“They were mistaken. I was not there.”
Daunt dropped his detached air, and spoke with all the earnestness at his command.
“Look here, Ponson,” he said. “What the truth in this wretched business is I don’t know, but I do know that for you to go on like this means a certain verdict of ‘Guilty.’ That’s as sure as you’re sitting there. If you don’t care about yourself, for God’s sake think of that girl that’s giving up her all for you. You must tell her the truth—in common honour you must tell her. Your actions must look suspicious to her as well as others. If you can explain them, for Heaven’s sake do so, and if not, don’t let her commit herself too far to get out.”
Austin slowly raised his head and smiled unhappily.
“You’re a good fellow, Daunt,” he said. “God knows I’m ten times more anxious for Lois than for myself. But all I can tell you is to repeat what I have already said; I was not there. There must be some ghastly mistake.”
Daunt felt his anger rising.
“It’s a mistake that will cost you your life if you don’t rectify it,” he answered sharply. “If you can’t be open with me I must give up the case.”
“Then you don’t believe me?”
“Believe you? How can I believe you? I show your photograph to four separate men at that café and all identify you without hesitation. But see here”—he spoke as if a new idea had occurred to him—“the thing can be easily settled. If you weren’t at the café with Sir William where were you? Tell me that?”
“I lunched that day at the Savoy.”
“For three hours?”
“Well, no. I sat and smoked in the lounge. Then I got one or two things—tobacco and those two pairs of shoes.”
Jimmy Daunt did not believe him, but all the persuasion of which he was a master failed to induce Austin, whatever he might or might not know, to supplement or vary his statement. But the latter consistently scouted the idea that the trial could end in a conviction, stoutly maintaining that there was no evidence to lead to such a conclusion.
At last Jimmy took his leave, intensely dissatisfied with the result of the interview. As had been arranged between them, he sent a wire to Lois asking her to come to town that afternoon, though he looked forward to the meeting with anything but pleasure.
It was nearly when she arrived. He greeted her with no hint that his news was bad, and as before insisted on an immediate visit to the quiet restaurant. Over a cup of tea he told her all of Tanner’s adventures and discoveries, with the single exception of his learning of the meeting between Sir William, Austin, and Cosgrove at the Étoile restaurant. But when they had returned to his office, he became more serious.
“I’m frightfully sorry, Lois,” he began, after seeing that she was comfortably seated, “but I haven’t told you all the news yet, and I’m afraid the rest of it is not too good.”
Her expressive face became clouded and anxious, but she did not speak. Then Daunt told her as gently as he could of the lunch at the Étoile, and Tanner’s theories resulting therefrom.
“But that’s not such bad news,” she said with evident relief. “Inspector Tanner must have made a mistake. Austin said he didn’t see his father after the evening.”
Daunt moved uneasily. It was a confoundedly awkward job, and he wished he was through with it.
“Dear Lois, it sounds a perfectly horrible thing to say, but that is just the difficulty. In spite of Austin’s denial, Tanner is convinced the meeting took place. I believed he was mistaken, so I went down to the restaurant myself. I took Austin’s photograph, and the manager, two waiters, and the porter recognised it instantly. All four are prepared to swear Austin was there.”
“Did you tell Austin?”
“Yes. He stuck to his denial.”
Daunt had expected and feared an outbreak from Lois on hearing the news, but though her face showed extreme pain, she spoke very quietly.
“There is no reason to suppose the four men in the café are dishonest. They couldn’t have been bought to swear this?”
“It’s possible, I suppose, but I fear there’s no evidence of it, and even if it were true, we would never get evidence.”
“In that case, as Austin wasn’t there, they must have been mistaken.”
She looked steadily in Jimmy’s eyes as if challenging him to contest her statement. He marvelled at the faith a good woman will show in the man she loves, and he felt if Austin had by word or deed deceived her, hanging would be too good for him. He hesitated in replying, and she went on:
“You understand what I mean? Austin was supposed to have been seen at the boathouse, and as he wasn’t there we deduced an impersonator. We find, in my opinion, the same thing here—probably the same man.”
“In the boathouse case we imagined Cosgrove was the impersonator. Here it could not be Cosgrove, as he was present also.”
She nodded.
“That is true certainly. Tell me honestly, Jimmy, what you think yourself.”
Jimmy hedged.
“It’s not what I think, Lois, or for the matter of that, what you think, or even what Tanner thinks; it’s what the jury will think; and as you’ve asked me the direct question, I must tell you I greatly fear they will disbelieve Austin.”
“I fear so too,” she answered quietly. He felt she was conscious he had not answered her question, and was thankful she was going to let it pass. But his relief was short-lived.
“You thought he was”—she hesitated for a moment—“not telling you all he might?”
Jimmy hated doing business in opposition to a clever woman. Again and again he had found that except for their own purposes they seldom considered either his words or actions, but always his quite private and secret thoughts. He realised that Lois knew exactly what was in his mind
