Buckmaster's eye twinkled. 'Did you travel first class?'

'I had to make do with third class on that occasion,' admitted Kellow, sadly. 'Mr Voke is very careful with his money. Some call him mean – his son certainly did – but I think he's being sensible. He's taught me to manage my own income with similar caution.'

'I've never seen anything like it,' said Kate, feasting her eyes on the locomotive. 'Your employer has turned an ugly, dirty, noisy, iron contraption into a thing of real beauty. It must be an honour to work for such a superb craftsman.'

'It is, indeed,' returned Kellow, gratefully, 'though the coffee pot is not entirely Mr Voke's handiwork. The truth of it is that his eyesight is not what it was so he asked me to take over some of the more intricate work such as the crown and the insignia on the side of the firebox. I was also responsible for the pistons and for the railings on either side of the footplate.' A note of pride intruded. 'It was because I was so involved in making it that Mr Voke gave me the honour of delivering it to its new owner.'

'And who is that?'

'Mrs Tomkins of Cardiff – her name is on the boiler plate.'

'I envy her!' said Kate with feeling. 'I adore silver. No, no,' she went on quickly as Kellow tried to cover the locomotive up again. 'Don't hide it away, I beseech you. Let me gloat!'

Amid clouds of smoke, sulphur and soot, the train roared into Cardiff General Station and slowed to a juddering halt. The passengers alighted and waited for their luggage to be unloaded from the roofs of the carriages. Larger items had travelled in the guard's van. Before he stepped on to the platform, Nigel Buckmaster put on his hat, cloak and imperious expression. He helped Kate Linnane to get out then he shook hands with Hugh Kellow. The silversmith was anxious to deliver the coffee pot but Kate was reluctant to let him go, clutching his arm with one hand while surreptitiously stroking his bag with the other. When he finally pulled away, she let out an involuntary cry of distress.