But next morning a fresh development took place which banished all thoughts of finesse and sent him hotfoot to the silversmiths’ and any other place from which news of the trio might be obtained.
He had been busy at routine work in connection with the case. He had begun by ringing up the inspector of the York Road district to ask for such information as might be available about Messrs. Theobald & Grudgin and their establishment. Then he had gone down to the Mint to report his discovery and to ask as tactfully as he could whether a mistake might not have been made in their half crown diagnosis.
The very senior officer who received him had been emphatic in his reply. No mistake could possibly have been made. The tests gave absolutely conclusive results. Silversmiths or no silversmiths, the coins he had sent them were genuine.
Scarcely had French returned to the Yard when the blow fell. As he sat down at his desk his telephone rang.
“Is that Mr. French, the inspector?” asked a woman’s voice which French vaguely remembered, but could not place. “I’m Mrs. Creuse, of 27 Nelson Street.”
Nelson Street! Of course, the proprietor of Molly Moran’s boarding house.
“Yes, Mrs. Creuse. Inspector French speaking. Anything I can do for you?”
“It’s about Miss Moran,” the voice went on. “She did not come back after the performance last night and I’m anxious about her. I shouldn’t have thought anything about it only for your inquiries here. A girl sometimes goes home with friends and is not always careful to ring up her boarding house. But she was always careful that way.”
French’s heart almost stood still for a moment. Was it possible … ? Could these infernal scoundrels have got hold of her as they got hold of Thurza Darke and her two unhappy predecessors?
“Did you not ring up the cinema?” he asked quickly.
“Yes, but by the time I began to get anxious it was too late. You see, it’s often nearly before Miss Moran gets home, and it was only by chance that I was up myself about and discovered she had not arrived. I rang up the cinema first thing this morning, but I’ve only just got through. They say she never turned up to business yesterday. I hope she’s all right.”
French stiffened, sure that this confirmed his worst fears. Why, why had not the Panopticon people rung him up? Grimly he promised himself a straight talk with the manager. But that could wait. Now the urgent matter was to organize a search.
In times of emergency French always rose to the occasion. Pausing only to ring up the Panopticon for confirmation of the landlady’s statement, he set to work. For some thirty seconds he sat motionless, staring with unseeing eyes at the polished wood of his desk, while he rapidly considered the measures he would take. Then deliberately, but without the loss of a moment, he proceeded to put his plans into operation.
His first step was to hurry to Chief Inspector Mitchell’s room, tell him the news, and outline his proposals for dealing with the situation. French already held warrants for the arrest of all three known members of the gang, but he now wanted search warrants for Welland’s house and office as well as for the premises of the silversmiths, Messrs. Theobald & Grudgin. With all his proposals Mitchell expressed his agreement.
French next summoned a number of men to his room.
“I think you all know something of the case I’m on,” he began, speaking in quiet but impressive tones. “Starting with the Portsmouth murder, I have found that a gang of crooks have murdered three cinema pay-box girls who they feared were about to give away their secrets to the police. Now I’ve just had a phone that a fourth girl has disappeared—a Miss Molly Moran, employed in the box office of the Panopticon Cinema in Leicester Square. You have seen her, Carter, and you also, Harvey. She got into the clutches of the gang, same as the other three girls, and has been working for them. Only the day before yesterday she told me her story, and it looks as if they may have got wise to it and done her in.”
He paused and the men nodded in silence.
“She left her boarding house in Nelson Street, so I am advised, at her usual time yesterday morning and has not been heard of since. If these people have got her you will see that we can’t lose any time.”
Again the men nodded, and French went on with his directions.
“You, Carter, will take two men and bring in Curtice Welland. Here is a warrant which I have had ready for some time. Here is his description and the places, so far as we know, where he is likely to be found. I leave all the details to you. But no bungling! Bring him in, and quickly.”
Sergeant Carter promptly disappeared and French turned to the next in the line.
“I want you, Harvey, to go into the affair at the Panopticon Cinema. You may get a line on some caller or hear of a letter or telephone. Advise the Yard if you have any luck.”
Harvey disappeared in his turn, and French resumed.
“You, Pickford, try the boarding house. Here is the address and all particulars. I need scarcely prompt you. You know what to do.”
So the wheels of the ponderous machine of the C.I.D. began to creak and relentlessly the great trap was set. In addition to Carter and his helpers, men were sent to watch all the places which Welland was known to frequent: his house, his office, the garage, his golf club. Inquiries were to be made from his housekeeper, the other occupiers of the office buildings, the staff in the coachbuilder’s yard and the secretary and other members of the golf club. The three other girls known to be in
