“Mind?” he echoed. “Dear girl, what do you take me for? I’m ready to begin now—in collaboration with you, that is.”
“Dear Jimmy, you are so good. I can never thank you enough.”
“What utter rubbish. Now let’s get to work. Have you made any plans?”
“I thought perhaps we could get lists from the taxi companies of the men on the various stands. Then I thought we could see all those on the stands nearest the three starting points. If it was none of these could we not send a letter to each driver in London—get some office supplies place to do it, you know? If this failed we might try newspaper advertisements.”
“Excellent. We could get the lists of the men through Tanner, if he would give them. I’ll ring him up now.”
Inspector Tanner was at the Yard. On Daunt satisfying him as to the reason of the demand, he promised to have the information looked up and supplied.
The next day the lists came and the cousins set off to commence their investigations. They saw a number of the men on the stands in question, others at the depots and still others at their homes. After three strenuous days they had gone over them all. But they learnt nothing. None of the men had driven Cosgrove.
“It’s hopeful,” Lois announced as they dined together that evening, “but we must now try the circular.”
They drafted a letter offering a reward of £5 for information as to the identity of the man who had driven a fare answering to Cosgrove’s description on any of the three trips in question. With this Daunt called to see Tanner on the following morning. He told him what they had done, and what they proposed, and asked for a complete list of the taxi and cabdrivers of London. Tanner, nothing loath to have his own conclusions verified, had the information made out. Then Daunt went to an office supplies firm in New Oxford Street, and arranged for a circular to be sent to each man on the list—several thousand.
Two days passed and there was no answer, but on the third day a taxi-driver giving his name as John Hoskins called at Daunt’s office. Jimmy saw him at once.
“It was abaht this ’ere letter,” said the man. “I guess I’m the man you want.”
“Yes? You drove a fare on one of those trips on that evening?”
“Yes, sir. I were just passing out of King’s Cross after setting down a lady and gent, when the gent ’e hails me, ‘Engaged?’ ’e asks. ‘No, sir,’ I says. ‘174B Knightsbridge,’ ’e says. I drove ’im there, and that’s all I knows abaht it.”
Daunt opened a drawer and took out half a dozen cabinet photographs, which, in unconscious imitation of Tanner, he had procured. One was of Cosgrove, the others of men as like Cosgrove as Jimmy could find.
“Is the man you drove among those?” he asked, handing them over.
The driver glanced over them and unhesitatingly picked out Cosgrove’s.
“That’s ’im, mister,” he said decisively.
“And what time did you pick him up?”
“Abaht . I left ’im in Knightsbridge at a .”
“That’s all right, my man. It’s what I wanted to know. If you give me your name and address I’ll give you the five pounds.”
Jimmy telegraphed the news to Lois at Halford, using for the benefit of the postal officials a code on which they had previously agreed. The information, he feared, would be a heavy blow to her. She had so confidently made up her mind that Cosgrove was the guilty man, and here was proof—to Daunt it seemed final and conclusive proof—of his innocence. Even Lois herself had admitted that if Cosgrove had indeed returned to his rooms after leaving King’s Cross, it would have been impossible for him to have visited Luce Manor—times and distances made that certain. Miss Belcher’s confirmation of his visit to the Follies, and the discovery of the other two taxi drivers were therefore not required. As matters stood, Cosgrove’s innocence was demonstrated.
So Daunt reasoned, but not so Lois Drew. As she tossed sleepless on her bed that night she racked her brains for some flaw in the case, some loophole that might save her lover. But the more she thought it over, the more hopeless it seemed. As dawn brightened slowly into day she had to admit herself beaten. And then, just as a delightful drowsiness began to creep over her restless, wearied body, an idea flashed into her mind. She remained motionless, hardly daring to breathe as its full significance gradually dawned upon her. When it did so all chance of sleep vanished. Her eyes became very bright, and she laughed contentedly to herself.
She travelled to town by an early train and was in Daunt’s office soon after it opened. She received his condolences quietly, then startled him by saying demurely:
“I want you to send out another circular to the taxi-men, Jimmy. I have it here.”
The paper she handed him read:
“Ten Pounds Reward
“The above reward will be paid to the taxi driver who picked up a fare”—here followed a description of Cosgrove—“about , in or near Knightsbridge, on his identifying the man picked up from a photograph, and saying where he was set down. Apply—” and here followed Jimmy’s address.
“But my dear girl,” the latter objected, “we have already sent that out, or practically that.”
“Never mind, Jimmy,” she said, with one of the brilliant smiles that lit up her face and made it momentarily beautiful. “Do this for me, and don’t ask questions.” Before he realized what she was going to do, she had kissed him
