Poole had to think, and decide, quickly. What was Ryland Fratten doing here? He had said that he did not know the whereabouts of “Daphne”; Inez Fratten presumably had not told him—she had said that she had not seen Ryland since she picked up Daphne’s trail. Could it be that he was in some way connected with the Victory Finance Company? If he were, it was most unlikely that his father had known about it; it was an uncomfortable thought. Should he himself follow Ryland now—Ryland, who had slipped the police that morning? It would mean losing Daphne, for the time being at any rate—unless Inez Fratten followed her alone. Poole did not like the idea; if Daphne were really the dangerous woman that Ryland’s story indicated, she was capable of playing some desperate trick on anyone who crossed her path; it was a melodramatic thought, but not entirely discountable.
In the meantime Ryland Fratten was nearly out of sight; Poole was on the point of telling Inez to go home and himself following Ryland when the girl seized his arm; at the same instant footsteps in Ald House again caught his ear. A second later two people, a man and a woman, came out of the entrance and turned towards the Monument station; as they passed, the man glanced casually at Poole and Inez but took no notice of them.
“That’s she!” whispered Inez excitedly.
“Who’s the man?”
“I don’t know.”
The short glance that Poole had got at him had shown a man of rather more than medium height, well-built and carrying himself well, with an expression of strength and a close-cut moustache. The woman he had not time to observe, except that she was good-looking. Once again Poole’s mind had to work quickly. Should he follow these people and let Fratten go? He would get into trouble if the latter disappeared from the view of the police, but on the other hand he badly wanted to know, not only who “Daphne” was and where she lived, but who her companion was. His decision was helped by the fact that Ryland was no longer in sight; he would follow the pair now and keep his eyes open for Ryland.
As they followed—at a very discreet distance—Poole arranged his plan of action with Inez. If, as seemed likely, Daphne and her friend took the Underground, Poole would enter the coach on one side of theirs, Inez that on the other; this would make them less conspicuous and would double the watch on their quarry.
As Poole had expected, the couple they were following turned down into Monument Station. Poole and Inez kept in the background and, when a westbound train appeared, took their seats in separate coaches as arranged. Through the double glass doors Poole could get a fair view of Daphne and her friend. The girl—Poole thought that she might be anything between twenty-five and thirty—was distinctly pretty. Her small close-fitting hat concealed her hair but she certainly gave the impression of being fair. The man was rather older, with a firm chin and rather tight-lipped mouth below his clipped moustache; his eyes were light and his general colouring suggested brown hair. The pair, sitting close to the central doors of their coach, seemed to be talking quietly about trivial matters; they certainly showed no sign of being aware that they were watched.
At Cannon Street and Mansion House more belated workers got in; though the big rush was over the train was fairly full; there were no strap-hangers, however, so Poole saw no necessity to get any closer. At Charing Cross there was a fairly large exodus; this, with the subsequent oncoming passengers, kept the detective fully employed in maintaining his watch. The man and woman, however, remained seated and as the doors began to slam Poole relaxed his vigilance.
Suddenly the pair jumped to their feet and, slipping out of the double doors, hurried towards the exit stairs. Poole leaped up and dashed for his own door; as ill-luck would have it some railway official was in the act of closing it and Poole had to exert all his strength to force it open. Even then the man tried to push him back, shouting angrily to him to keep his seat; with a great effort Poole forced his way out on to the platform; the train had by that time gathered speed and the detective fell heavily to his hands and knees. More railwaymen gathered round him and his first opponent seized him angrily by the arm and shouted excitedly about “assault.”