They spent the morning in the great station, interviewing ticket examiners and other officials, but without success. No one had seen either of the travellers.
‘The boat is more likely,’ observed Burnley. ‘If he is a constant traveller, some of the stewards will certainly know him.’
Taking the 4.00 p.m. train, they reached Bolougne as dusk was falling, and began their inquiries at the pier. Finding the Pas de Calais, which had made the run in which they were interested, would not leave till noon next day, they turned their steps to the local police station. There they saw the men who had been on duty when the boat left on the Sunday in question, but here again without getting any information. Then they went on board the steamer and sought the chief steward.
‘I know that gentleman, yes,’ he said when, after introducing themselves, Lefarge showed him Felix’s photograph. ‘He crosses frequently, once or twice a month, I should say. He is a M. Felix, but I cannot say where he lives, nor do I know anything else about him.’
‘What we want to find out, monsieur, is when he last crossed. If you can tell us that, we shall be extremely obliged.’
The official considered.
‘I am afraid I could hardly be sure of that. He crossed both ways fairly lately. I should say about ten days or a fortnight ago, but I’m not sure of the exact date.’
‘We think he crossed on Sunday, the 28th March. Can you think of anything that would confirm whether it was this date?’
‘No, I cannot. You see there would be nothing to record it. We could not now trace the ticket he held, and there is no way in which the identity of our passengers is ascertained and noted. Speaking from memory, I should say that the date you mention is about correct, but I could not be sure.’
‘Is there any one on board who might be able to help us?’