CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
MORE STRANGE FACTS
Compelled against my will to accompany the inspector to the police head-quarters in the High Street, I made a statement—a rather lame one, I fear.
I concealed the fact that the lady of the previous night’s conference was my wife, and explained my visit to Stamford, and my inquiries at the George, by the fact that I had met the man Lewis abroad, and had had some financial dealings with him, which, I now suspected, were not altogether square. So, hearing that he had motored to the north, I had followed, and had inquired at several of the well-known motoring hotels for news of him, being unsuccessful until I had arrived at Stamford.
This story would, of course, not have held water had Miss Hammond, the manageress, been present. Happily, however, she had not accompanied me, hence I was able to concoct a somewhat plausible excuse to the local superintendent.
“Then you actually know nothing concerning these people?” he asked, regarding me shrewdly.
“Nothing beyond the fact of meeting Lewis abroad, and very foolishly trusting in his honesty.”
The superintendent smiled. I think he regarded me as a bit of a fool. Probably I had been.
“They are a clever gang, no doubt,” he declared. “The Archduchess’s necklace must have been stolen by some one travelling in the train. I’ve been on to Scotland Yard by telephone, and there seems a suspicion because at Grantham—the last stopping-place before London—a ticket-collector boarded the train. He was a stranger to the others, but they believed that he had been transferred from one or other of the branches to the main line, and being in the company’s uniform they, of course, accepted him. He collected the tickets en route, as is sometimes done, and at Finsbury Park descended, and was lost sight of. Here again the busy collectors came and demanded tickets, much to the surprise of the passengers, and the curious incident was much commented upon.”