“Now tell me, did they meet any one else on the way home?”
“Not while they were in the keb, they didn’t.”
“Or buy a paper, or stop for any purpose whatever?”
“They stopped and got out for a ’arf a mo’, but I can’t say if it was to buy a paper.”
“Oh, they stopped, did they? Where was that?”
“In Holborn, just past the end of Hatton Garden.”
“What?” cried French, surprised out of his usual calm superiority. “Tell me about that.”
The driver was stupid and suspicious, but in time the details came out. The most direct route led along Holborn, and he had taken it, but when he reached the point in question the young man had hailed him through the speaking tube. “Hold on a minute, driver,” he had called. “Look sharp, please.” He had pulled over to the kerb, but almost before he had come to a stand the young man had jumped out and had hurried across the street. The lady had then alighted, had told Tomkins to wait, and had followed him. Tomkins had at first feared he was going to lose his money, but after a couple of minutes they had both returned and the girl had got in. She had bidden good-night to her friend, and he, Tomkins, had driven her off, leaving the man standing on the pavement. On arrival at Hampstead, the lady had paid him and entered the house. As far as the driver had noticed neither of the young people was excited or upset.
This information gave French cause for thought. On obtaining Harrington’s statement on the morning after the murder, he had imagined the young man was keeping something back. And now he found that he had been right. The young fellow had not mentioned the fact that he had been within a few yards of the scene of the crime at the time at which it had taken place. He had stated that he had seen Sylvia home, and now it appeared he had not done so, but had accompanied her only half-way. French reminded himself with satisfaction that his instinct on such a point was seldom far astray.
Furthermore, this news confirmed his growing suspicion that Miss Duke also knew something about the affair. It seemed too far-fetched a coincidence that this unexpected stop near the scene of the crime, the mental upset of both herself and Harrington, and the postponing of the wedding, were unconnected with the tragedy. What the connection might be he could not imagine but he could not but believe it existed.