But might not the man have been mistaken?
Obviously the liability of humanity to err must be kept in view. At the same time it was difficult to see how a mistake could have occurred. The matter was not one of opinion, but of fact. Was Austin wearing the shoes when he went out and returned on the evening? Were they clean before he started and muddy after he reached home? There did not seem to be any possibility of error on these points. More important still, were they worn at any other time? The butler had stated he always knew what shoes Austin was wearing, as all his master’s footwear was in his charge. It seemed to Tanner that if Austin was away from the house for so long as a journey to the Abbey would involve, in dirty weather, the butler would expect a pair of shoes to have been soiled, and would therefore be bound to know if those in question had been worn.
But there was corroborative evidence which vastly strengthened the man’s statement, and that was the apparent age of the footmarks. Tanner could not tell to an hour when prints were made, but he felt certain he could say to within twelve. And in the case of these particular marks at the Abbey their appearance told him unmistakably they must have been made on or about night. That the shoes came in wet and muddy that night, and that on morning they had dried by just the amount that might reasonably have been expected, was also strongly corroborative.
The more Tanner pondered over the matter, the more he felt himself forced once more to the conclusion that the footprints at the Abbey were made on that evening between the hours of and . If Austin was now proved to have been at the boathouse between these hours, who then had made them?
And again, if so, what shoes had Austin worn at Luce Manor? On that night the butler had gone over all his footwear, and all except the shoes in question were there in Austin’s room.
Tanner was genuinely puzzled. This whole matter of the shoes seemed so clear and straightforward, and yet, if Potts and Miss Penrose were to be believed, it was all a fake. As he sat smoking after lunch in the corner of a quiet restaurant he kept racking his brains to find the flaw. But he could get no light, and he did not see just where to look for it.
At last he decided he would try to trace Austin’s movements, from the time of his visit to Luce Manor on the evening previous to the murder, right up to the time he handed over the shoes to him, Tanner, on the following . If Austin had arranged for a confederate to make the tracks for him he must have had communications with him, and it was possible Tanner might thus learn his identity.
As he was in London, the Inspector thought he might as well begin with Austin’s visit to town on the previous to the murder. Of that, the only thing of which he knew was the purchase of the shoes. He had noted the maker’s markings, “Glimax B 10735 789647S Hunt & Co.”
Messrs. Hunt’s was a very large firm, with perhaps a score or more of shops in the metropolis, and probably hundreds throughout the three kingdoms. “Glimax” was one of the three or four “lines” advertised in every paper. Tanner borrowed a directory and looked up their head office. Half an hour later he was seated with their manager.
Having introduced himself as an Inspector from Scotland Yard, he went on to business at once.
“I am endeavouring,” he said, “to trace the movements of a man who, on , this day fortnight, purchased a pair of shoes from one of your shops—probably a West End branch. The shoes were marked Glimax B 10735 over 789647S. Now, can you oblige me by suggesting how I might obtain a record of the sale?”
“With the best will in the world, I don’t know that we can give you that information,” the manager returned slowly. “We get weekly statements from all our branches which show the total sales of each class of shoe during the period. But, unfortunately for you, though fortunately for us,” the manager smiled deprecatingly, “many shoes of the fitting in question would almost certainly be sold at each of our branches during each week. If, therefore, you were to go through our returns you would find yourself no further on—it would still mean inquiries at each individual branch. How do you propose to identify your man?”
“I have his photograph.”
“I am afraid you will have to depend on that. Some of the salesmen will probably remember him. Can I help you in any other way?”
“Two things, if you will be so good; to give me, first, a list of your West End branches and second, a note to your managers, asking them to assist me.”
“I will do both with pleasure.”
Ten minutes later Tanner reached the first branch. Here he saw the manager, presented his note, and explained his business. The official was extremely civil and brought the Inspector to each of the salesmen in turn. All gave him their careful attention, but none could recall Austin Ponson nor recollect the sale in question. With courteous thanks Tanner took his leave.
The second branch was not far away, and here the Inspector made similar inquiries. But here again without result.
Recognising that his quest was going to be tedious, he engaged a taxi and settled down to work systematically through the list. Progress
