On , the day of the inquest at Thirsby, Whymper had written to ask the cost of a second class return ticket from London to Talloires, near Annecy, Savoy, and to know if a passport would be necessary for the journey, and if so, where such was to be obtained. This letter was received at Cook’s on Monday evening and replied to on . later Whymper wrote asking Messrs. Cook to provide the tickets as well as various coupons for meals, etc., en route, which, he said, he would call for on the afternoon of . He evidently had done so, as on that date a receipt had been made out to him for the £16 8s. 4d.
“What was the route covered?” French inquired.
“Dover-Calais, Paris Nord, Paris P.L.M., Bourg, Amberieu, Culoz, and Aix-les-bains. Return the same way. Meals on the outward journey were included as well as three days’ pension at the Hotel Splendide, Annecy.”
“I don’t know Annecy at all. What kind of place is it?”
“Delightful little town on the lake of the same name. A tourist place, becoming better known in recent years. I could recommend it for anyone who liked a fairly quiet change.”
“But surely is too late for it?”
“Well, yes, it’s rather late. Still, I have no doubt it would be pleasant enough even then.”
French travelled back to Thirsby. He was in a very despondent frame of mind, for he did not see a single clue or line of inquiry which might lead to the solution of his case. He would, of course, interview Whymper and follow up the affair of the bank note, but he felt certain that the young man had obtained it in a legitimate way, and that his inquiries would lead nowhere.
From the talkative Miss Judith Carr, the barmaid at the Thirsby Arms, French learned that Whymper had lodgings on the outskirts of the town, at 12 Stanhope Terrace, and when dusk had fallen he went out to make the young man’s acquaintance.
Whymper was at work on some plans when French was shown into his sitting-room. He was a typical, healthy-looking Englishman of the upper middle class. French observed him with some favour, as not at all the type to be mixed up in criminal enterprises. He rose on French’s entry, and with a slight look of surprise, indicated an armchair at the fire.
“Mr. Pierce Whymper?” French began with his pleasant smile. “My name is French, and I called to see you on a small matter in which I am going to ask your kind help.”
Whymper murmured encouragingly.
“I must explain in the very strictest confidence,” French went on, glancing searchingly at the other, “that I am an inspector in the Criminal Investigation Department of New Scotland Yard, and it is in connection with an investigation I am making that I want your assistance.”
As he spoke French had been watching his companion, not with inimical intent, but as a matter of mere habit. He was surprised and interested to notice a look of apprehension amounting almost to fear in the young man’s eyes, while his face paled perceptibly, and he moved uneasily in his seat. French decided at once to be more careful in his examination than he had intended.
“I have been,” he resumed, “working at Messrs. Cook’s office in Regent Street. I need not go into details, but there has been a robbery, and they have been handling some of the stolen money. Your name appeared among others who had been dealing with them during the period in question, and I am trying to find out if you or these others could unwittingly have passed in the money.”
That Whymper was experiencing considerable relief French was sure. He did not reply, but nodded expectantly.
“I can ask everything I want in a single question.” French’s voice was friendly and matter of fact, though he watched the other intently. “Where did you get the twenty-pound note with which you paid for your trip to Annecy?”
Whymper started and the signs of uneasiness showed tenfold more strongly.
“Where did I get it?” he stammered, while French noted the admission his bluff had drawn. “Why, I couldn’t tell you. I had it for a considerable time. It probably came in my pay.”
“You get your pay in notes?” French’s voice was stern.
“Well, sometimes—that is, I may have got the note from my father. He makes me an allowance.” The young man twisted nervously in his chair and gave every sign of embarrassment. French, whose experience of statement makers was profound, said to himself: “The man’s lying.”
It did not occur to him that this thoroughly normal looking youth could be guilty of the Starvel Hollow crime, but it suddenly seemed possible that he might know something about it.
“I should like you to think carefully, Mr. Whymper. The matter is more serious than perhaps you realise. You handed Messrs. Cook a stolen twenty-pound note. I am not suggesting that you stole it or that you are in any way to blame for passing it. But you must tell me where you got it. You cannot expect me to believe that you don’t know. Twenty-pound notes are too uncommon for that.”
Rather to French’s surprise the young man began once more to show relief.
“But that’s what I must tell you, Inspector,” he declared, but he did not meet French’s eye, and again the other felt he was lying. “I have had that note for a long time and I don’t really remember how it came into my possession.”
“Now, Mr. Whymper, as a friend I should urge you to think again. I am not making any threats, but it may become very awkward for you if you persist in that statement. Think it over. I assure you it will be worth your while.”
French spoke coaxingly and the other promised he would try
