“Such a trip could not be accomplished without money,” he said slowly. “How were you equipped in that way?”
“Mr. Gething handed me a hundred pounds in ten-pound notes. I changed two in Chamonix and I have the remaining eight in my pocket.”
“You might let me see them.”
Vanderkemp readily complied, and the Inspector found, as he expected, that the eight notes were among those stolen from the safe. He resumed his interrogation.
“You say you reached the office in Hatton Garden about half-past eight?”
“Yes, and left about nine. My business occupied only half an hour.”
“And you saw no one except Mr. Gething?”
“No one.”
French, having offered his possible future prisoner another cigar, sat silent, thinking deeply. He had no doubt that the story of the escaped Russian was a fabrication from beginning to end. Besides being an unlikely tale in itself, it broke down on the point of its authorship. Vanderkemp’s statement was that Gething had been told the story by Mr. Duke, and that Mr. Duke would have been present to tell it to him, Vanderkemp, in person, were he not prevented by some unexpected cause. This also was an obvious fabrication, but the reason of its insertion into the tale was clear enough. Without it, the story would have no authority. The use of Mr. Duke’s name was an essential part of any such scheme, just as the forging of Mr. Duke’s signature had been necessary for the letters of instruction to Schoofs and Vanderkemp.
But though French felt sure enough of his ground so far, on trying to take a further step he was held up by the same difficulty with which he had been faced in considering the forged letters. Was Gething guilty, and had he invented this elaborate plan to throw suspicion on to Vanderkemp, or was Vanderkemp the criminal, and the story his scheme for accounting for his actions since the murder? That was a real difficulty, and French sat wondering if there was no test he could apply, no way in which he could reach certainty, no trap which the victim would be unable to avoid?