Inspector French’s Greatest Case

own powers as a reader of character⁠—with considerable justification, it must be admitted⁠—and the more he thought of Vanderkemp’s bearing during their momentous interview at Barcelona, the more satisfied he felt of the traveller’s innocence. He found it hard to believe, further, that a man who had just benefited to the extent of over £30,000 would be able to deny himself at least a very slight betterment in his standard of living. But the real difficulty was to connect Vanderkemp with Miss Winter’s escapade with the sixteen diamonds. How did she receive them? She was in the Savoy building all the time between the theft at Hatton Garden and the traveller’s departure from London, and it was therefore impossible that they could have met. Nor did French think it likely that so dangerous a package would have been entrusted to other hands or to the post.

Here were undoubted objections to the theory, nevertheless French felt a pleasurable glow of excitement as he wondered if they could not be met and if he really had not reached the last lap of his long investigation. He determined that his first action on reaching the Yard would be to put the matter to the test.

Having arrived at this decision, he turned again to Miss Scott.

“I should like cook’s address, please.”

Miss Scott did not know cook’s address. She believed the woman lived somewhere down near Reading, but more than that she could not say, except that her name was Jane Hudson, and that she was small and stout and lively.

French felt that if he wanted the woman he could find her from this information. He scarcely hoped that she would be able to tell him more than the parlourmaid, but thought that it might be worth while to have her looked up on chance, and he decided to give the necessary instructions to one of his men on his return to the Yard.

By this time it was evident that Miss Scott had exhausted her stock of information, and he presently took leave of her, having asked her to ring him up if she heard or saw anything either of cook or of her former employers.

Returning to the Yard he rang up the Hatton Garden office, and having obtained Vanderkemp’s last known address, sent a cable to the United States police, asking that inquiries should be made as to the man’s whereabouts.

His next business was to find the man who had driven Mrs. Vane to Euston. A few minutes’ walk took him to Gardiner Street, and he soon reached the cab rank. Five vehicles were lined up, and he called the drivers together and explained his business. He took a strong line, demanding information as a right in his capacity of an officer of the C.I.D. It had immediate effect.

One of the drivers said that he and the man next on the rank were called to Crewe Lodge by a rather pretty girl about 4:30 on the afternoon in question. It looked as if the house was being closed. A lady, apparently the mistress, got into his friend’s taxi and was driven off, then the girl who had called him and a friend⁠—he took them to be servants⁠—entered his car and followed. He set the girl down at some street off Maida Vale⁠—Thistle Road or Mistletoe Road⁠—he wasn’t just sure, and took the other woman on to Paddington. The colleague who had driven the lady was not then on the stand, but he had been gone a considerable time and might turn up any moment. Would the Inspector wait, or should the man be sent on to the Yard on his return?

French decided to wait, and in less than half an hour he was rewarded by the appearance of the car. Taximan James Tucker remembered the evening in question. He had followed his confrère to Crewe Lodge, and a lady whom he took to be the mistress of the house had entered his vehicle. The girl who had called him from the stand had told him to drive to Euston, and he had started off through North Gate and along Albert Road. But when he had nearly reached the station the lady had spoken to him through the tube. She had said that she had changed her mind, and would go on to St. Pancras. He had accordingly driven to the latter station, where the lady had paid him off.

“Had she any luggage?” French asked.

Yes, she had two or three⁠—the man could not be quite sure⁠—but either two or three suitcases. No, there wouldn’t be any note of them on his daily return as they were carried inside the vehicle. The lady got a porter at St. Pancras, he believed, but he could not identify the man now. No, she had spoken to no one during the journey, and he could not suggest any reason why she should have changed her mind.

Inquiries at St. Pancras seemed to French to be the next item on his programme, and entering Tucker’s vehicle, he was driven to the old Midland terminus. Where, French wondered, had his quarry been going? With Tucker’s help he fixed a few minutes before 5:00 as the hour of the lady’s arrival, and then, after paying the man off, he went to the timetables to find out what trains left about that hour.

In the nature of the case⁠—a woman making a hurried flight from the attentions of the police⁠—he thought it more than likely that the journey would have been to some distant place. While a very clever fugitive might recognise that a change to another part of London was perhaps his safest policy, the mentality of the average criminal leaned towards putting as many miles as possible between himself and the scene of his crime. It was by no means a sound deduction, but in the absence of anything better, he thought the main line trains should be first considered.

He looked up the tables and was struck at once by the fact that an