“A small, elderly, clean-shaven man, sergeant? Let us go round the Tavistock barbers.”
The sergeant looked up sharply.
“By Jove! sir, a likely enough ruse,” he cried. “It won’t take long to find out—there are only three.”
They ran back to the little town, and at the first barber’s learned that a small, elderly man with a short grey beard and moustache had called at a few minutes before , and had had his beard and moustache shaved off.
“Now to the telegraph office. We’ll have him before long.”
The Inspector sent messages to Plymouth, to Exeter, and to some of the principal stations beyond, explaining that the bearded man of the previous wires had had himself shaved. Then he looked at his watch.
“. Can I catch the ? Phone to hold it while I run across.”
He jumped into the car and drove to the South-Western Station. There he caught the train for Exeter with a minute to spare.
He leaned back in the corner of a first-class compartment, and slowly drew out and lit a cigar, while he turned over in his mind the next step to be taken. He thought that at all events he should go on to Exeter. The from Tavistock, by which Douglas had travelled, reached that city before his wire about the shaving had been sent out. Therefore it was hardly likely that the man would have been detained en route. Tanner, of course, recognised that a freshly shaven chin was unmistakable, but he did not think a village constable would have the sharpness to deduce what Douglas might have done, and act accordingly. But from Exeter in what direction would the quarry head?
There seemed two possibilities. Probably he would try either to reach London, or to get abroad. London, as Tanner knew, was perhaps the safest place in the world for a criminal to lie hidden. But many ill-doers had an overwhelming desire to put as great a distance as possible between themselves and the scene of their misdeeds. If Douglas were of this class he would try to get out of the country, and if, as the hotel porter had stated, he spoke like an American, would he not be likely to try to reach the country in which he might most easily pass for a native? There was, of course, no means of knowing, but at least it was clear that the approaches to London as well as the ports should be closely watched.
In any case, whatever the fugitive’s goal, he would be almost certain to pass through Exeter. It was true he could double back to Plymouth, but the probabilities were he would keep away from the district in which he was known. As Tanner’s train ran into St. David’s Station, Exeter, he felt sure his victim was not far before him.
A tall efficient looking sergeant of police was waiting on the platform. This man, sharply scrutinising the alighting travellers, promptly fixed on Tanner.
“Inspector Tanner, sir?” he questioned, and as the other nodded, continued, “they phoned us from Plymouth you were coming through on this train. We have inquiries in hand both here and at Queen Street, the other station. So far we have heard nothing of your man.”
“What exactly are you doing?”
“We have a man at each station working the staffs—booking-clerks, ticket collectors, porters, refreshment rooms—the usual thing. Another man is going round the hotels, another the restaurants open at that hour, and another the garages, in case he might have gone on by car. Is there any other line you would wish taken up?”
“Why no, sergeant. I think you have covered all the ground. Have you advised your men that the fellow got shaved?”
“Some of them, sir; some of them we couldn’t get hold of. We advise them as we can get in touch with them.”
Tanner nodded again.
“Well, we had better go to headquarters and wait for news.”
For a considerable time Tanner remained, chafing and impatient, until, just as was booming from the town clocks, a constable appeared accompanied by a tall, fair-haired young man in a leather coat and breeches, and a peaked cap. The latter explained that he was a taxi owner, driving his own vehicle, and he believed he knew something that might be of value.
It appeared that he had been at St. David’s Station when Douglas’s train had come in. He was engaged by a small, elderly, clean-shaven man with grey hair, dressed in a tweed overcoat and a cloth cap. The man seemed nervous and excited, and told him to drive to any ready-made clothes store which would be open at that hour. He took him to a shop in the poorer part of the town. The man went in, returning in a few minutes dressed in a soft, grey felt hat and a khaki coloured waterproof, and carrying a bundle. He reentered the taxi and told the driver “Queen Street Station as quick as you can.” He drove there, and the man paid him and hurried into the station, and that was all he knew.
“What time did you reach Queen Street?” asked Tanner.
“Going on to .”
“We’d better go to Queen Street and find out what trains leave about that hour.”
Their visitor’s car was waiting outside, and engaging it, they drove rapidly off.
For those who do not know Exeter, it may be explained that the Great Western and London and South-Western Railways, both running from London to Plymouth, form a gigantic figure 8, the centre where the lines cross being St. David’s Station, Exeter. In the same town, but a mile nearer London on the
