He was a stocky man with the kind of unsightly features designed to unsettle rather than reassure anyone meeting him for the first time. Colbeck knew his true worth and — even though they differed markedly in appearance, manner and intelligence — they were a formidable team. The two of them had boarded a train at Euston and shared an empty carriage as it steamed off. Colbeck, an elegant dandy, was known for his aplomb yet he was now very animated.

‘It has to be Jeremy Oxley,’ he said, slapping his knee. ‘It’s too great a coincidence.’

‘Who is this man?’ asked Leeming.

‘He’s the reason I joined the police force.’

‘Yet you always say that you gave up your other work as a barrister because you only came along after a crime was committed. What you wanted to do was to prevent it happening in the first place.’

‘That’s true, Victor. When I was called to the bar, I had grandiose notions of making wonderful speeches about the need for justice as the bedrock of our society. I was soon robbed of that delusion. Being a barrister was not as lofty a profession as I’d imagined. To be frank, there were times when I felt as if I was taking part in a comic opera.’

‘How did you come across Oxley?’

‘He broke into a jewellery shop and collected quite a haul,’ said Colbeck. ‘When the owner of the premises chased him, Oxley shot the man dead in cold blood.’

‘Were there any witnesses?’

‘There were several.’

‘That was helpful.’

‘Alas, it was not. They lost their nerve when they received death threats from Oxley’s accomplice. Only one of them had the courage to identify him as the man who’d fired the fatal shot.’

‘Was he convicted on the strength of the evidence?’

‘Unfortunately, no — the case never came to court.’

‘Why not?’

‘He escaped from custody.’

Leeming sighed. ‘He’s an old hand at doing that, then.’