Hastily thrusting his paper in his pocket he hurried after the couple. But, short as the time was since they passed him, already a queue had formed before the ticket office. As he reached it Cecily and her companion turned away and walked through the barrier. It was hopeless to think of going after them without a ticket. Anthony chafed impatiently as he waited. When at last he was free to follow them they were out of sight and he ran up to the lift just in time to hear the door close and to see the lift itself vanish slowly out of sight. For a moment he felt inclined to run down the steps and then he realized that there was nothing to be gained by such a proceeding and nothing for him to do but wait for the next lift with what patience he could. It seemed to him that he had never had to wait so long before; when at last it did come and he had raced along the passage and down the few remaining steps to the platform, it was only to find the gate slammed before him. Standing there, he had the satisfaction of seeing Cecily's face at the window of the train gliding out of the station while beside her he caught a vision of the silvery locks of her companion.
As he stood there realizing the utter futility of endeavouring to overtake Cecily now, a voice only too well known of late sounded in his ear.
“Good morning, Mr. Collyer. Too late, like myself.”
He turned to find Inspector Furnival beside him. A spasm of fear shot through Tony. Was this man ubiquitous? And what was he doing here?
“Going to Mrs. Luke Bechcombe's, sir?” the inspector went on. “Mr. Steadman has just left me to go on there in his car. A family party to celebrate Mr. Aubrey Todmarsh's engagement.”
“Yes, to Mrs. Phillimore,” Tony assented.
The gate was thrust aside now, the inspector and Tony found themselves pushed along by the people behind. They went on the platform together, the inspector keeping closely by Tony's side.
“Wonderful man, Mr. Todmarsh,” he began conversationally. “We in the police see a lot of his work. Mrs. Phillimore too, supports practically every philanthropic work in the East End. Yes, this engagement will be good news to many a poor outcast, Mr. Anthony.”
Tony mechanically acquiesced. As a matter of fact mention of Aubrey Todmarsh's good works left him cold. He had no great liking for Mrs. Phillimore either, though the rich American had rather gone out of her way to be amiable to him. This morning, however, he was too much occupied in wondering what was the ulterior motive for the inspector's friendliness to have any thought to spare for his cousin's engagement. He was anxious to ascertain whether the inspector, like himself, had caught sight of Cecily Hoyle and followed her, though he could not form any idea as to the inspector's object in doing so. Still one never knew where the clues spoken of by the papers might lead the police. Thinking of Cecily as the inspector's possible objective a cold sweat broke out on Anthony's brow.
When the train came in the inspector stood aside for Anthony to enter and followed him in. The carriage was full. Anthony had an uncomfortable feeling that people were looking at him. Possibly, he thought, they were pointing him out to one another as Luke Bechcombe's nephew, the one who stood to benefit largely by the murdered man's death, and still more largely at the death of the widow, were wondering possibly what he was doing in that half-hour on the day of the murder which he could only account for by saying he was wandering about looking for the Field of Rest. That the general public had at first looked upon him as suspect on this account Anthony knew, but he knew also that the discovery of the clerk Thompson's dishonesty and later on of the loss of Mrs. Carnthwacke's diamonds had been taken as clearing him to a great extent. Until the mystery surrounding the death of Luke Bechcombe had been solved, however, he recognized that he would remain a potential murderer in the eyes of at least a section of the public. Possibly, he reflected grimly, seeing him with the inspector this morning they thought he was in custody.