Part + 

II + 

The Professionals + 

XII + 

Murder! + 

Almost exactly fifteen hours before Merriman’s call at Scotland Yard, to wit, about eight o’clock on the previous evening, Inspector Willis of the Criminal Investigation Department was smoking in the sitting-room of his tiny house in Brixton. George Willis was a tall, somewhat burly man of five-and-forty, with heavy, clean-shaven, expressionless features which would have made his face almost stupid, had it not been redeemed by a pair of the keenest of blue eyes. He was what is commonly known as a safe man, not exactly brilliant, but plodding and tenacious to an extraordinary degree. His forte was slight clues, and he possessed that infinite capacity for taking pains which made his following up of them approximate to genius. In short, though a trifle slow, he was already looked on as one of the most efficient and reliable inspectors of the Yard. + 

He had had a heavy day, and it was with a sigh of relief that he picked up the evening paper and stretched himself luxuriously in his easy-chair. But he was not destined to enjoy a long rest. Hardly had he settled himself to his satisfaction when the telephone bell rang. He was wanted back at the Yard immediately. + 

He swore under his breath, then, calling the news to his wife, he slipped on his waterproof and left the house. The long spell of fine weather had at last broken, and the evening was unpleasant, indeed unusually inclement for mid-September. All day the wind had been gusty and boisterous, and now a fine drizzle of rain had set in, which was driven in sheets against the grimy buildings and whirled in eddies round the street corners. Willis walked quickly along the shining pavements, and in a few minutes reached his destination. His chief was waiting for him. + 

“Ah, Willis,” the great man greeted him, “I’m glad you weren’t out. A case has been reported which I want you to take over; a suspected murder; man found dead in a taxi at King’s Cross.” + 

“Yes, sir,” Willis answered unemotionally. “Any details forward?” + 

“None, except that the man is dead and that they’re holding the taxi at the station. I have asked Dr. Horton to come round, and you had both better get over there as quickly as possible.” + 

“Yes, sir,” Willis replied again, and quickly left the room. + 

His preparations were simple. He had only to arrange for a couple of plain clothes men and a photographer with a flashlight apparatus to accompany him, and to bring from his room a handbag containing his notebook and a few other necessary articles. He met the police doctor in the corridor and, the others being already in waiting, the five men immediately left the great building and took a car to the station. + 

“What’s the case, inspector, do you know?” Dr. Horton inquired as they slipped deftly through the traffic. + 

“The Chief said suspected murder; man found dead in a taxi at King’s Cross. He had no details.” + 

“How was it done?” + 

“Don’t know, sir. Chief didn’t say.” + 

After a few brief observations on the inclemency of the weather, conversation waned between the two men, and they followed the example of their companions, and sat watching with a depressed air the rain-swept streets and the hurrying foot passengers on the wet pavements. All five were annoyed at being called out, as all were tired and had been looking forward to an evening of relaxation at their homes. + 

They made a quick run, reaching the station in a very few minutes. There a constable identified the inspector. + 

“They’ve taken the taxi round to the carrier’s yard at the west side of the station, sir,” he said to Willis. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you the way.” + 

The officer led them to an enclosed and partially roofed area at the back of the parcels office, where the vans from the shops unloaded their traffic. In a corner under the roof and surrounded by a little knot of men stood a taxicab. As Willis and his companions approached, a sergeant of police separated himself from the others and came forward. + 

“We have touched nothing, sir,” he announced. “When we found the man was dead we didn’t even move the body.” + 

Willis nodded. + 

“Quite right, sergeant. It’s murder, I suppose?” + 

“Looks like it, sir. The man was shot.” + 

“Shot? Anything known of the murderer?” + 

“Not much, I’m afraid, sir. He got clear away in Tottenham Court Road, as far as I can understand it. But you’ll hear what the driver has to say.” + 

Again the Inspector nodded, as he stepped up to the vehicle. + 

“Here’s Dr. Newman,” the sergeant continued, indicating an exceedingly dapper and well-groomed little man with medico written all over him. “He was the nearest medical man we could get.” + 

Willis turned courteously to the other. + 

“An unpleasant evening to be called out, doctor,” he remarked. “The man’s dead, I understand? Was he dead when you arrived?” + 

“Yes, but only a very little time. The body was quite warm.” + 

“And the cause of death?” + 

“Seeing that I could do nothing, I did not move the body until you Scotland Yard gentlemen had seen it, and therefore I cannot say professionally. But there is a small hole in the side of the coat over the heart.” The doctor spoke with a slightly consequential air. + 

“A bullet wound?” + 

“A bullet wound unquestionably.” + 

Inspector Willis picked up an acetylene bicycle lamp which one of the men had procured and directed its beam into the cab. + 

The corpse lay in the back corner seat on the driver’s side, the head lolling back sideways against the cushions and crushing into a shapeless mass the grey Homburg hat. The mouth and eyes were open and the features twisted as if from sudden pain. The face was long and oval, the hair and eyes dark, and there was a tiny black mustache with waxed ends. A khaki coloured waterproof, open in front, revealed a grey tweed suit, across the waistcoat of which shone a gold watch chain. Tan shoes covered the feet. On the left side of the body just over the heart was a little round hole in the waterproof coat. Willis stooped and smelled the cloth. + 

“No blackening and no smell of burned powder,” he thought. “He must have been shot from outside the cab.” But he found it hard to understand how such a shot could have been fired from the populous streets of London. The hole also seemed too far round towards the back of the body to suggest that the bullet had come in through the open window. The point was puzzling, but Willis pulled himself up sharply with the reminder that he must not begin theorizing until he had learned all the facts. + 

Having gazed at the gruesome sight until he had impressed its every detail on his memory, he turned to his assistant. “Get ahead with your flashlight, Kirby,” he ordered. “Take views from all the angles you can. The constable will give you a hand. Meantime, sergeant, give me an idea of the case. What does the driver say?” + 

“He’s here, sir,” the officer returned, pointing to a small, slight individual in a leather coat and cap, with a sallow, frightened face and pathetic, doglike eyes which fixed themselves questioningly on Willis’s face as the sergeant led their owner forward. + 

“You might tell me what you know, driver.” + 

The man shifted nervously from one foot to the other. + 

“It was this way, sir,” he began. He spoke earnestly, and to Willis, who was accustomed to sizing up rapidly those with whom he dealt, he seemed a sincere and honest man. “I was driving down Piccadilly from Hyde Park Corner looking out for a fare, and when I gets just by the end of Bond Street two men hails me. One was this here man what’s dead, the other was a big, tall gent. I pulls in to the curb, and they gets in, and the tall gent he says ‘King’s Cross.’ I starts off by Piccadilly Circus and Shaftesbury Avenue, but when I gets into Tottenham Court Road about the corner of Great Russell Street, one of them says through the tube, ‘Let me down here at the corner of Great Russell Street,’ he sez. I pulls over to the curb, and the tall gent he gets out and stands on the curb and speaks in to the other one. ‘Then I shall follow by the three o’clock tomorrow,’ he sez, and he shuts the door and gives me a bob and sez, ‘That’s for yourself,’ he sez, ‘and my friend will square up at the station,’ he sez. I came on here, and when this here man opens the door,” he indicated a porter standing by, “why, the man’s dead. And that’s all I knows about it.” + 

The statement was made directly and convincingly, and Willis frowned as he thought that such apparently simple cases proved frequently to be the most baffling in the end. In his slow, careful way he went over in his mind what he had heard, and then began to try for further details. + 

“At what time did you pick up the men?” he inquired. + 

“About half past seven, or maybe twenty to eight.” + 

“Did you see where they were coming from?” + 

“No, sir. They were standing on the curb, and the tall one he holds up his hand for me to pull over.” + 

“Would you know the tall man again?” + 

The driver shook his head. + 

“I don’t know as I should, sir. You see, it was raining, and he had his collar up round his neck and his hat pulled down over his eyes, so as I couldn’t right see his face.” + 

“Describe him as best you can.” + 

“He was a tall man, longer than what you are, and broad too. A big man, I should call him.” + 

“How was he dressed?” + 

“He had a waterproof, khaki colour⁠—about the colour of your own⁠—with the collar up round his neck.” + 

“His hat?” + 

“His hat was a soft felt, dark, either brown or green, I couldn’t rightly say, with the brim turned down in front.” + 

“And his face? Man alive, you must have seen his face when he gave you the shilling.” + 

The driver stared helplessly. Then he answered: + 

“I couldn’t be sure about his face, not with the way he had his collar up and his hat pulled down. It was raining and blowing something crool.” + 

“Did the other man reply when the tall one spoke into the cab?” + 

“Didn’t hear no reply at all, sir.” + 

Inspector Willis thought for a moment and then started on another tack. + 

“Did you hear a shot?” he asked sharply. + 

“I heard it, sir, right enough, but I didn’t think it was a shot at the time, and I didn’t think it was in my cab. It was just when we were passing the Apollo Theater, and there was a big block of cars setting people down, and I thought it was a burst tire. ‘There’s somebody’s tire gone to glory,’ I sez to myself, but I give it no more thought, for it takes you to be awake to drive up Shaftesbury Avenue when the theaters are starting.” + 

“You said you didn’t think the shot was in your cab; why do you think so now?” + 

“It was the only sound like a shot, sir, and if the man has been shot, it would have been then.” + 

Willis nodded shortly. There was something puzzling here. If the shot had been fired by the other occupant of the cab, as the man’s evidence seemed to indicate, there would certainly have been powder blackening on the coat. If not, and if the bullet had entered from without, the other passenger would surely have stopped the car and called a policeman. Presently he saw that some corroborative evidence might exist. If the bullet came from without the left-hand window must have been down, as there was no hole in the glass. In this case the wind, which was blowing from the northwest, would infallibly have driven in the rain, and drops would still show on the cushions. He must look for them without delay. + 

He paused to ask the driver one more question, whether he could identify the voice which told him through the speaking tube to stop with that of the man who had given him the shilling. The man answering affirmatively, Willis turned to one of the plain clothes men. + 

“You have heard this driver’s statement, Jones,” he said. “You might get away at once and see the men who were on point duty both at the corner of Great Russell Street where the tall man got out, and in Piccadilly, where both got in. Try the hotels thereabouts, the Albemarle and any others you can think of. If you can get any information follow it up and keep me advised at the Yard of your movements.” + 

The man hurried away and Willis moved over once more to the taxi. The assistant had by this time finished his flashlight photographs, and the inspector, picking up the bicycle lamp, looked again into the interior. A moment’s examination showed him there were no raindrops on the cushions, but his search nevertheless was not unproductive. Looking more carefully this time than previously, he noticed on the floor of the cab a dark object almost hidden beneath the seat. He drew it out. It was a piece of thick black cloth about a yard square. + 

Considerably mystified, he held it up by two corners, and then his puzzle became solved. In the cloth were two small holes, and round one of them the fabric was charred and bore the characteristic smell of burned powder. It was clear what had been done. With the object doubtless of hiding the flash as well as of muffling the report, the murderer had covered his weapon with a double thickness of heavy cloth. No doubt it had admirably achieved its purpose, and Willis seized it eagerly in the hope that it might furnish him with a clue as to its owner. + 

He folded it and set it aside for further examination, turning back to the body. Under his direction it was lifted out, placed on an ambulance stretcher provided by the railwaymen, and taken to a disused office close by. There the clothes were removed and, while the doctors busied themselves with the remains, Willis went through the pockets and arranged their contents on one of the desks. + 

The clothes themselves revealed but little information. The waterproof and shoes, it is true, bore the makers’ labels, but both these articles were the ready-made products of large firms, and inquiry at their premises would be unlikely to lead to any result. None of the garments bore any name or identifiable mark. + 

Willis then occupied himself with the contents of the pockets. Besides the gold watch and chain, bunch of keys, knife, cigarette case, loose coins and other small objects which a man such as the deceased might reasonably be expected to carry, there were two to which the inspector turned with some hope of help. + 

The first was a folded sheet of paper which proved to be a receipted hotel bill. It showed that a Mr. Coburn and another had stayed in the Peveril Hotel in Russell Square during the previous four days. When Willis saw it he gave a grunt of satisfaction. It would doubtless offer a ready means to learn the identity of the deceased, as well possibly as of the other, in whom Willis was already even more interested. Moreover, so good a clue must be worked without delay. He called over the second plain clothes man. + 

“Take this bill to the Peveril, Matthews,” he ordered. “Find out if the dead man is this Coburn, and if possible get on the track of his companion. If I don’t get anything better here I shall follow you round, but keep the Yard advised of your movements in any case.” + 

Before the man left Willis examined the second object. It was a pocketbook, but it proved rather disappointing. It contained two five pound Bank of England notes, nine one pound and three ten shilling Treasury notes, the return half of a third-class railway ticket from Hull to King’s Cross, a Great Northern cloakroom ticket, a few visiting cards inscribed “Mr. Francis Coburn,” and lastly, the photograph by Cramer of Regent Street of a pretty girl of about twenty. + 

Willis mentally noted the three possible clues these articles seemed to suggest; inquiries in Hull, the discovery of the girl through Messrs. Cramer, and third and most important, luggage or a parcel in some Great Northern cloakroom, which on recovery might afford him help. The presence of the money also seemed important, as this showed that the motive for the murder had not been robbery. + 

Having made a parcel of the clothes for transport to the Yard, reduced to writing the statements of the driver and of the porter who had made the discovery, and arranged with the doctors as to the disposal of the body, Willis closed and locked the taxi, and sent it in charge of a constable to Scotland Yard. Then with the cloakroom ticket he went round to see if he could find the office which had issued it. + 

The rooms were all shut for the night, but an official from the stationmaster’s office went round with him, and after a brief search they found the article for which the ticket was a voucher. It was a small suitcase, locked, and Willis brought it away with him, intending to open it at his leisure. + 

His work at the station being by this time complete, he returned to the Yard, carrying the suitcase. There, though it was growing late, he forced the lock, and sat down to examine the contents. But from them he received no help. The bag contained just the articles which a man in middle-class circumstances would naturally carry on a week or a fortnight’s trip⁠—a suit of clothes, clean linen, toilet appliances, and suchlike. Nowhere could Willis find anything of interest. + 

Telephone messages, meanwhile, had come in from the two plain clothes men. Jones reported that he had interviewed all the constables who had been on point duty at the places in question, but without result. Nor could any of the staffs of the neighbouring hotels or restaurants assist him. + 

The call from the Peveril conveyed slightly more information. The manageress, so Matthews said, had been most courteous and had sent for several members of her staff in the hope that some of them might be able to answer his questions. But the sum total of the knowledge he had gained was not great. In the first place, it was evident that the deceased was Mr. Coburn himself. It appeared that he was accompanied by a Miss Coburn, whom the manageress believed to be his daughter. He had been heard addressing her as Madeleine. The two had arrived in time for dinner five days previously, registering “F. Coburn and Miss Coburn,” and had left about eleven on the morning of the murder. On each of the four days of their stay they had been out a good deal, but they had left and returned at different hours, and, therefore, appeared not to have spent their time together. They seemed, however, on very affectionate terms. No address had been left to which letters might be forwarded, and it was not known where the two visitors had intended to go when they left. Neither the manageress nor any of the staff had seen anyone resembling the tall man. + 

Inspector Willis was considerably disappointed by the news. He had hoped that Mr. Coburn’s fellow-guest would have been the murderer, and that he would have left some trace from which his identity could have been ascertained. However, the daughter’s information would no doubt be valuable, and his next care must be to find her and learn her story. + 

She might of course save him the trouble by herself coming forward. She would be almost certain to see an account of the murder in the papers, and even if not, her father’s disappearance would inevitably lead her to communicate with the police. + 

But Willis could not depend on this. She might, for example, have left the previous day on a voyage, and a considerable time might elapse before she learned of the tragedy. No; he would have to trace her as if she herself were the assassin. + 

He looked at his watch and was surprised to learn that it was after one o’clock. Nothing more could be done that night, and with a sigh of relief he turned his steps homewards. + 

Next morning he was back at the Yard by eight o’clock. His first care was to reexamine the taxi by daylight for some mark or article left by its recent occupants. He was extraordinarily thorough and painstaking, scrutinizing every inch of the floor and cushions, and trying the door handles and window straps for finger marks, but without success. He went over once again the clothes the dead man was wearing as well as those in the suitcase, took prints from the dead man’s fingers, and began to get things in order for the inquest. Next, he saw Dr. Horton, and learned that Mr. Coburn had been killed by a bullet from an exceedingly small automatic pistol, one evidently selected to make the minimum of noise and flash, and from which a long carry was not required. + 

When the details were complete he thought it would not be too early to call at the Peveril and begin the search for Miss Coburn. He therefore sent for a taxi, and a few minutes later was seated in the office of the manageress. She repeated what Matthews had already told him, and he personally interviewed the various servants with whom the Coburns had come in contact. He also searched the rooms they had occupied, examined with a mirror the blotting paper on a table at which the young lady had been seen to write, and interrogated an elderly lady visitor with whom she had made acquaintance. + 

But he learned nothing. The girl had vanished completely, and he could see no way in which he might be able to trace her. + 

He sat down in the lounge and gave himself up to thought. And then suddenly an idea flashed into his mind. He started, sat for a moment rigid, then gave a little gasp. + 

“Lord!” he muttered. “But I’m a blamed idiot. How in Hades did I miss that?” + 

He sprang to his feet and hurried out of the lounge. + 

XIII + 

A Promising Clue + 

The consideration which had thus suddenly occurred to Inspector Willis was the extraordinary importance of the fact that the tall traveller had spoken through the tube to the driver. He marveled how he could have overlooked its significance. To speak through a taxi tube one must hold up the mouthpiece, and that mouthpiece is usually made of vulcanite or some similar substance. What better surface, Willis thought delightedly but anxiously, could be found for recording fingerprints? If only the tall man had made the blunder of omitting to wear gloves, he would have left evidence which might hang him! And he, Willis, like the cursed imbecile that he was, had missed the point! Goodness only knew if he was not already too late. If so, he thought grimly, it was all up with his career at the Yard. + 

He ran to the telephone. A call to the Yard advised him that the taxi driver, on being informed he was no longer required, had left with his vehicle. He rapidly rang up the man’s employers, asking them to stop the cab directly they came in touch with it, then hurrying out of the hotel, he hailed a taxi and drove to the rank on which the man was stationed. + 

His luck was in. There were seven vehicles on the stand, and his man, having but recently arrived, had only worked up to the middle of the queue. The sweat was standing in large drops on Inspector Willis’s brow as he eagerly asked had the tube been touched since leaving Scotland Yard, and his relief when he found he was still in time was overwhelming. Rather unsteadily he entered the vehicle and ordered the driver to return to the Yard. + 

On arrival he was not long in making his test. Sending for his fingerprint apparatus, he carefully powdered the vulcanite mouthpiece, and he could scarcely suppress a cry of satisfaction when he saw shaping themselves before his eyes three of the clearest prints he had ever had the good fortune to come across. On one side of the mouthpiece was the mark of a right thumb, and on the other those of a first and second finger. + 

“Lord!” he muttered to himself, “that was a near thing. If I had missed it, I could have left the Yard for good and all. It’s the first thing the Chief would have asked about.” + 

His delight was unbounded. Here was as perfect and definite evidence as he could have wished for. If he could find the man whose fingers fitted the marks, that would be the end of his case. + 

He left the courtyard intending to return to the Peveril and resume the tracing of Miss Coburn, but before he reached the door of the great building he was stopped. A gentleman had called to see him on urgent business connected with the case. + 

It was Merriman⁠—Merriman almost incoherent with excitement and distress. He still carried the newspaper in his hand, which had so much upset him. Willis pulled forward a chair, invited the other to be seated, and took the paper. The paragraph was quite short, and read: + 

“A tragedy which recalls the well-known detective novel The Mystery of a Hansom Cab occurred last evening in one of the most populous thoroughfares in London. It appears that about eight o’clock two men engaged a taxi in Piccadilly to take them to King’s Cross. Near the Oxford Street end of Tottenham Court Road the driver was ordered to stop. One of the men alighted, bade good night to his companion, and told the driver to proceed to King’s Cross, where his friend would settle up. On reaching the station there was no sign of the friend, and a search revealed him lying dead in the taxi with a bullet wound in his heart. From papers found on the body the deceased is believed to be a Mr. Francis Coburn, but his residence has not yet been ascertained.” + 

Inspector Willis laid down the paper and turned to his visitor. + 

“You are interested in the case, sir?” he inquired. + 

“I knew him, I think,” Merriman stammered. “At least I know someone of the name. I⁠—” + 

Willis glanced keenly at the newcomer. Here was a man who must, judging by his agitation, have been pretty closely connected with Francis Coburn. Suspicious of everyone, the detective recognised that there might be more here than met the eye. He drew out his notebook. + 

“I am glad you called, sir,” he said pleasantly. “We shall be very pleased to get any information you can give us. What was your friend like?” + 

His quiet, conversational manner calmed the other. + 

“Rather tall,” he answered anxiously, “with a long pale face, and small, black, pointed mustache.” + 

“I’m afraid, sir, that’s the man. I think if you don’t mind you had better see if you can identify him.” + 

“I want to,” Merriman cried, leaping to his feet. “I must know at once.” + 

Willis rose also. + 

“Then come this way.” + 

They drove quickly across town. A glance was sufficient to tell Merriman that the body was indeed that of his former acquaintance. His agitation became painful. + 

“You’re right!” he cried. “It is he! And it’s my fault. Oh, if I had only done what she said! If I had only kept out of it!” + 

He wrung his hands in his anguish. + 

Willis was much interested. Though this man could not be personally guilty⁠—he was not tall enough, for one thing⁠—he must surely know enough about the affair to put the inspector on the right track. The latter began eagerly to await his story. + 

Merriman for his part was anxious for nothing so much as to tell it. He was sick to death of plots and investigations and machinations, and while driving to the Yard he had made up his mind that if the dead man were indeed Madeleine’s father, he would tell the whole story of his and Hilliard’s investigations into the doings of the syndicate. When, therefore, they were back in the inspector’s room, he made a determined effort to pull himself together and speak calmly. + 

“Yes,” he said, “I know him. He lived near Bordeaux with his daughter. She will be absolutely alone. You will understand that I must go out to her by the first train, but until then I am at your service.” + 

“You are a relation perhaps?” + 

“No, only an acquaintance, but⁠—I’m going to tell you the whole story, and I may as well say, once for all, that it is my earnest hope some day to marry Miss Coburn.” + 

Willis bowed and inquired, “Is Miss Coburn’s name Madeleine?” + 

“Yes,” Merriman answered, surprise and eagerness growing in his face. + 

“Then,” Willis went on, “you will be pleased to learn that she is not in France⁠—at least, I think not. She left the Peveril Hotel in Russell Square about eleven o’clock yesterday morning.” + 

Merriman sprang to his feet. + 

“In London?” he queried excitedly. “Where? What address?” + 

“We don’t know yet, but we shall soon find her. Now, sir, you can’t do anything for the moment, and I am anxious to hear your story. Take your own time, and the more details you can give me the better.” + 

Merriman controlled himself with an effort. + 

“Well,” he said slowly, sitting down again, “I have something to tell you, inspector. My friend Hilliard⁠—Claud Hilliard of the Customs Department⁠—and I have made a discovery. We have accidentally come on what we believe is a criminal conspiracy, we don’t know for what purpose, except that it is something big and fraudulent. We were coming to the Yard in any case to tell what we had learned, but this murder has precipitated things. We can no longer delay giving our information. The only thing is that I should have liked Hilliard to be here to tell it instead of me, for our discovery is really due to him.” + 

“I can see Mr. Hilliard afterwards. Meantime tell me the story yourself.” + 

Merriman thereupon related his and Hilliard’s adventures and experiences from his own first accidental visit to the clearing when he noticed the changing of the lorry number, right up to his last meeting with Mr. Coburn, when the latter expressed his intention of breaking away from the gang. He hid nothing, explaining without hesitation his reasons for urging the delay in informing the authorities, even though he quite realised his action made him to some extent an accomplice in the conspiracy. + 

Willis was much more impressed by the story than he would have admitted. Though it sounded wild and unlikely, there was a ring of truth in Merriman’s manner which went far to convince the other of its accuracy. He did not believe either that anyone could have invented such a story. Its very improbability was an argument for its truth. + 

And if it were true, what a vista it opened up to himself! The solution of the murder problem would be gratifying enough but it was a mere nothing compared to the other. If he could search out and bring to naught such a conspiracy as Merriman’s story indicated, he would be a made man. It would be the crowning point of his career, and would bring him measurably nearer to that cottage and garden in the country to which for years past he had been looking forward. Therefore no care and trouble would be too great to spend on the matter. + 

Putting away thoughts of self, therefore, and deliberately concentrating on the matter in hand, he set himself to consider in detail what his visitor had told him and get the story clear in his mind. Then slowly and painstakingly he began to ask questions. + 

“I take it, Mr. Merriman, that your idea is that Mr. Coburn was murdered by a member of the syndicate?” + 

“Yes, and I think he foresaw his fate. I think when he told them he was going to break with them they feared he might betray them, and wanted to be on the safe side.” + 

“Any of them a tall, stoutly built man?” + 

“Captain Beamish is tall and strongly built, but I should not say he was stout.” + 

“Describe him.” + 

“He stooped and was a little round-shouldered, but even then he was tall. If he had held himself up he would have been a big man. He had a heavy face with a big jaw, thin lips, and a vindictive expression.” + 

Willis, though not given to jumping to conclusions, felt suddenly thrilled, and he made up his mind that an early development in the case would be the taking of the impressions of Captain Beamish’s right thumb and forefinger. + 

He asked several more questions and, going over the story again, took copious notes. Then for some time he sat in silence considering what he had heard. + 

At first sight he was inclined to agree with Merriman, that the deceased had met his death at the hands of a member of the syndicate, and if so, it was not unlikely that all or most of the members were party to it. From the mere possibility of this it followed that the most urgent thing for the moment was to prevent the syndicate suspecting his knowledge. He turned again to his visitor. + 

“I suppose you realise, Mr. Merriman, that if all these details you have given me are correct, you yourself are in a position of some danger?” + 

“I know it, but I am not afraid. It is the possible danger to Miss Coburn that has upset me so much.” + 

“I understand, sir,” the inspector returned sympathetically, “but it follows that for both your sakes you must act very cautiously, so as to disarm any suspicions these people may have of you.” + 

“I am quite in your hands, inspector.” + 

“Good. Then let us consider your course of action. Now, first of all about the inquest. It will be held this evening at five o’clock. You will have to give evidence, and we shall have to settle very carefully what that evidence will be. No breath of suspicion against the syndicate must leak out.” + 

Merriman nodded. + 

“You must identify the deceased, and, if asked, you must tell the story of your two visits to the clearing. You must speak without the slightest hesitation. But you must of course make no mention of the changing of the lorry numbers or of your suspicions, nor will you mention your visit to Hull. You will explain that you went back to the clearing on the second occasion because it was so little out of your way and because you were anxious to meet the Coburns again, while your friend wanted to see the forests of Les Landes.” + 

Merriman again nodded. + 

“Then both you and your friend must avoid Scotland Yard. It is quite natural that you should rush off here as you did, but it would not be natural for you to return. And there is no reason why Mr. Hilliard should come at all. If I want to see either of you I shall ring up and arrange a place of meeting. And just two other things. The first is that I need hardly warn you to be as circumspect in your conversation as in your evidence. Keep in mind that each stranger that you may meet may be Morton or some other member of the gang. The second is that I should like to keep in touch with you for the remainder of the day in case any question might crop up before the inquest. Where will you be?” + 

“I shall stay in my club, Rover’s, in Cranbourne Street. You can ring me up.” + 

“Good,” Willis answered, rising to his feet. “Then let me say again how pleased I am to have met you and heard your story. Five o’clock, then, if you don’t hear to the contrary.” + 

When Merriman had taken his leave the inspector sat on at his desk, lost in thought. This case bade fair to be the biggest he had ever handled, and he was anxious to lay his plans so as to employ his time to the best advantage. Two clearly defined lines of inquiry had already opened out, and he was not clear which to follow. In the first place, there was the obvious routine investigation suggested directly by the murder. That comprised the finding of Miss Coburn, the learning of Mr. Coburn’s life history, the tracing of his movements during the last four or five days, the finding of the purchaser of the black cloth, and the following up of clues discovered during these inquiries. The second line was that connected with the activities of the syndicate, and Willis was inclined to believe that a complete understanding of these would automatically solve the problem of the murder. He was wondering whether he should not start an assistant on the routine business of the tragedy, while himself concentrating on the pit-prop business, when his cogitations were brought to an end by a messenger. A lady had called in connection with the case. + 

“Miss Madeleine Coburn,” thought Willis, as he gave orders for her to be shown to his room, and when she entered he instantly recognised the original of the photograph. + 

Madeleine’s face was dead white and there was a strained look of horror in her eyes, but she was perfectly calm and self-possessed. + 

“Miss Coburn?” Willis said, as he rose and bowed. “I am afraid I can guess why you have called. You saw the account in the paper?” + 

“Yes.” She hesitated. “Is it⁠—my father?” + 

Willis told her as gently as he could. She sat quite still for a few moments, while he busied himself with some papers, then she asked to see the body. When they had returned to Willis’s room he invited her to sit down again. + 

“I very deeply regret, Miss Coburn,” he said, “to have to trouble you at this time with questions, but I fear you will have to give evidence at the inquest this afternoon, and it will be easier for yourself to make a statement now, so that only what is absolutely necessary need be asked you then.” + 

Madeleine seemed stunned by the tragedy, and she spoke as if in a dream. + 

“I am ready to do what is necessary.” + 

He thanked her, and began by inquiring about her father’s history. Mr. Coburn, it appeared, had had a public school and college training, but, his father dying when he was just twenty, and leaving the family in somewhat poor circumstances, he had gone into business as a clerk in the Hopwood Manufacturing Company, a large engineering works in the Midlands. In this, he had risen until he held the important position of cashier, and he and his wife and daughter had lived in happiness and comfort during the latter’s girlhood. But some six years previous to the tragedy which had just taken place a change had come over the household. In the first place, Mrs. Coburn had developed a painful illness and had dragged out a miserable existence for the three years before her death. At the same time, whether from the expense of the illness or from other causes Miss Coburn did not know, financial embarrassment seemed to descend on her father. One by one their small luxuries were cut off, then their house had to be given up, and they had moved to rooms in a rather poor locality of the town. Their crowning misfortune followed rapidly. Mr. Coburn gave up his position at the works, and for a time actual want stared them in the face. Then this Pit-Prop Syndicate had been formed, and Mr. Coburn had gone into it as the manager of the loading station. Miss Coburn did not know the reason of his leaving the engineering works, but she suspected there had been friction, as his disposition for a time had changed, and he had lost his bright manner and vivacity. He had, however, to a large extent recovered while in France. She was not aware, either, of the terms on which he had entered the syndicate, but she imagined he shared in the profits instead of receiving a salary. + 

These facts, which Willis obtained by astute questioning, seemed to him not a little suggestive. From what Mr. Coburn had himself told Merriman, it looked as if there had been some secret in his life which had placed him in the power of the syndicate, and the inspector wondered whether this might not be connected with his leaving the engineering works. At all events inquiries there seemed to suggest a new line of attack, should such become necessary. + 

Willis then turned to the events of the past few days. It appeared that about a fortnight earlier, Mr. Coburn announced that he was crossing to London for the annual meeting of the syndicate, and, as he did not wish his daughter to be alone at the clearing, it was arranged that she should accompany him. They travelled by the Girondin to Hull, and coming on to London, put up at the Peveril. Mr. Coburn had been occupied off and on during the four days they had remained there, but the evenings they had spent together in amusements. On the night of the murder, Mr. Coburn was to have left for Hull to return to France by the Girondin, his daughter going by an earlier train to Eastbourne, where she was to have spent ten days with an aunt. Except for what Mr. Coburn had said about the meeting of the syndicate, Madeleine did not know anything of his business in town, nor had she seen any member of the syndicate after leaving the ship. + 

Having taken notes of her statements, Willis spoke of the inquest and repeated the instructions he had given Merriman as to the evidence. Then he told her of the young man’s visit, and referring to his anxiety on her behalf, asked if he might acquaint him with her whereabouts. She thankfully acquiesced, and Willis, who was anxious that her mind should be kept occupied until the inquest, pushed his good offices to the extent of arranging a meeting between the two. + 

The inquest elicited no further information. Formal evidence of identification was given, the doctors deposed that death was due to a bullet from an exceedingly small bore automatic pistol, the cab driver and porter told their stories, and the jury returned the obvious verdict of murder against some person or persons unknown. The inspector’s precautions were observed, and not a word was uttered which could have given a hint to any member of the Pit-Prop Syndicate that the bona fides of his organisation was suspected. + 

Two days later, when the funeral was over, Merriman took Miss Coburn back to her aunt’s at Eastbourne. No word of love passed his lips, but the young girl seemed pleased to have his company, and before parting from her he obtained permission to call on her again. He met the aunt for a few moments, and was somewhat comforted to find her a kind, motherly woman, who was evidently sincerely attached to the now fatherless girl. He had told Madeleine of his interview with her father, and she had not blamed him for his part in the matter, saying that she had believed for some time that a development of the kind was inevitable. + 

So, for them, the days began to creep wearily past. Merriman paid as frequent visits to Eastbourne as he dared, and little by little he began to hope that he was making progress in his suit. But try as he would, he could not bring the matter to a head. The girl had evidently had a more severe shock than they had realised at first, and she became listless and difficult to interest in passing events. He saw there was nothing for it but to wait, and he set himself to bide his time with the best patience he could muster. + 

XIV + 

A Mystifying Discovery + 

Inspector Willis was more than interested in his new case. The more he thought over it, the more he realised its dramatic possibilities and the almost worldwide public interest it was likely to arouse, as well as the importance which his superiors would certainly attach to it; in other words, the influence a successful handling of it would have on his career. + 

He had not been idle since the day of the inquest, now a week past. To begin with he had seen Hilliard secretly, and learned at first hand all that that young man could tell him. Next he had made sure that the fingerprints found on the speaking tube were not those of Mr. Coburn, and he remained keenly anxious to obtain impressions from Captain Beamish’s fingers to compare with the former. But inquiries from the port officials at Hull, made by wire on the evening of the inquest, showed that the Girondin would not be back at Ferriby for eight days. There had been no object, therefore, in his leaving London immediately, and instead he had busied himself by trying to follow up the deceased’s movements in the metropolis, and learn with whom he had associated during his stay. In his search for clues he had even taken the hint from Merriman’s newspaper and bought a copy of The Mystery of a Hansom Cab, but though he saw that this clever story might easily have inspired the crime, he could find from it no help towards its solution. + 

He had also paid a flying visit to the manager of the Hopwood Manufacturing Company in Sheffield, where Coburn had been employed. From him he had learned that Madeleine’s surmise was correct, and that there had been “friction” before her father left. In point of fact a surprise audit had revealed discrepancies in the accounts. Some money was missing, and what was suspiciously like an attempt to falsify the books had taken place. But the thing could not be proved. Mr. Coburn had paid up, but though his plea that he had made a genuine clerical error had been accepted, his place had been filled. The manager expressed the private opinion that there was no doubt of his subordinate’s guilt, saying also that it was well known that during the previous months Coburn had been losing money heavily through gambling. Where he had obtained the money to meet the deficit the manager did not know, but he believed someone must have come forward to assist him. + 

This information interested Willis keenly, supporting, as it seemed to do, his idea that Coburn was in the power of the syndicate or one of its members. If, for example, one of these men, on the lookout for helpers in his conspiracy, had learned of the cashier’s predicaments it was conceivable that he might have obtained his hold by advancing the money needed to square the matter in return for a signed confession of guilt. This was of course the merest guesswork, but it at least indicated to Willis a fresh line of inquiry in case his present investigation failed. + 

And with the latter he was becoming exceedingly disappointed. With the exception of the facts just mentioned, he had learned absolutely nothing to help him. Mr. Coburn might as well have vanished into thin air when he left the Peveril Hotel, for all the trace he had left. Willis could learn neither where he went nor whom he met on any one of the four days he had spent in London. He congratulated himself, therefore, that on the following day the Girondin would be back at Ferriby, and he would then be able to start work on the fingerprint clue. + 

That evening he settled himself with his pipe to think over once more the facts he had already learned. As time passed he found himself approaching more and more to the conclusion reached by Hilliard and Merriman several weeks before⁠—that the secret of the syndicate was the essential feature of the case. What were these people doing? That was the question which at all costs he must answer. + 

His mind reverted to the two theories already in the field. At first sight that of brandy smuggling seemed tenable enough, and he turned his attention to the steps by which the two young men had tried to test it. At the loading end their observations were admittedly worthless, but at Ferriby they seemed to have made a satisfactory investigation. Unless they had unknowingly fallen asleep in the barrel, it was hard to see how they could have failed to observe contraband being set ashore, had any been unloaded. But he did not believe they had fallen asleep. People were usually conscious of awakening. Besides there was the testimony of Menzies, the pilot. It was hardly conceivable that this man also should have been deceived. At the same time Willis decided he must interview him, so as to form his own opinion of the man’s reliability. + 

Another possibility occurred to him which none of the amateur investigators appeared to have thought of. North Sea trawlers were frequently used for getting contraband ashore. Was the Girondin transferring illicit cargo to such vessels while at sea? + 

This was a question Inspector Willis felt he could not solve. It would be a matter for the Customs Department. But he knew enough about it to understand that immense difficulties would have to be overcome before such a scheme could be worked. Firstly, there was the size of the fraud. Six months ago, according to what Miss Coburn overheard, the syndicate were making £6,800 per trip, and probably, from the remarks then made, they were doing more today. And £6,800 meant⁠—the inspector buried himself in calculations⁠—at least one thousand gallons of brandy. Was it conceivable that trawlers could get rid of one thousand gallons every ten days⁠—One hundred gallons a day? Frankly he thought it impossible. In fact, in the face of the Customs officers’ activities, he doubted if such a thing could be done by any kind of machinery that could be devised. Indeed, the more Willis pondered the smuggling theory, the less likely it seemed to him, and he turned to consider the possibilities of Miss Coburn’s suggestion of false note printing. + 

Here at once he was met by a fact which he had not mentioned to Merriman. As it happened, the circulation of spurious Treasury notes was one of the subjects of interest to Scotland Yard at the moment. Notes were being forged and circulated in large numbers. Furthermore, the source of supply was believed to be some of the large towns in the Midlands, Leeds being particularly suspected. But Leeds was on the direct line through Ferriby, and comparatively not far away. Willis felt that it was up to him to explore to the uttermost limit all the possibilities which these facts opened up. + 

He began by looking at the matter from the conspirators’ point of view. Supposing they had overcome the difficulty of producing the notes, how would they dispose of them? + 

Willis could appreciate the idea of locating the illicit press in France. Firstly, it would be obvious to the gang that the early discovery of a fraud of the kind was inevitable. Its existence, indeed, would soon become common property. But this would but slightly affect its success. It was the finding of the source of supply that mattered, and the difficulty of this was at once the embarrassment of the authorities and the opportunity of the conspirators. + 

Secondly, English notes were to be forged and circulated in England, therefore it was from the English police that the source of supply must be hidden. And how better could this be done than by taking it out of England altogether? The English police would look in England for what they wanted. The attention of the French police, having no false French notes to deal with, would not be aroused. It seemed to Willis that so far he was on firm ground. + 

The third point was that, granting the first two, some agency would be required to convey the forged notes from France to England. But here a difficulty arose. The pit-prop plan seemed altogether too elaborate and cumbrous for all that was required. Willis, as Merriman had done earlier, pictured the passenger with the padded overcoat and the double-bottomed handbag. This traveller, it seemed, would meet the case. + 

But did he? Would there not, with him, be a certain risk? There would be a continuous passing through Customs houses, frequent searchings of the faked suitcase. Accidents happen. Suppose the traveller held on to his suitcase too carefully? Some sharp-eyed Customs officer might become suspicious. Suppose he didn’t hold on carefully enough and it were lost? Yes, there would be risks. Small, doubtless, but still risks. And the gang couldn’t afford them. + 

As Willis turned the matter over in his mind, he came gradually to the conclusion that the elaboration of the pit-prop business was no real argument against its having been designed merely to carry forged notes. As a business, moreover, it would pay or almost pay. It would furnish a secret method of getting the notes across at little or no cost. And as a blind, Willis felt that nothing better could be devised. The scheme visualised itself to him as follows. Somewhere in France, probably in some cellar in Bordeaux, was installed the illicit printing-press. There the notes were produced. By some secret method they were conveyed to Henri when his lorry-driving took him into the city, and he in turn brought them to the clearing and handed them over to Coburn. Captain Beamish and Bulla would then take charge of them, probably hiding them on the Girondin in some place which would defy a surprise Customs examination. Numbers of such places, Willis felt sure, could be arranged, especially in the engine room. The cylinders of a duplicate set of pumps, disused on that particular trip, occurred to him as an example. After arrival at Ferriby there would be ample opportunity for the notes to be taken ashore and handed over to Archer, and Archer “could plant stuff on Old Nick himself.” + 

The more he pondered over it, the more tenable this theory seemed to Inspector Willis. He rose and began pacing the room, frowning heavily. More than tenable, it seemed a sound scheme cleverly devised and carefully worked out. Indeed he could think of no means so likely to mislead and delude suspicious authorities in their search for the criminals as this very plan. + 

Two points, however, think as he might, he could not reconcile. One was that exasperating puzzle of the changing of the lorry number plates, the other how the running of a second boat to Swansea would increase the profits of the syndicate. + 

But everything comes to him who waits, and at last he got an idea. What if the number of the lorry was an indication to the printers of the notes as to whether Henri was or was not in a position to take over a consignment? Would some such sign be necessary? If Henri suspected he was under observation, or if he had to make calls in unsuitable places, he would require a secret method of passing on the information to his accomplices. And if so, could a better scheme be devised than that of showing a prearranged number on his lorry? Willis did not think so, and he accepted the theory for what it was worth. + 

Encouraged by his progress, he next tackled his second difficulty⁠—how the running of a second boat would dispose of more notes. But try as he would he could arrive at no conclusion which would explain the point. It depended obviously on the method of distribution adopted, and of this part of the affair he was entirely ignorant. Failure to account for this did not therefore necessarily invalidate the theory as a whole. + 

And with the theory as a whole he was immensely pleased. As far as he could see it fitted all the known facts, and bore the stamp of probability to an even greater degree than that of brandy smuggling. + 

But theories were not enough. He must get ahead with his investigation. + 

Accordingly next morning he began his new inquiry by sending a telegram. + 

“Could you meet me off London train at Paragon Station at 3:09 tomorrow re death of Coburn. I should like to get back by 4:00. If not would stay and go out to Ferriby. + 

He travelled that same day to Hull, having arranged for the reply to be sent after him. Going to the first-class refreshment room at the Paragon, he had a conversation with the barmaid in which he disclosed his official position, and passed over a ten-shilling note on account for services about to be rendered. Then, leaving by the evening train, he returned to Doncaster, where he spent the night. + 

On the next day he boarded the London train which reaches Hull at 3:09. At Paragon Station he soon singled out Beamish from Merriman’s description. + 

“Sorry for asking you to come in, Captain Beamish,” he apologised, “but I was anxious if possible to get back to London tonight. I heard of you from Miss Coburn and Mr. Merriman, both of whom read of the tragedy in the papers, and severally came to make inquiries at the Yard. Lloyd’s Register told me your ship came in here, so I came along to see you in the hope that you might be able to give me some information about the dead man which might suggest a line of inquiry as to his murderer.” + 

Beamish replied politely and with a show of readiness and candor. + 

“No trouble to meet you, inspector. I had to come up to Hull in any case, and I shall be glad to tell you anything I can about poor Coburn. Unfortunately I am afraid it won’t be much. When our syndicate was starting we wanted a manager for the export end. Coburn applied, there was a personal interview, he seemed suitable and he was appointed on trial. I know nothing whatever about him otherwise, except that he made good, and I may say that in the two years of our acquaintance I always found him not only pleasant and agreeable to deal with, but also exceedingly efficient in his work.” + 

Willis asked a number of other questions⁠—harmless questions, easily answered about the syndicate and Coburn’s work, ending up with an expression of thanks for the other’s trouble and an invitation to adjourn for a drink. + 

Beamish accepting, the inspector led the way to the first-class refreshment room and approached the counter opposite the barmaid whose acquaintance he had made the previous day. + 

“Two small whiskies, please,” he ordered, having asked his companion’s choice. + 

The girl placed the two small tumblers of yellow liquid before her customers and Willis added a little water to each. + 

“Well, here’s yours,” he said, and raising his glass to his lips, drained the contents at a draught. Captain Beamish did the same. + 

The inspector’s offer of a second drink having been declined, the two men left the refreshment room, still chatting about the murdered man. Ten minutes later Captain Beamish saw the inspector off in the London train. But he did not know that in the van of that train there was a parcel, labelled to “Inspector Willis, passenger to Doncaster by 4:00 p.m.,” which contained a small tumbler, smelling of whisky, and carefully packed up so as to prevent the sides from being rubbed. + 

The inspector was the next thing to excited when, some time later, he locked the door of his bedroom in the Stag’s Head Hotel at Doncaster and, carefully unpacking the tumbler, he took out his powdering apparatus and examined it for prints. With satisfaction he found his little ruse had succeeded. The glass bore clearly defined marks of a right thumb and two fingers. + 

Eagerly he compared the prints with those he had found on the taxi call-tube. And then he suffered disappointment keen and deep. The two sets were dissimilar. + 

So his theory had been wrong, and Captain Beamish was not the murderer after all! He realised now that he had been much more convinced of its truth than he had had any right to be, and his chagrin was correspondingly greater. He had indeed been so sure that Beamish was his man that he had failed sufficiently to consider other possibilities, and now he found himself without any alternative theory to fall back on. + 

But he remained none the less certain that Coburn’s death was due to his effort to break with the syndicate, and that it was to the syndicate that he must look for light on the matter. There were other members of it⁠—he knew of two, Archer and Morton, and there might be more⁠—one of whom might be the man he sought. It seemed to him that his next business must be to find those other members, ascertain if any of them were tall men, and if so, obtain a copy of their fingerprints. + 

But how was this to be done? Obviously from the shadowing of the members whom he knew, that was, Captain Beamish, Bulla, and Benson, the Ferriby manager. Of these, Beamish and Bulla were for the most part at sea; therefore, he thought, his efforts should be concentrated on Benson. + 

It was with a view to some such contingency that he had alighted at Doncaster instead of returning to London, and he now made up his mind to return on the following day to Hull and, the Girondin having by that time left, to see what he could learn at the Ferriby depot. + 

He spent three days shadowing Benson, without coming on anything in the slightest degree suspicious. The manager spent each of the days at the wharf until about six o’clock. Then he walked to Ferriby Station and took the train to Hull, where he dined, spent the evening at some place of amusement, and returned to the depot by a late train. + 

On the fourth day, as the same program seemed to be in progress, Willis came to the conclusion that he was losing time and must take some more energetic step. He determined that if Benson left the depot in the evening as before, he would try to effect an entrance to his office and have a look through his papers. + 

Shortly after six, from the hedge behind which he had concealed himself, he saw Benson appear at the door in the corrugated iron fence, and depart in the direction of Ferriby. The five employees had left about an hour earlier, and the inspector believed the works were entirely deserted. + 

After giving Benson time to get clear away, he crept from his hiding place, and approaching the depot, tried the gate in the fence. It was locked, but few locks were proof against the inspector’s prowess, and with the help of a bent wire he was soon within the enclosure. He closed the gate behind him and, glancing carefully round, approached the shed. + 

The door of the office was also locked, but the bent wire conquered it too, and in a couple of minutes he pushed it open, passed through, and closed it behind him. + 

The room was small, finished with yellow matchboarded walls and ceiling, and containing a closed roll-top desk, a table littered with papers, a vertical file, two cupboards, a telephone, and other simple office requisites. Two doors led out of it, one to the manager’s bedroom, the other to the shed. Thinking that those could wait, Willis settled down to make an examination of the office. + 

He ran rapidly though methodically through the papers on the table without finding anything of interest. All referred to the pit-prop industry, and seemed to indicate that the business was carried on efficiently. Next he tackled the desk, picking the lock with his usual skill. Here also, though he examined everything with meticulous care, his search was fruitless. + 

He moved to the cupboards. One was unfastened and contained old ledgers, account books and the like, none being of any interest. The other cupboard was locked, and Willis’s quick eyes saw that the woodwork round the keyhole was much scratched, showing that the lock was frequently used. Again the wire was brought into requisition, and in a moment the door swung open, revealing to the inspector’s astonished gaze⁠—a telephone. + 

Considerably puzzled, he looked round to the wall next the door. Yes, he had not been mistaken; there also was affixed a telephone. He crossed over to it, and following with his eye the run of the wires, saw that it was connected to those which approached the shed from across the railway. + 

With what, then, did this second instrument communicate? There were no other wires approaching the shed, nor could he find any connection to which it could be attached. + 

He examined the instrument more closely, and then he saw that it was not of the standard government pattern. It was marked “The A. M. Curtiss Co., Philadelphia, Pa.” It was therefore part of a private installation and, as such, illegal, as the British Government hold the monopoly for all telephones in the country. At least it would be illegal if it were connected up. + 

But was it? The wires passed through the back of the cupboard into the wall, and, looking down, Willis saw that one of the wall sheeting boards, reaching from the cupboard to the floor, had at some time been taken out and replaced with screws. + 

To satisfy his curiosity he took out his combination pocket knife, and deftly removing the screws, pulled the board forward. His surprise was not lessened when he saw that the wires ran down inside the wall and, heavily insulated, disappeared into the ground beneath the shed. + 

“Is it possible that they have a cable?” thought the puzzled man, as he replaced the loose board and screwed it fast. + 

The problem had to stand over, as he wished to complete his investigation of the remainder of the building. But though he searched the entire premises with the same meticulous thoroughness that he had displayed in dealing with the papers, he came on nothing else which in any way excited his interest. + 

He let himself out and, relocking the various doors behind him, walked to Hessle and from there returned to his hotel in Hull. + 

He was a good deal intrigued by his discovery of the secret telephone. That it was connected up and frequently used he was certain, both from the elaboration of its construction and from the marking round the cupboard keyhole. He wondered if he could without discovery tap the wires and overhear the business discussed. Had the wires been carried on poles the matter would have been simple, but as things were he would have to make his connection under the loose board and carry his cable out through the wall and along the shore to some point at which the receiver would be hidden⁠—by no means an easy matter. + 

But in default of something better he would have tried it, had not a second discovery he made later on the same evening turned his thoughts into an entirely new channel. + 

It was in thinking over the probable purpose of the telephone that he got his idea. It seemed obvious that it was used for the secret side of the enterprise, and if so, would it not most probably connect the import depot of the secret commodity with that of its distribution? Ferriby wharf was the place of import, but the distribution, as the conversations overheard indicated, lay not in the hands of Benson but of Archer. What if the telephone led to Archer? + 

There was another point. The difficulty of laying a secret land wire would be so enormous that in the nature of things the line must be short. It must either lead, Willis imagined, to the southern bank of the estuary or to somewhere quite near. + 

But if both these conclusions were sound, it followed that Archer himself must be found in the immediate neighbourhood. Could he learn anything from following up this idea? + 

He borrowed a directory of Hull and began looking up all the Archers given in the alphabetical index. There were fifteen, and of these one immediately attracted his attention. It read: + 

“Archer, Archibald Charles, The Elms, Ferriby.” + 

He glanced at his watch. It was still but slightly after ten. Taking his hat he walked to the police station and saw the sergeant on duty. + 

“Yes, sir,” said the man in answer to his inquiry. “I know the gentleman. He is the managing director of Ackroyd and Holt’s distillery, about halfway between Ferriby and Hessle.” + 

“And what is he like in appearance?” Willis continued, concealing the interest this statement had aroused. + 

“A big man, sir,” the sergeant answered. “Tall, and broad too. Clean shaven, with heavy features, very determined looking.” + 

Willis had food for thought as he returned to his hotel. Merriman had been thrilled when he learned of the proximity of the distillery to the syndicate’s depot, seeing therein an argument in favour of the brandy smuggling theory. This new discovery led Willis at first to take the same view, but the considerations which Hilliard had pointed out occurred to him also, and though he felt a little puzzled, he was inclined to dismiss the matter as a coincidence. + 

Though after his recent experience he was even more averse to jumping to conclusions than formerly, Willis could not but believe that he was at last on a hopeful scent. At all events his first duty was clear. He must find this Archibald Charles Archer, and obtain prints of his fingers. + 

Next morning found him again at Ferriby, once more looking southwards from the concealment of a cluster of bushes. But this time the object of his attention was no longer the syndicate’s depot. Instead he focused his powerful glasses on the office of the distillery. + 

About nine-thirty a tall, stoutly built man strode up to the building and entered. His dress indicated that he was of the employer class, and from the way in which a couple of workmen touched their caps as he passed, Willis had no doubt he was the managing director. + 

For some three hours the inspector lay hidden, then he suddenly observed the tall man emerge from the building and walk rapidly in the direction of Ferriby. Immediately the inspector crept down the hedge nearer to the road, so as to see his quarry pass at close quarters. + 

It happened that as the man came abreast of Willis, a small two-seater motorcar coming from the direction of Ferriby also reached the same spot. But instead of passing, it slowed down and its occupant hailed the tall man. + 

“Hallo, Archer,” he shouted. “Can I give you a lift?” + 

“Thanks,” the big man answered. “It would be a kindness. I have unexpectedly to go into Hull, and my own car is out of order.” + 

“Run you in in quarter of an hour.” + 

“No hurry. If I am in by half past one it will do. I am lunching with Frazer at the Criterion at that time.” + 

The two-seater stopped, the big man entered, and the vehicle moved away. + 

As soon as it was out of sight, Willis emerged from his hiding-place, and hurrying to the station, caught the 1:17 train to Hull. Twenty minutes later he passed through the swing doors of the Criterion. + 

The hotel, as is well known, is one of the most fashionable in Hull, and at the luncheon hour the restaurant was well filled. Glancing casually round, Willis could see his new acquaintance seated at a table in the window, in close conversation with a florid, red-haired individual of the successful business man type. + 

All the tables in the immediate vicinity were occupied, and Willis could not get close by in the hope of overhearing some of the conversation, as he had intended. He therefore watched the others from a distance, and when they had moved to the lounge he followed them. + 

He heard them order coffee and liqueurs, and then a sudden idea came into his head. Rising, he followed the waiter through the service door. + 

“I want a small job done,” he said, while a ten-shilling note changed hands. “I am from Scotland Yard, and I want the fingerprints of the men who have just ordered coffee. Polish the outsides of the liqueur glasses thoroughly, and only lift them by the stems. Then when the men have gone let me have the glasses.” + 

He returned to the lounge, and presently had the satisfaction of seeing Archer lift his glass by the bowl between the finger and thumb of his right hand, to empty his liqueur into his coffee. Half an hour later he was back in his hotel with the carefully packed glass. + 

A very few minutes sufficed for the test. The impressions showed up well, and this time the inspector gave a sigh of relief as he compared them with those of the taxi speaking-tube. They were the same. His quest was finished. Archer was the murderer of Francis Coburn. + 

For a minute or two, in his satisfaction, the inspector believed his work was done. He had only to arrest Archer, take official prints of his fingers, and he had all the necessary proof for a conviction. But a moment’s consideration showed him that his labours were very far indeed from being over. What he had accomplished was only a part of the task he had set himself. It was a good deal more likely that the other members of the syndicate were confederates in the murder as well as in the illicit trade. He must get his hands on them too. But if he arrested Archer he would thereby destroy all chance of accomplishing the greater feat. The very essence of success lay in lulling to rest any doubts that their operations were suspect which might have entered into the minds of the members of the syndicate. No, he would do nothing at present, and he once more felt himself up against the question which had baffled Hilliard and Merriman⁠—What was the syndicate doing? Until he had answered this, therefore, he could not rest. + 

And how was it to be done? After some thought he came to the conclusion that his most promising clue was the secret telephone, and he made up his mind the next day he would try to find its other end, and if necessary tap the wires and listen in to any conversation which might take place. + 

XV + 

Inspector Willis Listens In + 

Inspector Willis was a good deal exercised by the question of whether or not he should have Archer shadowed. If the managing director conceived the slightest suspicion of his danger he would undoubtedly disappear, and a man of his ability would not be likely to leave many traces. On the other hand Willis wondered whether even Scotland Yard men could shadow him sufficiently continuously to be a real safeguard, without giving themselves away. And if that happened he might indeed arrest Archer, but it would be goodbye to any chance of getting his confederates. + 

After anxious thought he decided to take the lesser risk. He would not bring assistants into the matter, but would trust to his own skill to carry on the investigation unnoticed by the distiller. + 

Though the discovery of Archer’s identity seemed greatly to strengthen the probability that the secret telephone led to him, Willis could not state this positively, and he felt it was the next point to be ascertained. The same argument that he had used before seemed to apply⁠—that owing to the difficulty of wiring, the point of connection must be close to the depot. Archer’s office was not more than three hundred yards away, while his house, The Elms, was over a mile. The chances were therefore in favour of the former. + 

It followed that he must begin by searching Archer’s office for the other receiver, and he turned his attention to the problem of how this could best be done. + 

And first, as to the lie of the offices. He called at the Electric Generating Station, and having introduced himself confidentially to the manager in his official capacity, asked to see the man whose business it was to inspect the lights of the distillery. From him he had no difficulty in obtaining a rough plan of the place. + 

It appeared that the offices were on the first floor, fronting along the line, Archer’s private office occupying the end of the suite and the corner of the building nearest to the syndicate’s wharf, and therefore to Ferriby. The supervisor believed that it had two windows looking to the front and side respectively, but was not sure. + 

That afternoon Inspector Willis returned to the distillery, and secreting himself in the same hiding place as before, watched until the staff had left the building. Then strolling casually along the lane, he observed that the two telephone wires which approached across the fields led to the third window from the Ferriby end of the first floor row. + 

“That’ll be the main office,” he said to himself, “but there will probably be an extension to Archer’s own room. Now I wonder⁠—” + 

He looked about him. The hedge bounding the river side of the lane ran up to the corner of the building. After another hasty glance round Willis squeezed through and from immediately below scrutinised the side window of the managing director’s room. And then he saw something which made him chuckle with pleasure. + 

Within a few inches of the architrave of the window there was a down-spout, and from the top of the window to the spout he saw stretching what looked like a double cord. It was painted the same colour as the walls, and had he not been looking out specially he would not have seen it. A moment’s glance at the foot of the spout showed him his surmise was correct. Pushed in behind it and normally concealed by it were two insulated wires, which ran down the wall from the window and disappeared into the ground with the spout. + 

“Got it first shot,” thought the inspector delightedly, as he moved away so as not to attract the attention of any chance onlooker. + 

Another idea suddenly occurred to him and, after estimating the height and position of the window, he turned and ran his eye once more over his surroundings. About fifty yards from the distillery, and behind the hedge fronting the lane, stood the cottage which Hilliard and Merriman had noticed. It was in a bad state of repair, having evidently been unoccupied for a long time. In the gable directly opposite the managing director’s office was a broken window. Willis moved round behind the house, and once again producing his bent wire, in a few moments had the back door open. Slipping inside, he passed through the damp-smelling rooms and up the decaying staircase until he reached the broken window. From it, as he had hoped, he found he had a good view into the office. + 

He glanced at his watch. It was ten minutes past seven. + 

“I’ll do it tonight,” he murmured, and quietly leaving the house, he hurried to Ferriby Station and so to Hull. + 

Some five hours later he left the city again, this time by motor. He stopped at the end of the lane which ran past the distillery, dismissed the vehicle, and passed down the lane. He was carrying a light, folding ladder, a spade, a field telephone, a coil of insulated wire, and some small tools. + 

The night was very dark. The crescent moon would not rise for another couple of hours, and a thick pall of cloud cut off all light from the stars. A faint wind stirred the branches of the few trees in the neighbourhood and sighed across the wide spaces of open country. The inspector walked slowly, being barely able to see against the sky the tops of the hedges which bounded the lane. Except for himself no living creature seemed to be abroad. + 

Arrived at his destination, Willis felt his way to the gap in the hedge which he had used before, passed through, and with infinite care raised his ladder to the window of Archer’s office. He could not see the window, but he checked the position of the ladder by the measurements from the hedge. Then he slowly ascended. + 

He found he had gauged his situation correctly, and he was soon on the sill of the window, trying with his knife to push back the hasp. This he presently accomplished, and then, after an effort so great that he thought he would be beaten, he succeeded in raising the sash. A minute later he was in the room. + 

His first care was to pull down the thick blinds of blue holland with which the windows were fitted. Then tiptoeing to the door, he noiselessly shot the bolt in the lock. + 

Having thus provided against surprise, he began his investigation. There in the top corner of the side window were the wires. They followed the miter of the window architrave⁠—white-enameled to match⁠—and then, passing down for a few inches at the outside of the moldings, ran along the picture rail round the room, concealed in the groove behind it. Following in the same way the miter of the architrave, they disappeared though a door in the back wall of the office. + 

Willis softly opened the door, which was not locked, and peered into a small store, evidently used for filing. The wires were carried down the back of the architrave molding and along the top of the wainscoting, until finally they disappeared into the side of one of a series of cupboards which lined the wall opposite the door. The cupboard was locked, but with the help of the bent wire it soon stood open and Willis, flashing in a beam from his electric torch, saw with satisfaction that he had attained at least one of his objects. A telephone receiver similar to that at the syndicate’s depot was within. + 

He examined the remaining contents of the room, but found nothing of interest until he came to the door. This was solidly made and edged with rubber, and he felt sure that it would be almost completely soundproof. It was, moreover, furnished with a well-oiled lock. + 

“Pretty complete arrangement,” Willis thought as he turned back to the outer office. Here he conducted another of his meticulous examinations, but unfortunately with a negative result. + 

Having silently unlocked the door and pulled up the blinds, he climbed out on the window sill and closed the window. He was unable to refasten the hasp, and had therefore to leave this evidence of his visit, though he hoped and believed it would not be noticed. + 

Lifting down the ladder, he carried it to the cottage and hid it therein. Part of his task was done, and he must wait for daylight to complete the remainder. + 

When some three hours later the coming dawn had made objects visible, he again emerged armed with his tools and coil of insulated wire. Digging a hole at the bottom of the down-pipe, he connected his wires just below the ground level to those of the telephone. Then inserting his spade along the face of the wall from the pipe to the hedge, he pushed back the adjoining soil, placed the wires in the narrow trench thus made, and trod the earth back into place. When the hole at the down-spout had been filled, practically no trace remained of the disturbance. + 

The ground along the inside of the hedge being thickly grown over with weeds and grass, he did not think it necessary to dig a trench for the wire, simply bedding it beneath the foliage. But he made a spade cut across the sward from the hedge to the cottage door, sank in the wire and trod out the cut. Once he had passed the tiny cable beneath the front door he no longer troubled to hide it but laid it across the floors and up the stairs to the broken window. There he attached the field receiver, affixing it to his ear so as to be ready for eventualities. + 

It was by this time half past six and broad daylight, but Willis had seen no sign of life and he believed his actions had been unobserved. He ate a few sandwiches, then lighting his pipe, lay down on the floor and smoked contentedly. + 

His case at last was beginning to prosper. The finding of Coburn’s murderer was of course an event of outstanding importance, and now the discovery of the telephone was not only valuable for its own sake, but was likely to bring in a rich harvest of information from the messages he hoped to intercept. Indeed he believed he could hardly fail to obtain from this source a definite indication of the nature and scope of the conspiracy. + 

About eight o’clock he could see from his window a number of workmen arrive at the distillery, followed an hour later by a clerical staff. After them came Archer, passing from his car to the building with his purposeful stride. Almost immediately he appeared in his office, sat down at his desk, and began to work. + 

Until nearly midday Willis watched him going through papers, dictating letters, and receiving subordinates. Then about two minutes to the hour he saw him look at his watch, rise, and approach the door from the other office, which was in Willis’s line of vision behind the desk. He stooped over the lock as if turning the key, and then the watcher’s excitement rose as the other disappeared out of sight in the direction of the filing room. + 

Willis was not disappointed. Almost immediately he heard the faint call of the tiny buzzer, and then a voice⁠—Archer’s voice, he believed, from what he had heard in the hotel lounge called softly, “Are you there?” + 

There was an immediate answer. Willis had never heard Benson speak, but he presumed that the reply must be from him. + 

“Anything to report?” Archer queried. + 

“No. Everything going on as usual.” + 

“No strangers poking round and asking questions?” + 

“No.” + 

“And no traces of a visitor while you were away?” + 

“None.” + 

“Good. It’s probably a false alarm. Beamish may have been mistaken.” + 

“I hope so, but he seemed very suspicious of that Scotland Yard man⁠—said he was sure he was out for more than he pretended. He thought he was too easily satisfied with the information he got, and that some of his questions were too foolish to be genuine.” + 

Inspector Willis sat up sharply. This was a blow to his dignity, and he felt not a little scandalised. But he had no time to consider his feelings. Archer was speaking again. + 

“I think we had better be on the safe side. If you have the slightest suspicion don’t wait to report to me. Wire at once to Henri at the clearing this message⁠—take it down so that there’ll be no mistake⁠—‘Six hundred four-foot props wanted. If possible send next cargo.’ Got that? He will understand. It is our code for ‘Suspect danger. Send blank cargoes until further notice.’ Then if a search is made nothing will be found, because there won’t be anything there to find.” + 

“Very good. It’s a pity to lose the money, but I expect you’re right.” + 

“We can’t take avoidable risks. Now about yourself. I see you brought no stuff up last night?” + 

“Couldn’t. I had a rotten bilious attack. I started, but had to go back to bed again. Couldn’t stand.” + 

“Better?” + 

“Yes, all right now, thanks.” + 

“Then you’ll bring the usual up tonight?” + 

“Certainly.” + 

“Very well. Now, what about ten forty-five for tomorrow?” + 

“Right.” + 

The switch snapped, and in a few seconds the watcher saw Archer return to his office, bend for a moment over the lock of the door, then reseat himself at his desk. + 

“I’ve got them now,” he thought triumphantly. “I’ve got them at last. Tonight I’ll take them red-handed in whatever they’re doing.” He smiled in anticipation. “By Jove,” he went on, “it was lucky they sent nothing up last night, or they would have taken me red-handed, and that might have been the end of me!” + 

He was greatly impressed by the excellence of the telephone scheme. There was nothing anywhere about it to excite suspicion, and it kept Archer in touch with the illicit undertaking, while enabling him to hold himself absolutely aloof from all its members. If the rest of the organisation was as good, it was not surprising that Hilliard and Merriman had been baffled. + 

But the puzzle was now solved, the mystery at an end. That night, so Willis assured himself, the truth would be known. + 

He remained in his hiding place all day, until, indeed, he had watched the workers at the distillery leave and the grey shadows of evening had begun to descend. Then he hid the telephone and wire in a cupboard, stealthily left the house, and after a rapid glance round hurried along the lane towards Ferriby. + 

He caught the 6:57 train to Hull, and in a few minutes was at the police station. There he saw the superintendent, and after a little trouble got him to fall in with the plan which he had devised. + 

As a result of their conference a large car left the city shortly before nine, in which were seated Inspector Willis and eight picked constables in plain clothes. They drove to the end of the Ferriby Lane, where the men dismounted, and took cover behind some shrubs, while the car returned towards Hull. + 

It was almost, but not quite dark. There was no moon, but the sky was clear and the stars were showing brightly. A faint air, in which there was already a touch of chill, sighed gently through the leaves, rising at intervals almost to a breeze, then falling away again to nothing. Lights were showing here and there⁠—yellow gleams from unshaded windows, signal lamps from the railway, navigation lights from the river. Except for the sound of the retreating car and the dull roar of a distant train, the night was very still, a night, in fact, preeminently suitable for the inspector’s purpose. + 

The nine men moved silently down the lane at intervals of a few minutes, their rubber-shod feet making no sound on the hard surface. Willis went first, and as the others reached him he posted them in the positions on which he had previously decided. One man took cover behind the hedge of the lane, a short distance on the distillery side of the wharf, another behind a pile of old material on the railway at the same place, a third hid himself among some bushes on the open ground between the railway and the river, while a fourth crept as near to the end of the wharf as the tide would allow, so as to watch approaches from the water. When they were in position, Willis felt convinced no one could leave the syndicate’s depot for the distillery without being seen. + 

The other four men he led on to the distillery, placing them in a similar manner on its Ferriby side. If by some extraordinary chance the messenger with the “stuff” should pass the first cordon, the second, he was satisfied, would take him. He left himself free to move about as might appear desirable. + 

The country was extraordinarily deserted. Not one of the nine men had seen a living soul since they left their motor, and Willis felt certain that his dispositions had been carried out in absolute secrecy. + 

He crossed the fence on to the railway. By climbing halfway up the ladder of a signal he was able to see the windows of the shed over the galvanized fence. All were in darkness, and he wondered if Benson had gone on his customary expedition into Hull. + 

To satisfy himself on this point he hid beneath a wagon which was standing on the siding close to the gate in the fence. If the manager were returning by his usual train he would be due in a few minutes, and Willis intended to wait and see. + 

It was not long before a sharp footfall told that someone was coming along the lane. The unknown paused at the stile, climbed over; and, walking more carefully across the rails, approached the door. Willis, whose eyes were accustomed to the gloom, could make out the dim form of a man, showing like a smudge of intensified blackness against the obscurity beyond. He unlocked the door, passed through, slammed it behind him, and his retreating steps sounded from within. Finally another door closed in the distance and silence again reigned. + 

Willis crawled out from beneath his truck and once more climbed the signal ladder. The windows of Benson’s office were now lighted up, but the blinds being drawn, the inspector could see nothing within. + 

After about half an hour he observed the same phenomenon as Hilliard and Merriman had witnessed⁠—the light was carried from the office to the bedroom, and a few minutes later disappeared altogether. + 

The ladder on which he was standing appearing to Willis to offer as good an observation post as he could hope to get, he climbed to the little platform at the top, and seating himself, leaned back against the timber upright and continued his watch. + 

Though he was keenly interested by his adventure, time soon began to drag. It was cramped on the little seat, and he could not move freely for fear of falling off. Then to his dismay he began to grow sleepy. He had of course been up all the previous night, and though he had dozed a little during his vigil in the deserted house, he had not really rested. He yawned, stretched himself carefully, and made a determined effort to overcome his drowsiness. + 

He was suddenly and unexpectedly successful. He got the start of his life, and for a moment he thought an earthquake had come. The signal post trembled and swayed while with a heavy metallic clang objects moved through the darkness near his head. He gripped the rail, and then he laughed as he remembered that railway signals were movable. This one had just been lowered for a train. + 

Presently it roared past him, enveloping him in a cloud of steam, which for an instant was lit bright as day by the almost white beam that poured out of the open door of the engine firebox. Then, the steam clearing, there appeared a strip of faintly lit ground on either side of the flying carriage roofs; it promptly vanished; red tail lamps appeared, leaping away; there was a rattle of wheels over siding connections, and with a rapidly decreasing roar the visitation was past. For a moment there remained the quickly moving spot of lighted steam, then it too vanished. Once again the signal post swayed as the heavy mechanism of the arm dropped back into the “on” position, and then all was once more still. + 

The train had effectually wakened Willis, and he set himself with a renewed vigour to this task. Sharply he watched the dark mass of the shed with its surrounding enclosure, keenly he listened for some sound of movement within. But all remained dark and silent. + 

Towards one in the morning he descended from his perch and went the round of his men. All were alert, and all were unanimous that no one had passed. + 

The time dragged slowly on. The wind had risen somewhat and clouds were banking towards the northwest. It grew colder, and Willis fancied there must be a touch of frost. + 

About four o’clock he went round his pickets for the second time. He was becoming more and more surprised that the attempt had been delayed so long, and when some two hours later the coming dawn began to brighten the eastern sky and still no sign had been observed, his chagrin waxed keen. As the light increased, he withdrew his men to cover, and about seven o’clock, when it was no longer possible that anything would be attempted, he sent them by ones and twos to await their car at the agreed rendezvous. + 

He was more disappointed at the failure of his trap than he would have believed possible. What, he wondered, could have happened? Why had the conspirators abandoned their purpose? Had he given himself away? He went over in his mind every step he had taken, and he did not see how any one of them could have become known to his enemies, or how any of his actions could have aroused their suspicions. No; it was not, he felt sure, that they had realised their danger. Some other quite accidental circumstance had intervened to cause them to postpone the transfer of the “stuff” for that night. But what extraordinary hard luck for him! He had obtained his helpers from the superintendent only after considerable trouble, and the difficulty of getting them again would be much greater. And not the least annoying thing was that he, a London man, one, indeed, of the best men at the Yard, had been made to look ridiculous in the eyes of these provincial police! + 

Dog-tired and hungry though he was, he set his teeth and determined that he would return to the cottage in the hope of learning the reason of his failure from the conversation which he expected would take place between Archer and Benson at a quarter to eleven that day. + 

Repeating, therefore, his proceedings of the previous morning, he regained his point of vantage at the broken window. Again he watched the staff arrive, and again observed Archer enter and take his place at his desk. He was desperately sleepy, and it required all the power of his strong will to keep himself awake. But at last his perseverance was rewarded, and at 10:45 exactly he saw Archer bolt his door and disappear towards the filing room. A moment later the buzzer sounded. + 

“Are you there?” once again came in Archer’s voice, followed by the astounding phrase, “I see you brought up that stuff last night.” + 

“Yes, I brought up two hundred and fifty,” was Benson’s amazing reply. + 

Inspector Willis gasped. He could scarcely believe his ears. So he had been tricked after all! In spite of his carefully placed pickets, in spite of his own ceaseless watchfulness, he had been tricked. Two hundred and fifty of the illicit somethings had been conveyed, right under his and his men’s noses, from the depot to the distillery. Almost choking with rage and amazement he heard Archer continue: + 

“I had a lucky deal after our conversation yesterday, got seven hundred unexpectedly planted. You may send up a couple of hundred extra tonight if you like.” + 

“Right. I shall,” Benson answered, and the conversation ceased. + 

Inspector Willis swore bitterly as he lay back on the dusty floor and pillowed his head on his hands. And then while he still fumed and fretted, outraged nature asserted herself and he fell asleep. + 

He woke, ravenously hungry, as it was getting dusk, and he did not delay long in letting himself out of the house, regaining the lane, and walking to Ferriby Station. An hour later he was dining at his hotel in Hull. + 

XVI + 

The Secret of the Syndicate + 

A night’s rest made Willis once more his own man, and next morning he found that his choking rage had evaporated, and that he was able to think calmly and collectedly over the failure of his plans. + 

As he reconsidered in detail the nature of the watch he had kept, he felt more than ever certain that his cordons had not been broken through. No one, he felt satisfied, could have passed unobserved between the depot and the distillery. + 

And in spite of this the stuff had been delivered. Archer and Benson were not bluffing to put him off the scent. They had no idea they were overheard, and therefore had no reason to say anything except the truth. + 

How then was the communication being made? Surely, he thought, if these people could devise a scheme, he should be able to guess it. He was not willing to admit his brain inferior to any man’s. + 

He lit his pipe and drew at it slowly as he turned the question over in his mind. And then a possible solution occurred to him. What about a subterranean connection? Had these men driven a tunnel? + 

Here undoubtedly was a possibility. To drive three hundred yards of a heading large enough for a stooping man to pass through, would be a simple matter to men who had shown the skill of these conspirators. The soil was light and sandy, and they could use without suspicion as much timber as they required to shore up their work. It was true they would have to pass under the railway, but that again was a matter of timbering. + 

Their greatest difficulty, he imagined, would be in the disposal of the surplus earth. He began to figure out what it would mean. The passageway could hardly be less than four feet by five, to allow for lining, and this would amount to about two yards of material to the yard run, or say six hundred or seven hundred cubic yards altogether. Could this have been absorbed in the filling of the wharf? He thought so. The wharf was a large structure, thirty yards by thirty at least and eight or nine feet high; more than two thousand cubic yards of filling would have been required for it. The disposal of the earth, therefore, would have presented no difficulty. All that came out of the tunnel could have gone into the wharf three times over. + 

A tunnel seemingly being a practical proposition, he turned his attention to his second problem. How could he find out whether or not it had been made? + 

Obviously only from examination at one or other end. If it existed it must connect with cellars at the depot and the distillery. And of these there could be no question of which he ought to search. The depot was not only smaller and more compact, but it was deserted at intervals. If he could not succeed at the syndicate’s enclosure he would have no chance at the larger building. + 

It was true he had already searched it without result, but he was not then specially looking for a cellar, and with a more definite objective he might have better luck. He decided that if Benson went up to Hull that night he would have another try. + 

He took an afternoon train to Ferriby, and walking back towards the depot, took cover in the same place that he had previously used. There, sheltered by a hedge, he watched for the manager’s appearance. + 

The weather had, from the inspector’s point of view, changed for the worse. The sunny days had gone, and the sky was overladen with clouds. A cold wind blew in gustily from the southeast, bringing a damp fog which threatened every minute to turn to rain, and flecking the lead-coloured waters of the estuary with spots of white. Willis shivered and drew up his collar higher round his ears as he crouched behind the wet bushes. + 

“Confound it,” he thought, “when I get into that shed I shall be dripping water all over the floor.” + 

But he remained at his post, and in due course he was rewarded by seeing Benson appear at the door in the fence, and after locking it behind him, start off down the railway towards Ferriby. + 

As before, Willis waited until the manager had got clear away, then slipping across the line, he produced his bent wire, opened the door, and five minutes later stood once more in the office. + 

From the nature of the case it seemed clear that the entrance to the cellar, if one existed, would be hidden. It was therefore for secret doors or moving panels that he must look. + 

He began by ascertaining the thickness of all the walls, noting the size of the rooms so as to calculate those he could not measure directly. He soon found that no wall was more than six inches thick, and none could therefore contain a concealed opening. + 

This narrowed his search. The exit from the building could only be through a trapdoor in the floor. + 

Accordingly he set to work in the office, crawling torch in hand along the boards, scrutinizing the joints between them for any that were not closed with dust, feeling for any that might be loose. But all to no purpose. The boards ran in one length across the floor and were obviously firmly nailed down on fixed joists. + 

He went to the bedroom, rolling aside the mats which covered the floor and moving the furniture back and forwards. But here he had no better result. + 

The remainder of the shed was floored with concrete, and a less meticulous examination was sufficient to show that the surface was unbroken. Nor was there anything either on the wharf itself or in the enclosure behind the shed which could form a cover to a flight of steps. + 

Sorely disappointed, Willis returned once more to the office, and sitting down, went over once again in his mind what he had done, trying to think if there was a point on the whole area of the depot which he had overlooked. He could recall none except the space beneath a large wardrobe in the next room which, owing to its obvious weight, he had not moved. + 

“I suppose I had better make sure,” he said to himself, though he did not believe so massive a piece of furniture could have been pulled backwards and forwards without leaving scratches on the floor. + 

He returned to the bedroom. The wardrobe was divided into two portions, a single deep drawer along the bottom, and above it a kind of large cupboard with a central door. He seized its end. It was certainly very heavy; in fact, he found himself unable to move it. + 

He picked up his torch and examined the wooden base. And then his interest grew, for he found it was strongly stitch-nailed to the floor. + 

Considerably mystified, he tried to open the door. It was locked, and though with his wire he eventually shot back the bolt, the trouble he had, proved that the lock was one of first quality. Indeed, it was not a cupboard lock screwed to the inside of the door as might have been expected, but a small-sized mortice lock hidden in the thickness of the wood, and the keyhole came through to the inside; just the same arrangement as is usual in internal house doors. + 

The inside of the wardrobe revealed nothing of interest. Two coats and waistcoats, a sweater, and some other clothes were hanging from hooks at the back. Otherwise the space was empty. + 

“Why,” he wondered as he stood staring in, “should it be necessary to lock up clothes like these?” + 

His eyes turned to the drawer below, and he seized the handles and gave a sharp pull. The drawer was evidently locked. Once again he produced his wire, but for the first time it failed him. He flashed a beam from his lamp into the hole, and then he saw the reason. + 

The hole was a dummy. It entered the wood but did not go through it. It was not connected to a lock. + 

He passed the light round the edges of the drawer. If there was no lock to fasten it why had he been unable to open it? He took out his penknife and tried to push the blade into the surrounding space. It would not penetrate, and he saw that there was no space, but merely a cut half an inch deep in the wood. There was no drawer. What seemed a drawer was merely a blind panel. + 

Inspector Willis grew more and more interested. He could not see why all that space should be wasted, as it was clear from the way in which the wardrobe was finished that economy in construction had not been the motive. + 

Once again he opened the door of the upper portion, and putting his head inside passed the beam of the lamp over the floor. This time he gave a little snort of triumph. The floor did not fit tight to the sides. All round was a space of some eighth of an inch. + 

“The trapdoor at last,” he muttered, as he began to feel about for some hidden spring. At last, pressing down on one end of the floor, he found that it sank and the other end rose in the air, revealing a square of inky blackness out of which poured a stream of cold, damp air, and through which he could hear, with the echoing sound peculiar to vaults, the splashing and churning of the sea. + 

His torch revealed a flight of steps leading down into the darkness. Having examined the pivoted floor to make sure there was no secret catch which could fasten and imprison him below, he stepped on to the ladder and began to descend. Then the significance of the mortice lock in the wardrobe door occurred to him, and he stopped, drew the door to behind him, and with his wire locked it. Descending farther he allowed the floor to drop gently into place above his head, thus leaving no trace of his passage. + 

He had by this time reached the ground, and he stood flashing his torch about on his surroundings. He was in a cellar, so low in the roof that except immediately beneath the stairs he could not stand upright. It was square, some twelve feet either way, and from it issued two passages, one apparently running down under the wharf, the other at right angles and some two feet lower in level, leading as if towards the distillery. Down the center of this latter ran a tiny tramway of about a foot gauge, on which stood three kegs on four-wheeled frames. In the upper side of each keg was fixed a tun-dish, to the under side a stopcock. Two insulated wires came down through the ceiling below the cupboard in which the telephone was installed, and ran down the tunnel towards the distillery. + 

The walls and ceiling of both cellar and passages were supported by pit-props, discoloured by the damp and marked by stains of earthy water which had oozed from the spaces between. They glistened with moisture, but the air, though cold and damp, was fresh. That and the noise of the waves which reverberated along the passage under the wharf seemed to show that there was an open connection to the river. + 

The cellar was empty except for a large wooden tun or cask which reached almost to the ceiling, and a gunmetal hand pump. Pipes led from the latter, one to the tun, the other along the passage under the wharf. On the side of the tun and connected to it at top and bottom was a vertical glass tube protected by a wooden casing, evidently a gauge, as beside it was a scale headed “gallons,” and reading from 0 at the bottom to 2,000 at the top. A dark-coloured liquid filled the tube up to the figure 1,250. There was a wooden spigot tap in the side of the tun at floor level, and the tramline ran beneath this so that the wheeled kegs could be pushed below it and filled. + 

The inspector gazed with an expression of almost awe on his face. + 

“Lord!” he muttered. “Is it brandy after all?” + 

He stooped and smelled the wooden tap, and the last doubt was removed from his mind. + 

He gave vent to a comprehensive oath. Right enough it was hard luck! Here he had been hoping to bring off a forged note coup which would have made his name, and the affair was a job for the Customs Department after all! Of course a pretty substantial reward would be due to him for his discovery, and there was his murder case all quite satisfactory, but forged notes were more in his line, and he felt cheated out of his due. + 

But now that he was so far he might as well learn all he could. The more complete the case he gave in, the larger the reward. Moreover, his own curiosity was keenly aroused. + 

The cellar being empty save for the tun, the pump, and the small tramway and trucks, he turned, and flashing his light before him, walked slowly along the passage down which ran the pipe. He was, he felt sure, passing under the wharf and heading towards the river. + 

Some sixty feet past the pump the floor of the passage came to an abrupt end, falling vertically as by an enormous step to churning waters of the river some six feet below. At first in the semidarkness Willis thought he had reached the front of the wharf, but he soon saw he was still in the cellar. The roof ran on at the same level for some twenty feet farther, and the side walls, here about five feet apart, went straight down from it into the water. Across the end was a wall, sloping outwards at the bottom and made of horizontal pit-props separated by spaces of two or three inches. Willis immediately realised that these props must be those placed behind the inner or raking row of piles which supported the front of the wharf. + 

Along one side wall for its whole length was nailed a series of horizontal laths twelve inches apart. What their purpose was he did not know, but he saw that they made a ladder twenty feet wide, by which a man could work his way from the passage to the end wall and reach the water at any height of the tide. + 

Above this ladder was an object which at first puzzled the inspector, then as he realised its object, it became highly illuminating. On a couple of brackets secured to the wall lay a pipe of thin steel covered with thick black baize, and some sixteen feet long by an inch in diameter. Through it ran the light copper pipe which was connected at its other end to the pump. At the end of the passage this pipe had several joints like those of a gas bracket, and was folded on itself concertina-wise. + 

The inspector stepped on to the ladder and worked his way across it to the other end of the steel pipe, close by the end wall. The copper pipe protruded and ended in a fitting like the half of a union. As Willis gazed he suddenly grasped its significance. + 

The side of the Girondin, he thought, would lie not more than ten feet from where he was standing. If at night someone from within the cellar were to push the end of the steel tube out through one of the spaces between the horizontal timbers of the end wall, it could be inserted into a porthole, supposing one were just opposite. The concertina joints would make it flexible and allow it to extend, and the baize covering would prevent its being heard should it inadvertently strike the side of the ship. The union on the copper tube could then be fixed to some receptacle on board, the brandy being pumped from the ship to the tun. + 

And no outsider could possibly be any the wiser! Given a dark night and careful operators, the whole thing would be carried out invisibly and in absolute silence. + 

Now Willis saw the object of the peculiar construction of the front of the wharf. It was necessary to have two lines of piles, so that the deck between might overshadow and screen from view the openings between the horizontal beams at the front of the cellar. He stood marvelling at the ingenuity of the plan. No wonder Hilliard and Merriman had been baffled. + 

But if he were to finish his investigations, he must no longer delay. He worked back across the side of the cellar, regained the passage, and returned to the pump-room. Then turning into the other passage, he began to walk as quickly as possible along it. + 

The tunnel was barely four feet high by three wide, and he found progress very tiring. After a slight curve at the mouth it ran straight and almost dead level. Its construction was the same as that of the cellar, longitudinal timber lining supported behind verticals and lintels spaced about six feet apart. When he had gone about two hundred yards it curved sharply to the left, ran heavily timbered for some thirty yards in the new direction, and then swung round to the right again. + 

“I suppose the railway crosses here,” Willis thought, as he passed painfully round the bends. + 

The sweat stood in drops on his forehead when he reached the end, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he realised he could once more stand upright and stretch his cramped back. He found himself in another cellar, this time about six feet by twelve. The tramway ran along it, stopping at the end wall. The place was otherwise empty, save for a wooden grating or tun-dish with a hinged lid which was fixed between the rails near the entrance. The telephone wires, which had followed the tunnel all the way, here vanished into the roof. + 

Willis concluded he must be standing beneath some part of the distillery, and a very little thought was required to make clear to him the raison d’être of what he saw. He pictured the kegs being pushed under the tap of the large tun in the pump-room and filled with brandy pumped in from the Girondin. In imagination he saw Benson pushing his loaded trucks through the tunnel⁠—a much easier thing to do than to walk without something to step over⁠—stopping them one by one over the grating and emptying the contents therein. No doubt that grating was connected to some vat or tun buried still deeper beneath the distillery, in which the brandy mingled with the other brandy brought there by more legitimate means, and which was sold without documentary evidence of its surprising increase in bulk. + 

It was probable, thought Willis, that some secret door must connect the chamber in which he stood with the distillery, but a careful search revealed no trace of any opening, and he was forced to the conclusion that none existed. Accordingly, he turned and began to retrace his steps through the tunnel. + 

The walk back seemed even longer and more irksome than his first transit, and he stopped here and there and knelt down in order to straighten his aching back. As he advanced, the booming sound of the waves, which had died down to a faint murmur at the distillery, grew louder and louder. At last he reached the pump-cellar, and was just about to step out of the tunnel when his eye caught the flicker of a light at the top of the stepladder. Someone was coming down! + 

Willis instantly snapped off his own light, and for the fraction of a second he stood transfixed, while his heart thumped and his hand slid round to his revolver pocket. Breathlessly he watched a pair of legs step on to the ladder and begin to descend the steps. + 

Like a flash he realised what he must do. If this was Benson coming to “take up stuff,” to remain in the tunnel meant certain discovery. But if only he could reach the passage under the wharf he might be safe. There was nothing to bring Benson into it. + 

But to cross the cellar he must pass within two feet of the ladder, and the man was halfway down. For a moment it looked quite hopeless, then unexpectedly he got his chance. The man stopped to lock the wardrobe door. When he had finished, Willis was already across the cellar and hurrying down the other passage. Fortunately the noise of the waves drowned all other sounds. + 

By the time the unknown had reached the bottom of the ladder, Willis had stepped on to the cross laths and was descending by them. In a moment he was below the passage level. He intended, should the other approach, to hide beneath the water in the hope that in the darkness his head would not be seen. + 

But the light remained in the cellar, and Willis raised himself and cautiously peeped down the passage. Then he began to congratulate himself on what he had just been considering his misfortune. For, watching there in the darkness, he saw Benson carry out the very operations he had imagined were performed. The manager wheeled the kegs one by one beneath the great barrel, filled them from the tap, and then, setting his lamp on the last of the three, pushed them before him down the tunnel towards the distillery. + 

Inspector Willis waited until he judged the other would be out of sight, then left his hiding-place and cautiously returned to the pump-room. The gauge now showed 1,125 gallons, and he noted that 125 gallons was put up per trip. He rapidly ascended the steps, passed out through the wardrobe, and regained the bedroom. A few minutes later he was once more out on the railway. + 

He had glanced at his watch in the building and found that it was but little after ten. Benson must therefore have returned by an earlier train than usual. Again the inspector congratulated himself that events had turned out as they had, for though he would have had no fear of his personal safety had he been seen, premature discovery might have allowed the other members of the gang to escape. + 

The last train for Hull having left, he started to walk the six miles to the city. The weather had still further changed for the worse, and now half a gale of wind whirled round him in a pandemonium of sound and blew blinding squalls of rain into his eyes. In a few moments he was soaked to the skin, and the buffeting of the wind made his progress slow. But he struggled on, too well pleased by the success of his evening’s work to mind the discomfort. + 

And as he considered the affair on the following morning he felt even more satisfied. He had indeed done well! Not only had he completed what he set out to do⁠—to discover the murderer of Coburn⁠—but he had accomplished vastly more. He had brought to light one of the greatest smuggling conspiracies of modern times. It was true he had not followed up and completed the case against the syndicate, but this was not his business. Smuggling was not dealt with by Scotland Yard. It was a matter for the Customs Department. But if only it had been forged notes! He heaved a sigh as he thought of the kudos which might have been his. + 

But when he had gone so far, he thought he might as well make certain that the brandy was discharged as he imagined. He calculated that the Girondin would reach Ferriby on the following day, and he determined to see the operation carried out. + 

He followed the plan of Hilliard and Merriman to the extent of hiring a boat in Hull and sculling gently down towards the wharf as dusk fell. He had kept a watch on the river all day without seeing the motor ship go up, but now she passed him a couple of miles above the city. He turned inshore when he saw her coming, lest Captain Beamish’s binoculars might reveal to him a familiar countenance. + 

He pulled easily, timing himself to arrive at the wharf as soon as possible after dark. The evening was dry, but the southeasterly wind still blew cold and raw, though not nearly so strongly as on the night of his walk. + 

There were a couple of lights on the Girondin, and he steered by these till the dark mass of her counter, looming up out of the night, cut them off. Slipping round her stern, as Hilliard had done in the River Lesque, he unshipped his oars and guided the boat by his hands into the V-shaped space between the two rows of piles fronting the wharf. As he floated gently forward he felt between the horizontal props which held back the filling until he came to a vacant space, then knowing he was opposite the cellar, he slid the boat back a few feet, tied her up, and settled down to wait. + 

Though sheltered from the wind by the hull, it was cold and damp under the wharf. The waves were lapping among the timbers, and the boat moved uneasily at the end of her short painter. The darkness was absolute⁠—an inky blackness unrelieved by any point of light. Willis realised that waiting would soon become irksome. + 

But it was not so very long before the work began. He had been there, he estimated, a couple of hours when he saw, not ten feet away, a dim circle of light suddenly appear on the Girondin’s side. Someone had turned on a faint light in a cabin whose open porthole was immediately opposite the cellar. Presently Willis, watching breathlessly, saw what he believed was the steel pipe impinge on and enter the illuminated ring. It remained projecting into the porthole for some forty minutes, was as silently withdrawn, the porthole was closed, a curtain drawn across it, and the light turned up within. The brandy had been discharged. + 

The thing had been done inaudibly, and invisibly to anyone on either wharf or ship. Marvelling once more at the excellence and secrecy of the plan, Willis gently pushed his boat out from among the piles and rowed back down the river to Hull. There he tied the boat up, and returning to his hotel, was soon fast asleep. + 

In spite of his delight at the discovery, he could not but realise that much still remained to be done. Though he had learned how the syndicate was making its money, he had not obtained any evidence of the complicity of its members in the murder of Coburn. + 

Who, in addition to Archer, could be involved? There were, of course, Beamish, Bulla, Benson, and Henri. There was also a man, Morton, whose place in the scheme of things had not yet been ascertained. He, Willis realised, must be found and identified. But were these all? He doubted it. It seemed to him that the smuggling system required more helpers than these. He now understood how the brandy was got from the ship to the distillery, and he presumed it was loaded at the clearing in the same manner, being brought there in some unknown way by the motor lorries. But there were two parts of the plan of which nothing was yet known. Firstly, where was the brandy obtained from originally, and, secondly, how was it distributed from the distillery? It seemed to Willis that each of these operations would require additional accomplices. And if so, these persons might also have been implicated in Coburn’s death. + 

He thought over the thing for three solid hours before coming to a decision. At the end of that time he determined to return to London and, if his chief approved, lay the whole facts before the Customs Departments of both England and France, asking them to investigate the matter in their respective countries. In the meantime he would concentrate on the question of complicity in the murder. + 

He left Hull by an afternoon train, and that night was in London. + 

XVII + 

“Archer Plants Stuff” + 

Willis’s chief at the Yard was not a little impressed by his subordinate’s story. He congratulated the inspector on his discovery, commended him for his restraint in withholding action against Archer until he had identified his accomplices, and approved his proposals for the further conduct of the case. Fortified by this somewhat unexpected approbation, Willis betook himself forthwith to the headquarters of the Customs Department and asked to see Hilliard. + 

The two men were already acquainted. As has been stated, the inspector had early called at Hilliard’s rooms and learned all that the other could tell him of the case. But for prudential reasons they had not met since. + 

Hilliard was tremendously excited by the inspector’s news, and eagerly arranged the interview with his chief which Willis sought. The great man was not engaged, and in a few minutes the others were shown into his presence. + 

“We are here, sir,” Willis began, when the necessary introductions had been made, “to tell you jointly a very remarkable story. Mr. Hilliard would doubtless have told you his part long before this, had I not specially asked him not to. Now, sir, the time has come to put the facts before you. Perhaps as Mr. Hilliard’s story comes before mine in point of time, he should begin.” + 

Hilliard thereupon began. He told of Merriman’s story in the Rovers’ Club, his own idea of smuggling based on the absence of return cargoes, his proposition to Merriman, their trip to France and what they learned at the clearing. Then he described their visit to Hull, their observations at the Ferriby wharf, the experiment carried out with the help of Leatham, and, finally, what Merriman had told him of his second visit to Bordeaux. + 

Willis next took up the tale and described the murder of Coburn, his inquiries thereinto and the identification of the assassin, and his subsequent discoveries at Ferriby, ending up by stating the problem which still confronted him, and expressing the hope that the chief in dealing with the smuggling conspiracy would cooperate with him in connection with the murder. + 

The latter had listened with an expression of amazement, which towards the end of the inspector’s statement changed to one of the liveliest satisfaction. He gracefully congratulated both men on their achievements, and expressed his gratification at what had been discovered and his desire to cooperate to the full with the inspector in the settling up of the case. + 

The three men then turned to details. To Hilliard’s bitter disappointment it was ruled that, owing to his being known to at least three members of the gang, he could take no part in the final scenes, and he had to be content with the honour of, as it were, a seat on the council of war. For nearly an hour they deliberated, at the end of which time it had been decided that Stopford Hunt, one of the Customs Department’s most skillful investigators, should proceed to Hull and tackle the question of the distribution of the brandy. Willis was to go to Paris, interest the French authorities in the Bordeaux end of the affair, and then join Hunt in Hull. + 

Stopford Hunt was an insignificant-looking man of about forty. All his characteristics might be described as being of medium quality. He was five feet nine in height, his brown hair was neither fair nor dark, his dress suggested neither poverty nor opulence, and his features were of the type known as ordinary. In a word, he was not one whose appearance would provoke a second glance or who would be credited with taking an important part in anything that might be in progress. + 

But for his job these very peculiarities were among his chief assets. When he hung about in an aimless, loafing way, as he very often did, he was overlooked by those whose actions he was so discreetly watching, and where mere loafing would look suspicious, he had the inestimable gift of being able to waste time in an affairé and preoccupied manner. + 

That night Willis crossed to Paris, and next day he told his story to the polite chief of the French Excise. M. Max was almost as interested as his English confrère, and readily promised to have the French end of the affair investigated. That same evening the inspector left for London, going on in the morning to Hull. + 

He found Hunt a shrewd and capable man of the world, as well as a pleasant and interesting companion. + 

They had engaged a private sitting-room at their hotel, and after dinner they retired thither to discuss their plan of campaign. + 

“I wish,” said Willis, when they had talked for some moments, “that you would tell me something about how this liquor distribution business is worked. It’s outside my job, and I’m not clear on the details. If I understood I could perhaps help you better.” + 

Hunt nodded and drew slowly at his pipe. + 

“The principle of the thing,” he answered, “is simple enough, though in detail it becomes a bit complicated. The first thing we have to remember is that in this case we’re dealing, not with distillers, but with rectifiers. Though in loose popular phraseology both businesses are classed under the term ‘distilling,’ in reality there is a considerable difference between them. Distillers actually produce the spirit in their buildings, rectifiers do not. Rectifiers import the spirit produced by distillers, and refine or prepare it for various specified purposes. The check required by the Excise authorities is therefore different in each case. With rectifiers it is only necessary to measure the stuff that goes into and comes out of the works. Making due allowance for variation during treatment, these two figures will balance if all is right.” + 

Willis nodded, and Hunt resumed. + 

“Now, the essence of all fraud is that more stuff goes out of the works than is shown on the returns. That is, of course, another way of saying that stuff is sold upon which duty has not been paid. In the case of a rectifying house, where there is no illicit still, more also comes in than is shown. In the present instance you yourself have shown how the extra brandy enters. Our job is to find out how it leaves.” + 

“That part of it is clear enough anyway,” Willis said with a smile. “But brandy smuggling is not new. There must surely be recognised ways of evading the law?” + 

“Quite. There are. But to follow them you must understand how the output is measured. For every consignment of stuff that leaves the works a permit or certificate is issued and handed to the carrier who removes it. This is a kind of waybill, and of course a block is kept for the inspection of the surveying officer. It contains a note of the quantity of stuff, date and hour of starting, consignee’s name and other information, and it is the authority for the carrier to have the liquor in his possession. An Excise officer may stop and examine any dray or lorry carrying liquor, or railway wagon, and the driver or other official must produce his certificate so that his load may be checked by it. All such what I may call surprise examinations, together with the signature of the officer making them, are recorded on the back of the certificate. When the stuff is delivered, the certificate is handed over with it to the consignee. He signs it on receipt. It then becomes his authority for having the stuff on his premises, and he must keep it for the Excise officer’s inspection. Do you follow me so far?” + 

“Perfectly.” + 

“The fraud, then, consists in getting more liquor away from the works than is shown on the certificates, and I must confess it is not easy. The commonest method, I should think, is to fill the kegs or receptacles slightly fuller than the certificate shows. This is sometimes done simply by putting extra stuff in the ordinary kegs. It is argued that an Excise officer cannot by his eye tell a difference of five or six percent; that, for example, twenty-six gallons might be supplied on a twenty-five gallon certificate without anyone being much the wiser. Variants of this method are to use slightly larger kegs, or, more subtly, to use the normal sized kegs of which the wood at the ends has been thinned down, and which therefore when filled to the same level hold more, while showing the same measure with a dipping rod. But all these methods are risky. On the suspicion the contents of the kegs are measured and the fraud becomes revealed.” + 

Willis, much interested, bent forward eagerly as the other, after a pause to relight his pipe, continued: + 

“Another common method is to send out liquor secretly, without a permit at all. This may be done at night, or the stuff may go through an underground pipe, or be hidden in innocent looking articles such as suitcases or petrol tins. The pipe is the best scheme from the operator’s point of view, and one may remain undiscovered for months, but the difficulty usually is to lay it in the first instance. + 

“A third method can be used only in the case of rectifiers and it illustrates one of the differences between rectifiers and distillers. Every permit for the removal of liquor from a distillery must be issued by the excise surveyor of the district, whereas rectifiers can issue their own certificates. Therefore in the case of rectifiers there is the possibility of the issuing of forged or fraudulent certificates. Of course this is not so easy as it sounds. The certificates are supplied in books of two hundred by the Excise authorities, and the blocks must be kept available for the supervisor’s scrutiny. Any certificates can be obtained from the receivers of the spirit and compared with the blocks. Forged permits are very risky things to work with, as all genuine ones bear the government watermark, which is not easy to reproduce. In fact, I may say about this whole question of liquor distribution generally, that fraud has been made so difficult that the only hope of those committing it is to avoid arousing suspicion. Once suspicion is aroused, discovery follows almost as a matter of course.” + 

“That’s hopeful for us,” Willis smiled. + 

“Yes,” the other answered, “though I fancy this case will be more difficult than most. There is another point to be taken into consideration which I have not mentioned, and that is, how the perpetrators of the frauds are going to get their money. In the last resort it can only come in from the public over the counters of the licensed premises which sell the smuggled spirits. But just as the smuggled liquor cannot be put through the books of the house selling it, so the money received for it cannot be entered either. This means that someone in authority in each licensed house must be involved. It also carries with it a suggestion, though only a suggestion, that the houses in question are tied houses. The director of a distillery company would have more hold on the manager of their own tied houses than over an outsider.” + 

Again Willis nodded without replying, and Hunt went on: + 

“Now it happens that these Ackroyd & Holt people own some very large licensed houses in Hull, and it is to them, I imagine, that we should first direct our attention.” + 

“How do you propose to begin?” + 

“I think we must first find out how the Ferriby liquor is sent to these houses. By the way, you probably know that already. You watched the distillery during working hours, didn’t you?” + 

The inspector admitted it. + 

“Did you see any lorries?” + 

“Any number; large blue machines. I noticed them going and coming in the Hull direction loaded up with barrels.” + 

Hunt seemed pleased. + 

“Good,” he commented. “That’s a beginning anyway. Our next step must be to make sure that all these lorries carry certificates. We had better begin tomorrow.” + 

Willis did not quite see how the business was to be done, but he forbore to ask questions, agreeing to fall in with his companion’s arrangements. + 

These arrangements involved the departure from their hotel by taxi at six o’clock the next morning. It was not fully light as they whirled out along the Ferriby road, but the sky was clear and all the indications pointed to a fine day. + 

They dismounted at the end of the lane leading to the works, and struck off across the fields, finally taking up their position behind the same thick hedge from which Willis had previously kept watch. + 

They spent the whole of that day, as well as of the next two, in their hiding-place, and at the end of that time they had a complete list of all lorries that entered or left the establishment during that period. No vehicles other than blue lorries appeared, and Hunt expressed himself as satisfied that if the smuggled brandy was not carried by them it must go either by rail or at night. + 

“We can go into those other contingencies later if necessary,” he said, “but on the face of it I am inclined to back the lorries. They supply the tied houses in Hull, which would seem the obvious places for the brandy to go, and, besides, railway transit is too well looked after to attract the gang. I think we’ll follow this lorry business through first on spec.” + 

“I suppose you’ll compare the certificate blocks with the list I made?” Willis asked. + 

“Of course. That will show if all carry certificates. But I don’t want to do that yet. Before alarming them I want to examine the contents of a few of the lorries. I think we might do that tomorrow.” + 

The next morning, therefore, the two detectives again engaged a taxi and ran out along the Ferriby road until they met a large blue lorry loaded with barrels and bearing on its side the legend “Ackroyd & Holt Ltd., Licensed Rectifiers.” When it had lumbered past on its way to the city, Hunt called to the driver and ordered him to follow it. + 

The chase led to the heart of the town, ending in a street which ran parallel to the Humber Dock. There the big machine turned in to an entry. + 

“The Anchor Bar,” Hunt said, in satisfied tones. “We’re in luck. It’s one of the largest licensed houses in Hull.” + 

He jumped out and disappeared after the lorry, Willis following. The vehicle had stopped in a yard at the back of the great public house, where were more barrels than the inspector ever remembered having seen together, while the smell of various liquors hung heavy in the air. Hunt, having shown his credentials, demanded the certificate for the consignment. This was immediately produced by the driver, scrutinised, and found in order. Hunt then proceeded to examine the consignment itself, and Willis was lost in admiration at the rapidity as well as the thoroughness of his inspection. He tested the nature of the various liquids, measured their receptacles, took drippings in each cask, and otherwise satisfied himself as to the quality and quantity. Finally he had a look over the lorry, then expressing himself satisfied, he endorsed the certificate, and with a few civil words to the men in charge, the two detectives took their leave. + 

“That’s all square anyway,” Hunt remarked, as they reentered their taxi. “I suppose we may go and do the same thing again.” + 

They did. Three times more on that day, and four times on the next day they followed Messrs. Ackroyd & Holt’s lorries, in every instance with the same result. All eight consignments were examined with the utmost care, and all were found to be accurately described on the accompanying certificate. The certificates themselves were obviously genuine, and everything about them, so far as Hunt could see, was in order. + 

“Doesn’t look as if we are going to get it that way,” he commented, as late that second evening they sat once more discussing matters in their private sitting-room. + 

“Don’t you think you have frightened them into honesty by our persistence?” Willis queried. + 

“No doubt,” the other returned. “But that couldn’t apply to the first few trips. They couldn’t possibly have foretold that we should examine those consignments yesterday, and today I expect they thought their visitation was over. But we have worked it as far as it will go. We shall have to change our methods.” + 

The inspector looked his question and Hunt continued: + 

“I think tomorrow I had better go out to the works and have a look over these certificate blocks. But I wonder if it would be well for you to come? Archer has seen you in that hotel lounge, and at all events he has your description.” + 

“I shall not go,” Willis decided. “See you when you get back.” + 

Hunt, after showing his credentials, was received with civility at Messrs. Ackroyd & Holt’s. When he had completed the usual examination of their various apparatus he asked for certain books. He took them to a desk, and sitting down, began to study the certificate blocks. + 

His first care was to compare the list of outward lorries which he and Willis had made with the blocks for the same period. A short investigation convinced him that here also everything was in order. There was a certificate for every lorry which had passed out, and not only so, but the number of the lorry, the day and hour at which it left and the load were all correct so far as his observations had enabled him to check them. It was clear that here also he had drawn blank, and for the fiftieth time he wondered with a sort of rueful admiration how the fraud was being worked. + 

He was idly turning over the leaves of the blocks, gazing vacantly at the lines of writing while he pondered his problem when his attention was attracted to a slight difference of colour in the ink of an entry on one of the blocks. The consignment was a mixed one, containing different kinds of spirituous liquors. The lowest entry was for three twenty-five gallon kegs of French brandy. This entry was slightly paler than the remainder. + 

At first Hunt did not give the matter serious thought. The page had evidently been blotted while the ink was wet, and the lower items should therefore naturally be the fainter. But as he looked more closely he saw that this explanation would not quite meet the case. It was true that the lower two or three items above that of the brandy grew gradually paler in proportion to their position down the sheet, and to this rule Archer’s signature at the bottom was no exception. In these Hunt could trace the gradual fading of colour due to the use of blotting paper. But he now saw that this did not apply to the brandy entry. It was the palest of all⁠—paler even than Archer’s name, which was below it. + 

He sat staring at the sheet, whistling softly through his teeth and with his brow puckered into a frown, as he wondered whether the obvious suggestion that the brandy item had been added after the sheet had been completed, was a sound deduction. He could think of no other explanation, but he was loath to form a definite opinion on such slight evidence. + 

He turned back through the blocks to see if they contained other similar instances, and as he did so his interest grew. Quite a number of the pages referring to mixed consignment had for their last item kegs of French brandy. He scrutinised these entries with the utmost care. A few seemed normal enough, but others showed indications which strengthened his suspicions. In three more the ink was undoubtedly paler than the remainder of the sheet, in five it was darker, while in several others the handwriting appeared slightly different⁠—more upright, more sloping, more heavily or more lightly leaned on. When Hunt had examined all the instances he could find stretching over a period of three months, he was convinced that his deduction was correct. The brandy items had been written at a different time from the remainder, and this could only mean that they had been added after the certificate was complete. + 

His interest at last keenly aroused, he began to make an analysis of the blocks in question in the hope of finding some other peculiarity common to them which might indicate the direction in which the solution might lie. + 

And first as to the consignees. Ackroyd & Holt evidently supplied a very large number of licensed houses, but of these the names of only five appeared on the doubtful blocks. But these five were confined to houses in Hull, and each was a large and important concern. + 

“So far, so good,” thought Hunt, with satisfaction. “If they’re not planting their stuff in those five houses, I’m a Dutchman!” + 

He turned back to the blocks and once again went through them. This time he made an even more suggestive discovery. Only one lorry-man was concerned in the transport of the doubtful consignments. All the lorries in question had been in charge of a driver called Charles Fox. + 

Hunt remembered the man. He had driven three of the eight lorries Hunt himself had examined, and he had been most civil when stopped, giving the investigator all possible assistance in making his inspection. Nor had he at any time betrayed embarrassment. And now it seemed not improbable that this same man was one of those concerned in the fraud. + 

Hunt applied himself once again to a study of the blocks, and then he made a third discovery, which, though he could not at first see its drift, struck him nevertheless as being of importance. He found that the faked block was always one of a pair. Within a few pages either in front of or behind it was another block containing particulars of a similar consignment, identical, in fact, except that the brandy item was missing. + 

Hunt was puzzled. That he was on the track of the fraud he could not but believe, but he could form no idea as to how it was worked. If he were right so far, the blocks had been made out in facsimile in the first instance, and later the brandy item had been added to one of each pair. Why? He could not guess. + 

He continued his examination, and soon another interesting fact became apparent. Though consignments left the works at all hours of the day, those referred to by the first one of each pair of blocks had all been sent out between the hours of one and two in the afternoon, and those referred to by the second between the hours of four and five. Further, the number of minutes past one and past four were always identical on each pair. That showed the brandy item was nearly always the later of the two, but occasionally the stuff had gone with the one o’clock trip. + 

Hunt sat in the small office, of which he had been given undisturbed possession, pondering over his problem and trying to marshal the facts that he had learned in such a way as to extract their inner meaning. As far as he could follow them they seemed to show that three times each day driver Charles Fox took a lorry of various liquors into Hull. The first trip was irregular, that is, he left at anything between seven-thirty and ten-thirty a.m., and his objective extended over the entire city. The remaining two trips were regular. Of these the first always left between one and two and the second the same number of minutes past four; both were invariably to the same one of the five large tied houses already mentioned; the load of each was always identical except that one⁠—generally the second⁠—had some kegs of brandy additional, and, lastly, the note of this extra brandy appeared always to have been added to the certificate after the latter had been made out. + 

Hunt could make nothing of it. In the evening he described his discoveries to Willis, and the two men discussed the affair exhaustively, though still without result. + 

That night Hunt could not sleep. He lay tossing from side to side and racking his brains to find a solution. He felt subconsciously that it was within his reach, and yet he could not grasp it. + 

It was not far from dawn when a sudden idea flashed into his mind, and he lay thrilled with excitement as he wondered if at last he held the clue to the mystery. He went over the details in his mind, and the more he thought over his theory the more likely it seemed to grow. + 

But how was he to test it? Daylight had come before he saw his way; but at last he was satisfied, and at breakfast he told Willis his idea and asked his help to carry out his plan. + 

“You’re not a photographer, by any chance?” he asked. + 

“I’m not A1, but I dabble a bit at it.” + 

“Good. That will save some trouble.” + 

They called at a photographic outfitter’s, and there, after making a deposit, succeeded in hiring two large-size Kodaks for the day. With these and a set of climbing irons they drove out along the Ferriby road, arriving at the end of the lane to the works shortly after midday. There they dismissed their taxi. + 

As soon as they were alone their actions became somewhat bewildering to the uninitiated. Along one side of the road ran a seven-foot wall bounding the plantation of a large villa. Over this Willis, with the help of his friend, clambered. With some loose stones he built himself a footing at the back, so that he could just look over the top. Then having focused his camera for the middle of the road, he retired into obscurity behind his defences. + 

His friend settled to his satisfaction, Hunt buckled on the climbing irons, and crossing the road, proceeded to climb a telegraph pole which stood opposite the lane. He fixed his camera to the lower wires⁠—carefully avoiding possible short-circuitings⁠—and having focused it for the center of the road, pulled a pair of pliers from his pocket and endeavored to simulate the actions of a lineman at work. By the time these preparations were complete it was close on one o’clock. + 

Some half-hour later a large blue lorry came in sight bearing down along the lane. Presently Hunt was able to see that the driver was Fox. He made a prearranged sign to his accomplice behind the wall, and the latter, camera in hand, stood up and peeped over. As the big vehicle swung slowly round into the main road both men from their respective positions photographed it. Hunt, indeed, rapidly changing the film, took a second view as the machine retreated down the road towards Hull. + 

When it was out of sight, Hunt descended and with some difficulty climbed the wall to his colleague. There in the shade of the thick belt of trees both men lay down and smoked peacefully until nearly four o’clock. Then once more they took up their respective positions, watched until about half an hour later the lorry again passed out and photographed it precisely as before. That done, they walked to Hessle station, and took the first train to Hull. + 

By dint of baksheesh they persuaded the photographer to develop their films there and then, and that same evening they had six prints. + 

As it happened they turned out exceedingly good photographs. Their definition was excellent, and each view included the whole of the lorry. The friends found, as Hunt had hoped and intended, that owing to the height from which the views had been taken, each several keg of the load showed out distinctly. They counted them. Each picture showed seventeen. + 

“You see?” cried Hunt triumphantly. “The same amount of stuff went out on each load! We shall have them now, Willis!” + 

Next day Hunt returned to Ferriby works ostensibly to continue his routine inspection. But in three minutes he had seen what he wanted. Taking the certificate book, he looked up the blocks of the two consignments they had photographed, and he could have laughed aloud in his exultation as he saw that what he had suspected was indeed the fact. The two certificates were identical except that to the second an item of four kegs of French brandy had been added! Hunt counted the barrels. The first certificate showed thirteen and the last seventeen. + 

“Four kegs of brandy smuggled out under our noses yesterday,” he thought delightedly. “By Jove! but it’s a clever trick. Now to test the next point.” + 

He made an excuse for leaving the works, and returning to Hull, called at the licensed house to which the previous afternoon’s consignment had been dispatched. There he asked to see the certificates of the two trips. On seeing his credentials these were handed up without demur, and he withdrew with them to his hotel. + 

“Come,” he cried to Willis, who was reading in the lounge, “and see the final act in the drama.” + 

They retired to their private room, and there Hunt spread the two certificates on the table. Both men stared at them, and Hunt gave vent to a grunt of satisfaction. + 

“I was right,” he cried delightedly. “Look here! Why I can see it with the naked eye!” + 

The two certificates were an accurate copy of their blocks. They were dated correctly, both bore Fox’s name as driver, and both showed consignments of liquor, identical except for the additional four kegs of brandy on the second. There was, furthermore, no sign that this had been added after the remainder. The slight lightening in the colour towards the bottom of the sheet, due to the use of blotting paper, was so progressive as almost to prove the whole had been written at the same time. + 

The first certificate was timed 1:15 p.m., the second 4:15 p.m., and it was to the 4 of this second hour that Hunt’s eager finger pointed. As Willis examined it he saw that the lower strokes were fainter than the remainder. Further, the beginning of the horizontal stroke did not quite join the first vertical stroke. + 

“You see?” Hunt cried excitedly. “That figure is a forgery. It was originally a 1, and the two lower strokes have been added to make it a 4. The case is finished!” + 

Willis was less enthusiastic. + 

“I’m not so sure of that,” he returned cautiously. “I don’t see light all the way through. Just go over it again, will you?” + 

“Why to me it’s as clear as daylight,” the other asserted impatiently. “See here. Archer decides, let us suppose, that he will send out four kegs, or one hundred gallons, of the smuggled brandy to the Anchor Bar. What does he do? He fills out certificates for two consignments each of which contains an identical assortment of various liquors. The brandy he shows on one certificate only. The blocks are true copies of the certificates except that the brandy is not entered on either. The two blocks he times for a quarter past one and past four respectively, but both certificates he times for a quarter past one. He hands the two certificates to Fox. Then he sends out on the one o’clock lorry the amount of brandy shown on one of the certificates.” + 

Hunt paused and looked interrogatively at his friend, then, the latter not replying, he resumed: + 

“You follow now the position of affairs? In the office is Archer with his blocks, correctly filled out as to time but neither showing the brandy. On the one o’clock lorry is Fox, with one hundred gallons of brandy among his load. In his pocket are the two certificates, both timed for one o’clock, one showing the brandy and the other not.” + 

The inspector nodded as Hunt again looked at him. + 

“Now suppose,” the latter went on, “that the one o’clock lorry gets through to its destination unchallenged, and the stuff is unloaded. The manager arranges that the four kegs of brandy will disappear. He takes over the certificate which does not show brandy, signs it, and the transaction is complete. Everything is in order, and he has got four kegs smuggled in.” + 

“Good,” Willis interjected. + 

“On the other hand, suppose the one o’clock trip is held up by an exciseman. This time Fox produces the other certificate, the one which shows the brandy. Once again everything is in order, and the Excise officer satisfied. It is true that on this occasion Fox has been unable to smuggle out his brandy, and on that which he carries duty must be paid, but this rare contingency will not matter to him as long as his method of fraud remains concealed.” + 

“Seems very sound so far.” + 

“I think so. Let us now consider the four o’clock trip. Fox arrives back at the works with one of the two certificates still in his pocket, and the make up of his four o’clock load depends on which it is. He attempts no more smuggling that day. If his remaining certificate shows brandy he carries brandy, if not, he leaves it behind. In either case his certificate is in order if an Excise officer holds him up. That is, when he has attended to one little point. He has to add two strokes to the 1 of the hour to make it into a 4. The ease of doing this explains why these two hours were chosen. Is that all clear?” + 

“Clear, indeed, except for the one point of how the brandy item is added to the correct block.” + 

“Obviously Archer does that as soon as he learns how the first trip has got on. If the brandy was smuggled out on the first trip, it means that Fox is holding the brandy-bearing certificate for the second, and Archer enters brandy on his second block. If, on the contrary, Fox has had his first load examined, Archer will make his entry on the first block.” + 

“The scheme,” Willis declared, “really means this. If Archer wants to smuggle out one hundred gallons of brandy, he has to send out another hundred legitimately on the same day? If he can manage to send out two hundred altogether then one hundred will be duty clear, but in any case he must pay on one hundred?” + 

“That’s right. It works out like that.” + 

“It’s a great scheme. The only weak point that I can see is that an Excise officer who has held up one of the trips might visit the works and look at the certificate block before Archer gets it altered.” + 

Hunt nodded. + 

“I thought of that,” he said, “and it can be met quite easily. I bet the manager telephones Archer on receipt of the stuff. I am going into that now. I shall have a note kept at the Central of conversations to Ferriby. If Archer doesn’t get a message by a certain time, I bet he assumes the plan has miscarried for that day and fills in the brandy on the first block.” + 

During the next two days Hunt was able to establish the truth of his surmise. At the same time Willis decided that his cooperation in the work at Hull was no longer needed. For Hunt there was still plenty to be done. He had to get direct evidence against each severally of the managers of the five tied houses in question, as well as to ascertain how and to whom they were passing on the “stuff,” for that they were receiving more brandy than could be sold over their own counters was unquestionable. But he agreed with Willis that these five men were more than likely in ignorance of the main conspiracy, each having only a private understanding with Archer. But whether or not this was so, Willis did not believe he could get any evidence that they were implicated in the murder of Coburn. + 

The French end of the affair, he thought, the supply of the brandy in the first instance, was more promising from this point of view, and the next morning he took an early train to London as a preliminary to starting work in France. + 

XVIII + 

The Bordeaux Lorries + 

Two days later Inspector Willis sat once again in the office of M. Max, the head of the French Excise Department in Paris. The Frenchman greeted him politely, but without enthusiasm. + 

“Ah, monsieur,” he said, “you have not received my letter? No? I wrote to your department yesterday.” + 

“It hadn’t come, sir, when I left,” Willis returned. “But perhaps if it is something I should know, you could tell me the contents?” + 

“But certainly, monsieur. It is easily done. A thousand regrets, but I fear my department will not be of much service to you.” + 

“No, sir?” Willis looked his question. + 

“I fear not. But I shall explain,” M. Max gesticulated as he talked. “After your last visit here I send two of my men to Bordeaux. They make examination, but at first they see nothing suspicious. When the Girondin comes in they determine to test your idea of the brandy loading. They go in a boat to the wharf at night. They pull in between the rows of piles. They find the spaces between the tree trunks which you have described. They know there must be a cellar behind. They hide close by; they see the porthole lighted up; they watch the pipe go in, all exactly as you have said. There can be no doubt brandy is secretly loaded at the Lesque.” + 

“It seemed the likely thing, sir,” Willis commented. + 

“Ah, but it was good to think of. I wish to congratulate you on finding it out.” M. Max made a little bow. “But to continue. My men wonder how the brandy reaches the sawmill. Soon they think that the lorries must bring it. They think so for two reasons. First, they can find no other way. The lorries are the only vehicles which approach; nothing goes by water; there cannot be a tunnel, because there is no place for the other end. There remains only the lorries. Second, they think it is the lorries because the drivers change the numbers. It is suspicious, is it not? Yes? You understand me?” + 

“Perfectly, sir.” + 

“Good. My men then watch the lorries. They get help from the police at Bordeaux. They find the firewood trade is a nothing.” M. Max shrugged his shoulders. “There are five firms to which the lorries go, and of the five, four⁠—” His gesture indicated a despair too deep for words. “To serve them, it is but a blind; so my men think. But the fifth firm, it is that of Raymond Fils, one of the biggest distilleries of Bordeaux. That Raymond Fils are sending out the brandy suggests itself to my men. At last the affair marches.” + 

M. Max paused, and Willis bowed to signify his appreciation of the point. + 

“My men visit Raymond Fils. They search into everything. They find the law is not broken. All is in order. They are satisfied.” + 

“But, sir, if these people are smuggling brandy into England⁠—” Willis was beginning when the other interrupted him. + 

“But yes, monsieur, I grasp your point. I speak of French law; it is different from yours. Here duty is not charged on just so much spirit as is distilled. We grant the distiller a license, and it allows him to distill any quantity up to the figure the license bears. But, monsieur, Raymond Fils are⁠—how do you say it?⁠—well within their limit? Yes? They do not break the French law.” + 

“Therefore, sir, you mean you cannot help further?” + 

“My dear monsieur, what would you? I have done my best for you. I make inquiries. The matter is not for me. With the most excellent wish to assist, what more can I?” + 

Willis, realizing he could get no more, rose. + 

“Nothing, sir, except to accept on my own part and that of my department our hearty thanks for what you have done. I can assure you, sir, I quite understand your position, and I greatly appreciate your kindness.” + 

M. Max also had risen. He politely repeated his regrets, and with mutual compliments the two men parted. + 

Willis had once spent a holiday in Paris, and he was slightly acquainted with the city. He strolled on through the busy streets, brilliant in the pale autumn sunlight, until he reached the Grands Boulevards. There entering a café, he sat down, called for a bock, and settled himself to consider his next step. + 

The position created by M. Max’s action was disconcerting. Willis felt himself stranded, literally a stranger in a strange land, sent to carry out an investigation among a people whose language he could not even speak! He saw at once that his task was impossible. He must have local help or he could proceed no further. + 

He thought of his own department. The Excise had failed him. What about the Sûreté? + 

But a very little thought convinced him that he was even less likely to obtain help from this quarter. He could only base an appeal on the possibility of a future charge of conspiracy to murder, and he realised that the evidence for that was too slight to put forward seriously. + 

What was to be done? So far as he could see, but one thing. He must employ a private detective. This plan would meet the language difficulty by which he was so completely hung up. + 

He went to a call office and got his chief at the Yard on the long distance wire. The latter approved his suggestion, and recommended M. Jules Laroche of the Rue du Sommerard near the Sorbonne. Half an hour later Willis reached the house. + 

M. Laroche proved to be a tall, unobtrusive-looking man of some five-and-forty, who had lived in London for some years and spoke as good English as Willis himself. He listened quietly and without much apparent interest to what his visitor had to tell him, then said he would be glad to take on the job. + 

“We had better go to Bordeaux this evening, so as to start fresh tomorrow,” Willis suggested. + 

“Two o’clock at the d’Orsay station,” the other returned. “We have just time. We can settle our plans in the train.” + 

They reached the St. Jean station at Bordeaux at 10:35 that night, and drove to the Hotel d’Espagne. They had decided that they could do nothing until the following evening, when they would go out to the clearing and see what a search of the mill premises might reveal. + 

Next morning Laroche vanished, saying he had friends in the town whom he wished to look up, and it was close on dinnertime before he put in an appearance. + 

“I have got some information that may help,” he said, as Willis greeted him. “Though I’m not connected with the official force, we are very good friends and have worked into each other’s hands. I happen to know one of the officers of the local police, and he got me the information. It seems that a M. Pierre Raymond is practically the owner of Raymond Fils, the distillers you mentioned. He is a man of about thirty, and the son of one of the original brothers. He was at one time comfortably off, and lived in a pleasant villa in the suburbs. But latterly he has been going the pace, and within the last two years he let his villa and bought a tiny house next door to the distillery, where he is now living. It is believed his money went at Monte Carlo, indeed it seems he is a wrong ’un all round. At all events he is known to be hard up now.” + 

“And you think he moved in so that he could load up that brandy at night?” + 

“That’s what I think,” Laroche admitted. “You see, there is the motive for it as well. He wouldn’t join the syndicate unless he was in difficulties. I fancy M. Pierre Raymond will be an interesting study.” + 

Willis nodded. The suggestion was worth investigation, and he congratulated himself on getting hold of so excellent a colleague as this Laroche seemed to be. + 

The Frenchman during the day had hired a motor bicycle and sidecar, and as dusk began to fall the two men left their hotel and ran out along the Bayonne road until they reached the Lesque. There they hid their vehicle behind some shrubs, and reaching the end of the lane, turned down it. + 

It was pitch dark among the trees, and they had some difficulty in keeping the track until they reached the clearing. There a quarter moon rendered objects dimly visible, and Willis at once recognised his surroundings from the description he had received from Hilliard and Merriman. + 

“You see, somebody is in the manager’s house,” he whispered, pointing to a light which gleamed in the window. “If Henri has taken over Coburn’s job he may go down to the mill as Coburn did. Hadn’t we better wait and see?” + 

The Frenchman agreeing, they moved round the fringe of trees at the edge of the clearing, just as Merriman had done on a similar occasion some seven weeks earlier, and as they crouched in the shelter of a clump of bushes in front of the house, they might have been interested to know that it was from these same shrubs that that disconsolate sentimentalist had lain dreaming of his lady love, and from which he had witnessed her father’s stealthy journey to the mill. + 

It was a good deal colder tonight than on that earlier occasion when watch was kept on the lonely house. The two men shivered as they drew their collars higher round their necks, and crouched down to get shelter from the bitter wind. They had resigned themselves to a weary vigil, during which they dared not even smoke. + 

But they had not to wait so long after all. About ten the light went out in the window and not five minutes later they saw a man appear at the side door and walk towards the mill. They could not see his features, though Willis assumed he was Henri. Twenty minutes later they watched him return, and then all once more was still. + 

“We had better give him an hour to get to bed,” Willis whispered. “If he were to look out it wouldn’t do for him to see two detectives roaming about his beloved clearing.” + 

“We might go at eleven,” Laroche proposed, and so they did. + 

Keeping as much as possible in the shelter of the bushes, they approached the mill. Willis had got a sketch-plan of the building from Merriman, and he moved round to the office door. His bent wire proved as efficacious with French locks as with English, and in a few moments they stood within, with the door shut behind them. + 

“Now,” said Willis, carefully shading the beam of his electric torch, “let’s see those lorries first of all.” + 

As has already been stated, the garage was next to the office, and passing through the communicating door, the two men found five of the ponderous vehicles therein. A moment’s examination of the number plates showed that on all the machines the figures were separate from the remainder of the lettering, being carried on small brass plates which dropped vertically into place through slots in the main castings. But the joint at each side of the number was not conspicuous because similar vertical lines were cut into the brass between each letter of the whole legend. + 

“That’s good,” Laroche observed. “Make a thing unnoticeable by multiplying it!” + 

Of the five lorries, two were loaded with firewood and three empty. The men moved round examining them with their torches. + 

“Hallo,” Laroche called suddenly in a low voice, “what have we here, Willis?” + 

The inspector crossed over to the other, who was pointing to the granolithic floor in front of him. One of the empty lorries was close to the office wall, and the Frenchman stood between the two. On the floor were three drops of some liquid. + 

“Can you smell them?” he inquired. + 

Willis knelt down and sniffed, then slowly got up again. + 

“Good man,” he said, with a trace of excitement in his manner. “It’s brandy right enough.” + 

“Yes,” returned the other. “Security has made our nocturnal friend careless. The stuff must have come from this lorry, I fancy.” + 

They turned to the vehicle and examined it eagerly. For some time they could see nothing remarkable, but presently it gave up its secret. The deck was double! Beneath it was a hollow space some six feet by nine long, and not less than three inches deep. And not only so. This hollow space was continued up under the unusually large and wide driver’s seat, save for a tiny receptacle for petrol. In a word the whole top of the machine was a vast secret tank. + 

The men began measuring and calculating, and they soon found that no less than one hundred and fifty gallons of liquid could be carried therein. + 

“One hundred and fifty gallons of brandy per trip!” Willis ejaculated. “Lord! It’s no wonder they make it pay.” + 

They next tackled the problem of how the tank was filled and emptied, and at last their perseverance was rewarded. Behind the left trailing wheel, under the framing, was a small hinged door about six inches square and fastened by a spring operated by a mock rivet head. This being opened, revealed a cavity containing a pipe connected to the tank and fitted with a stopcock and the half of a union coupling. + 

“The pipe which connects with that can’t be far away,” Laroche suggested. “We might have a look round for it.” + 

The obvious place was the wall of the office, which ran not more than three feet from the vehicle. It was finished with vertical tongued and V-jointed sheeting, and a comparatively short search revealed the loose board the detectives were by this time expecting. Behind it was concealed a pipe, jointed concertina-wise, and ending in the other half of the union coupling. It was evident the joints would allow the half coupling to be pulled out and connected with that on the lorry. The pipe ran down through the floor, showing that the lorry could be emptied by gravity. + 

“A good safe scheme,” Laroche commented. “If I had seen that lorry a hundred times I should never have suspected a tank. It’s well designed.” + 

They turned to examine the other vehicles. All four were identical in appearance with the first, but all were strictly what they seemed, containing no secret receptacle. + 

“Merriman said they had six lorries,” Willis remarked. “I wonder where the sixth is.” + 

“At the distillery, don’t you think?” the Frenchman returned. “Those drops prove that manager fellow has just been unloading this one. I expect he does it every night. But if so, Raymond must load a vehicle every night too.” + 

“That’s true. We may assume the job is done every night, because Merriman watched Coburn come down here three nights running. It was certainly to unload the lorry.” + 

“Doubtless; and he probably came at two in the morning on account of his daughter.” + 

“That means there are two tank lorries,” Willis went on, continuing his own line of thought. “I say, Laroche, let’s mark this one so that we may know it again.” + 

They made tiny scratches on the paint at each corner of the big vehicle, then Willis turned back to the office. + 

“I’d like to find that cellar while we’re here,” he remarked. “We know there is a cellar, for those Customs men saw the Girondin loaded from it. We might have a look round for the entrance.” + 

Then ensued a search similar to that which Willis had carried out in the depot at Ferriby, except that in this case they found what they were looking for in a much shorter time. In the office was a flat roll-topped desk, with the usual set of drawers at each side of the central knee well, and when Willis found it was clamped to the floor he felt he need go no further. On the ground in the knee well, and projecting out towards the revolving chair in front, was a mat. Willis raised it, and at once observed a joint across the boards where in ordinary circumstances no joint should be. He fumbled and pressed and pulled, and in a couple of minutes he had the satisfaction of seeing the floor under the well rise and reveal the head of a ladder leading down into the darkness below. + 

“Here we are,” he called softly to Laroche, who was searching at the other side of the room. + 

The cellar into which the two detectives descended was lined with timber like that at Ferriby. Indeed the two were identical, except that only one passage⁠—that under the wharf⁠—led out of this one. It contained a similar large tun with a pipe leading down the passage under the wharf, on which was a pump. The only difference was in the connection of the pipes. At Ferriby the pump conveyed from the wharf to the tun, here it was from the tun to the wharf. The pipe from the garage came down through the ceiling and ran direct into the tun. + 

The two men walked down the passage towards the river. Here also the arrangement was the same as at Ferriby, and they remained only long enough for Willis to point out to the Frenchman how the loading apparatus was worked. + 

“Well,” said the former, as they returned to the office, “that’s not so bad for one day. I suppose it’s all we can do here. If we can learn as much at that distillery we shall soon have all we want.” + 

Laroche pointed to a chair. + 

“Sit down a moment,” he invited. “I have been thinking over that plan we discussed in the train, of searching the distillery at night, and I don’t like it. There are too many people about, and we are nearly certain to be seen. It’s quite different from working a place like this.” + 

“Quite,” Willis answered rather testily. “I don’t like it either, but what can we do?” + 

“I’ll tell you what I should do.” Laroche leaned forward and checked his points on his fingers. “That lorry had just been unloaded. It’s empty now, and if our theory is correct it will be taken to the distillery tomorrow and left there overnight to be filled up again. Isn’t that so?” + 

Willis nodded impatiently and the other went on: + 

“Now, it is clear that no one can fill up that tank without leaving fingerprints on the pipe connections in that secret box. Suppose we clean those surfaces now, and suppose we come back here the night after tomorrow, before the man here unloads, we could get the prints of the person who filled up in the distillery.” + 

“Well,” Willis asked sharply, “and how would that help us?” + 

“This way. Tomorrow you will be an English distiller with a forest you could get cheap near your works. You have an idea of running your stills on wood fires. You naturally call to see how M. Raymond does it, and you get shown over his works. You have prepared a plan of your proposals. You hand it to him when he can’t put it down on a desk. He holds it between his fingers and thumb, and eventually returns it to you. You go home and use powder. You have his fingerprints. You compare the two sets.” + 

Willis was impressed. The plan was simple, and it promised to gain for them all the information they required without recourse to a hazardous nocturnal visit to the distillery. But he wished he had thought of it himself. + 

“We might try it,” he admitted, without enthusiasm. “It couldn’t do much harm anyway.” + 

They returned to the garage, opened the secret lid beneath the lorry, and with a cloth moistened with petrol cleaned the fittings. Then after a look round to make sure that nothing had been disturbed, they let themselves out of the shed, regained the lane and their machine, and some forty minutes later were in Bordeaux. + 

On reconsideration they decided that as Raymond might have obtained Willis’s description from Captain Beamish, it would be wiser for Laroche to visit the distillery. Next morning, therefore, the latter bought a small writing block, and taking an inside leaf, which he carefully avoided touching with his hands, he drew a cross-section of a wood-burning firebox copied from an illustration in a book of reference in the city library, at the same time reading up the subject so as to be able to talk on it without giving himself away. Then he set out on his mission. + 

In a couple of hours he returned. + 

“Got that all right,” he exclaimed, as he rejoined the inspector. “I went and saw the fellow; said I was going to start a distillery in the Ardennes where there was plenty of wood, and wanted to see his plant. He was very civil, and took me round and showed me everything. There is a shed there above the still furnaces with hoppers for the firewood to go down, and in it was standing the lorry⁠—the lorry, I saw our marks on the corner. It was loaded with firewood, and he explained that it would be emptied last thing before the day-shift left, so as to do the stills during the night. Well, I got a general look round the concern, and I found that the large tuns which contain the finished brandy were just at the back of the wall of the shed where the lorry was standing. So it is easy to see what happens. Evidently there is a pipe through the wall, and Raymond comes down at night and fills up the lorry.” + 

“And did you get his fingerprints?” + 

“Have ’em here.” + 

Locking the door of their private room, Laroche took from his pocket the sketch he had made. + 

“He held this up quite satisfactorily,” he went on, “and there should be good prints.” + 

Willis had meanwhile spread a newspaper on the table and taken from his suitcase a small bottle of powdered lampblack and a camel’s-hair brush. Laying the sketch on the newspaper he gently brushed some of the black powder over it, blowing off the surplus. To the satisfaction of both men, there showed up near the left bottom corner the distinct mark of a left thumb. + 

“Now the other side.” + 

Willis turned the paper and repeated the operation on the back. There he got prints of a left fore and second finger. + 

“Excellent, clear prints, those,” Willis commented, continuing: “And now I have something to tell you. While you were away I have been thinking over this thing, and I believe I’ve got an idea.” + 

Laroche looked interested, and the other went on slowly: + 

“There are two brandy-carrying lorries. Every night one of these lies at the distillery and the other at the clearing; one is being loaded and the other unloaded; and every day the two change places. Now we may take it that neither of those lorries is sent to any other place in the town, lest the brandy tanks might be discovered. For the same reason, they probably only make the one run mentioned per day. Is that right so far?” + 

“I should think so,” Laroche replied cautiously. + 

“Very well. Let us suppose these two lorries are Nos. 1 and 2. No. 1 goes to the distillery say every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and returns on the other three days, while No. 2 does vice versa, one trip each day remember. And this goes on day after day, week after week, month after month. Now is it too much to assume that sooner or later someone is bound to notice this⁠—some worker at the clearing or the distillery, some policeman on his beat, some clerk at a window overlooking the route? And if anyone notices it will he not wonder why it always happens that these two lorries go to this one place and to no other, while the syndicate has six lorries altogether trading into the town? And if this observer should mention his discovery to someone who could put two and two together, suspicion might be aroused, investigation undertaken, and presently the syndicate is up a tree. Now do you see what I’m getting at?” + 

Laroche had been listening eagerly, and now he made a sudden gesture. + 

“But of course!” he cried delightedly. “The changing of the numbers!” + 

“The changing of the numbers,” Willis repeated. “At least, it looks like that to me. No. 1 does the Monday run to the distillery. They change the number plate, and No. 4 does it on Wednesday, while No. 1 runs to some other establishment, where it can be freely examined by anyone who is interested. How does it strike you?” + 

“You have got it. You have certainly got it.” Laroche was more enthusiastic than the inspector had before seen him. “It’s what you call a cute scheme, quite on par with the rest of the business. They didn’t leave much to chance, these! And yet it was this very precaution that gave them away.” + 

“No doubt, but that was an accident.” + 

“You can’t,” said the Frenchman sententiously, “make anything completely watertight.” + 

The next night they went out to the clearing, and as soon as it was dark once more entered the shed. There with more powder⁠—white this time⁠—they tested the tank lorry for fingermarks. As they had hoped, there were several on the secret fittings, among others a clear print of a left thumb on the rivet head of the spring. + 

A moment’s examination only was necessary. The prints were those of M. Pierre Raymond. + 

Once again Inspector Willis felt that he ought to have completed his case, and once again second thoughts showed him that he was as far away from that desired end as ever. He had been trying to find accomplices in the murder of Coburn, and by a curious perversity, instead of finding them he had bit by bit solved the mystery of the Pit-Prop Syndicate. He had shown, firstly, that they were smuggling brandy, and, secondly, how they were doing it. For that he would no doubt get a reward, but such was not his aim. What he wanted was to complete his own case and get the approval of his own superiors and bring promotion nearer. And in this he had failed. + 

For hours he pondered over the problem, then suddenly an idea which seemed promising flashed into his mind. He thought it over with the utmost care, and finally decided that in the absence of something better he must try it. + 

In the morning the two men travelled to Paris, and Willis, there taking leave of his colleague, crossed to London, and an hour later was with his chief at the Yard. + 

XIX + 

Willis Spreads His Net + 

Though Inspector Willis had spent so much time out of London in his following up of the case, he had by no means lost sight of Madeleine Coburn and Merriman. The girl, he knew, was still staying with her aunt at Eastbourne, and the local police authorities, from whom he got his information, believed that her youth and health were reasserting themselves, and that she was rapidly recovering from the shock of her father’s tragic death. Merriman haunted the town. He practically lived at the George, going up and down daily to his office, and spending as many of his evenings and his Sundays at Mrs. Luttrell’s as he dared. + 

But though the young man had worn himself almost to a shadow by his efforts, he felt that the realisation of his hopes was as far off as ever. Madeleine had told him that she would not marry him until the mystery of her father’s murder was cleared up and the guilty parties brought to justice, and he was becoming more and more afraid that she would keep her word. In vain he implored her to consider the living rather than the dead, and not to wreck his life and her own for what, after all, was but a sentiment. + 

But though she listened to his entreaties and was always kind and gentle, she remained inflexible in her resolve. Merriman felt that his only plan, failing the discovery of Mr. Coburn’s assassin, was unobtrusively to keep as much as possible in her company, in the hope that she would grow accustomed to his presences and perhaps in time come to need it. + 

Under these circumstances his anxiety as to the progress of the case was very great, and on several occasions he had written to Willis asking him how his inquiry was going on. But the inspector had not been communicative, and Merriman had no idea how matters actually stood. + 

It was therefore with feelings of pleasurable anticipation that he received a telephone call from Willis at Scotland Yard. + 

“I have just returned from Bordeaux,” the inspector said, “and I am anxious to have a chat with Miss Coburn on some points that have arisen. I should be glad of your presence also, if possible. Can you arrange an interview?” + 

“Do you want her to come to town?” + 

“Not necessarily; I will go to Eastbourne if more convenient. But our meeting must be kept strictly secret. The syndicate must not get to know.” + 

Merriman felt excitement and hope rising within him. + 

“Better go to Eastbourne then,” he advised. “Come down with me tonight by the 5:20 from Victoria.” + 

“No,” Willis answered, “we mustn’t be seen together. I shall meet you at the corner of the Grand Parade and Carlisle Road at nine o’clock.” + 

This being agreed on, both men began to make their arrangements. In Merriman’s case these consisted in throwing up his work at the office and taking the first train to Eastbourne. At five o’clock he was asking for Miss Coburn at Mrs. Luttrell’s door. + 

“Dear Madeleine,” he said, when he had told her his news, “you must not begin to expect things. It may mean nothing at all. Don’t build on it.” + 

But soon he had made her as much excited as he was himself. He stayed for dinner, leaving shortly before nine to keep his appointment with Willis. Both men were to return to the house, when Madeleine would see them alone. + 

Inspector Willis did not travel by Merriman’s train. Instead he caught the 5:35 to Brighton, dined there, and then slipping out of the hotel, motored over to Eastbourne. Dismissing his vehicle at the Grand Hotel, he walked down the Parade and found Merriman at the rendezvous. In ten minutes they were in Mrs. Luttrell’s drawing-room. + 

“I am sorry, Miss Coburn,” Willis began politely, “to intrude on you in this way, but the fact is, I want your help and indirectly the help of Mr. Merriman. But it is only fair, I think, to tell you first what has transpired since we last met. I must warn you, however, that I can only do so in the strictest confidence. No whisper of what I am going to say must pass the lips of either of you.” + 

“I promise,” said Merriman instantly. + 

“And I,” echoed Madeleine. + 

“I didn’t require that assurance,” Willis went on. “It is sufficient that you understand the gravity of the situation. Well, after the inquest I set to work,” and he briefly related the story of his investigations in London and in Hull, his discoveries at Ferriby, his proof that Archer was the actual murderer, the details of the smuggling organisation and, finally, his suspicion that the other members of the syndicate were privy to Mr. Coburn’s death, together with his failure to prove it. + 

His two listeners heard him with eager attention, in which interest in his story was mingled with admiration of his achievement. + 

“So Hilliard was right about the brandy after all!” Merriman exclaimed. “He deserves some credit for that. I think he believed in it all the time, in spite of our conclusion that we had proved it impossible. By Jove! How you can be had!” + 

Willis turned to him. + 

“Don’t be disappointed about your part in it, sir,” he advised. “I consider that you and Mr. Hilliard did uncommonly well. I may tell you that I thought so much of your work that I checked nothing of what you had done.” + 

Merriman coloured with pleasure. + 

“Jolly good of you to say so, I’m sure, inspector,” he said; “but I’m afraid most of the credit for that goes to Hilliard.” + 

“It was your joint work I was speaking of,” Willis insisted. “But now to get on to business. As I said, my difficulty is that I suspect the members of the syndicate of complicity in Mr. Coburn’s death, but I can’t prove it. I have thought out a plan which may or may not produce this proof. It is in this that I want your help.” + 

“Mr. Inspector,” cried Madeleine reproachfully, “need you ask for it?” + 

Willis laughed. + 

“I don’t think so. But I can’t very well come in and command it, you know.” + 

“Of course you can,” Madeleine returned. “You know very well that in such a cause Mr. Merriman and I would do anything.” + 

“I believe it, and I am going to put you to the test. I’ll tell you my idea. It has occurred to me that these people might be made to give themselves away. Suppose they had one of their private meetings to discuss the affairs of the syndicate, and that, unknown to them, witnesses could be present to overhear what was said. Would there not at least be a sporting chance that they would incriminate themselves?” + 

“Yes!” said Merriman, much interested. “Likely enough. But I don’t see how you could arrange that.” + 

Willis smiled slightly. + 

“I think it might be managed,” he answered. “If a meeting were to take place we could easily learn where it was to be held and hear what went on. But the first point is the difficulty⁠—the question of the holding of the meeting. In the ordinary course there might be none for months. Therefore we must take steps to have one summoned. And that,” he turned to Madeleine, “is where I want your help.” + 

His hearers stared, mystified, and Willis resumed. + 

“Something must happen of such importance to the welfare of the syndicate that the leaders will decide that a full conference of the members is necessary. So far as I can see, you alone can cause that something to happen. I will tell you how. But I must warn you that I fear it will rake up painful memories.” + 

Madeleine, her lips parted, was hanging on his words. + 

“Go on,” she said quickly, “we have settled all that.” + 

“Thank you,” said Willis, taking a sheet of paper from his pocket. “I have here the draft of a letter which I want you to write to Captain Beamish. You can phrase it as you like; in fact I want it in your own words. Read it over and you will understand.” + 

The draft ran as follows: + 

“Dear Captain Beamish⁠—In going over some papers belonging to my late father, I learn to my surprise that he was not a salaried official of your syndicate, but a partner. It seems to me, therefore, that as his heir I am entitled to his share of the capital of the concern, or at all events to the interest on it. I have to express my astonishment that no recognition of this fact has as yet been made by the syndicate. + 

“I may say that I have also come on some notes relative to the business of the syndicate, which have filled me with anxiety and dismay, but which I do not care to refer to in detail in writing. + 

“I think I should like an interview with you to hear your explanation of these two matters, and to discuss what action is to be taken with regard to them. You could perhaps find it convenient to call on me here, or I could meet you in London if you preferred it. + 

Madeleine made a grimace as she read this letter. + 

“Oh,” she cried, “but how could I do that? I didn’t find any notes, you know, and besides⁠—it would be so dreadful⁠—acting as a decoy⁠—” + 

“There’s something more important than that,” Merriman burst in indignantly. “Do you realise, Mr. Inspector, that if Miss Coburn were to send that letter she would put herself in very real danger?” + 

“Not at all,” Willis answered quietly. “You have not heard my whole scheme. My idea is that when Beamish gets that letter he will lay it before Archer, and they will decide that they must find out what Miss Coburn knows, and get her quieted about the money. They will say: ‘We didn’t think she was that kind, but it’s evident she is out for what she can get. Let’s pay her a thousand or two a year as interest on her father’s alleged share⁠—it will be a drop in the bucket to us, but it will seem a big thing to her⁠—and that will give us a hold on her keeping silence, if she really does know anything.’ Then Beamish will ask Miss Coburn to meet him, probably in London. She will do so, not alone, but with some near friend, perhaps yourself, Mr. Merriman, seeing you were at the clearing and know something of the circumstances. You will be armed, and in addition I shall have a couple of men from the Yard within call⁠—say, disguised as waiters, if a restaurant is chosen for the meeting. You, Miss Coburn, will come out in a new light at that meeting. You will put up a bluff. You will tell Captain Beamish you know he is smuggling brandy, and that the money he offers won’t meet the case at all. You must have £25,000 down paid as the value of your father’s share in the concern, and in such a way as will raise no suspicion that you knew what was in progress. The interview we can go into in detail later, but it must be so arranged that Beamish will see Mr. Merriman’s hand in the whole thing. On the £25,000 being paid the incriminating notes will be handed over. You will explain that as a precautionary measure you have sent them in a sealed envelope to your solicitor, together with a statement of the whole case, with instructions to open the same that afternoon if not reclaimed before that by yourself in person. Now with regard to your objection, Miss Coburn. I quite realise what an exceedingly nasty job this will be for you. In ordinary circumstances I should not suggest it. But the people against whom I ask you to act did not hesitate to lure your father into the cab in which they intended to shoot him. They did this by a show of friendliness, and by playing on the trust he reposed in them, and they did it deliberately and in cold blood. You need not hesitate from nice feeling to act as I suggest in order to get justice for your father’s memory.” + 

Madeleine braced herself up. + 

“I know you are right, and if there is no other way I shall not hesitate,” she said, but there was a piteous look in her eyes. “And you will help me, Seymour?” She looked appealingly at her companion. + 

Merriman demurred on the ground that, even after taking all Willis’s precautions, the girl would still be in danger, but she would not consider that aspect of the question at all, and at last he was overborne. Madeleine with her companion’s help then rewrote the letter in her own phraseology, and addressed it to Captain Beamish, ℅ Messrs. The Landes Pit-Prop Syndicate, Ferriby, Hull. Having arranged that he would receive immediate telephonic information of a reply, Willis left the house and was driven back to Brighton. Next morning he returned to London. + 

The Girondin, he reckoned, would reach Ferriby on the following Friday, and on the Thursday he returned to Hull. He did not want to be seen with Hunt, as he expected the latter’s business would by this time be too well known. He therefore went to a different hotel, ringing up the Excise man and arranging a meeting for that evening. + 

Hunt turned up about nine, and the two men retired to Willis’s bedroom, where the inspector described his doings at Bordeaux. Then Hunt told of his discoveries since the other had left. + 

“I’ve got all I want at last,” he said. “You remember we both realised that those five houses were getting in vastly more brandy than they could possibly sell? Well, I’ve found out how they are getting rid of the surplus.” + 

Willis looked his question. + 

“They are selling it round to other houses. They have three men doing nothing else. They go in and buy anything from a bottle up to three or four kegs, and there is always a good reason for the purchase. Usually it is that they represent a publican whose stock is just out, and who wants a quantity to keep him going. But the point is that all the purchases are perfectly in order. They are openly made and the full price is paid. But, following it up, I discovered that there is afterwards a secret rebate. A small percentage of the price is refunded. This pays everyone concerned and ensures secrecy.” + 

Willis nodded. + 

“It’s well managed all through,” he commented. “They deserved to succeed.” + 

“Yes, but they’re not going to. All the same my discoveries won’t help you. I’m satisfied that none of these people know anything of the main conspiracy.” + 

Early on the following morning Willis was once more at work. Dawn had not completely come when he motored from the city to the end of the Ferriby lane. Ten minutes after leaving his car he was in the ruined cottage. There he unearthed his telephone from the box in which he had hidden it, and took up his old position at the window, prepared to listen in to whatever messages might pass. + 

He had a longer vigil than on previous occasions, and it was not until nearly four that he saw Archer lock the door of his office and move towards the filing-room. Almost immediately came Benson’s voice calling: “Are you there?” + 

They conversed as before for a few minutes. The Girondin, it appeared, had arrived some hours previously with a cargo of “1375.” It was clear that the members of the syndicate had agreed never to mention the word “gallons.” It was, Willis presumed, a likely enough precaution against eavesdroppers, and he thought how much sooner both Hilliard and himself would have guessed the real nature of the conspiracy, had it not been observed. + 

Presently they came to the subject about which Willis was expecting to hear. Beamish, the manager explained, was there and wished to speak to Archer. + 

“That you, Archer?” came in what Willis believed he recognised as the captain’s voice. “I’ve had rather a nasty jar, a letter from Madeleine Coburn. Wants Coburn’s share in the affair, and hints at knowledge of what we’re really up to. Reads as if she was put up to it by someone, probably that ⸻ Merriman. Hold on a minute and I’ll read it to you.” Then followed Madeleine’s letter. + 

Archer’s reply was short but lurid, and Willis, not withstanding the seriousness of the matter, could not help smiling. + 

There was a pause, and then Archer asked: + 

“When did you get that?” + 

“Now, when we got in; but Benson tells me the letter has been waiting for me for three days.” + 

“You might read it again.” + 

Beamish did so, and presently Archer went on: + 

“In my opinion, we needn’t be unduly alarmed. Of course she may know something, but I fancy it’s what you say; that Merriman is getting her to put up a bluff. But it’ll take thinking over. I have an appointment presently, and in any case we couldn’t discuss it adequately over the telephone. We must meet. Could you come up to my house tonight?” + 

“Yes, if you think it wise?” + 

“It’s not wise, but I think we must risk it. You’re not known here. But come alone; Benson shouldn’t attempt it.” + 

“Right. What time?” + 

“What about nine? I often work in the evenings, and I’m never disturbed. Come round to my study window and I shall be there. Tap lightly. The window is on the right-hand side of the house as you come up the drive, the fourth from the corner. You can slip round to it in the shadow of the bushes, and keep on the grass the whole time.” + 

“Right. Nine o’clock, then.” + 

The switch of the telephone clicked, and presently Willis saw Archer reappear in his office. + 

The inspector was disappointed. He had hoped that the conspirators would have completed their plans over the telephone, and that he would have had nothing to do but listen to what they arranged. Now he saw that if he were to gain the information he required, it would mean a vast deal more trouble, and perhaps danger as well. + 

He felt that at all costs he must be present at the interview in Archer’s study, but the more he thought about it, the more difficult the accomplishment of this seemed. He was ignorant of the plan of the house, or what hiding-places, if any, there might be in the study, nor could he think of any scheme by which he could gain admittance. Further, there was but little time in which to make inquiries or arrangements, as he could not leave his present retreat until dark, or say six o’clock. He saw the problem would be one of the most difficult he had ever faced. + 

But the need for solving it was paramount, and when darkness had set in he let himself out of the cottage and walked the mile or more to Archer’s residence. It was a big square block of a house, approached by a short winding drive, on each side of which was a border of rhododendrons. The porch was in front, and the group of windows to the left of it were lighted up⁠—the dining-room, Willis imagined. He followed the directions given to Beamish and moved round to the right, keeping well in the shadow of the shrubs. The third and fourth windows from the corner on the right side were also lighted up, and the inspector crept silently up and peeped over the sill. The blinds were drawn down, but that on the third window was not quite pulled to the bottom, and through the narrow slit remaining he could see into the room. + 

It was empty, but evidently only for the time being, as a cheerful fire burned in the grate. Furnished as a study, everything bore the impress of wealth and culture. By looking from each end of the slot in turn, nearly all the floor area and more than half of the walls became visible, and a glance showed the inspector that nowhere in his purview was there anything behind which he might conceal himself, supposing he could obtain admission. + 

But could he obtain admission? He examined the sashes. They were of steel, hinged and opening inwards in the French manner, and were fastened by a handle which could not be turned from without. Had they been the ordinary English sashes fastened with snibs he would have had the window open in a few seconds, but with these he could do nothing. + 

He moved round the house examining the other windows. All were fitted with the same type of sash, and all were fastened. The front door also was shut, and though he might have been able to open it with his bent wire, he felt that to adventure himself into the hall without any idea of the interior would be too dangerous. Here, as always, he was hampered by the fact that discovery would mean the ruin of his case. + 

Having completed the circuit of the building, he looked once more through the study window. At once he saw that his opportunity was gone. At the large desk sat Archer busily writing. + 

Various expedients to obtain admission to the house passed through his brain, all to be rejected as impracticable. Unless some unexpected incident occurred of which he could take advantage, he began to fear he would be unable to accomplish his plan. + 

As by this time it was half past eight, he withdrew from the window and took up his position behind a neighbouring shrub. He did not wish to be seen by Beamish, should the latter come early to the rendezvous. + 

He had, however, to wait for more than half an hour before a dark form became vaguely visible in the faint light which shone through the study blinds. It approached the window, and a tap sounded on the glass. In a moment the blind went up, the sash opened, the figure passed through, the sash closed softly, and the blind was once more drawn down. In three seconds Willis was back at the sill. + 

The slot under the blind still remained, the other window having been opened. Willis first examined the fastening of the latter in the hope of opening the sash enough to hear what was said, but to his disappointment he found it tightly closed. He had therefore to be content with observation through the slot. + 

He watched the two men sit down at either side of the fire, and light cigars. Then Beamish handed the other a paper, presumably Madeleine’s letter. Archer having read it twice, a discussion began. At first Archer seemed to be making some statement, to judge by the other’s rapt attention and the gestures of excitement or concern which he made. But no word of the conversation reached the inspector’s ears. + 

He watched for nearly two hours, getting gradually more and more cramped from his stooping position, and chilled by the sharp autumn air. During all that time the men talked earnestly, then, shortly after eleven, they got up and approached the window. Willis retreated quickly behind his bush. + 

The window opened softly and Beamish stepped out to the grass, the light shining on his strong, rather lowering face. Archer leaned out of the window after him, and Willis heard him say in low tones, “Then you’ll speak up at eleven?” to which the other nodded and silently withdrew. The window closed, the blind was lowered, and all remained silent. + 

Willis waited for some minutes to let the captain get clear away, then leaving his hiding-place and again keeping on the grass, he passed down the drive and out on to the road. He was profoundly disappointed. He had failed in his purpose, and the only ray of light in the immediate horizon was that last remark of Archer’s. If it meant, as he presumed it did, that the men were to communicate by the secret telephone at eleven in the morning, all might not yet be lost. He might learn then what he had missed tonight. + 

It seemed hardly worthwhile returning to Hull. He therefore went to the Raven Bar in Ferriby, knocked up the landlord, and by paying four or five times the proper amount, managed to get a meal and some food for the next day. Then he returned to the deserted cottage, he let himself in, closed the door behind him, and lying down on the floor with his head on his arm, fell asleep. + 

Next morning found him back at his post at the broken window, with the telephone receiver at his ear. His surmise at the meaning of Archer’s remark at the study window proved to be correct, for precisely at eleven he heard the familiar: “Are you there?” which heralded a conversation. Then Beamish’s voice went on: + 

“I have talked this business over with Benson, and he makes a suggestion which I think is an improvement on our plan. He thinks we should have our general meeting in London immediately after I have interviewed Madeleine Coburn. The advantage of this scheme would be that if we found she possessed really serious knowledge, we could immediately consider our next move, and I could, if necessary, see her again that night. Benson thinks I should fix up a meeting with her at say 10:30 or 11, that I could then join you at lunch at 1:30, after which we could discuss my report, and I could see the girl again at 4 or 5 o’clock. It seems to me a sound scheme. What do you say?” + 

“It has advantages,” Archer answered slowly. “If you both think it best, I’m quite agreeable. Where then should the meetings be held?” + 

“In the case of Miss Coburn there would be no change in our last night’s arrangement; a private sitting-room at the Gresham would still do excellently. If you’re going to town you could fix up some place for our own meeting⁠—preferably close by.” + 

“Very well, I’m going up on Tuesday in any case, and I’ll arrange something. I shall let Benson know, and he can tell you and the others. I think we should all go up by separate trains. I shall probably go by the 5:03 from Hull on the evening before. Let’s see, when will you be in again?” + 

“Monday week about midday, I expect. Benson could go up that morning, Bulla and I separately by the 4, and Fox, Henri, and Raymond, if he comes, by the first train next morning. How would that do?” + 

“All right, I think. The meetings then will be on Tuesday at 11 and 1:30, Benson to give you the address of the second. We can arrange at the meeting about returning to Hull.” + 

“Righto,” Beamish answered shortly, and the conversation ended. + 

Willis for once was greatly cheered by what he had overheard. His failure on the previous evening was evidently not going to be so serious as he had feared. He had in spite of it gained a knowledge of the conspirators’ plans, and he chuckled with delight as he thought how excellently his ruse was working, and how completely the gang were walking into the trap which he had prepared. As far as he could see, he held all the trump cards of the situation, and if he played his hand carefully he should undoubtedly get not only the men, but the evidence to convict them. + 

To learn the rendezvous for the meeting of the syndicate he would have to follow Archer to town, and shadow him as he did his business. This was Saturday, and the managing director had said he was going on the following Tuesday. From that there would be a week until the meeting, which would give more than time to make the necessary arrangements. + 

Willis remained in the cottage until dark that evening, then, making his way to Ferriby station, returned to Hull. His first action on reaching the city was to send a letter to Madeleine, asking her to forward Beamish’s reply to him at the Yard. + 

On Monday he began his shadowing of Archer, lest the latter should go to town that day. But the distiller made no move until the Tuesday, travelling up that morning by the 6:15 from Hull. + 

At 12:25 they reached King’s Cross. Archer leisurely left the train, and crossing the platform, stepped into a taxi and was driven away. Willis, in a second taxi, followed about fifty yards behind. The chase led westwards along the Euston Road until, turning to the left down Gower Street, the leading vehicle pulled up at the door of the Gresham Hotel in Bedford Square. Willis’s taxi ran on past the other, and through the backlight the inspector saw Archer alight and pass into the hotel. + 

Stopping at a door in Bloomsbury Street, Willis sat watching. In about five minutes Archer reappeared, and again entering his taxi, was driven off southwards. Willis’s car slid once more in behind the other, and the chase recommenced. They crossed Oxford Street, and passing down Charing Cross Road stopped at a small foreign restaurant in a narrow lane off Cranbourne Street. + 

Willis’s taxi repeated its previous maneuver, and halted opposite a shop from where the inspector could see the other vehicle through the backlight. He thought he had all the information he needed, but there was the risk that Archer might not find the room he required at the little restaurant and have to try elsewhere. + 

This second call lasted longer than the first, and a quarter of an hour had passed before the distiller emerged and reentered his taxi. This time the chase was short. At the Trocadero Archer got out, dismissed his taxi, and passed into the building. Willis, following discreetly, was in time to see the other seat himself at a table and leisurely take up the bill of fare. Believing the quarry would remain where he was for another half hour at least, the inspector slipped unobserved out of the room, and jumping once more into his taxi, was driven back to the little restaurant off Cranbourne Street. He sent for the manager and drew him aside. + 

“I’m Inspector Willis from Scotland Yard,” he said with a sharpness strangely at variance with his usual easygoing mode of address. “See here.” He showed his credentials, at which the manager bowed obsequiously. “I am following that gentleman who was in here inquiring about a room a few minutes ago. I want to know what passed between you.” + 

The manager, who was a sly, evil-looking person seemingly of Eastern blood, began to hedge, but Willis cut him short with scant ceremony. + 

“Now look here, my friend,” he said brusquely, “I haven’t time to waste with you. That man that you were talking to is wanted for murder, and what you have to decide is whether you’re going to act with the police or against them. If you give us any trouble you may find yourself in the dock as an accomplice after the fact. In any case it’s not healthy for a man in your position to run up against the police.” + 

His bluff had more effect that it might have had with an Englishman in similar circumstances, and the manager became polite and anxious to assist. Yes, the gentleman had come about a room. He had ordered lunch in a private room for a party of seven for 1:30 on the following Tuesday. He had been very particular about the room, had insisted on seeing it, and had approved of it. It appeared the party had some business to discuss after lunch, and the gentleman had required a guarantee that they would not be interrupted. The gentleman had given his name as Mr. Hodgson. The price had been agreed on. + 

Willis in his turn demanded to see the room, and he was led upstairs to a small and rather dark chamber, containing a fair-sized oval table surrounded by red plush chairs, a red plush sofa along one side, and a narrow sideboard along another. The walls supported tawdry and dilapidated decorations, in which beveled mirrors and faded gilding bore a prominent part. Two large but quite worthless oil paintings hung above the fireplace and the sideboard respectively, and the window was covered with gelatine paper simulating stained glass. + 

Inspector Willis stood surveying the scene with a frown on his brow. How on earth was he to secrete himself in this barely furnished apartment? There was not room under the sofa, still less beneath the sideboard. Nor was there any adjoining room or cupboard in which he could hide, his keen ear pressed to the keyhole. It seemed to him that in this case he was doing nothing but coming up against one insoluble problem after another. Ruefully he recalled the conversation in Archer’s study, and he decided that, whatever it cost in time and trouble, there must be no repetition of that fiasco. + 

He stood silently pondering over the problem, the manager obsequiously bowing and rubbing his hands. And then the idea for which he was hoping flashed into his mind. He walked to the wall behind the sideboard and struck it sharply. It rang hollow. + 

“A partition?” he asked. “What is behind it?” + 

“Anozzer room, sair. A private room, same as dees.” + 

“Show it to me.” + 

The “ozzer room” was smaller, but otherwise similar to that they had just left. The doors of the two rooms were beside each other, leading on to the same passage. + 

“This will do,” Willis declared. “Now look here, Mr. Manager, I wish to overhear the conversation of your customers, and I may or may not wish to arrest them. You will show them up and give them lunch exactly as you have arranged. Some officers from the Yard and myself will previously have hidden ourselves in here. See?” + 

The manager nodded. + 

“In the meantime I shall send a carpenter and have a hole made in that partition between the two rooms, a hole about two feet by one, behind the upper part of that picture that hangs above the sideboard. Do you understand?” + 

The manager wrung his hands. + 

“Ach!” he cried. “But meine Zimmern! Mine rooms, zey veel pe deestroyed!” + 

“Your rooms will be none the worse,” Willis declared. “I will have the damage made good, and I shall pay you reasonably well for everything. You’ll not lose if you act on the square, but if not⁠—” he stared aggressively in the other’s face⁠—“if the slightest hint of my plan reaches any of the men⁠—well, it will be ten years at least.” + 

“It shall be done! All shall happen as you say!” + 

“It had better,” Willis rejoined, and with a menacing look he strode out of the restaurant. + 

“The Gresham Hotel,” he called to his driver, as he reentered his taxi. + 

His manner to the manageress of the Bedford Square hotel was very different from that displayed to the German. Introducing himself as an inspector from the Yard, he inquired the purpose of Archer’s call. Without hesitation he was informed. The distiller had engaged a private sitting-room for a business interview which was to take place at eleven o’clock on the following Tuesday between a Miss Coburn, a Mr. Merriman, and a Captain Beamish. + 

“So far so good,” thought Willis exultingly, as he drove off. “They’re walking into the trap! I shall have them all. I shall have them in a week.” + 

At the Yard he dismissed his taxi, and on reaching his room he found the letter he was expecting from Madeleine. It contained that from Beamish, and the latter ran: + 

“Dear Miss Coburn,⁠—I have just received your letter of 25th inst., and I hasten to reply. + 

“I am deeply grieved to learn that you consider yourself badly treated by the members of the syndicate, and I may say at once that I feel positive that any obligations which they may have contracted will be immediately and honorably discharged. + 

“It is, however, news to me that your late father was a partner, as I always imagined that he held his position as I do my own, namely, as a salaried official who also receives a bonus based on the profits of the concern. + 

“With regard to the notes you have found on the operations of the syndicate, it is obvious that these must be capable of a simple explanation, as there was nothing in the operations complicated or difficult to understand. + 

“I shall be very pleased to fall in with your suggestion that we should meet and discuss the points at issue, and I would suggest 11 a.m. on Tuesday, 10th prox., at the Gresham Hotel in Bedford Square, if this would suit you. + 

Willis smiled as he read this effusion. It was really quite well worded, and left the door open for any action which the syndicate might decide on. “Ah, well, my friend,” he thought grimly, “you’ll get a little surprise on Tuesday. You’ll find Miss Coburn is not to be caught as easily as you think. Just you wait and see.” + 

For the next three or four days Willis busied himself in preparing for his great coup. First he went down again to Eastbourne via Brighton, and coached Madeleine and Merriman in the part they were to play in the coming interview. Next he superintended the making of the hole through the wall dividing the two private rooms at the Cranbourne Street restaurant, and drilled the party of men who were to occupy the annex. To his unbounded satisfaction, he found that every word uttered at the table in the larger room was audible next door to anyone standing at the aperture. Then he detailed two picked men to wait within call of the private room at the Gresham during the interview between Madeleine and Beamish. Finally, all his preparations in London complete, he returned to Hull, and set himself, by means of the secret telephone, to keep in touch with the affairs of the syndicate. + 

XX + 

The Double Cross + 

Inspector Willis spent the Saturday before the fateful Tuesday at the telephone in the empty cottage. Nothing of interest passed over the wire, except that Benson informed his chief that he had had a telegram from Beamish saying that, in order to reach Ferriby at the prearranged hour, he was having to sail without a full cargo of props, and that the two men went over again the various trains by which they and their confederates would travel to London. Both items pleased Willis, as it showed him that the plans originally made were being adhered to. + 

On Monday morning, as the critical hour of his coup approached, he became restless and even nervous⁠—so far, that is, as an inspector of the Yard on duty can be nervous. So much depended on the results of the next day and a half! His own fate hung in the balance as well as that of the men against whom he had pitted himself; Miss Coburn and Merriman too would be profoundly affected however the affair ended, while to his department, and even to the nation at large, his success would not be without importance. + 

He determined he would, if possible, see the various members of the gang start, travelling himself in the train with Archer, as the leader and the man most urgently “wanted.” Benson, he remembered, was to go first. Willis therefore haunted the Paragon station, watching the trains leave, and he was well satisfied when he saw Benson get on board the 9:10 a.m. By means of a word of explanation and the passing of a couple of shillings, he induced an official to examine the traveller’s ticket, which proved to be a third return to King’s Cross. + 

Beamish and Bulla were to travel by the 4 p.m., and Willis, carefully disguised as a deep-sea fisherman, watched them arrive separately, take their tickets, and enter the train. Beamish travelled first, and Bulla third, and again the inspector had their tickets examined, and found they were for London. + 

Archer was to leave at 5:03, and Willis intended as a precautionary measure to travel up with him and keep him under observation. Still in his fisherman’s disguise, he took his own ticket, got into the rear of the train, and kept his eye on the platform until he saw Archer pass, suitcase and rug in hand. Then cautiously looking out, he watched the other get into the through coach for King’s Cross. + 

As the train ran past the depot at Ferriby, Willis observed that the Girondin was not discharging pit-props, but instead was loading casks of some kind. He had noted on the previous Friday, when he had been in the neighbourhood, that some wagons of these casks had been shunted inside the enclosure, and were being unloaded by the syndicate’s men. The casks looked like those in which the crude oil for the ship’s diesel engines arrived, and the fact that she was loading them unemptied⁠—he presumed them unemptied⁠—seemed to indicate that the pumping plant on the wharf was out of order. + 

The 5:03 p.m. ran, with a stop at Goole, to Doncaster, where the through carriage was shunted on to one of the great expresses from the north. More from force of habit than otherwise, Willis put his head out of the window at Goole to watch if anyone should leave Archer’s carriage. But no one did. + 

At Doncaster Willis received something of a shock. As his train drew into the station another was just coming out, and he idly ran his eye along the line of coaches. A figure in the corner of a third-class compartment attracted his attention. It seemed vaguely familiar, but it was already out of sight before the inspector realised that it was a likeness to Benson that had struck him. He had not seen the man’s face and at once dismissed the matter from his mind with the careless thought that everyone has his double. A moment later they pulled up at the platform. + 

Here again he put out his head, and it was not long before he saw Archer alight and, evidently leaving his suitcase and rug to keep his seat, move slowly down the platform. There was nothing remarkable in this, as no less than seventeen minutes elapsed between the arrival of the train from Hull and the departure of that from London, and through passengers frequently left their carriage while it was being shunted. At the same time Willis unostentatiously followed, and presently saw Archer vanish into the first-class refreshment room. He took up a position where he had a good view of the door, and waited for the other’s reappearance. + 

But the distiller was in no hurry. Ten minutes elapsed, and still he made no sign. The express from the north thundered in, the engine hooked off, and shunting began. The train was due out at 6:22, and now the hands of the great clock pointed to 6:19. Willis began to be perturbed. Had he missed his quarry? + 

At 6:20 he could stand it no longer, and at risk of meeting Archer, should the latter at that moment decide to leave the refreshment room, he pushed open the door and glanced in. And then he breathed freely again. Archer was sitting at a table sipping what looked like a whisky and soda. As Willis looked he saw him glance up at the clock⁠—now pointing to 6:21⁠—and calmly settle himself more comfortably in his chair! + 

Why, the man would miss the train! Willis, with a sudden feeling of disappointment, had an impulse to run over and remind him of the hour at which it left. But he controlled himself in time, slipped back to his post of observation, and took up his watch. In a few seconds the train whistled, and pulled majestically out of the station. + 

For fifteen minutes Willis waited, and then he saw the distiller leave the refreshment room and walk slowly down the platform. As Willis followed, it was clear to him that the other had deliberately allowed his train to start without him, though what his motive had been the inspector could not imagine. He now approached the booking-office and apparently bought a ticket, afterwards turning back down the platform. + 

Willis slipped into a doorway until he had passed, then hurrying to the booking-window, explained who he was and asked to what station the last comer had booked. He was told “Selby,” and he retreated, exasperated and puzzled beyond words. What could Archer be up to? + 

He bought a timetable and began to study the possibilities. First he made himself clear as to the lie of the land. The main line of the great East Coast route from London to Scotland ran almost due north and south through Doncaster. Eighteen miles to the north was Selby, the next important station. At Selby a line running east and west crossed the other, leading in one direction to Leeds and the west, in the other to Hull. + 

About halfway between Selby and Hull, at a place called Staddlethorpe, a line branched off and ran southwesterly through Goole to Doncaster. Selby, Staddlethorpe, and Doncaster therefore formed a railway triangle, one of the sides of which, produced, led to Hull. From this it followed, as indeed the inspector had known, that passengers to and from Hull had two points of connection with the main line, either direct to Selby, or through Goole to Doncaster. + 

He began to study the trains. The first northwards was the 4 p.m. dining-car express from King’s Cross to Newcastle. It left Doncaster at 7:56 and reached Selby at 8:21. Would Archer travel by it? And if he did, what would be his next move? + 

For nearly an hour Willis sat huddled up in the corner of a seat, his eye on Archer in the distance, and his mind wrestling with the problem. For nearly an hour he racked his brains without result, then suddenly a devastating idea flashed before his consciousness, leaving him rigid with dismay. For a moment his mind refused to accept so disastrous a possibility, but as he continued to think over it he found that one puzzling and unrelated fact after another took on a different complexion from that it had formerly borne; that, moreover, it dropped into place and became part of a connected whole. + 

He saw now why Archer could not discuss Madeleine’s letter over the telephone, but was able to arrange in that way for the interview with Beamish. He understood why Archer, standing at his study window, had mentioned the call at eleven next morning. He realised that Benson’s amendment was probably arranged by Archer on the previous evening. He saw why the Girondin had left the Lesque without her full cargo, and why she was loading barrels at Ferriby. He knew who it was he had seen passing in the other train as his own reached Doncaster, and he grasped the reason for Archer’s visit to Selby. In a word, he saw he had been hoaxed⁠—fooled⁠—carefully, systematically, and at every point. While he had been congratulating himself on the completeness with which the conspirators had been walking into his net, he had in reality been caught in theirs. He had been like a child in their hands. They had evidently been watching and countering his every step. + 

He saw now that his tapping of the secret telephone must have been discovered, and that his enemies had used their discovery to mislead him. They must have recognised that Madeleine’s letter was inspired by himself, and read his motives in making her send it. They had then used the telephone to make him believe they were falling into his trap, while their real plans were settled in Archer’s study. + 

What those plans were he believed he now understood. There would be no meetings in London on the following day. The meetings were designed to bring him, Willis, to the Metropolis and keep him there. By tomorrow the gang, convinced that discovery was imminent, would be aboard the Girondin and on the high seas. They were, as he expressed it to himself, “doing a bunk.” + 

Therefore of necessity the Girondin would load barrelled oil to drive her to some country where Scotland Yard detectives did not flourish, and where extradition laws were of no account. Therefore she must return light, or, he suspected, empty, as there would be no time to unload. Moreover, a reason for this “lightness” must be given him, lest he should notice the ship sitting high out of the water, and suspect. And he now knew that it was really Benson that he had seen returning to Ferriby via Goole, and that Archer was doing the same via Selby. + 

He looked up the trains from Selby to Ferriby. There was only one. It left Selby at 9:19, fifty-eight minutes after the Doncaster train arrived there, and reached Ferriby at 10:07. It was now getting on towards eight. He had nearly two and a half hours to make his plans. + 

Though Willis was a little slow in thought he was prompt in action. Feeling sure that Archer would indeed travel by the 7:56 to Selby, he relaxed his watch and went to the telephone call office. There he rang up the police station at Selby, asking for a plainclothes man and two constables to meet him at the train to make an arrest. Also he asked for a fast car to be engaged to take him immediately to Ferriby. He then called up the police in Hull, and had a long talk with the superintendent. Finally it was arranged that a sergeant and twelve men were to meet him on the shore at the back of the signal cabin near the Ferriby depot, with a boat and a grappling ladder for getting aboard the Girondin. This done, Willis hurried back to the platform, reaching it just as the 7:56 came in. He watched Archer get on board, and then himself entered another compartment. + 

At Selby the quarry alighted, and passed along the platform towards the booking-office. Willis’s police training instantly revealed to him the plainclothes man, and him he instructed to follow Archer and learn to what station he booked. In a few moments the man returned to say it was Ferriby. Then calling up the two constables, the four officers followed the distiller into the first-class waiting room, where he had taken cover. Willis walked up to him. + 

“Archibald Charles Archer,” he said impressively, “I am Inspector Willis of Scotland Yard. I have a warrant for your arrest on a charge of murdering Francis Coburn in a cab in London on 12th September last. I have to warn you that anything you say may be used in evidence.” + 

For a moment the distiller seemed so overwhelmed with surprise as to be incapable of movement, and before he could pull himself together there was a click, and handcuffs gleamed on his wrists. Then his eyes blazed, and with the inarticulate roar of a wild beast he flung himself wildly on Willis, and, manacled as he was, attempted to seize his throat. But the struggle was brief. In a moment the three other men had torn him off, and he stood glaring at his adversary, and uttering savage curses. + 

“You look after him, sergeant,” Willis directed a little breathlessly, as he tried to straighten the remnants of his tie. “I must go on to Ferriby.” + 

A powerful car was waiting outside the station, and Willis, jumping in, offered the driver an extra pound if he was at Ferriby within fifty minutes. He reckoned the distance was about twenty-five miles, and he thought he should maintain an average of thirty miles an hour. + 

The night was intensely dark as the big vehicle swung out of Selby, eastward bound. A slight wind blew in from the east, bearing a damp, searching cold, more trying than frost. Willis, who had left his coat in the London train, shivered as he drew the one rug the vehicle contained up round his shoulders. + 

The road to Howden was broad and smooth, and the car made fine going. But at Howden the main road turned north, and speed on the comparatively inferior cross roads to Ferriby had to be reduced. But Willis was not dissatisfied with their progress when at 9:38, fifty-four minutes after leaving Selby, they pulled up in the Ferriby lane, not far from the distillery and opposite the railway signal cabin. + 

Having arranged with the driver to run up to the main road, wait there until he heard four blasts on the Girondin’s horn, and then make for the syndicate’s depot, the inspector dismounted, and forcing his way through the railway fence, crossed the rails and descended the low embankment on the river side. A moment later, just as he reached the shore, the form of a man loomed up dimly through the darkness. + 

“Who is there?” asked Willis softly. + 

“Constable Jones, sir,” the figure answered. “Is that Inspector Willis? Sergeant Hobbs is here with the boats.” + 

Willis followed the other for fifty yards along the beach, until they came on two boats, each containing half a dozen policemen. It was still very dark; and the wind blew cold and raw. The silence was broken only by the lapping of the waves on the shingle. Willis felt that the night was ideal for his purpose. There was enough noise from wind and water to muffle any sounds that the men might make in getting aboard the Girondin, but not enough to prevent him overhearing any conversation which might be in progress. + 

“We have just got here this minute, sir,” the sergeant said. “I hope we haven’t kept you waiting.” + 

“Just arrived myself,” Willis returned. “You have twelve picked men?” + 

“Yes, sir.” + 

“Armed?” + 

“Yes, sir.” + 

“Good. I need not remind you all not to fire except as a last resort. What arrangements have you made for boarding?” + 

“We have a ladder with hooks at the top for catching on the taffrail.” + 

“Your oars muffled?” + 

“Yes, sir.” + 

“Very well. Now listen, and see that you are clear about what you are to do. When we reach the ship get your ladder into position, and I’ll go up. You and the men follow. Keep beside me, sergeant. We’ll overhear what we can. When I give the signal, rush in and arrest the whole gang. Do you follow?” + 

“Yes, sir.” + 

“Then let us get under way.” + 

They pushed off, passing like phantoms over the dark water. The ship carried a riding light, to which they steered. She was lying, Willis knew, bow upstream. The tide was flowing, and when they were close by they ceased rowing and drifted down on to her stern. There the leading boat dropped in beneath her counter, and the bowman made the painter fast to her rudder post. The second boat’s painter was attached to the stern of the first, and the current swung both alongside. The men, fending off, allowed their craft to come into place without sound. The ladder was raised and hooked on, and Willis, climbing up, stealthily raised his head above the taffrail. + 

The port side of the ship was, as on previous occasions, in complete darkness, and Willis jerked the ladder as a signal to the others to follow him. In a few seconds the fourteen men stood like shadows on the lower deck. Then Willis, tiptoeing forward, began to climb the ladder to the bridge deck, just as Hilliard had done some four months earlier. As on that occasion, the starboard side of the ship, next the wharf, was dimly lighted up. A light also showed in the window of the captain’s cabin, from which issued the sound of voices. + 

Willis posted his men in two groups at either end of the cabin, so that at a given signal they could rush round in opposite directions and reach the door. Then he and the sergeant crept forward and put their ears to the window. + 

This time, though the glass was hooked back as before, the curtain was pulled fully across the opening, so that the men could see nothing and only partially hear what was said. Willis therefore reached in and very gradually pulled it a little aside. Fortunately no one noticed the movement, and the talk continued uninterruptedly. + 

The inspector could now see in. Five men were squeezed round the tiny table. Beamish and Bulla sat along one side, directly facing him. At the end was Fox. The remaining two had their backs to the window, and were, the inspector believed, Raymond and Henri. Before each man was a long tumbler of whisky and soda, and a box of cigars lay on the table. All seemed nervous and excited, indeed as if under an intolerable strain, and kept fidgeting and looking at their watches. Conversation was evidently maintained with an effort, as a thing necessary to keep them from a complete breakdown. Raymond was speaking: + 

“And you saw him come out?” he was asking. + 

“Yes,” Fox answered. “He came out sort of stealthy and looked around. I didn’t know who it was then, but I knew no one had any business in the cottage at that hour, so I followed him to Ferriby station. I saw his face by the lamps there.” + 

“And you knew him?” + 

“No, but I recognised him as having been around with that Excise inspector, and I guessed he was on to something.” + 

“Oui, oui. Yes?” the Frenchman interrogated. + 

“Well, naturally I told the chief. He knew who it was.” + 

“Bien! There is not⁠—how do you say?⁠—flies on Archer, n’est-ce pas? And then?” + 

“The chief guessed who it was from the captain’s description.” + 

Fox nodded his head at Beamish. “You met him, eh, captain?” + 

“He stood me a drink,” the big man answered, “but what he did it for I don’t know.” + 

“But how did he get wise to the telephone?” Bulla rumbled. + 

“Can’t find out,” Fox replied, “but it showed he was wise to the whole affair. Then there was that letter from Miss Coburn. That gave the show away, because there could have been no papers like she said, and she couldn’t have discovered anything then that she hadn’t known at the clearing. Archer put Morton on to it, and he found that this Willis went down to Eastbourne one night about two days before the letter came. So that was that. Then he had me watch for him going to the telephone, and he has fooled him about proper. I guess he’s in London now, arranging to arrest us all tomorrow.” + 

Bulla chuckled fatly. + 

“As you say,” he nodded at Raymond, “there ain’t no flies on Archer, what?” + 

“I’ve always thought a lot of Archer,” Beamish remarked, “but I never thought so much of him as that night we drew lots for who should put Coburn out of the way. When he drew the long taper he never as much as turned a hair. That’s the last time we had a full meeting, and we never reckoned that this would be the next.” + 

At this moment a train passed going towards Hull. + 

“There’s his train,” Fox cried. “He should be here soon.” + 

“How long does it take to get from the station?” Raymond inquired. + 

“About fifteen minutes,” Captain Beamish answered. “We’re time enough making a move.” + 

The men showed more and more nervousness, but the talk dragged on for some quarter of an hour. Suddenly from the wharf sounded the approaching footsteps of a running man. He crossed the gangway and raced up the ladder to the captain’s cabin. The others sprang to their feet as the door opened and Benson appeared. + 

“He hasn’t come!” he cried excitedly. “I watched at the station and he didn’t get out!” + 

Consternation showed on every face, and Beamish swore bitterly. There was a variety of comments and conjectures. + 

“There’s no other train?” + 

“Only the express. It doesn’t stop here, but it stops at Hessle on notice to the guard.” + 

“He may have missed the connection at Selby,” Fox suggested. “In that case he would motor.” + 

Beamish spoke authoritatively. + 

“I wish, Benson, you would go and ring up the Central and see if there has been any message.” + 

Willis whispered to the sergeant, who, beckoning to two of his men, crept hurriedly down the port ladder to the lower deck. In a moment Benson followed down the starboard or lighted side. Willis listened breathlessly above, heard what he was expecting⁠—a sudden scuffle, a muffled cry, a faint click, and then silence. He peeped through the porthole. Fox was expounding his theory about the railway connections, and none of those within had heard the sounds. Presently the sergeant returned with his men. + 

“Trussed him up to the davit pole,” he breathed in the inspector’s ear. “He won’t give no trouble.” + 

Willis nodded contentedly. That was one out of the way out of six, and he had fourteen on his side. + 

Meanwhile the men in the cabin continued anxiously discussing their leader’s absence, until after a few minutes Beamish swore irritably. + 

“Curse that fool Benson,” he growled. “What the blazes is keeping him all this time? I had better go and hurry him up. If they’ve got hold of Archer, it’s time we were out of this.” + 

Willis’s hand closed on the sergeant’s arm. + 

“Same thing again, but with three men,” he whispered. + 

The four had hardly disappeared down the port ladder when Beamish left his cabin and began to descend the starboard. Willis felt that the crisis was upon him. He whispered to the remaining constables, who closed in round the cabin door, then grasped his revolver, and stood tense. + 

Suddenly a wild commotion arose on the lower deck. There was a warning shout from Beamish, instantly muffled, a tramp of feet, a pistol shot, and sounds of a violent struggle. + 

For a moment there was silence in the cabin, the men gazing at each other with consternation on their faces. Then Bulla yelled: “Copped, by heck!” and with an agility hardly credible in a man of his years, whipped out a revolver, and sprang out of the cabin. Instantly he was seized by three constables, and the four went swinging and lurching across the deck, Bulla fighting desperately to turn his weapon on his assailants. At the same moment Willis leaped to the door, and with his automatic levelled, shouted, “Hands up, all of you! You are covered from every quarter!” + 

Henri and Fox, who were next the door, obeyed as if in a stupor, but Raymond’s hand flew out, and a bullet whistled past the inspector’s head. Instantly Willis fired, and with a scream the Frenchman staggered back. + 

It was the work of a few seconds for the remaining constables to dash in under the inspector’s pistol and handcuff the two men in the cabin, and Willis then turned to see how the contests on deck were faring. But these also were over. Both Beamish and Bulla, borne down by the weight of numbers, had been secured. + 

The inspector next turned to examine Raymond. His shot had been well aimed. The bullet had entered the base of the man’s right thumb, and passed out through his wrist. His life was not in danger, but it would be many a long day before he would again fire a revolver. + 

Four blasts on the Girondin’s horn recalled Willis’s car, and when, some three hours later, the last batch of prisoners was safely lodged in the Hull police station, Willis began to feel that the end of his labours was at last coming in sight. + 

The arrests supplied the inspector with fresh material on which to work. As a result of his careful investigation of the movements of the prisoners during the previous three years, the entire history of the Pit-Prop Syndicate was unravelled, as well as the details of Coburn’s murder. + 

It seemed that the original idea of the fraud was Raymond’s. He looked round for a likely English partner, selected Archer, broached the subject to him, and found him willing to go in. Soon, from his dominating personality, Archer became the leader. Details were worked out, and the necessary confederates carefully chosen. Beamish and Bulla went in as partners, the four being bound together by their joint liability. The other three members were tools over whom the quartet had obtained some hold. In Coburn’s case, Archer learned of the defalcations in time to make the erring cashier his victim. He met the deficit in return for a signed confession of guilt and an I.O.U. for a sum that would have enabled the distiller to sell the other up, and ruin his home and his future. + 

An incompletely erased address in a pocket diary belonging to Beamish led Willis to a small shop on the south side of London, where he discovered an assistant who had sold a square of black serge to two men, about the time of Coburn’s murder. The salesman remembered the transaction because his customers had been unable to describe what they wanted otherwise than by the word “cloth,” which was not the technical name for any of his commodities. The fabric found in the cab was identical to that on the roll this man stated he had used; moreover, he identified Beamish and Bulla as the purchasers. + 

Willis had a routine search made of the restaurants of Soho, and at last found that in which the conspirators had held their meetings previous to the murder. There had been two. At the first, so Willis learned from the description given by the proprietor, Coburn had been present, but not at the second. + 

In spite of all his efforts he was unable to find the shop at which the pistol had been bought, but he suspected the transaction had been carried out by one of the other members of the gang, in order as far as possible to share the responsibility for the crime. + 

On the Girondin was found the false bulkhead in Bulla’s cabin, behind which was placed the hidden brandy tank. The connection for the shore pipe was concealed behind the back of the engineer’s wash-hand basin, which moved forward by means of a secret spring. + 

On the Girondin was also found something over £700,000, mostly in Brazilian notes, and Benson admitted later that the plan had been to scuttle the Girondin off the coast of Bahia, take to the boats and row ashore at night, remaining in Brazil at least till the hue and cry had died down. But instead all seven men received heavy sentences. Archer paid for his crimes with his life, the others got terms of from ten to fifteen years each. The managers of the licensed houses in Hull were believed to have been in ignorance of the larger fraud, and to have dealt privately and individually with Archer, and they and their accomplices escaped with lighter penalties. + 

The mysterious Morton proved to be a private detective, employed by Archer. He swore positively that he had no knowledge of the real nature of the syndicate’s operations, and though the judge’s strictures on his conduct were severe, no evidence could be found against him, and he was not brought to trial. + 

Inspector Willis got his desired promotion out of the case, and there was someone else who got more. About a month after the trial, in the Holy Trinity Church, Eastbourne, a wedding was solemnised⁠—Seymour Merriman and Madeleine Coburn were united in the holy bonds of matrimony. And Hilliard, assisting as best man, could not refrain from whispering in his friend’s ear as they turned to leave the vestry, “Three cheers for the Pit-Prop Syndicate!” + 