Tanner rose.
“Thank you, Miss Drew. That is all I want to know. I am sorry for having come on unpleasant business, and exceedingly grateful for the way you have met me.”
She also rose and held out her hand.
“I hope you will let me know how you get on,” she said.
“You may trust me,” he promised, and bowing low, took his leave.
As he walked slowly towards Austin’s villa, Tanner thought over the interview he had just had. He felt sure that the accounts he had heard of Miss Drew—that she was “a fine girl” and “a real lady”—were true. He believed she was the kind of girl who would marry neither for wealth nor position, and the fact that she had consented to an engagement with Austin seemed to speak well for the latter.
His thoughts turned back to the point about the alibi which still worried him—whether Austin had really been at the Abbey at the time he said. And suddenly a way in which he might test the matter occurred to him. The shoes which made the tracks Tanner had found had, so Austin had said, been bought by him in London on the . He, Tanner, had got them from Austin after the inquest on . If he could trace the movements of those shoes from to , would light not be thrown on the problem? Tanner thought it worth while trying.
Not far from the door of Austin Ponson’s house a police constable was moving slowly along his beat. The Inspector went over to him.
“Have you seen Mr. Ponson lately?” he inquired.
“Yes, sir,” answered the man, “he and Lady and Miss Ponson passed in the car about half an hour ago, going towards London.”
This was a fortunate chance, and relieved the Inspector of a possibly tedious wait, as he wished to make his call at the house when Austin was from home. He now rang at the door. The butler appeared.
“Is Mr. Ponson at home?”
“No, sir. He went out about half an hour ago. I expect him back about . What name shall I say?”
“Tanner. Inspector Tanner of New Scotland Yard. I am sorry Mr. Ponson is out as I wished to ask him for a little information, but perhaps if you would be so kind you might be able to give it to me.”
The butler was obviously impressed by the occupation of his visitor, and Tanner felt sure his curiosity would also be aroused.
“If you will come in I shall be glad to do what I can.”
“Now, Mr.—? I didn’t hear your name?”
“Lewis. John Lewis.”
“Well, Mr. Lewis, Mr. Ponson told me a curious story of a hoax that had been played on him last night. I was down, you know, about Sir William’s death, and we got talking. You know about the hoax, I suppose?”
“Not a word,” the butler answered, his manner portraying keen interest.
“He didn’t tell me it was any secret. He got a note on evening asking him to go out to meet some friends that night at the Abbey ruin.”
The butler nodded several times.
“Yes, I remember that note. I found it in the hall-door letter-box. It must have been left by private messenger, for there was no postmark on it. After Mr. Austin had read it he came asking me where I had found it. He seemed kind of puzzled about it.”
“That would be it,” Tanner agreed. “He went out to the Abbey, but when he reached it there was no one there and he had his journey for nothing. Someone had hoaxed him properly.”
“Bless us all!” ejaculated the butler. “You don’t say?”
“Mr. Ponson asked me when I was here to look into the thing for him and I did. I found some footsteps there that might give a clue, but the worst of it is I don’t know whether they weren’t made by himself. Maybe, Mr. Lewis, you would help me there. I would be much obliged, I’m sure.”
“Certainly, Mr. Tanner. I’d be pleased if you’d tell me how.”
“All I want is to see the shoes Mr. Ponson wore on night, so as I can compare them with the prints.”
The butler’s face fell.
“That’s just the one thing I can’t do,” he answered. “They’re not here. I missed them on , and told Mr. Austin. He said they were not comfortable, and he had sent them to be stretched.”
“They were new, then?”
“Yes, he got them in town on .”
“It was curious he should wear them that night if they weren’t comfortable.”
“I suppose he hadn’t found it out. That evening was the first time he had had them on.”
“I see.” Tanner nodded his head, then continued, “What time did he go out, Mr. Lewis?”
“About or a bit after.”
“And when did he get back?”
“A little before . I brought him some whisky, and when I was coming out of his room the clock struck the half-hour.”
“And he didn’t go out again that night?”
“No, he went to bed about . I heard him go up.”
“I see. And what was the next occasion he wore those shoes?”
“There wasn’t no next occasion. That was the only time he had them on.”
Tanner considered. This seemed to be pretty conclusive, but he was anxious to obtain even stronger evidence. After a moment he went on again.
“I’m afraid I’m not quite clear about the thing yet. What I want to get at is whether anyone else could have got hold of those shoes and made the tracks I saw at the Abbey.”
“If that’s all’s worrying you, you may make your mind easy. Those shoes were in my charge from evening till Mr. Ponson put them on on after dinner. Then I brought them down to clean before I went to bed that night, and they were there till he took them on . I remarked them particularly because they were new, and
