“But why did you pay your fare a second time? You must have known that all you had to do was to give your name and address to the ticket collector.”
“I suppose I did,” she admitted, “but I preferred to pay rather than have the trouble of explanations and probably letters to the head office.”
Inspector French was chagrined. Instinctively he doubted the story, but Miss Duke had answered his question in a reasonable way, and if she stuck to the tale, he did not see how he could break her down. After this lapse of time it would be quite impossible to obtain confirmation or otherwise of the details, especially as Miss Duke’s hypothetical fellow-traveller could not be produced. He pointedly made no comment on the statement as he resumed his investigation.
“To whom did you telephone after breakfast on the morning after the murder?”
That Miss Duke was amazed at the extent of the Inspector’s knowledge was evident, but she answered immediately.
“To Mr. Harrington.”
“To say what?”
“If I must repeat my private conversations to my future husband, it was to ask him to meet me at once as I had something to say to him.”
“What was the nature of the communication?”
Miss Duke flushed again.
“Really,” she exclaimed, “I protest against this. What possible connection can our private affairs have with your business?”
“It is your own fault, Miss Duke. You are not telling me the whole truth, and I am therefore suspicious. I want to find out what you are keeping back, and I may tell you that I am going to do so. What did you want to see Mr. Harrington about so urgently?”
The girl seemed terribly distressed.
“If you will have it, it was about the postponement of the wedding,” she said in a low voice. “You understand, we had been discussing the matter on the night before, when no conclusion had been come to. But on sleeping on it I had made up my mind in favour of the postponement, and I wanted to tell Mr. Harrington at once.”
“But why was it so urgent? Could you not have waited until later in the day?”
“I felt I couldn’t wait. It was so important to us both.”
“And you refuse to give the reason of the postponement?”
“I do. You have no right to ask it.”
“You did meet Mr. Harrington that morning?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“At the entrance to the Finchley Road tube station.”
“Why did you not tell him to call on you instead of yourself going out?”
“In order as far as possible to prevent him from being late at the office.”
French suddenly remembered that Harrington had entered the office during his visit there on the morning after the crime, and had apologised to Mr. Duke for his late arrival. It had not struck French at the time, but now he recalled that when Mr. Duke had spoken to him of the tragedy he had stated he had heard of it already. Where? French now wondered. Was it merely from the morning paper, or was it from Miss Duke? Or, still more pressing question, had they both known of it on the previous night?
Suddenly a possible theory flashed into his mind, and he sat for a few moments in silence, considering it. Suppose that on the stop near Hatton Garden, Harrington had mentioned that he wanted for some purpose to call at the office, or suppose Miss Duke had asked him to do so, and that he had left her for that purpose. Next morning at breakfast she hears from her father of the murder, and is at once panic stricken about Harrington. She sees that if he admits his visit he may be suspected of the crime, and she sends for him before he reaches the office in order to warn him. Or could it be that, knowing of this hypothetical visit, Miss Duke had herself suspected Harrington, and had sent for him at the earliest possible moment to hear his explanation? French was not satisfied with these suggestions, but he felt more than ever certain these two young people had conspired to hide vital information.
He left the house profoundly dissatisfied, and returning to Hatton Garden, had another interview with Harrington. He pressed the young man as hard as he could, taxing him directly with having been present in the office on the fatal night. This Harrington strenuously denied, and French could get nothing further out of him. He went again into the man’s movements on the night of the crime, but without getting any further light thrown thereon. Harrington said he had walked to his rooms after parting from Miss Duke, but no direct evidence was forthcoming as to the truth or falsehood of his statement.
Suddenly another theory leaped into the detective’s mind, but after careful thought he felt he must reject it. If Vanderkemp were guilty, the whole of these mysterious happenings would be cleared up. Harrington was under a deep debt of gratitude to his uncle, and appeared attached to him. Whether Miss Duke shared, or was endeavouring to share, his feelings, French did not know, but it was certainly possible. Suppose he and Miss Duke, driving home from the East End, had seen Vanderkemp at the end of Hatton Garden. Suppose, moreover, something in the man’s appearance had attracted their attention, something furtive or evil, something unlike his usual expression. This, coupled with the fact that the traveller was supposed to be in Amsterdam, might easily have impelled Harrington to stop the cab to have a word with his uncle. But
