Read Online 11 - Ticket to Oblivion by Edward Marston - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Edward Marston
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for Imogen.’ Cassandra was taken aback. ‘Why are you smiling like that, Inspector?’ she asked. ‘Have I said something amusing?’
‘No, Mrs Vaughan,’ he replied, ‘quite the contrary.’
‘Please explain yourself.’
‘You said exactly what I was hoping you’d say.’ Colbeck turned to her husband. ‘Would it be possible to speak to your daughter?’
‘Is that necessary?’ wondered Vaughan. ‘Emma can give you no information that my wife has not already vouchsafed.’
‘Nevertheless, we’d appreciate a word with her.’
‘In that case, I’ll send for her at once.’
‘To be honest,’ said Colbeck as the Master got to his feet, ‘we’d prefer to speak to your daughter alone, if at all possible.’
‘Emma would prefer that I was there,’ said Cassandra, puzzled by the request.
‘We must comply with the inspector’s wishes, my love,’ advised Vaughan.
‘I’m her mother, Dominic. I have a right.’
‘If you wish to enforce it,’ said Colbeck, pleasantly, ‘then, of course, you’re most welcome to join us. But consider this, Mrs Vaughan. Your daughter and her cousin are of a similar age. When left alone together, they would be likely to share confidences. They would exchange the kind of harmless little secrets that would not come to the ears of their parents.’
‘The inspector is correct,’ decreed Vaughan, overridinghis wife’s wishes for once. ‘He and the sergeant must speak to Emma alone. Were you there, my love, our daughter might unwittingly hold back things that are germane to the investigation. She must be allowed the freedom to express herself.’
Cassandra’s protest was quelled by a decisive gesture from her husband.
‘Follow me, gentlemen,’ invited Vaughan, moving to the door.
‘Thank you for your cooperation,’ said Colbeck, rising to his feet.
‘I’ll want to know
everything
that Emma tells you,’ said Cassandra.
‘Nothing will be kept back from you, Mrs Vaughan.’
But even as he spoke the words, Colbeck suspected that there might well be certain things that the daughter might not wish her mother to know and he was more than ready to conceal them if they would save Emma Vaughan from embarrassment.
On receipt of the news of the disappearance of his daughter, Sir Marcus Burnhope had reacted with speed and determination. He’d ridden at a gallop to Shrub Hill station and used its telegraph system to fire off messages hither and thither. Not only had he alerted Scotland Yard to the crisis, he made sure that senior figures working for the Oxford, Worcester and Wolverhampton Railway were aware of it as well. At his behest, teams were sent out from intermediate stations between Shrub Hill and the intended destination of Imogen and her maid. There were well over twenty possible stops on the line, many of them little morethan a halt in the middle of open countryside. Such places lacked the manpower to join in the hunt. While some stretches of the line were searched, therefore, long tracts of it were untouched. To those trudging along the line, the hunt seemed a forlorn exercise.
‘We’re wasting our time,’ grumbled the policeman.
‘Aye, Tom, I know.’
‘We can never look behind every bush.’
‘It’s what Sir Marcus ordered.’
‘Then let
him
join in the search. It’s his daughter, after all.’
‘They say she’s a real beauty.’
‘Oh, she is. I’ve seen her. She doesn’t take after her father, I’ll tell you that. Sir Marcus is an ugly old bugger.’
Instead of walking along the track, the railway policeman wanted to be at home with his wife. His companion was an off-duty stationmaster, ordered to spend his evening joining in the hunt for the missing women. Like the policeman, he was weary and disenchanted. He used a stick to push back some shrubs.
‘There’s nobody here, Tom. How much longer must we do this?’
‘We go on until it gets too dark to see.’
The stationmaster looked slyly upwards. ‘I’d say it was
‘No, Mrs Vaughan,’ he replied, ‘quite the contrary.’
‘Please explain yourself.’
‘You said exactly what I was hoping you’d say.’ Colbeck turned to her husband. ‘Would it be possible to speak to your daughter?’
‘Is that necessary?’ wondered Vaughan. ‘Emma can give you no information that my wife has not already vouchsafed.’
‘Nevertheless, we’d appreciate a word with her.’
‘In that case, I’ll send for her at once.’
‘To be honest,’ said Colbeck as the Master got to his feet, ‘we’d prefer to speak to your daughter alone, if at all possible.’
‘Emma would prefer that I was there,’ said Cassandra, puzzled by the request.
‘We must comply with the inspector’s wishes, my love,’ advised Vaughan.
‘I’m her mother, Dominic. I have a right.’
‘If you wish to enforce it,’ said Colbeck, pleasantly, ‘then, of course, you’re most welcome to join us. But consider this, Mrs Vaughan. Your daughter and her cousin are of a similar age. When left alone together, they would be likely to share confidences. They would exchange the kind of harmless little secrets that would not come to the ears of their parents.’
‘The inspector is correct,’ decreed Vaughan, overridinghis wife’s wishes for once. ‘He and the sergeant must speak to Emma alone. Were you there, my love, our daughter might unwittingly hold back things that are germane to the investigation. She must be allowed the freedom to express herself.’
Cassandra’s protest was quelled by a decisive gesture from her husband.
‘Follow me, gentlemen,’ invited Vaughan, moving to the door.
‘Thank you for your cooperation,’ said Colbeck, rising to his feet.
‘I’ll want to know
everything
that Emma tells you,’ said Cassandra.
‘Nothing will be kept back from you, Mrs Vaughan.’
But even as he spoke the words, Colbeck suspected that there might well be certain things that the daughter might not wish her mother to know and he was more than ready to conceal them if they would save Emma Vaughan from embarrassment.
On receipt of the news of the disappearance of his daughter, Sir Marcus Burnhope had reacted with speed and determination. He’d ridden at a gallop to Shrub Hill station and used its telegraph system to fire off messages hither and thither. Not only had he alerted Scotland Yard to the crisis, he made sure that senior figures working for the Oxford, Worcester and Wolverhampton Railway were aware of it as well. At his behest, teams were sent out from intermediate stations between Shrub Hill and the intended destination of Imogen and her maid. There were well over twenty possible stops on the line, many of them little morethan a halt in the middle of open countryside. Such places lacked the manpower to join in the hunt. While some stretches of the line were searched, therefore, long tracts of it were untouched. To those trudging along the line, the hunt seemed a forlorn exercise.
‘We’re wasting our time,’ grumbled the policeman.
‘Aye, Tom, I know.’
‘We can never look behind every bush.’
‘It’s what Sir Marcus ordered.’
‘Then let
him
join in the search. It’s his daughter, after all.’
‘They say she’s a real beauty.’
‘Oh, she is. I’ve seen her. She doesn’t take after her father, I’ll tell you that. Sir Marcus is an ugly old bugger.’
Instead of walking along the track, the railway policeman wanted to be at home with his wife. His companion was an off-duty stationmaster, ordered to spend his evening joining in the hunt for the missing women. Like the policeman, he was weary and disenchanted. He used a stick to push back some shrubs.
‘There’s nobody here, Tom. How much longer must we do this?’
‘We go on until it gets too dark to see.’
The stationmaster looked slyly upwards. ‘I’d say it was
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