He remembered that he had already learnt the trains by which the murdered man had travelled to town. He could thus start with the practical certainty that Sir William had arrived at St. Pancras at on the and the before the crime.
By what means would the deceased leave the station? Tanner did not think a man of his position would walk or go by bus or tube. No, as his private car was not available he would take a taxi. “I must find the man who drove him,” the Inspector thought.
He gave his bell a code ring, and instructed the assistant who answered to undertake the inquiry. From the constables on station duty the numbers of the vehicles which left on the arrival of the train in question could be obtained, and it would be a simple matter to find the drivers and learn by means of a photograph which of them had driven Sir William, and to what point.
But Tanner was by no means sanguine that such an inquiry would bear fruit. He believed that the deceased had not used his own car because he wished to cover his traces. And if so he would probably have avoided taking a taxi at the station. It would have been safer for him to have picked one up in the street outside. Tanner therefore felt he should if possible have another string to his bow. Where could such be found?
A second line of inquiry soon suggested itself. Sir William would not have passed the day without food. If Tanner could find where he lunched, it would give him another point of attack.
The Inspector had learned from Innes his master’s usual restaurants, as well as the names of his two clubs. As all these were extremely expensive and exclusive, Tanner felt he might confine his researches to places of the same type.
He began at once. Driving to the first club, he made exhaustive inquiries. Sir William was a well-known figure there, and his death had caused some of the attendants to recall in conversation the occasion of his last visit. But this had been three weeks before the murder. The men were positive he had not been there either the or in question.
At the second club Tanner received similar information. Here Sir William had not been seen for over two months prior to his death.
The Inspector then began on the restaurants. By the time he had visited the Carlton, the Savoy, and one or two others it was after . He therefore gave up for the night and, going home, busied himself in making out a list of other possible places at which he would inquire on the following day.
he was early at work. He was very thorough and painstaking, leaving no restaurant till he had interviewed everyone who might conceivably help him, from the manager down to the cloakroom attendant. For a long time he had no luck. But at last in the late afternoon, when he had worked half down his list and visited no less than seventeen restaurants, he found what he wanted.
It was a small but expensive French place on the border of Soho, with an unobtrusive exterior, and a quiet, excellent service—a place frequented by a well-to-do but, Tanner somehow imagined, rather disreputable clientéle. Here Sir William’s photograph received instant recognition.
“But yes, monsieur,” the polite manager assured him. “I remember this gentleman distinctly. He come here—let me see—about three weeks ago, I think. He come early and he ask for me. He wish a private room and lunch for three. Presently two other gentlemen join him. They lunch. After coffee he give orders that they be not disturbed. They stay there for ver’ long time. Then they leave and this gentleman”—the manager tapped the photograph—“he pay for all.”
“Can you tell me what day that was?”
By looking up his records of the hire of the room the manager could. It was . Further inquiries elicited the information that Sir William had reached the restaurant about , and had remained till , when he left with his friends.
“Together?” asked Tanner.
“At the same time, monsieur, yes; but not in company. The old gentleman”—again the manager indicated the photograph—“he drive off in a taxi. The other two walk.”
“Now those other two. Would you kindly describe them.”
As he listened to the manager’s reply, the Inspector got a sudden idea. He took from his pocket the half-dozen photographs he had used when tracing Cosgrove’s movements, and asked the other if the two friends were among them. The manager glanced over them, then bowed and smiled.
“These are the gentlemen,” he declared, picking out those of Austin and Cosgrove.
Inspector Tanner was greatly surprised at the news. What, he wondered, could have been the business between these three, which was so secret that it could only be discussed in a private room of a somewhat shady foreign restaurant in Soho? Something dark and sinister, he feared. It was evident that all three had desired to keep the meeting a secret. Sir William had taken steps to cover his traces on the journey, and so probably had the other two. At least if they had not, they had practically denied being there. Both Austin and Cosgrove had stated explicitly that they had not seen Sir William on the day in question. Further, it must have been complicated business. Austin had been alone with his father for at least two
