11 - Ticket to Oblivion by Edward Marston

at the stage of conjecture. It could equally well be the case that the young lady and her maid have been abducted.’
    ‘Perish the thought!’
    ‘How much did you see of her?’
    ‘Not nearly enough, Sergeant,’ said the other, sorrowfully. ‘Imogen only came to Oxford twice a year. I went on occasional visits with my family, of course, and always relished her company. She’s a wonderful person, fun-loving and full of spirit. It’s such a shame that she was cooped up in Burnhope Manor all the time.’
    ‘Did she resent that?’
    ‘She did more than resent it – she plotted her escape.’
    Leeming’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Could you repeat that, please?’
    ‘Imogen dreamt of freedom, Sergeant. Who would not do so in those circumstances? But I never thought that she would actually pluck up the courage to act. In fact, I put her to the test last year,’ said the artist with a nostalgic smile. ‘I contrived to be alone with her when she stayed in Oxford. I offered to carry her off so that she could experience a taste of freedom at last. Naturally, it was all in fun but Imogen was not amused by the idea. She was too concerned about what she stood to lose than by what she might gain. There’d have been dreadful repercussions. I know what you’re thinking,’ he added, as suspicion came into Leeming’s eyes. ‘You’re thinking that Tunnadine may not have been so wide of the mark when he accused me of kidnapping my cousin on that train. But this would have been no jape. It would have been an honest attempt to let Imogen flap her wings and fly for once.’
    ‘Yet you say that she spurned the idea.’
    ‘Her parents exert too strong a hold, Sergeant. That was the trouble.’
    ‘I don’t understand, Mr Vaughan.’
    ‘Well,’ said the other, airily, ‘to atone for a single day of freedom, she’d have had to endure even tighter control over her movements. That would be an unfair punishment but it was bound to follow. Imogen thanked me but rejected my offer. In retrospect, it might have been just as well. An artist’s studio is not the ideal place in which to hide. Someone like Dolly is at home here; my cousin, alas, wouldbe almost as uneasy as you are in the libertarian world that I inhabit.’
    ‘It’s not for me, sir, I know that.’
    ‘We obey no rules, Sergeant. We simply follow our instincts.’
    ‘I spend most of my time arresting people who follow their instincts, Mr Vaughan. Criminals break laws because it’s second nature to do so.’
    ‘There’s nothing criminal about creative art,’ declared the other. ‘We fill the world with beauty and excite the mind. Well, look at my latest work,’ he went on, taking the portrait from the easel and holding it under his visitor’s nose. ‘Is that not something to gladden the heart of any red-blooded man?’
    Dolly looked up from the canvas with her chin tilted high. One whole arm was missing but the rest of her body was there in all of its alluring glory. Notwithstanding his embarrassment, Leeming had to admit that it was work of some quality. Radical changes had occurred. A squalid attic had been transformed into a palace, the chair became a throne and the model had a regal presence. Dolly was now a princess. The brushwork was uneven but the overall effect was nevertheless stunning. The sergeant had to make a conscious effort to turn away.
    ‘Do you have any idea where your cousin might be?’ he asked.
    ‘You’re the detective.’
    ‘Inspector Colbeck feels that this whole episode has been triggered by something from within the family.’
    ‘It has,’ said the artist, replacing the portrait on the easel. ‘Imogen has fled from tyrannical parents who keepher locked to a ball and chain. As to where she might have gone—’ George Vaughan stopped as a new possibility presented itself. ‘Why, yes,’ he cried, ‘it
could
be a family matter, after all. Lovely as she might be, Imogen was always too pure and unworldly for me. I prefer someone like