'What ails you, my love?' asked Buckmaster.
She watched Kellow until he was swallowed up by the crowd.
'It's that silver coffee pot,' she confessed, a palm to her breast. 'It's stolen my heart, Nigel – I'd kill to own it!'
The corpse lay on the bed, impervious to the breeze that blew in through the open window to rustle the curtains. When a fly came into the room, it described endless circles in the air before settling on the top of a large, open, empty leather bag.
CHAPTER TWO
'Why do we have to go to Cardiff?' asked Victor Leeming, grumpily.
'Because that's where the murder occurred,' said Colbeck.
'But Cardiff is in Wales.'
'You don't need to lecture me in geography, Victor. I know exactly where it is and how long it will take a train to get us there.'
'Far too long,' moaned Leeming.
'A change of air will do you good.'
'Don't they have their own police force?'
'We were expressly requested by the South Wales Railway.'
'You mean that you were, Inspector. Every railway company in the country is after your services. At the first sign of trouble, they send for Robert Colbeck, the Railway Detective.'
'A murder is rather more than a sign of trouble.'
'What exactly happened?'
'The telegraph gave us only the merest details,' said Colbeck. 'A guest at the Railway Hotel was killed in his room. That's all we need to know at this stage. The summons had me reaching for my Bradshaw and that's why we're on our way to Paddington.'
Leeming grimaced. 'I detest boring train journeys.'
'That's a contradiction in terms. To a trained observer – such as a detective sergeant like you – no train journey should ever be boring. It's a delight to the eye and a continual stimulus to the brain. Travel broadens the mind, Victor.'