11 - Ticket to Oblivion Read Free

blustering. ‘The point is that Sir Marcus is a man of immense influence. There’s a crisis in his family. We must solve it and do so with speed.’
    ‘How much information do we have?’
    ‘There’s precious little, I fear.’
    ‘Did you receive a telegraph?’
    ‘I’ve had three so far,’ said Tallis, lifting the map so that he could pick them up. ‘They’ll tell you enough to send you off to Worcestershire. Take the map as well. I’ve marked the approximate location of Burnhope Manor.’
    While Tallis folded up the ordnance survey map, Colbeck read the telegraphs handed to him. They were terse and peremptory.
    ‘There’s no actual proof that a crime was committed,’ he argued.
    ‘Use your eyes, man – his daughter has been abducted.’
    ‘With respect, sir, you’re making a hasty assumption.’
    ‘How else can you explain it?’ challenged Tallis. ‘Sir Marcus’s daughter gets onto a train yet fails to reach the destination. What do you think happened?’
    ‘There are a number of possibilities,’ said Colbeck, taking the map from him. ‘I’ll be interested to find out which is the correct one.’
    Tallis was on his feet. ‘Bear in mind what I told you. Sir Marcus wields great power. If we fail, he’s in a position to inflict untold damage on our reputation. Handle him with extreme care.’
    ‘I will, sir,’ said Colbeck, opening the door. ‘I’d never willingly offend the future Secretary of State for India.’
    He sailed out and left Tallis throbbing with anger.
     
    Sir Marcus Burnhope walked endlessly up and down the room like a caged animal looking for a means of escape. In his case, he was held behind bars of the mind and theyinduced a mingled sense of rage, fear and impotence. Habituated to authority, he was for once in a situation that he could not control. It was a highly uncomfortable place to be. He was so preoccupied that he didn’t even hear the door of the library open. It was only when he turned to walk in the opposite direction that he saw his wife holding on to the frame for support. He rushed towards her.
    ‘You shouldn’t be here, Paulina,’ he said, slipping an arm around her. ‘You’re supposed to rest.’
    ‘How can I rest at a time like this?’ she asked, hopelessly.
    ‘Go back to bed and leave everything to me.’
    ‘I’m not going until I know the truth. Don’t try to fob me off, Marcus. I’m not so ill that I can’t cope with unpleasant facts.’ Her eyelids narrowed. ‘It’s Imogen, isn’t it?’ He shook his head. ‘Don’t lie to me. She’s my daughter as well. Now help me across to that chair and tell me what’s going on.’
    Sir Marcus was a tall, lean man in his fifties with an air of distinction about him and a luxurious grey moustache that blended with his long, curling hair. Only a few years younger, his wife was a stately woman with the classical beauty that her daughter had inherited. It looked slightly ravished at the moment but had not been obliterated by the wasting disease that was lapping at her.
    After helping her across the room, Sir Marcus lowered her into an armchair and remained standing. Not wishing to alarm her, he chose his words with care.
    ‘There was a problem with the train,’ he began.
    Paulina tensed. ‘There hasn’t been an accident, has there?’
    ‘No, no – nothing like that.’
    ‘What happened?’
    ‘Imogen caught the train at Shrub Hill with Rhoda Wills.’
    ‘And …?’ When he turned away, her tone hardened. ‘I’m staying until I hear exactly what occurred,’ she said stoutly. ‘Who was the man who came here at a gallop earlier on? I caught a glimpse of him through the bedroom window. He was in uniform.’
    Sir Marcus moistened his lips. ‘It was a policeman,’ he said at length.
    ‘Dear God!’ she exclaimed. ‘Is our daughter in trouble with the law?’
    ‘Keep calm,’ he advised. ‘The doctor said that you were not to get excited.’
    ‘I’m not excited, Marcus. I’m just burning