Estelle Leeming was mending the torn sleeve of her husband’s shirt when she heard the cab pulling up outside her front door. The sound brought her to her feet. Hansom cabs rarely came to any of the houses in that part of the city. Looking through the front window, Estelle saw that she had a visitor. Madeleine Colbeck was getting out of the vehicle to pay the driver. Putting the shirt aside, Estelle rushed to open the front door and welcome her friend, throwing her arms around her. After a warm embrace, she ushered Madeleine into the house.

‘What a lovely surprise!’ she said.

‘I’m sorry that I couldn’t come earlier, Estelle, but I was held up.’

‘No excuses are needed. It’s just such a pleasure to see you again.’ She eyed her visitor’s hat. ‘That’s new, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, I wanted to celebrate spring with a new bonnet.’

‘It suits you, Madeleine,’ said the other. ‘Now sit down and make yourself at home while I brew some tea.’

‘Let me tell you my news first. It concerns Victor.’

Estelle’s face clouded. ‘Nothing’s happened to him, has it?’

‘No,’ said Madeleine. ‘He’s not hurt or anything. It’s just that he’s had to go away at short notice. Earlier on, Robert sent me a letter by hand. He and Victor have gone to York to investigate what might well be a murder.’

‘Oh dear!’

‘I don’t have any details to pass on, but I thought you should know that you mustn’t expect to see your husband for a while.’

Estelle was aghast. ‘But it’s Albert’s birthday next week.’

‘Victor knows that.’

‘How long is he likely to be away?’

‘I’ve no idea,’ admitted Madeleine. ‘Listen, why don’t you make that pot of tea, then we can talk properly?’

Estelle nodded and went off into the kitchen. Madeleine sat down and looked around the little room. It was very cosy and quite spotless, reminding her of the home in which she’d been born and brought up. Though she enjoyed living in a large house in a more affluent part of the city, she still felt more at ease in a humbler dwelling. Madeleine was an attractive, intelligent, well-dressed woman in her thirties who had had the good fortune to meet and marry Robert Colbeck. Her friendship with the sergeant’s wife was one of the benefits. A strong bond had been forged between them.

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Estelle, popping into the room. ‘I should have asked about Helena Rose.’

‘She’s a little darling most of the time,’ replied Madeleine, ‘but, every so often, she can be a little devil.’ They shared a laugh. ‘How are the boys?’

‘I’ll tell you when I’ve made the tea.’

Spotting her husband’s shirt, Estelle gathered it up and tucked it away in a drawer. Now in her late thirties, she had kept her youthful prettiness along with her freckles. Her distinctive auburn hair was brushed neatly back into a bun.

‘It never gets any easier, does it?’ she said, pausing at the door.

‘What doesn’t?’

‘Sharing your life with a detective. Once they disappear on a case, you never know when you’re likely to see them again.’

‘It can be vexing,’ conceded Madeleine. ‘Until you get used to it, that is.’

‘I’ve never managed to do that somehow.’

‘There’s one thing to comfort us, Estelle.’

‘What is it?’

‘Well, we may miss our husbands when they go away,’ said Madeleine, ‘but it works both ways. Robert and Victor will certainly be missing us!’

Reaching York had been a relatively straightforward business. Getting to the station, however, was more of a problem. The train bearing the detectives ground to a halt some distance away from it. They soon learnt that they were at the back of a long queue of trains. Leeming fretted but Colbeck was more hopeful, believing that the man who had sent for them would have anticipated the delay and found a means of circumventing it. His instinct was sound. Minutes after their abrupt halt, Colbeck gazed out of the window and saw a man in the uniform of a porter, walking beside the track and holding up a placard.

‘Look,’ said Leeming in delight. ‘It’s got your name on it, sir.’

‘Then it’s time for us to get off the train.’

Colbeck was on his feet at once. The two of them were soon climbing out of the train with their valises and hailing the man with the placard. He welcomed them, then took them to a carriage, parked in the road parallel with the track. Fifteen minutes later, they were being shown into an office at the station. Two men awaited them. As the pair rose to their feet, Gregory Maynard and Neville Timms introduced themselves to the newcomers. In return, Colbeck introduced himself and Leeming.

‘I don’t know who rescued us from that queue,’ he said, ‘but I’m eternally grateful to him.’

‘It was my doing,’ said Maynard.

‘But it was my carriage that brought you here,’ said Timms, pompously.

As the two men took it in turns to explain who they were, Colbeck was able to weigh them up. Maynard seemed the more pleasant of the two, serious, civilised and genuinely grateful that the detectives had come to their rescue. Timms, by contrast, looked like a wily politician who had engineered himself into the position of lord mayor, and who was keen to remind them of his status.

‘What we’d really like to hear,’ said Colbeck, interrupting Timms in full flow, ‘is what happened.’

‘I can tell you that,’ said Maynard.

‘Were you here at the time, sir?’

‘No, Inspector, I was not.’

‘Then I’d prefer to speak to someone who was – like the stationmaster.’

‘Staines has told me everything,’ insisted Maynard.

‘I need to hear it from his own lips, sir.’

‘Besides,’ added Leeming, ‘we would ask the stationmaster questions you would never think of putting to him. Why are you hiding him away?’

‘Staines is busy,’ said Maynard, unimpressed by the sergeant’s appearance and manner. ‘The station is open. He has a job to do.’

‘There must be someone who can act as his deputy,’ said Colbeck, reasonably. ‘We won’t take him away from his duties for long.’

Maynard headed for the door. ‘I’ll see what I can do, Inspector.’

‘Listen,’ said Timms, waiting until Maynard had left the room, ‘you must make allowances for Gregory. This whole business has shaken him to the core. I apologise for his abrupt manner. As a rule, he is quite charming. While we’re waiting,’ he went on, ‘I can give you the salient details.’

‘Only the stationmaster can do that, sir,’ said Leeming. ‘What was the name of the guard, by the way?’

Timms squirmed. ‘To be honest … I don’t know.’

‘Didn’t you ask for it?’ said Colbeck in surprise.

‘Well … I didn’t have the opportunity.’

‘What happened to the body?’

‘It was removed yesterday.’

‘Was the guard married? Does he have a family?’

Timms shrugged. ‘I haven’t a clue.’

‘You have a strange lack of curiosity, Lord Mayor,’ said Colbeck. ‘A railway employee is killed in broad daylight, throwing this station into a state of confusion, yet you have no idea of his identity. Don’t you have any sympathy for the poor man?’

Timms took a deep breath before speaking. ‘Whoever he is,’ he promised, ‘I’ll make sure that the city will provide a plaque to honour him. We have high civic standards here.’ Thumbs inside his lapels, he struck a pose befitting his status. ‘When you think of York,’ he asked, ‘what is the first thing that comes into your mind?’

‘The Minster,’ replied Colbeck.

‘What about you, Sergeant?’

Leeming grinned. ‘Cocoa.’

Word of the explosion had spread throughout York. Ignorant of the facts, people were nevertheless quick to offer their theories as if speaking with authority. Sarah Scawin heard two of her employees doing just that in the reception area.

‘Don’t you have work to do?’ she asked, sharply.

‘Yes, Mrs Scawin,’ said the hall porter, dutifully. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘So am I,’ added...