If Tom and Helen went out it was with a uniform for company, which was irritating. They both took the threat from Smight seriously but having a policeman over your shoulder whenever you wanted to go out was like a form of open arrest. Tom wondered how long the Durham force could sustain the search for Doctor Anthony Smight. There were police detailed to cover the railway station as well as the ones concentrating on Colt House.
He had told Inspector Traynor that he and Helen would soon be returning to London, and the Great Scotland Yard man looked unhappy, saying something about the need for material witnesses in the murder of Eustace Flask. But Tom had the uneasy feeling that what he really required was for the two of them to remain in Durham as a lure for Smight. The image of a tethered goat or lamb left out for a lion flashed through Tom’s normally unimaginative mind. And when he suggested that it might be a good idea to publicize the search for Smight in the local newspaper, Traynor said with great authority that that would merely drive their quarry underground.
Then everything changed. Traynor came by the house a couple of mornings later.
‘We’ve got him,’ he said without preliminary. His voice was curiously flat.
‘Doctor Smight?’ said Helen, shutting the book she was reading.
‘Yes, we have the doctor. When I say we, I mean that the police in Newcastle have apprehended him. We sent them the picture and other facts. I believe that they caught up with Smight in some low dive by the docks. It all fits.’
Tom, who’d been gazing out of the window, heard the hint of disappointment in Traynor’s voice. Of course, the London man wanted to be the one to make the arrest. He’d been beaten to it.
‘But my original hunch was correct,’ continued the Inspector. ‘Smight must have been staying in Newcastle and coming down by train to Durham to do his nefarious work. We had a possible sighting of him at the station yesterday morning but it was a case of mistaken identity, it seems.’
‘Could the Newcastle police be wrong?’ said Tom.
‘Not a chance. I have it here in black and white, just received at the police-house,’ said Traynor, producing a white telegraphic form. He walked over to where Tom was standing and showed the message to him, as if to prove his words. ‘They have laid hands on Smight. His name is established. I am catching the next train to Newcastle. I have already telegraphed ahead. They are expecting us. Superintendent Harcourt will accompany me. Smight will be closely questioned and then brought back here under heavy escort.’
‘Well, that’s a relief,’ said Helen. She stood up. ‘We can get back to leading a normal life.’
‘I will ask Superintendent Harcourt to withdraw his men from inside the house and outside,’ said Traynor. ‘You will not be surprised to hear that this manhunt has stretched the Durham force to the limit. And, yes, Mrs Ansell, you may rest easy.’
When they were alone, Helen said, ‘I am tired of being cooped up here. I am going for a walk.’
‘I’ll come with you.’
‘You don’t need to, Tom. As the Inspector said, there is no danger now.’
There was something in Helen’s manner that made Tom uneasy. Helen seemed uncomfortable too. After a moment she said, ‘Oh very well. If you must know, Major Marmont has requested my assistance in rehearsing a trick that he wishes to put on stage soon.’
‘Helen, surely you are not going to appear in public?’
The trouble was that Tom could see his wife stepping out on the stage, in a reckless moment. Helen was quick to reassure him.
‘No, no, don’t worry, I won’t embarrass you. But I did receive a note this morning from the Major.’
‘A note?’
‘Yes, a note, Tom, on County Hotel paper. There are some pieces of apparatus which he needs to refine, and he says I can help. I enjoyed being made to disappear in the Perseus Cabinet.’
‘All right,’ said Tom. He knew that Major Marmont had taken a shine to Helen so the request was not so surprising. ‘But I’ll accompany you to the theatre.’
They set off through the older part of town, without a police escort. All the time there was something nagging at Tom, something about the telegram which Harcourt had shown him, briefly. Tom struggled to recall the wording. What was it now? Something along the lines of ‘Newcastle force in port arrest Smight. Have your man verify and collect.’
It sounded odd. He mentioned it to Helen, repeating the words as far as he remembered them. She said, ‘Telegrams have a special, contorted language all their own.’
‘There has been a mistake, I think,’ said Tom suddenly, stopping in the street. Helen looked at him. He was gazing fixedly at a shop window, a ladies’ dress shop.
‘Are you all right, Tom?’
‘I must see Traynor or Harcourt.’
‘They will surely have left for Newcastle by now.’
‘I might be able to catch them at the police-house.’
But Tom was undecided. He didn’t want to leave Helen. She saw this and said, ‘I’ll be safe, Tom. No harm can come to me with Major Marmont.’
‘No, it can’t, can it? I will join you at the theatre. I will only be a moment.’
He almost ran down the street towards the marketplace. It would take him only a few minutes to reach the police station in New Elvet. He would find Traynor or Harcourt and tell them that they were, almost certainly, on the wrong scent. He was excited by his discovery and wanted to pass it on.
For what Tom had suddenly understood was that the telegraphic message had been wrongly transcribed at the police station. He’d realized it when staring at the window sign. WOMENSWEAR, the dress-shop said in close-packed gilt letters. The apostrophe had been lost and so the two words read as one. ‘Women’s Wear’, of course. But also, and more mischievously, it might be read as ‘Women Swear’.
So it was with the telegram from the Newcastle police. It did not read ‘Newcastle force in port arrest Smight. Have your man verify and collect.’ but ‘Newcastle force in port arrests. Might have your man. Verify and collect.’
From his work, Tom was familiar with the way in which telegraphic messages could get mangled, not so much in transmission but in transcription when the clerk at the receiving end wrote down the wrong letter or misplaced a full stop. If the message had come direct to the police-house, where everybody knew they were searching for an individual called Smight, then it was very natural that ‘might’ could be transformed into ‘Smight’. Natural but careless. And enough to send Traynor and Harcourt off to Newcastle on a potential wild-goose chase.
Did it matter? thought Tom, as he walked rapidly across the river and towards the police-house in New Elvet. The policemen would discover soon enough that they were on a false errand and come back, tails between their legs. He slowed down. He considered going back to rejoin Helen. It was more the fear of looking a fool in her eyes than anything else that made him go on.
So he arrived at the police-house, identified himself and told the sergeant on duty he wanted to speak to Frank Harcourt or the detective from Scotland Yard. Too late. As Helen had predicted, they were already on their way to Newcastle. The sergeant said there were other superintendents in the building. Did he wish to speak with one of them? Tom said no. He was starting to regret his eagerness to share his discovery about the telegram. Was he doing anything except proving his own cleverness? Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps the Newcastle police had detained Smight after all. He hoped so.
Tom retraced his steps to the Assembly Rooms by a route which was now thoroughly familiar. Entering the ornate auditorium, he was relieved to hear from the stage the voice of Major Sebastian Marmont who was, indeed, presiding over arrangements for that evening’s performance, his last in Durham. With him were his three sons and Dilip Gopal. But there was no sign of Helen. Tom felt a chill which turned to deep unease when Marmont said he had not seen her.