Leeming groaned inwardly 'I have no wish to talk to another human being in Manchester,' he said, ruefully. 'My throat is sore enough already. Very well, Mr Dear. You are obviously unable to help me at the moment. But if you should happen to remember anything of interest about yesterday's journey – anything at all – please let me know when we reach Liverpool.'

'Climb aboard, sir. We leave in two minutes.'

'Good.'

Leeming had turned to get into the last carriage, only to find, to his dismay, that it was already full. Men and women had taken every available seat. With a sinking feeling, he realised why. Manchester newspapers had carried full details of the murder as well. Ghoulish curiosity had dictated where some of the passengers sat. They wanted to be in the very carriage where it was believed the crime had been committed. As it passed over the Sankey Viaduct, they would no doubt all rush to the appropriate window in a body to look out over the parapet. He found it a depressing insight into human nature.

Colbeck had instructed him to travel in the last carriage. Since he could not obey the order, he decided to solve another problem that had vexed them. He swung round to face Cyril Dear again and asserted his authority.

'I'll travel in the guard's van with you,' he declared.

Dear was outraged. 'It's against the rules.'

'Is it?'

'I could never allow it, sir.'

'But you're not allowing it, Mr Dear. I'm forcing myself upon you.' He summoned up his most disarming smile. 'When we reach Liverpool, you'll have the pleasure of reporting me, won't you?'

When he was angry, the freckles on Inspector Heyford's face stood out more than ever. As he stared at the painting, they seemed to glow with a rich intensity. He turned to confront Ambrose Hooper.