'It can't be quick enough for me this time.'

'There's no call for alarm. Estelle and the children will survive without you for a night or two.'

'That's not what irks me, Inspector,' confided Leeming. 'My worry is that I won't be able to survive without them.'

The brisk clip-clop of the horse changed to a slow tap-tap of hooves as the driver pulled on the reins. The cab soon stopped and the two men got out. Colbeck paid the fare then led his companion into the maelstrom that was Paddington Station on a busy afternoon. Over the tumult, he called out to Leeming.

'Then there's the other consolation, Victor.'

'Is there, sir?'

'When we get to Cardiff, we'll meet an old friend.'

'Oh – and who might that be?'

'Jeremiah Stockdale.'

Leeming brightened instantly. 'Now that is a consolation.'

And for the first time in his life, he stepped into a railway carriage with something resembling a smile on his face.

Archelaus Pugh had many virtues but he was not a man for a crisis. As the manager of the Railway Hotel in Cardiff, he was unfailingly efficient. Faced with everyday problems – awkward guests, mistakes over reservations, indolence among his staff – he was calm, patient and decisive. Confronted with a dead body in one of his rooms, however, Pugh swiftly deteriorated. Sweat broke out on his corrugated brow, his eyes darted uncontrollably and his clothing was suddenly too tight for him. He was a short, neat man in his forties with a crisp and authoritative voice that had now become a baleful croak.

'You can't leave him there, Superintendent,' he wailed.

'I can do and I will do, Mr Pugh,' said Jeremiah Stockdale.