He called up the head office of each of the lines in question and asked had any persons named Vane booked passages on their ships leaving on that day, and if not, could they tell him if a couple answering the description which he gave had done so. There was a considerable delay in getting replies, but when he received that from the Booth Line he did not grudge the loss of time. It stated that a Mr. and Mrs. Vane, of Crewe Lodge, St. John’s Wood Road, had booked passages to Manáos by the Enoch, which left Liverpool at 3:00 p.m. that afternoon; further, these persons had gone on board at Liverpool, and as far as the head office knew, had actually sailed.
French was a trifle hazy about the Booth Line. He knew that Manáos was in South America—Brazil, he imagined, but whether the steamer sailed there direct or made intermediate calls at which it might be overtaken and at which an arrest might be made, he did not know.
He telephoned to have the information sent up to him. “The last lap!” he thought contentedly, as he pictured the arrival of the steamer at Manáos and the descent of the fugitives on to the wharf into the clutches of the waiting police. And for him it would mean not only the completion of a peculiarly worrying and difficult case, but undoubted kudos, if not actual promotion.
XVIII
The S.S. Enoch
In the vast organisation of Scotland Yard the indexing of information on every available subject has been brought to something more than a fine art. If French had wished to know the number of inhabitants of Prague, the favourite recreations of the Elder Brethren of Trinity House, or the width of the Ganges at Allahabad, some notes or books of reference would immediately have been forthcoming which would have fully supplied the desired information. How much more when the question was merely one of trains and steamers. He had not long to wait for an answer to his telephone, and this revealed the fact that the Booth liner Enoch, which had left Liverpool on the previous afternoon, called at Havre, Oporto, Lisbon, Madeira, and Para, before completing her voyage to Manáos by a sail of a thousand miles up the Amazon. Moreover, she awaited at Havre the arrival of the Southhampton boat, the connection of which left Waterloo at 9:30 on the night of the 27th.
“Tonight!” French thought as he hastily glanced at his watch. It was just 8:42. What a stroke of luck! He would travel by it, and with any reasonable good fortune he would have these Vanes safe in his clutches before another dozen hours had passed.
As a man of action French was unsurpassed. Within five minutes he had called an assistant, a keen, efficient young sergeant named Carter, and instructed him to join him that night on the 9:30 Continental train from Waterloo, had sent another keen, efficient helper post-haste to have extradition warrants and other necessaries sent to the same train, and had rung up for a taxi to take him home to tell his wife of his change of plan and to put two or three things together for the journey. In short, thanks to his energy, the hands of the Waterloo station clock had scarcely reached 9:25 when he and Sergeant Carter reached the platform from which the boat train was about to start. Awaiting them was Manning, the other keen and efficient assistant, who handed over warrants for the arrest and extradition of Mr. and Mrs. Vane, passports, English and French money, as well as an introduction to the French police at Havre.
“Good, Manning! That’s all right,” French approved as he took over the munitions of war. In another couple of minutes the train drew slowly out of the station, and increasing its speed as it passed the myriad lights of South London, was soon roaring through the darkness of the open country beyond.
Fortunately, the night was calm and the boat was not crowded, so that the detectives were able to get berths and a sleep to prepare them for their toils on the following day. They reached Havre on time, and jumping into a taxi were driven to the berth of the Enoch, which was some distance down the docks. French hurried on board and asked to see the Captain, while Carter remained at the gangway lest the quarry, seeing French and knowing his appearance, might take fright and attempt to slip ashore.
Captain Davis saw French immediately.
“Sit down, Mr. French,” he said pleasantly when he had examined the other’s credentials, “and let me know what I can do for you.”
French took the proffered seat as he drew from his pocket Mrs. Vane’s photograph as well as her description and that of her husband.
“I’ll tell you, Captain,” he answered. “I’m after a man and woman who are wanted for murder and robbery. They call themselves Mr. and Mrs. Vane, though I don’t know if this is their real name or even if they are married. I have learned that they booked with you from Liverpool to Manáos, but I only found that out last night, so I came over by Southampton in the hope of making an arrest. There,” he passed over his photograph and papers, “are the descriptions.”
The Captain glanced at him as he took the papers. He did not speak
