“Well?” queried his audience, “Cherry Blossom or Kiwi?”
Mr. Bathurst ignore the interruption. He could afford to—he managed to establish his first point. He looked at the soles of the two ‘semi-brogues.’ With the help of his magnifying glass he scrutinised the tops of the two shoes and the sides of the two soles with the most meticulous care.
“There’s one thing I can tell you, Inspector,” he said, as he put back his glass in his pocket, “This lady had travelled some considerable distance by car—she had driven it, I should say, all the way from her home at Tranfield.”
“We know she came by car,” returned Bannister. “The ‘Lauderdale’ people—”
“With all deference, Inspector—we didn’t know how far she had come in that car. She might have come by train as you yourself suggested and picked up the car here in Seabourne. However, she didn’t. Look at the brim of this hat—it is distinctly dusty—and if you look at the dust very carefully, you will see that it is not all quite the same shade of colour. Now the screen will protect you on a comparatively short journey, but over a distance of a hundred miles or so—a car-driver usually picks up some patches of dust. Much more than a person travelling by train, for instance. The different shades of dust suggest to me for example, two separate counties many miles apart. Let us say, just for example, Westhamptonshire and Marlshire. Now look at the surface of the shoes. A person who had walked even a small part of that distance would have much dustier shoes than that!” He held them out to Bannister who nodded his acceptance of Mr. Bathurst’s theory.
“No doubt you’re right,” he conceded.
Anthony continued his explanation, warming to his work. “Now there are certain parts of the soles of these two shoes that shew unmistakable signs of friction—of rubbing. I am pretty certain that Miss Delaney had driven a considerable distance in that car when she drove up to the ‘Lauderdale’ Hotel.”
“Yes—I think you’re right. One of the questions we have to face is the tracing of that car.”
He turned to address the Crown Prince and Miss Carruthers. “I won’t detain you any longer, Your Royal Highness, if you’d care to go. If I want you again I’ll see you at the ‘Cassandra’—I shall be calling there again before leaving for Tranfield.” He thought for a moment. “Get Godfrey to drive you up and tell him to come back here for Mr. Bathurst and me.”
The Crown Prince accepted the dismissal with evident pleasure.
“Seemed very sure the dead girl wasn’t Miss Travers, didn’t he?” contributed Bannister meaningly—“did you notice that?”
“I did—on the other hand so did Captain Willoughby—so there might be nothing in that—it’s an extraordinary case although—it’s difficult to know where to begin.”
Banister put the dead girl’s clothing back in the cupboard from where he had taken it and carefully locked the door. “If we walk up to the ‘Cassandra’ we shall meet Godfrey in the car on the way back here. Fit?”
Anthony acquiesced.
He couldn’t resist a strong feeling that Bannister’s recent allusion to the Crown Prince’s attitude towards what he himself had termed the “Lois Travers theory” was in the nature of a warning to him. Bannister knew from Sir Austin Kemble that he represented the interests of the heir to the throne of Clorania—so that Anthony was disposed to think that the Inspector had given him an initial hint as it were that the Law is no respecter of persons—‘or personages.’ They soon spotted Sergeant Godfrey with the car and were quickly back in the “Cassandra.” Bannister immediately sent for the manger.
“I want some information,” he said, when the latter appeared, “concerning your procedure with regard to the transport of visitors’ luggage.”
“Certainly, Inspector—what is it you wish to know?”
“I want to know exactly what occurs when luggage is left here to be forwarded to a visitor’s home. I want full details of the procedure.”
“I’ll send for the head porter—he will tell you.”
The manager despatched a messenger to find the man required. In a few minutes he stood before them. “This gentleman wishes to ask you some questions about luggage-transport,” said the manager; “tell him all he wants to know.”
“Let me take an actual example,” illustrated Bannister. “Suppose when I leave to-morrow, I leave my cabin-trunk behind in my room to be forwarded to my home. The trunk in question we will assume to be labelled properly and correctly addressed—understand?” The porter nodded. “Well,” proceed the Inspector, “tell me exactly what happens after that.”
“The trunk would be brought down here, sir, and placed on the luggage-wagon. From there, I should superintend its removal to our own hotel motor-lorry which would convey it to the station. The driver of the lorry sees it on to the platform.”
“H’m,” said Bannister; “how long usually elapses between the trunks going on to the wagon and being put on the lorry?”
“That depends, sir,” said the porter, pushing his cap back from his forehead, “and it varies, too. Sometimes, a matter of a few minutes, sometimes in the afternoon, perhaps, the luggage might stand on the wagon down here for a couple of hours.”
“As it might on the platform, too,” declared Bannister. He turned sharply to Sergeant Godfrey, “You say there’s nothing been found on the platform that appears to have been substituted for Miss Carruthers’ case?”
“Nothing, Inspector.”
“Suppose we have a glance at this luggage-wagon, Inspector,” ventured Anthony. “I suppose it’s on duty to-day, isn’t it, porter?”
“It is, sir.”
“Very well, Mr. Bathurst—I’m perfectly agreeable.” They trooped along the corridor.
“There’s the wagon,” pointed out
