“Mr. Austin Ponson and Sir William!” The sergeant reached his climax with an air of triumph.
Tanner was genuinely surprised.
“Couldn’t have been,” he said after a moment. “I went into all that. Mr. Austin was halfway to the Abbey ruins at that time.”
“She was quite certain, and she said the man Potts was certain too.”
“Have you seen him?”
“No, sir. He is a bookseller’s assistant in London—to Evans & Hope, in Paternoster Row. His people live here, and he was down on a couple of days’ holidays.”
Tanner noted the address.
“How was Mr. Austin supposed to be dressed?”
“In bluish grey clothes that looked like flannel, and a white straw hat.”
“And Sir William?”
“In a black cape and felt hat.”
“They didn’t see either of them leave the boathouse?”
“No, sir. They were passing on down the river towards the girl’s home.”
Tanner was silent. If this news were true, though he could hardly credit it, the alibi must be a fake after all, and Austin must have duped him. And yet, how could it be a fake? He had tested it thoroughly, and he had been satisfied about it. He did not know what to think.
“Why did this girl not come forward before?” he asked.
“She didn’t know till she read the account of the inquest that there was any question of foul play.”
Inspector Tanner was considerably perplexed. The more he thought over what he had just heard, the more disposed to believe it he became, and at the same time more puzzled about the alibi. But one fact at all events appeared to stand out clearly. If Austin had really been to the boathouse that night, it surely followed that he must be guilty of the murder? His presence there would not of course prove it, but would not the alibi? If he had merely omitted to mention the visit it would have been suggestive, but if he had invented an elaborate story to prove he was not there, it undoubtedly pointed to something serious.
But, as had always happened up to the present, his own next step was clear. He must see the girl and hear her statement himself, and afterwards visit Potts, the bookseller’s assistant. If he was satisfied with their story he must once again tackle Austin’s alibi and not drop it till he either found the flaw or was so convinced of its soundness as to conclude the new witnesses were lying.
he was early at the grocery establishment of Mr. Thomas Smithson, in close conversation with a tall and rather pretty girl in a cream-coloured blouse and blue skirt. She repeated the sergeant’s statement almost word for word, and all Tanner’s efforts could neither shake her evidence nor add to it. She was quite sure the man in the boat was Austin; she had seen him scores of times; he was a well-known Halford figure. So was Sir William; she had seen him scores of times also. No, it was not too dark to see at that distance; her sight was excellent, and she was quite certain she had made no mistake.
She was very shamefaced about the cause of her presence on the river bank, and begged Tanner to respect her confidence. He promised readily, saying that unless absolutely unavoidable, her name would not be brought forward.
He returned to town by the next train, and drove to Paternoster Row. Here he had no difficulty in finding Herbert Potts. He was a man on the right side of thirty, with a dependable face, and a quiet, rather forceful manner. He seemed considerably annoyed that his excursion with Miss Penrose should have become known, fearing, as he said, that the girl would get talked about, and perhaps have to give evidence in court. But about the events on the night in question he corroborated her entirely. He also was positive the man in the boat was Austin. Though now employed in London, he was a Halford man and knew Austin’s appearance beyond possibility of mistake. The Inspector left him, feeling that in the face of these two witnesses he could no longer doubt Austin had been at the boathouse, and therefore had faked his alibi.
But how? That was the question he must now set himself to solve.
It seemed clear that Austin’s statement up to the time of his leaving the boat club pavilion, and after his arrival back there, was true. The testimony of the boatman Brocklehurst, Miss Drew, and Austin’s butler was overwhelming. The flaw therefore must lie in the evidence of what took place between those hours. Tanner went over this once again.
It hinged, as he had recognised before, on the shoes. And firstly, had the prints at the Abbey been made by those shoes? He had thought so at the time, and on reconsidering the matter he felt more certain than ever that he was right. A very trifling dint in the edge of one of the soles, evidently caused by striking a sharp-edged stone, was reproduced exactly in the clay. It was unthinkable that another pair of precisely similar shoes should have a precisely similar dint in the exact same place. No, when or by whom worn, Austin’s shoes had made the tracks. So much was beyond question.
Then with regard to the time at which the prints had been made. On this point the evidence of the butler corroborated Austin’s story. The butler had stated the shoes had been in Austin’s dressing-room in his, the butler’s, charge during the entire time from the on which they were purchased till the , with the single exception of this particular period on evening. If this were true it followed that some person other than Austin wore the shoes, and made the tracks during this period. But was it true?
Tanner recalled point by point his interview with the butler. Invariably he reached his conclusions quite as much from the manner and bearing of the persons he interrogated as from their statement. And in this
