Next morning found him again at Ferriby, once more looking southwards from the concealment of a cluster of bushes. But this time the object of his attention was no longer the syndicate’s depot. Instead he focused his powerful glasses on the office of the distillery.
About nine-thirty a tall, stoutly built man strode up to the building and entered. His dress indicated that he was of the employer class, and from the way in which a couple of workmen touched their caps as he passed, Willis had no doubt he was the managing director.
For some three hours the inspector lay hidden, then he suddenly observed the tall man emerge from the building and walk rapidly in the direction of Ferriby. Immediately the inspector crept down the hedge nearer to the road, so as to see his quarry pass at close quarters.
It happened that as the man came abreast of Willis, a small two-seater motor-car coming from the direction of Ferriby also reached the same spot. But instead of passing, it slowed down and its occupant hailed the tall man.
“Hallo, Archer,” he shouted. “Can I give you a lift?”
“Thanks,” the big man answered. “It would be a kindness. I have unexpectedly to go into Hull, and my own car is out of order.”
“Run you in in quarter of an hour.”
“No hurry. If I am in by half past one it will do. I am lunching with Frazer at the Criterion at that time.”
The two-seater stopped, the big man entered, and the vehicle moved away.
As soon as it was out of sight, Willis emerged from his hiding-place, and hurrying to the station, caught the 1.17 train to Hull. Twenty minutes later he passed through the swing doors of the Criterion.