‘What about the Quinn family?’

‘Technically, they were harbouring an escaped prisoner.’

‘They were doing it reluctantly,’ said Keedy. ‘I believe Maureen. Her cousin popped up like a jack-in-the-box and there was nothing she could do about it. If he hadn’t needed to reclaim his gun, Niall Quinn wouldn’t have gone anywhere near the house. We should remember that.’

‘We will, Joe. In fairness to Niall, he didn’t mean to get them into trouble. We happened to arrive on their doorstep at the wrong time.’

‘I’d have thought it was the right time.’

‘It is, in one sense,’ said Marmion. ‘When we found Niall there, we struck gold. He’s the one to blame, not the family.’

‘Maureen told us the truth,’ said Keedy, ‘I’m certain of it. I’m less certain that she told us the full truth about the night of the explosion.’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘There’s always this sense that she’s holding something back.’

‘Most of the time, it will just be tears.’

‘Perhaps I’m not the best person to question her.’

‘I’d say that you did very well, Joe. After all, you were the one who got the name of Herbert Wylie out of her. That marked a huge advance for us.’

‘There’s more to come, if only I knew how to draw it out.’

‘We’ll both have a go at her next time.’

‘I’m not sure that that’s the answer, Harv. We’re men and she’s a young woman in a tragic situation. With the best will in the world, we can’t ever win her over completely.’

‘Why not?’

‘It’s a job for a woman,’ suggested Keedy. ‘Maureen needs someone who can console her and gain her trust. That’s where the feminine touch has the advantage.’

‘We don’t have female detectives,’ said Marmion.

‘We have policewomen. In fact, you’ve got one in the family.’

‘Let’s not drag Alice into this.’

‘But she’d be the ideal person to talk to Maureen,’ said Keedy. ‘She’s patient, softly spoken and full of sympathy for anyone in distress. Also, she’s fairly close in age to Maureen. I think that Alice would know instinctively what to say to her. She’d win Maureen’s confidence in a way that we could never achieve.’

Alice Marmion got off the bus and walked in the direction of her flat. Though she was not directly involved in the case, she knew enough about it to make deductions of her own. It was a more pleasurable exercise than tramping the streets as she’d done when on duty that day. She envied her father and Joe Keedy. They were at the heart of a multifaceted investigation that kept throwing up new lines of enquiry. She longed to face such challenges. When she got to the house, she let herself in and instantly forgot all about the case. Waiting for her on the table was a letter sent from someone whose handwriting she’d recognise anywhere. Seizing the envelope, she tore it open and read the letter from her brother.

It was full of loving apologies for forgetting to say anything about her engagement to Keedy in his earlier letter. He admitted the mistake and gave her his warmest congratulations. Paul was less enthusiastic about her decision to join the police service but he admired her courage in doing so. Alice was ecstatic. Her anxiety had been unfounded. Her brother was ready to welcome Keedy into the family. She would count the days until she saw Paul again.

When he felt the train gradually slowing down, Niall Quinn craned his neck over the side of the wagon and saw lights ahead. They were coming into a marshalling yard. Even with the bandage on, his ankle would barely take his weight. It led him to wonder if he should stay where he was for the night. It was unlikely that the wagons would be unloaded until the next day. Even if someone came to check the cargo, he could evade prying eyes by crawling under the tarpaulin. On the other hand, he warned himself, escaping in daylight meant taking obvious risks. Anyone seeing him would take note of his limp and he couldn’t hope to outrun any pursuit. On balance, it was better to withstand the discomfort of travelling on foot and make his exit under the cover of darkness. As the train got ever slower, therefore, he braced himself to take a chance.

At least they knew that it was the right train. Having got to the yard five minutes ahead of it, the detectives had established that it had to be the one on which Niall Quinn had obtained a lift. There was no guarantee that he was still on it, however, but they remained optimistic. They watched the locomotive haul its load into a siding and come to a halt, hissing steam into the air. Marmion and Keedy set off. Keeping either side of the train, they walked towards the rear and checked every wagon. The fugitive had boarded the train somewhere about halfway down but it was not impossible that he’d made his way forward during the journey. Someone who could escape the high security of Frongoch had to be extremely resourceful. They made allowances for the fact, moving stealthily and careful not to show their hand too soon.

It was Marmion who saw him first. As he made his way along the wagons, he saw a head appear some twenty yards or so in front of him. Kneeling down in the shadows, he waited until a leg came into view. It was followed by the body of Niall Quinn, lowering himself gingerly to the ground. Since his back was turned to him, Marmion risked an attack. He stood up and ran towards the Irishman, hoping to catch him unawares. In seconds, he was staring down the barrel of a gun. Roused by the noise of footsteps, Quinn had swung round to face Marmion. Still yards away from him, the inspector came to a dead halt. He was able to take a good look at him and identify the man whose photograph he’d seen at the prison camp. It was definitely Niall Quinn. Knowing that Keedy was nearby on the other side of the wagons, he raised his voice and sought to distract the Irishman.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ he said. ‘If you go back to Frongoch, all you’ll have to face is a longer sentence. Use that gun and you’ll be signing your death warrant.’

Niall was puzzled. ‘Who the devil are you?’

‘I’m Inspector Marmion of Scotland Yard and I’ve followed you from the home of your uncle, Eamonn Quinn. The game is up, lad. Why don’t you hand that weapon over?’

Extending a hand, Marmion took a few paces towards him.

‘Stay back!’ warned Niall. ‘I’ll shoot if I have to.’

‘That will rouse the whole place. Dozens of people will come running. You can’t kill the whole lot of us, Niall. There’s no escape.’

‘I’m only trying to make it easy for you.’

‘How did you get here?’

‘We followed you in the car.’

Niall was wary. ‘Who are “we”?’ he demanded.

‘Me and my driver,’ replied Marmion, careful not to mention Keedy.

‘Where’s the driver now?’

‘He’s still in the car.’

‘Then I can borrow him for a while,’ said Niall, limping towards him. ‘I’ve got a hostage, you see. You’re my way out of here, Inspector.’

‘What if I refuse to go with you?’

‘Then I’ll shoot you dead where you stand.’

It was no idle threat. When the gun was levelled at him, Marmion knew that his life was in danger. But help was very near. Having worked his way along the wagons, Keedy had ducked under the buffers and come out on the other side. He was well behind Niall and creeping towards him. Marmion played for time.

‘Take the car,’ he said. ‘You don’t need us.’

‘I can’t drive with my ankle like this.’

‘Then accept that you’ve got no hope of getting away.’

‘There’s always hope.’

‘What happens when we take you where you want to go?’

‘That depends on how cooperative you are.’ He motioned with the gun. ‘Lead the way to the car and keep your back to me.’

‘As you wish, Niall,’ said Marmion, humouring him.

The two of them set off. It was the moment for Keedy to strike. Coming up behind Niall, he tried to dive on his back but the Irishman had a sixth sense. He spun round and lashed out with the gun, catching the sergeant hard on the side of the head and knocking his hat off. Keedy slumped to the ground. Before Marmion could move to his aid, the gun was pointed at him again.