But next morning news had come in which made a visit there essential. It appeared that about 9.30 on the evening in question the lorry had been seen standing in the same lane at Gorseinon in which, three hours later, the police patrol had found it. A labourer reported that he had passed it on his way home. As he approached, the driver was sitting on the step, but, on seeing him, the man had jumped up and busied himself with the engine. The labourer had passed on out of sight, but, his way taking him along a path at right angles to the lane, he had looked back across country and noticed the driver again seated on the step and lighting a cigarette. The position of the lorry was the same then as three hours later, and the conclusion that it had not moved during the whole period seemed unavoidable.
But if so, it made it much less likely that the body had been put into the crate during the motor drive. The time available would have been so short that the area in which the change could have been made would have been very small indeed. The chances of a disappearance remaining unknown to the police would, therefore, have been correspondingly reduced. For the first time French began to consider seriously the possibility that the body had come from Devonshire.
While, therefore, Superintendent Howells in no way relaxed his efforts, French took an early train south. He was in a thoughtful mood as they pulled out of the station. This, it was evident, was going to be one of those troublesome cases in which an ingenious criminal had enveloped his evil deeds in a network of false clues and irrelevant circumstances to mislead the unfortunate detective officer to whom an investigation into them might afterward be assigned. Confound it all! It was not long since he had got rid of that terribly involved affair at Starvel in Yorkshire, and here was another that bade fair to be as bad. However, such was life, and worrying wouldn’t alter it. He was starting on an interesting journey and he might as well forget his case and make the most of the scenery.
Chapter Five: Messrs. Berlyn and Pyke
Shortly before six o’clock that evening French stepped out of the train at the little terminus of Ashburton.
He had enjoyed his run, particularly the latter portion through the charming South Devonshire scenery, along the coast under the red cliffs of Dawlish and Teignmouth, and then inland through the well-wooded hills of Newton Abbot and Totnes. He was pleased, too, with the appearance of Ashburton, a town T-shaped in plan and squeezed down into the narrow valleys between three hills. He admired its old world air and its pleasant situation as he walked up the street to the Silver Tiger, the hotel to which he had been recommended.
After a leisurely dinner he went out for a stroll, ending up shortly after dark at the police station. Sergeant Daw had gone home, but a constable was despatched for him and presently he turned up.
“I went to the works at once, sir,” he explained in answer to French’s question. “They’re out at the end of North Street. A big place for so small a town. They employ a hundred or more men and a lot of women and girls. A great benefit to the town, sir.”
“And whom did you see?”
“I saw Mr. Fogden, the sales manager. He turned up the information without delay. The duplicator was ordered from London and he showed me the letter. You can see it if you go up to-morrow. There was nothing out of the way about the transaction. They packed the machine and sent it off, and that was all they could tell me.”