Hastily thanking the clerk, the two men jumped once more into their taxi and drove to the police station. There the Inspector hurried to the telephone to call up the Southampton police. But there was a delay in getting through. For thirty minutes he fumed and fretted. Then at half-past twelve he got his connection.
‘I’m afraid the train will be in,’ replied the distant voice, ‘but if it’s late we’ll get your man if he’s on it. If we miss him there, we’ll go on to the Docks. There’s a Union Castle liner due out at five o’clock. He may be going for that. What about the warrant?’
‘Hold on a minute,’ said Tanner, then turning to the sergeant, he spoke rapidly:
‘A liner leaves Southampton at five for South Africa. Can I get there with a good car? There are no trains, of course?’
‘None, sir. It’s about a hundred miles and you should do thirty miles an hour—say three and a half hours. If you left here at 1.00, you should be there by 4.30.’
‘I’ll do that.’ Then turning back to the telephone: ‘I’m leaving here now by road for Southampton. You may expect me at the Union Castle berth about 4.30. I’ll have the warrant.’
The taxi-driver they had been employing being unfamiliar with the surrounding country, they drove to the nearest garage and after some difficulty succeeded in knocking up a sleepy manager and hiring a powerful car and a man who knew the road, at least as far as Salisbury. But there were delays in getting away, and though the manager did his best, it was nearly half-past one when the big vehicle swung out of Exeter, eastward bound.
The night was fine but dark. As they purred swiftly along the smooth road, Tanner lay back on the comfortable cushions and let the cool air blow in on his heated forehead, while he took stock of the position.
He was perfectly aware that he might be on a wild-goose chase. The taking of the ticket to Southampton might have been a blind, and Douglas might not have done the obvious thing in making a bolt to the most convenient port. After the ruse the man had employed at Myrtle Cottage, Tanner felt he would not do the obvious thing unless he was impelled to it by some strong consideration. But such a consideration existed. There was the element of time. The man would realise that on such a journey he must inevitably be traced, but he would hardly imagine he could be traced in time. Before his pursuers could reach Southampton he would count on having been able to adopt a new personality, and put hundreds of miles of sea between himself and them. The more Tanner thought over this possibility, the more likely it seemed. If he were in Douglas’s position it was the view he himself would have taken.
They were running well. Tanner watched the whirling hedges, lit up by the strong headlights, and blurred by the speed into quivering smudges, and judged they must be doing well on to forty miles an hour. It was, of course, breaking the law; moreover, it was by no means safe, but Tanner did not let such considerations weigh against the chance of checkmating the man who had duped him. He had informed the chauffeur he would be responsible if there was trouble.