A glance at the time table at Queen Street supported this view. A train left for London at .
“Your constable saw the booking-clerk, I suppose?” Tanner asked.
“Yes, sir. But of course he gave the wrong description. He did not know the man had changed his cap and coat.”
“That’s true,” Tanner assented. “We had better see him again.”
The booking office was closed and the clerk had gone home. With considerable difficulty they obtained his address from a watchman. Then stepping into their waiting taxi, they were driven to it.
The house was in darkness, but their third thunderous knock produced a sleepy and indignant householder. Tanner, who was a past-master in the art, soothed his ruffled feelings, and he brought them in and civilly asked their business.
“You have been troubled about this before, I’m afraid,” the Inspector began. “I shall explain the affair in a word and you’ll see its importance. A murder has been committed, and we have traced the suspected man to Queen Street Station. He drove up in a great hurry just before this evening, and we imagine he must have travelled by the . Now you will see why we want your help. If you can recall the man and recollect where he booked to, it would be of material assistance to us.”
“A clean-shaven man in a brownish cap and coat?” the clerk replied. “But I have already answered that. I saw no one so dressed.”
“We have just discovered that he had bought a waterproof and a grey felt hat. Can you recall him now?”
The clerk made a sudden gesture.
“Why yes, I can,” he cried excitedly, “I remarked him because he was in such a fuss, and I told him he was time enough. I should have thought of it when the constable asked me, but the description put me off.”
“Quite naturally,” Tanner assured him smoothly, “but now if you can tell us where he booked to, you’ll do us a very great service.”
“I can do so. His excitement drew my attention to him. He took a third single to Southampton.”
“Southampton! Just as I expected,” exclaimed Tanner. “Making for the ships!”
The other nodded and Tanner went on:
“Where would he get to from there? Would he catch the night boat for Havre?”
“No,” answered the clerk as he fetched a time table and rapidly turned over the leaves. “The gets to Salisbury at , and there’s a train on to Southampton Town at . It doesn’t go to the Harbour. But the connection at Eastleigh is bad, and you don’t get to Southampton till . The Havre boat leaves at .”
“And what time do you get to Eastleigh?”
“.”
“And from there to Southampton is how far?”
“About seven miles to the docks.”
“So that if he had taken a motor at Eastleigh he could have been there by midnight?”
“Yes, I should say about that.”
Tanner looked at his watch. It was . In from five to thirty-five minutes Douglas would probably reach Southampton. Would there be time to intercept him there?
Hastily thanking the clerk, the two men jumped once more into their taxi and drove to the police station. There the Inspector hurried to the telephone to call up the Southampton police. But there was a delay in getting through. For thirty minutes he fumed and fretted. Then at he got his connection.
“I’m afraid the train will be in,” replied the distant voice, “but if it’s late we’ll get your man if he’s on it. If we miss him there, we’ll go on to the Docks. There’s a Union Castle liner due out at . He may be going for that. What about the warrant?”
“Hold on a minute,” said Tanner, then turning to the sergeant, he spoke rapidly:
“A liner leaves Southampton at for South Africa. Can I get there with a good car? There are no trains, of course?”
“None, sir. It’s about a hundred miles and you should do thirty miles an hour—say three and a half hours. If you left here at , you should be there by .”
“I’ll do that.” Then turning back to the telephone: “I’m leaving here now by road for Southampton. You may expect me at the Union Castle berth about . I’ll have the warrant.”
The taxi-driver they had been employing being unfamiliar with the surrounding country, they drove to the nearest garage and after some difficulty succeeded in knocking up a sleepy manager and hiring a powerful car and a man who knew the road, at least as far as Salisbury. But there were delays in getting away, and though the manager did his best, it was nearly when the big vehicle swung out of Exeter, eastward bound.
The night was fine but dark. As they purred swiftly along the smooth road, Tanner lay back on the comfortable cushions and let the cool air blow in on his heated forehead, while he took stock of the position.
He was perfectly aware that he might be on a wild-goose chase. The taking of the ticket to Southampton might have been a blind, and Douglas might not have done the obvious thing in making a bolt to the most convenient port. After the ruse the man had employed at Myrtle Cottage, Tanner felt he would not do the obvious thing unless he was impelled to it by some strong consideration. But such a consideration existed. There was the element of time. The man would realise that on such a journey he must inevitably be traced, but he would hardly imagine he could be traced in time. Before his pursuers could reach Southampton he would count on having been able to adopt a new personality, and
