‘Shaw, you better nip out and shadow him,’ French directed. ‘We’ll get to the station before him.’
By an indirect route French had the car driven to Hampstead Station. They did not pass Sloley, so there was no risk of the man’s seeing them. Reaching the Underground, French hurried to the booking-office, while Carter concealed himself on the emergency staircase.
‘Inspector from Scotland Yard,’ French said to the booking-clerk, holding out his card. ‘I want to know where a man books. Let me come into the office, and when I point him out, give me a ticket to the same station.’
The manœuvre was quickly arranged. Sitting on the counter, himself unseen, French was able to recognise Sloley’s voice when the man asked for a ticket to Victoria.
As the lift went down Shaw appeared. French thrust the ticket into his hand, saying ‘Victoria,’ and then beckoning Carter from his retreat, they returned to the car, which had been told to wait for fifteen minutes on chance.
‘Victoria,’ said French again.
He had little doubt what Sloley was about to do. Believing that he was still unsuspected, he was going to try for the Continent. Though it was true that extradition treaties had been entered into with most other countries, Sloley would scarcely be able to avoid the criminal’s complex, that the farther he is from the scene of his crime, the safer he is from detection.
French fortunately knew the Continental trains. The next left at two, and was an important train. In addition to Paris, it had direct connections to Brussels, Berlin and Central and Southern Europe generally. It was just the train that a criminal who believed himself unsuspected would make for.
So convinced was French as to Sloley’s intentions, that at Victoria he repeated his Hampstead manœuvre. Explaining the matter to the booking-clerk, he got into the office, listened for Sloley’s voice, and presently heard him ask for a second single to Brussels.
‘That’s via Dover, isn’t it?’ said French, who knew his timetable. ‘Three returns, Dover.’
It was not until the train was just about to start that French and Carter joined Shaw at the barrier, and all three slipped into the last carriage. ‘He’s four coaches ahead,’ Shaw explained as they took their places. ‘I didn’t see him looking round, and I don’t think he knows we’re on to him.’
‘Did he come straight along?’
‘He called at a post office between his house and Hampstead Station, I don’t know what for. I thought I’d better not go in and there wasn’t time to ask afterwards.’
‘Was he long there?’
‘No, sir; only a minute or two.’
‘Then he didn’t telephone?’
‘No, not long enough for that.’
French was a little doubtful as to whether he should not have arrested the man then and there, instead of waiting till he reached the boat. It would have saved three journeys to and from Dover. However, there was just the possibility that Sloley was not going on board. Conceivably this taking of the ticket was a blind intended to throw off a possible pursuit, and Sloley would strike out in some other direction from Dover.
However, at Dover he did nothing of the kind. He showed his passport with the other passengers and walked straight to the steamer. As he reached the gangway, French touched his arm.
‘Excuse me, Mr Sloley,’ he said gravely, ‘but I’m afraid I must ask you to come with me. If you will do so quietly, there need be no publicity. I have two men with me,’ he added meaningly.
Carter and Shaw had indeed already edged Sloley out of the queue approaching the gangway, and were standing on either side of him before he appeared to grasp what was happening. For a moment he seemed completely stunned, then rapidly he pulled himself together.
He turned slowly and began to walk with French. ‘I don’t know what you think you’re doing,’ he went on conversationally, ‘but I presume I’ll learn that later.’
French answered, ‘Yes, sir,’ in a dry voice and the little procession continued moving back along the wharf. Suddenly Sloley sneezed. Then from an inside pocket he pulled out a folded handkerchief and put it up to his face.
The action was commonplace and quite normal and French suspected nothing. Then as Sloley raised his arm, his eye caught the corner of a crumpled handkerchief protruding from the man’s coat pocket.
In a way there was nothing remarkable in this and yet it gave French very furiously to think. Had the man really two handkerchiefs, and did he use a folded one when one that had been opened out was ready in his pocket? In the tenth of a second these thoughts passed through French’s mind and in another tenth he reached a conclusion. Swinging round, he seized Sloley’s wrist just as the handkerchief approached his mouth. Carter and Shaw, seeing the movement, also grabbed the man.
They were just in time. From Sloley’s hand they took a handkerchief, sewn as folded to make a pad. To the side which would have gone next Sloley’s mouth was fixed a small white capsule. Nothing would have been easier than to have bitten this off and swallowed it. And it did not require much imagination to see that if Sloley had bitten it off and swallowed it, he would never have been charged with murder.
With the discovery of the capsule Sloley’s self-control vanished. His face became convulsed with rage and fear, and he began struggling like a maniac. For a moment, indeed, it took all that the three men could do to hold him. Then French managed to slip on a pair of handcuffs, and calling a vehicle, they were driven to the local police station. There Sloley, now completely exhausted, was charged with being concerned in the murder and theft, and then came the moment for which French had waited so impatiently. The man was searched.
But French was disappointed, more bitterly disappointed than he cared to admit. Except for a small sum of money, there were no valuables on Sloley. French’s scheme of recovering the stones had therefore failed, and he was as far as ever from the solution of this part of his problem.
With a bitter curse he turned to the telephone to report to the Yard.
21
Exeunt
Though the information French sent to the Yard was negative, he obtained some news in return which so filled his mind that his disappointment was forgotten and his revitalised energies were started off in a new channel.
It appeared that Lyde had also left Town. He had booked to Folkestone by the 3 p.m. from Charing Cross, and Willis and his helpers had travelled by the same train. Sheen, moreover was apparently contemplating a similar bolt. He had had a telephone call at the office to say that his wife had been run over by a car and was seriously hurt and asking him to go home at once. Tanner had shadowed him home, and incidentally had found out that Mrs Sheen, though out, was in perfect health. Sheen had now left his house, but no information as to his destination had as yet been received.
French found himself immediately confronted by a pressing problem. If the plan agreed on at the Yard were carried out, Willis would arrest Lyde if he attempted to go on board the boat at Folkestone. This had seemed the obvious thing to do when the affair was being discussed. But now the circumstances were altered. Additional information was available. One of the three men had already been arrested, and no jewels had been found on him. If so, was it not likely that the same would obtain in the cases of the other two?
French thought so. If they were going to take the stones out of the country on their persons, they would surely have divided them into three lots and each would have taken one. It now looked as if some other method of disposing of the booty had been adopted. Could the men still not be made to reveal it?
The immediate question then was whether Lyde and Sheen should be allowed to leave the country if they attempted to do so, being shadowed to their several destinations? The objection, of course, was that if they were once out of England, French’s powers of arrest would be invalid. He would have to depend on the police of the country in which he found himself, and owing to unavoidable formal delays, the men might succeed in giving him the slip.
French tried to get thro
ugh to Sir Mortimer Ellison, but unfortunately the A.C. was not in his office. And there was no one else in authority who understood the circumstances. French, therefore, decided to act on his own initiative. He thought he was justified, as he had been given practically a free hand.
A hurried dip into a timetable showed that the 3 p.m. train from Charing Cross was due at Folkestone Central at 5.03. It was now after half-past four, so that by taking a car there would be plenty of time to meet it. French rang up for a taxi, and he and his two men had already taken their places, when a furiously waving constable caused his driver to stop. French was once again wanted on the telephone.
It was another message from the Yard. Sheen, followed by Tanner and his men, had left Victoria by the 4.20 for Folkestone Harbour, having booked to Boulogne.
French found that Sir Mortimer had just returned to his office, and he consumed five of his precious remaining minutes in explaining what he proposed. To his great satisfaction he at once received the hierarchic blessing.
‘I’ll take over Sheen from Tanner at Folkestone, then,’ he concluded. ‘Would you be so good, sir, as to arrange for some help for me at Boulogne?’ Sir Mortimer agreed to this also and rang off.
French urged his driver to speed, with the result that they arrived at Folkestone Central at a minute before five. There from behind a convenient pile of luggage French watched the train come in. Almost at once he saw Lyde, walking smartly from his compartment with a small suitcase in his hand. Then Willis hove in sight in a pullover and plus fours with a bag of golf clubs over his shoulder, the sporting Briton to the life. French edged up beside him.
‘We pulled in Sloley and found nothing on him,’ he murmured. ‘You’d better follow Lyde to wherever he’s going on the Continent. Keep in touch with me through the Yard.’
Willis nodded and passed on with the others, while French, after seeing that the coast was clear, followed discreetly to the Harbour Station. There he watched hare and hounds go on board the Boulogne boat, as he had expected they would.
When the 4.20 boat-train from Victoria arrived, French had once more found a suitable cover from which to observe the descending passengers. Sheen got out of one of the first compartments, and passport in hand, moved off with the other travellers. Tanner was not far behind him, and in a moment French was beside him.
‘The A.C. has ’phoned me to take over,’ he said, and in a few words explained the situation. Tanner nodded and dropped behind, while French, also with his papers, followed Sheen to the passport officer. A moment later they were on board the boat.
Sheen had engaged a private cabin, and into this he immediately disappeared. French obtained another, from the slightly open door of which he could watch Sheen’s, while himself remaining hidden from possible discovery by Lyde.
At Boulogne things worked out better than he could have hoped. From his porthole French could see Lyde among the first of those to pass down the gangway. Close behind him moved Willis’ tall form and bag of golf clubs. Not until almost everyone else had gone ashore did Sheen appear, and he was clear of the immediate surroundings before French ventured to follow. Thanks to Sir Mortimer’s use of the telephone, French found a plain-clothes member of the Boulogne police force awaiting him. With uncanny precision this man, who had lounged near the gangway while the passengers were disembarking, picked out French the moment he set foot on the quay. French pleased him by congratulating him on his skill, then rapidly explained what was wanted.
‘Your man knows your appearance?’ the Frenchman queried.
‘Unfortunately he does.’
‘Then, monsieur, if you will keep out of sight, I will find out where he goes and let you know.’
Nothing could have pleased French better. And in the end nothing could have proved more valuable. Indeed, had it not been for the Frenchman, it was not unlikely that the trail would have been lost altogether.
Sheen did not go forward by the boat-train. Instead, as soon as he was through the customs, he took a taxi and drove off. Neither French nor his helpers could have found out where the vehicle was bound, but the plain-clothes man ambling lazily past as the direction was given, heard all that passed. He ambled on till the taxi was out of sight, then hurried back to French.
‘Your man has chartered a taxi for Etaples,’ he explained. ‘If you take another you’ll be able to keep him in sight all the way.’
‘Etaples?’ French returned in surprise. ‘What on earth is he going there for?’
The Frenchman shrugged politely. He supposed the chief-inspector had no idea of where his man might be heading?
‘One of the trio booked to Brussels,’ French suggested.
Again the other shrugged, shaking his head. He could make no suggestion, save that Brussels was a blind and that the reunion was to take place in Etaples. Here, however, was another taxi, and if French didn’t want to lose his quarry, he advised that he should start at once.
French thanked him and jumped with his satellites into the vehicle, but before it could start, Willis appeared with hand upraised.
‘Lyde’s booked to Paris and has got into the front of the train,’ he murmured and vanished. Five seconds later, sitting well back in the taxi, French was driving quickly towards the town.
After passing through Boulogne their driver put on a spurt. The road led inland, though they could see at intervals the sand dunes of the coast. Soon they noticed ahead another taxi and the driver slackened speed so as just to keep it in sight. It was not travelling fast, about thirty miles an hour or more.
From Boulogne to Etaples is only some eighteen miles, and in a little over half an hour they reached the outskirts of the latter town. Here the driver accelerated sharply, closing up on the quarry. Presently they reached the railway station, where they watched Sheen pay off his vehicle and disappear into the building. While French was settling with his driver, Shaw jumped out and followed Sheen.
French and Carter took cover behind a convenient lorry to await events. Presently they saw Sheen emerge from the station, cross the street, and disappear into an hotel. A moment later Shaw joined them.
‘Went in to check up some trains that he had in a notebook,’ said Shaw. ‘He didn’t see me.’
‘You don’t know what trains?’
‘The local sheet: Calais to Paris.’
French nodded. ‘Good cover in that station?’
‘Not too bad.’
‘We’ll wait there.’
It was now half-past eight and growing very cold. The station was draughty and unattractive. French was a little doubtful as to his proper course. Sheen might well be going to spend the night in his hotel, and if so, there was no use in the others hanging about. Fortunately, they had had a meal. French had wisely had some supper sent to their cabin, on the boat.
‘I don’t want to go into that hotel,’ French explained. ‘If Sheen saw me it would be good-bye to getting the stones. And I don’t want either of you to go either. So I’ll ask the local police to send a man to make inquiries. You both wait where you are.’
This plan worked satisfactorily. A gendarme at once saw the manager of the hotel and reported to French. Sheen was not staying the night. He had explained that he was going to Calais by the eleven o’clock train.
There seemed then to be no need to wait at the station, and French and his party went to another hotel to kill time. But well before eleven they returned to the station, booked to Calais, and took cover.
French’s anxieties were soon dispelled. Sheen entered the station about five minutes to eleven and booked. The train came in and he climbed on board. The others followed, taking the next coach.
At each stopping place they looked out guardedly, but till they reached Calais Sheen made no move. There he went quickly out of the station, and disappeared into the nearest hotel.
At such an hour—it was quarter past twelve—French didn’t like applying for help to the local police. But there seemed nothing else to be done. He therefore found the poli
ce station and made his inquiries. From there a telephone to the manager of the hotel produced the needed information. Sheen had asked to be called early, as he was taking the 5.37 train to Lille.
Once again French repeated his manœuvre of the early evening. Choosing another hotel, he arranged with his men to keep watch in turn during the night, so as to ensure being at the railway in time in the morning. There they booked to Lille, took cover till Sheen had entered the train, and followed into the next coach. At each station—places many of them whose names are burnt into the heart of every Englishman: Hazebrouck, Bailleul, Armentières—they looked out and made sure that Sheen did not leave the train.
They reached Lille without incident, but here they were confronted by an unexpected difficulty. Sheen remained in his compartment. Fortunately there was a stop of eight minutes and French rushed to the booking-office and in a somewhat halting mixture of French and English, took the clerk into his confidence. Where was the train going on to?
The clerk quickly grasped the difficulty. The train went to Orchies, Valenciennes, Aulnoye for Paris and Brussels, and Hirson.
Brussels! Sloley had booked to Brussels! Could Brussels be the rendezvous?
To be on the safe side, French took three singles to Hirson, and sprinting for all he was worth, caught the train just as it was beginning to move.
The three men resumed their tactics of looking out at each stop, but it was not till they reached Aulnoye that they saw Sheen. There he alighted, and made his way to the north-bound platform.
There was some forty minutes to wait, and then at 11.29 the Paris-Brussels express thundered into the station. It stopped for seven minutes, so there was time to see what Sheen did before booking. But he acted as they expected. He climbed into the train and the others followed in due course.
It seemed evident, then, that Brussels really was the meeting-place. Sheen’s trip to Etaples and Lyde’s to Paris were doubtless undertaken to cover any scent that might have been laid.
Crime at Guildford Page 26
