From the police station French went to interview the coastguards, but unfortunately without result.
Delighted with the result of his first day’s work, he went early to bed and slept the sleep of the weary.
VI
The Supreme Appeal Court
Though self-congratulation is not precisely the same as pride, common experience teaches us that it is usually followed, if not by a fall, at least by a disappointment. French’s satisfaction at his rapid progress was no doubt natural, but its sequel proved an illustration of this unhappy principle.
After his first day’s achievement there followed a period of stagnation. It was not that he did not show energy and industry. On the contrary no one could have done more. Rather was it as if the Fates disapproved his frame of mind and withheld the success which his efforts deserved.
And yet the began well. On reaching the Portsmouth police station the next morning news was awaiting him, news moreover which at first sight seemed valuable enough. Shortly before on the morning of the crime a motor car resembling in every respect that described in his circular was seen passing through Titchfield in the direction of Lee. It was driving fast, but not fast enough to provoke the interference of the constable who observed it. There being nothing to call the man’s special attention to it, he had unfortunately omitted to note its number. But he had noticed on the left running board an object some four or five feet long by six inches in diameter, tied up in canvas and not unlike a bag of large golf clubs.
A second report had come in from Fareham. At about five or a little later a similar car had passed through the town. It had been seen twice, first approaching from the direction of Gosport, and a few moments later leaving on the road towards Bishop’s Waltham. Both the men who had seen it believed that it contained two persons besides the driver, and both had seen the canvas package.
That this car had carried the body of the murdered girl, French had little doubt. It was true that Dr. Lappin had not observed the package. But French believed that this was for the excellent reason that when the doctor passed the car it was not there. For he felt sure that he knew what that package contained. In this carefully planned crime the murderers knew that though they could “borrow” a boat there would be no oars in it. French had little doubt that beneath the canvas cover lay a pair of oars divided into two by some form of socketed joint.
After it had left Fareham the car seemed to have vanished into thin air. In spite of French’s most persistent inquiries no further trace of it could be found. Nor did a single one of the vast army of men who were on the lookout ever identify anyone as a possible actor in the terrible drama.
The clue of the car number had also petered out, though as French had not expected much from it he was the less disappointed. Inquiries had shown that the car bearing the number seen by Dr. Lappin belonged to a well-known Surrey resident of unimpeachable character. There was moreover ample proof that the car had been in the owner’s garage during the entire night of the crime.
As soon as he was satisfied that every agency which could be directed towards the tracing of the car or the gang was working at highest pressure, French went down to Arundel and made exhaustive inquiries into the tragic death of Agatha Frinton. But though he was untiring in his efforts, he found out nothing more than the local police had already reported.
After a week of fruitless work he transferred his activities to Caterham. Here almost immediately he learned an interesting fact. On the there had been a dance. One of the guests’ homeward way lay past the quarry hole in which the body of Eileen Tucker had been found. There, at about he had passed a car standing at the side of the road, the driver bending over his engine. He had stopped and asked if anything was wrong and the man had replied that it was only a dirty plug and that he would have it changed in a few minutes. But though the night was calm he had not heard the car start. Unfortunately he could not describe the driver, except to say that he was tall and spoke with a rather high-pitched voice.
These facts tended to confirm French’s theory that the crime was the work of the same trio as were guilty in the Portsmouth case. But beyond that they helped him not at all. No further trace of the car or its occupant could be found.
Then ensued a period of waiting, heartbreaking to French. In spite of his own efforts and those of his army of helpers no further facts were discovered. No irregularities had taken place in connection with the box office cash at any London cinema. No box office girls had left unexpectedly. Day after day French had to report failure, and each day Chief Inspector Mitchell shook his head and looked grave. “We must get them,” the Chief would say. “If we don’t some other poor girl’s death may lie on our consciences.” To which French could only reply that he knew it, but that everything he could think of
