French was immensely struck with the picturesque, old world city, nestling on the steep, hilly banks of the Douro, and he marvelled to feel quiver at every horse-hoof the great high level Dom Luez bridge, which throws its spidery steel arch in a single span of nearly 600 feet across the placid river flowing far beneath. Then after passing down the steeply-inclined streets to near the water’s edge, he and Carter boarded the tram and set off seawards along a road skirting the right bank of the stream.
In spite of the business which had brought them so far, both men gazed with intense interest at the unwonted sights they passed, the semi-tropical vegetation, the long, narrow, four-wheeled carts with their teams of oxen, the mole constructed across some three-quarters of the mouth of the Douro to increase the scour through the remainder, then, passing a stretch of sandhills, they finally reached the houses of Leixos, with lying below them the harbour contained within its two encircling stone piers, and, blessed sight, the Enoch lying at anchor therein.
They made a bargain with a dusky boatman for what seemed to French a fortune of reis, and ten minutes later they had ascended the ladder and were once more on the steamer’s deck.
CHAPTER XIX
FRENCH PROPOUNDS A RIDDLE
If Captain Davis experienced surprise on seeing French reappear at the door of his cabin, he gave no indication of his feelings.
“Good-afternoon, Inspector,” he greeted him quietly. “Come aboard again? You should have stayed with us, you know.” He smiled quizzically. “It would have been much less tiring than going all that way round by land, and for the matter of that, a good deal cheaper. Found your criminals?”
“Well, I’ve not,” French answered slowly, “—yet. But I hope to soon. Captain, I’ve had a wire from the Yard that those people are on board after all.”
The Captain frowned.
“No doubt the Yard is a wonderfully efficient organisation,” he said gravely, “but when it comes to telling me who is or is not aboard my ship—well, I think that is a trifle, shall we say, thick? How do they profess to know?”
“I’ll tell you. I got a wire shortly after the ship left Havre on Saturday, and it said that one of the Liverpool detectives, Sergeant Mackay, was watching your ship before she sailed. He was looking out for a man also wanted for murder, not this Vane—a different person altogether. He saw the Vanes going on board, though, of course, he did not realise they also were wanted. But he saw them right enough, at least, he was able to convince the Yard as to their identity. Mackay waited until the ship sailed, and he states the Vanes did not go ashore. I know Mackay personally, and he is a most careful and accurate officer. I am satisfied that if he makes this statement it is true. Now, none of your people saw them go ashore, and with all due respect to you and your purser, the suggestion is that they’re still on board. The wire ended by instructing me to follow up the ship either here or to Lisbon, and investigate further.”