“My clients will be dreadfully disappointed. Everything seems to go against them.”
“It seems to me that in this case it is your own stupidity that has gone against them. You must excuse the remark, but it expresses what I think.”
“And in what way have I been stupid, may I ask?”
“Well, you might have found out where we were likely to bunker. The owners would have given you the information. Then you could have come out to intercept your man before he had a chance to clear, instead of waiting here expecting him to walk into the trap set for him. Or you could have cabled to me to detain him. But, of course, these little items are things a detective wouldn’t be likely to think of.”
“I feel quite grateful for your sympathy in my disappointment, Captain Criddle, but feel it necessary to correct you in a few particulars. Even though only a detective, I was struck with the idea that it would be wise to consult the owners. Their information left only the course adopted open to me. I was told that you had probably already taken in bunker coals at Malta, and that you would not be calling at any other place before your arrival in England. It is only six days since we learned that Morton, or, more correctly speaking, Stavanger, was on board your ship, and either meeting him, or cabling to have him detained was out of the question. You received instructions through the pilot at Gravesend, and I fail to see what further steps could have been taken for the man’s capture, unless we had been more accurately informed of your proceedings by your owners.”
“Oh, well, it isn’t their fault, as they knew no different. But I haven’t time to talk any more, as I have a swarm of people to see. Good afternoon.”
Thus peremptorily dismissed, Mr. Gay found it necessary to return to shore without the prize he had hoped to land with him, and his professional chagrin was mingled with real sorrow for the bitter disappointment of his clients. He was not a little angry with Captain Criddle for his want of sympathy and his unflattering insinuations. These were, no doubt, prompted by the reluctance felt by most people to have anything to do with a criminal case in any shape or form, and Detective Gay was not far wrong when he suspected Captain Criddle of being rather pleased than otherwise that the expected arrest had not taken place on board his ship.
That the Corys were deeply dismayed is a foregone conclusion, and that Mr. Cory thought it useless to make further investigations for a while is not surprising.
“The man won’t have stayed in Gibraltar, that is certain,” he said. “And if we were to go there, and follow up the trail, it is doubtful if we could ever track him and secure his return to England. So long as he chooses to remain in Spain, so long is he safe. Even if he leaves there I’m afraid his pursuit would be but a wild goose chase. His predilection for aliases will make identification difficult, and he seems to possess some abnormal instinct that cautions him against coming danger.”
“I think myself, sir,” observed Mr. Gay, “that he won’t come back to England, at all events, until he has run through his plunder. Even then he may be quietly supplied with money by his father, whom we believe to to be in league with him. If I were you I would not move in the matter for a while, in order to lull all suspicion of pursuit. If we can stumble on Captain Cochrane in the meantime, so much the better. We may be able to prove Mr. Riddell’s innocence through him.”