Bannister left the Seabourne train with a quickness of step that denoted serious business in front. The express had made excellent time from Victoria, as a result of which the Inspector’s spirits had considerably risen. This “note” story that had been telephoned to him was really interesting. At last there had come tangible evidence upon which he and his subordinates could get to work. He walked quickly down the platform, passed the barrier and flung himself into a waiting “taxi.” When he had heard from Sergeant Godfrey, at Westhampton, that the missing notes had been traced to the possession of Captain Willoughby, he had instructed the Sergeant to take no immediate action but temporarily, at least, to hold his hand. To hold his hand until Bannister himself could arrive upon the scene and direct the plan of operations. He dashed into the Police Station and within a matter of a few minutes was interviewing Sergeant Godfrey.
“Tell me the whole story from the beginning, Godfrey,” he ordered. “I mean from the time when I sent you the numbers of the notes.”
“That’s an easy matter,” replied Godfrey. “We circulated the missing numbers as you instructed us in the usual way and within a couple of hours received surprising information. Information from the Seabourne Branch of the Southern and Home Counties Bank. The Manager telephoned us here and I went along myself to hear what he had to say. It appears that one of his cashiers remembered taking some five pound notes over the counter on the previous day. He looked at them again just out of curiosity when our inquiry went through to his Bank and discovered to his surprise that two of them corresponded with those taken from Miss Delaney. They had been paid into the credit of the ‘Cassandra’ Hotel. There was no doubt about it. He shewed me the entry on the paying-in slip. I thanked the Manager and rolled off at once to the ‘Cassandra.’ Saw the Manager there, saw the cashier, saw pretty nearly everybody concerned. ‘Quite right,’ they said, ‘the notes had come from them certainly.’ The cashier was able to remember receiving them, perfectly. They had been paid over in settlement of his weekly account by Captain Willoughby, who has stayed at the hotel for some time. I enjoined absolute silence upon all of them for the time being and ’phoned the news direct to you. Willoughby is blissfully ignorant that the notes have been traced to him! What will you do—see him?”
“Most assuredly,” chipped in Bannister. “I can’t neglect to follow this up. Say what you like—it’s most important. These notes in the first instance must have been taken from the dead girl. There’s more than one point in connection with this case that I haven’t been able to clear up yet—but this note business doesn’t look like falling into that category. So, I’m thankful for small mercies.”
“Right then,” responded Godfrey. “I’ll come up to the ‘Cassandra’ with you. I’d like to hear what this Captain Willoughby has to say.”
Captain Willoughby was in and Bannister reflected how strange it was that Willoughby had been talking to him on the very evening that Godfrey had so unexpectedly brought the problem to him. Now it had fallen to his duty to see Willoughby and examine him in the clearing-up of the affair. “One never knows,” muttered Bannister to himself, “even one’s next-door neighbour.” Willoughby received them in his own room. He had stayed at the “Cassandra” so many times that he had come to regard one particular room as his own.
“Well, Inspector”—he greeted the two men with the utmost cordiality—“here we are again, then! What can I do for you this time?”
The pallor and anxiety that had marked his face a few mornings before were gone and Captain Willoughby looked at his best.
“Quite right,” exclaimed Bannister. “You can do something for me. I am going to ask you an exceedingly delicate question. Think carefully before you answer it.”
Willoughby’s paleness returned—Bannister’s remark had obviously “rattled” him. “What is it?” he asked anxiously.