11 - Ticket to Oblivion Read Online Free PDF

Oh,’ he added, meeting the other’s glare, ‘there is one last question.’
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘Would you describe your daughter as happy?’
    ‘Damn you, man!’ bellowed Sir Marcus. ‘Of course she’s happy. Imogen has everything that she could ask out of life. Apart from anything else, she’s due to get married soon. It’s a positive love match. Our daughter has never been happier.’
     
    Edward Tallis had had a particularly busy day, attending a lengthy meeting with the commissioner, deploying his detectives on new cases, sifting through interim reports on existing investigations, berating anyone within reach and trying to ensure that Scotland Yard avoided making the sorts of mistakes that newspapers loved to seize on and mock. Satire could be a cruel weapon and Tallis had felt its searing thrust far too often. After hours of constant activity, he retired to his office and rewarded himself with a cigar, puffing on it with satisfaction and filling the room with a haze of smoke. His pleasure was short-lived. Knuckles rapped on his door, then it opened to admit a tall, dark-haired, fleshy man in his thirties with a prominent nose and a jutting chin. His manner was brusque.
    ‘Superintendent Tallis?’ he asked.
    ‘Yes,’ replied the other, stubbing out his cigar.
    ‘I am Clive Tunnadine. I wish to know what you are doing in relation to the disappearance of the dear lady to whom I am betrothed. I speak of the daughter of Sir Marcus Burnhope. How many men have you engaged in the search and what results have they so far reported?’
    Tallis was on his feet at once. ‘Excuse me, sir,’ he said, stoutly, ‘but you have no right to force your way into my office and make demands.’
    Tunnadine inflated his chest. ‘Do you know who I am?’
    ‘I do – you’re a person who should learn to control his vile temper.’
    ‘I’m an elected Member of Parliament, serving in Her Majesty’s Government.’
    ‘You’d oblige me by moderating your voice,’ said Tallis, pointedly. ‘You’re not addressing a public meeting. If you would care to take a seat, I’ll endeavour to offer you an explanation. If, however, you try to browbeat me any more, I’ll have you removed from the premises – by force, if need be.’
    Tunnadine was on the point of a volcanic eruption and the molten words trembled on his tongue. What held him back was the superintendent’s firm stance and unyielding stare. It had terrified soldiers of lower rank during his army days and it was enough to warn Tunnadine that he’d met his match. The visitor curled his lip, waited a full minute, then sat reluctantly down. Walking around him, Tallis closed the door then returned to his own chair behind the desk.
    ‘First of all,’ he began, ‘let me offer you my sympathy. It must have come as a great shock to you.’
    ‘It did, Superintendent. Word arrived by courier sent from Worcestershire. I became aware of it when I returned home less than fifteen minutes ago. Sir Marcus informs me that he sent telegraphs to Scotland Yard.’
    ‘There were three of them in all, sir.’
    Tallis told him that he was treating the case as a matter of priority and that the detectives would probably have alreadyreached Burnhope Manor. Tunnadine listened with a mingled rage and impatience. Whenever he tried to speak, however, he was interrupted by Tallis, determined to keep the upper hand. Though arrogant and high-handed himself, he hated those traits in others and saw both in his visitor. When the superintendent finally relented, Tunnadine pounced on him.
    ‘You dispatched only
two
detectives?’ he asked, aghast.
    ‘They are highly experienced, sir.’
    ‘Scores of men will be needed to comb the area between Shrub Hill and Oxford. How can two individuals cover an area that vast?’
    ‘Any search of the line would be undertaken by railway policemen. They do not answer to me. Since he is on the board of the railway company, I’ve no doubt that Sir Marcus will