He had not yet come to grips with it, but he felt it to be there, as one man feels the presence of another in a darkened room. When he arrived at the Yard, he found a new development. A cabman had been found who had driven Sir Anthony Gyde on the night before. The Chief was still absent, so Freyberger took it upon himself to interrogate the man.
He had picked Sir Anthony up in Piccadilly at twelve-thirty on the night before and driven him to Howland Street. Was he sure it was Sir Anthony? Certain. He had driven him before. Nearly every cabman, accustomed to the West End, knew him.
His cab had been coming along slowly by the kerb when he saw Sir Anthony come out of No. 110B. The baronet walked a few paces, stopped, looked around, saw the cab and hailed it.
He ordered himself to be driven to Howland Street, gave no number, stopped the cab towards the middle of the street and paid his fare with a five-shilling piece, asking for no change.
He then walked down the street, and, opening a house door with a latchkey, entered and closed the door behind him.
“Could you identify the house again?” asked Freyberger.
The man believed he could. It was a dingy house beside one that had been new painted.
“How was Sir Anthony dressed?” asked the detective.
“All in dark clothes, wearing a tall hat and carrying a black bag in his hand.”
“That will do,” replied Freyberger. “Is your cab outside?”