ me best!” responded the cab driver. He steered around the van in front of them and picked up the pace.

  Philip slumped back in his seat. “If both my legs worked properly I’d just sprint through Regent’s Park and be there in no time. I suppose we could always get the next train if we miss them at the station.”

  “But what if they don’t actually get on the train? Miss Frankland-Russell told us that Mr Bewick was meeting her there to take the midday train, but maybe he’s planning to whisk her away somewhere else.”

  “That’s a good point. He can’t do her much harm in the middle of a busy station but, if he persuades her to go somewhere else, who knows what could happen?”

  “I don’t see how he’d manage that. It would almost certainly make her suspicious.”

  “It’s possible that they’ll catch the train, but perhaps he’ll persuade her to disembark early rather than taking her all the way to Shropshire.”

  Augusta shuddered. “She’s in terrible danger and there’s nothing we can do to warn her! She trusts him. We all trusted him!”

  The traffic was beginning to clear a little. They passed London Zoo and the boundary of Regent’s Park before turning left into a narrow street behind Euston station.

  Philip checked his watch. “Only fifteen minutes to go. Come on, come on…” His foot tapped impatiently. “London’s roads are so busy these days.”

  “Almos’ there!” called out the cab driver.

  Augusta gave a sigh of relief as she saw the long, pitched roofs of the station up ahead. The taxi turned left, then abruptly stopped.

  “Workmen in the road!” he called out. “I’ll ’ave to take you rahnd the long way.”

  “No need, we’ll walk from here!” replied Philip.

  They clambered out of the cab and quickly paid the fare, then they hurried toward the station. Still reliant on his stick, Philip could only manage a steady walk.

  “You go on ahead, Augusta. See if you can find them inside the station. I’ll catch you up.”

  “Right! I’ll see you in there,” she responded, jogging toward the station entrance. Once inside, she pushed her way through a throng of people gathered outside a small parade of shops. Entering the main hall, she looked about frantically for a uniformed member of staff she could ask about departures to Shropshire. The large clock in the that it was five minutes to midday. She didn’t have much time.

  Apologising to a long queue of people, she interrupted the traveller at the front, who was in the process of purchasing a ticket, to ask about the Shropshire departure. “I’m working on behalf of Scotland Yard!” she added to appease the grumpy-looking ticket clerk.

  “Platform two,” he responded.

  She thanked him, then dodged her way through the crowds in the direction of the platforms. With her heart pounding and her head spinning, she searched frantically for overhead signs bearing the platform numbers.

  A group of puzzled-looking constables had also arrived, presumably dispatched by the message from Scotland Yard. Augusta dashed up to them. “We’re looking for a man aged about fifty with grey hair,” she said. “He’s always smartly dressed. He’ll be with a young woman. Possibly near platform two!”

  “Alright.”

  She didn’t have time to explain any further. She went off and found platform two, then slowed her pace a little and surveyed the crowd around her. Are they here?

  There was no sign of them.

  Perhaps they’re already on the train.

  She ran up to it. What appeared to be the last of the luggage was being loaded into the guard’s van and a number of people were saying their farewells.

  Should I get on? Are they even on the train?

  “Augusta!”

  She turned around to see Philip approaching.

  “Any sign of them?” he called out.

  She shook her head. “I can’t see them.”

  The guard’s whistle blew.

  Chapter 41

  “There goes the guard’s whistle,” said Thomas. “Looks like we’ll be leaving on time.” He gave Catherine a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

  She was seated opposite him in the first-class train compartment, perched stiffly on the plush velvet seat. She was struggling to relax in his company. His pale blue eyes always seemed to be on her, as though he were carefully watching her every move. Now and again, one side of his mouth lifted slightly in an expression of contempt.

  He’s only supposed to be escorting me to Shropshire. Why does he keep looking at me like that?

  “Three and a half hours to Shrewsbury,” he continued. “We should be at your parents’ home by half-past four. I’ve telephoned ahead, and they’ll be sending someone to meet us off the train.”

  Three and a half hours in a small compartment with this man. For some reason, she didn’t feel comfortable alone with him. I hope someone else joins us soon.

  “Your parents will be so pleased to see you,” Thomas said.

  “Is that what they told you?”

  “Yes! They sounded overjoyed.”

  “I still can’t understand what made them change their minds.”

  The smile dropped from his face surprisingly quickly. “Something must have happened to help them realise how precious you are to them. Never underestimate the importance of family, Miss Frankland-Russell.”

  The whistle blew again and several doors slammed shut. Catherine jumped. The sudden noises jarred her nerves. She wasn’t usually like this but, ever since the attack, she had felt fearful all the time, as though something were lurking behind her waiting to strike the first moment she became distracted.

  Catherine still felt bruised, too. She hoped she would be able to rest at her parents’ home. Will they leave me in peace and allow me to recuperate? That was what she needed. She felt happy to be escaping London. All she had to do was endure the train journey and then she would be safe.

  But what if the killer tracks me down to Shropshire? Catherine felt a shiver at the thought. She wouldn’t be able to rest until the police caught him. I should have known that all those years of lying wouldn’t go unpunished. If only I’d told the truth from the outset, none of this would have happened. What if the police never catch him? Am I destined to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder?

  A middle-aged lady in a purple hat looked into the compartment as she walked along the corridor. Seeing four spare seats, she slid the door open to come in.

  “I hope you don’t think me rude, madam,” said Mr Bewick, “but my daughter and I would prefer to travel alone.”

  The lady frowned, but she clearly wasn’t in the mood to argue about it. She closed the door again and walked on down the corridor.

  Catherine felt a prickle at the back of her neck. Something doesn’t feel right. “Why did you ask her to leave us alone?” she queried.

  He smiled vacuously again. “I thought we could discuss your parents’ affairs while we travel. They’re confidential matters, of course, so I wouldn’t want anybody to overhear our conversation.”

  That sounds like a plausible explanation. Perhaps there’s no reason for me to feel jumpy after all.

  Catherine rested back against the seat and tried to make herself as comfortable as possible as the train pulled out of the station.

  Chapter 42

  Augusta and Philip found themselves standing in a third-class carriage.

  “They’re not likely to be travelling in here, are they?” said Philip. “Having met Thomas Bewick, he strikes me as the sort who would travel first-class. We’ll have to walk all the way to the front of the train.”

  Beyond the window, Augusta could see the platform slipping away. The train passed over a set of points before beginning to pick up speed.

  Augusta and Philip walked along the corridor, passing several compartments as they went. When they reached the end of the carriage, Philip tried the handle of the door leading into the next section of the train.

  “It’s locked,” he said.

  “Now what?” replied Augusta. “Do we have to jump out at the next station to access the next carriage? It’ll take us forever to get through the whole train!”

  “I’ll summon the guard and ask him to unlock the doors for us.”

  Philip stepped into the nearest passenger compartment, apologised to its occupants, then reached up and pulled the communication cord above the window.

  The train jolted and shook as it slowed to a stop.

  Philip left the compartment and grimaced. “Train guards never like it when you pull the chain. He’ll be angry, just you wait and see.”

  A moment later, the guard marched up the corridor from his van at the rear of the train. “Was that you?” he barked at Philip.

  “Yes, it was.” Philip showed the guard his warrant card. “I need to apprehend someone who I believe is on this train. Can you please unlock the doors between the carriages so I can find him?”

  “Which carriage is he in?”

  “I don’t know yet. Probably first-class, but I’ll need to search the entire train.”

  The guard sighed. “Right. Well, I’d like to get it moving again, if that’s all right with you, Inspector. We’re holding up all the trains travelling behind us. Are you happy for us to proceed to Watford while you look for your man?”

  “More than happy,” replied Philip. “Thank you.”

  The guard pushed open a window and blew his whistle, signalling to the driver that the train was ready to move again. Then he proceeded to unlock the door to the next carriage and walked on ahead of them.

  “Let’s keep looking for them,” said Philip, following behind. “Although we may discover that they’re not on board after all.”

  They walked through the next carriage, glancing into each compartment. Augusta found herself moving faster than Philip. She was beginning to doubt whether Miss Frankland-Russell and Mr Bewick were on the train after all.

  “Why have we stopped?” asked Catherine. She glanced around. The train was in a cutting, with grimy brick walls rising up on either side of the railway line.

  “I don’t know.” Thomas stood. He slid the window down and peered out, swiftly ducking his head back in as a train passed by in the opposite direction. “That was a close one,” he commented. He pushed the window back up and returned to his seat. “Nothing to see out there. Perhaps some poor fellow found himself on the wrong train. No need to go pulling the emergency cord for that, though.”

  Thomas’s foot was tapping impatiently and the noise irritated Catherine. There seemed to be something tense and restless about him. Is he always like this?

  The tapping eased as the train began to move again. Thomas picked up his newspaper, glanced down at it, then tossed it to one side.

  Is he planning to start talking about my family’s confidential affairs soon? Catherine hoped he would get it over and done with quickly so she could rest. She turned to look out of the window, spotting a number of red-brick warehouses, goods sheds and a line of tall houses.

  Thomas also seemed to be looking out of the window, albeit rather more intently. Is he looking out for a particular landmark?

  Grimy walls rose up on either side of them again, the buildings perched high above them.

  Mr Bewick pulled at his collar then clasped his hands together.

  Something’s bothering him, but what? Why can’t he sit still? The situation didn’t seem right at all. Catherine’s mouth felt dry.

  She was just about to excuse herself and take a walk along the corridor, when the train entered a tunnel. The compartment was instantly plunged into darkness.

  Catherine heard a swift movement just a split second before a hand wrapped around her neck.

  “You got away from me last time,” he hissed in her ear. “But you won’t escape this time!”

  She managed to let out a pained cry before his hand tightened around her throat. She frantically tried to pull it away, kicking out wildly with her legs, but she couldn’t draw any air into her lungs.

  The pressure on her neck released for a brief moment. It took her a moment to understand why. She heard the latch of the train door, then felt a sudden rush of cold air.

  Does he intend to push me out?

  I’ll have to fight as hard as I can.

  Thomas tried to get his arms around her, but she refused to let him lift her. She lashed out with her hands and managed to tug at his hair, causing him to cry out.

  He hauled her up from her seat and she fell to the floor.

  I have to stay down here. I can’t let him push me out of the carriage.

  Augusta cursed under her breath as the train went dark. She had just stepped into the next carriage and she couldn’t see a thing. She pulled her torch out of her handbag.

  Having travelled the same route before, Augusta guessed they were in the long tunnel that passed beneath Primrose Hill. As she lingered in the corridor, she heard a thud, then a stifled yelp.

  Startled, she slid open the door of the compartment closest to her. “Is there anyone in here?” she flashed the torch around and was met with silence.

  Augusta made her way to the next compartment. As she slid open the door, she instantly sensed that something was wrong. Cold air rushed toward her, the carriage door was open.

  A man crouched over a woman on the floor. He seemed to be pushing her toward the open door.

  “Help!” The woman’s face turned toward her.

  Catherine Frankland-Russell.

  Augusta dropped the torch as she lunged forward and grabbed hold of Thomas’s arm, pulling as hard as she could.

  “Get off!” he shouted, pushing her back.

  Although she lacked the strength to pull him away from Miss Frankland-Russell, Augusta hoped she would be able to prevent him from pushing her out of the train. Barely able to see a thing, she prayed they would be out of the tunnel soon. She reached out again and pulled at Thomas’s jacket.

  “Get off her!” she yelled.

  She was getting nowhere.

  “Augusta?” came a shout from behind her.

  It was Philip.

  He helped her tug at Thomas’s jacket, both desperate to stop him causing Catherine any further harm.

  To Augusta’s relief, the train finally left the tunnel and light flooded the carriage.

  Philip hooked his hands under the lawyer’s arms and hauled him to his feet. Catherine clambered up onto the seat, breathless with exertion, her eyes wide.

  “Thomas Bewick, you’re under arrest!” shouted Philip.

  The lawyer twisted round and punched his captor on the jaw. Philip recoiled, clutching his face. Thomas leapt over to the open door and pulled the emergency chain above the window.

  Augusta gripped the luggage rack above the seat as the train ground to a juddering halt.

  “Stop right there!” cried Philip.

  “I don’t think so,” panted Bewick, stepping ever closer to the open door.

  “Don’t you move!”

  The lawyer laughed and jumped out of the carriage.

  He had escaped.

  “I don’t believe it,” puffed Philip. “He’s got away.”

  Moments later, a train thundered past on the adjacent track.

  Chapter 43

  “I honestly don’t mind looking after the shop again today, Mrs Peel,” said Fred Plummer. “You must be exhausted after your ordeal yesterday.”

  “Thank you, Fred. It wasn’t as much of an ordeal for me as it was for Miss Frankland-Russell, but at least she’s all right. It’s very kind of you to offer but I think I’ve deserted you enough over the past week or so. I’m sure today will be a much quieter day.”

  “The man who attacked her was killed by a train, wasn’t he?”

  Augusta winced at the memory. “Yes, he was. I suppose it means nobody has to waste any more time tracking him down. I feel terribly sorry that his sister died in such a tragic way, but taking matters into his own hands was hardly the way to solve it.”

  “I read all about it in this morning’s newspaper,” said Fred. “He’d obviously decided to carry out his own form of justice.”

  “He was fairly successful in his own warped way. That’s how those four poor girls lost their lives. It’s terribly sad. At least he can’t cause any more harm now.”

  The bell above the door sounded as Philip walked in. “Morning, Augusta, Fred. I don’t have long, I’m afraid, I need to finish writing up my report for the commissioner. I just wanted to stop by to see how you were this morning, Augusta.”

 

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