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He climbed down the slope to the railway, first through the shrubs, and then down the rather poor grass of the cutting. How long, he wondered, would it have taken a potential murderer to escape? A man in a hurry could, he thought, run up to the road in about two minutes. One more minute to retrieve a bicycle from the shrubs at the opposite side of the road would make three altogether from the leaving of the victim to the departure on the bicycle. French was now strongly of opinion that some unknown man had on the night of Ackerley’s death spent three minutes in just that way.
The marks of the man’s hurried climb discovered by Hart were still visible, but though French examined them with great care, they were too blurred to afford any clue. He then crossed the road and soon found the tracks of the bicycle, crossing a small patch of loose sand thrown up by a rabbit at the root of a small birch tree. This tree, as Hart had stated, had two stems about four inches apart, and the front wheel of the bicycle had been thrust between them, as into a stand. The patch of sand was very small and it bore no footprints.
French examined the ground all about in the hope of finding some little object which the unknown might have dropped, but without success. He did, however, discover a mark which for a short time puzzled him. On the left hand stem of the birch, about a foot from the ground, was a small cut or scrape in the bark. It showed first on the back and dragged round to a point almost opposite the other stem.
A little thought, however, told French what it was. A cyclometer evidently. The bicycle had been hurriedly withdrawn and the cyclometer had caught in the tree. Considerable force had obviously been used and French wondered whether the cyclometer had not been broken off. If it had, the unknown must have seen and removed it, as it was not anywhere to be found.
French stood thinking. Here at last was a clue: a push bicycle with a bent or broken cyclometer. To find it was surely a job for the local men. Would it be dealt with by Rhode and Dawe and Hart, or by the local staff at Whitness? He felt sure there must be a local staff at Whitness, and as the bicycle had disappeared towards that town, it was probably there that he should apply.
He set off to walk back and immediately had a minor stroke of luck. A ’bus appeared behind him. He got on board and ten minutes later was entering the police station at Whitness.
Sergeant Emery, the officer in charge, greeted him with surprise and respect. He was evidently keenly interested in French’s statement and eagerly promised to do what he could to help. Yes, he would certainly try to find anyone who had been on the road between Downey’s Point and Whitness on the evening in question and would make inquiries as to a push-bicycle having been seen. Yes, he appreciated the fact that the man was pedalling hard, and it should certainly have drawn attention to him. Emery thought also he could find out, by having the arrivals and departures at the contractors’ yard unobtrusively watched, how many bicycles belonged to the workers there, and he was sure he could make some excuse to examine closely any with cyclometers, or which had lost cyclometers. Also he would try to pick up as much of the gossip of the Widening as he could, and if he came on anything which seemed worth while following up, he would tell the inspector. And if there was anything else the inspector had only to ring him up.
‘Good man,’ said French heartily, ‘that’s just what I want. Now about the inquiries along the roads: how will you set about it?’
‘Our own men first, sir. Then coastguards, postmen, ’bus drivers, doctors, the district nurse, workmen cycling home to Redchurch: there are a good many people to ask.’
French was pleased. This Emery was evidently an efficient man. ‘That’s the style, sergeant. Peg away on those lines and you’re bound to get results. You’ll ring me up at the hotel if you’ve any luck?’
French turned away with the man’s cheery ‘Good evening, sir,’ ringing in his ears. There would, he thought, just be time for one more inquiry that night. Returning to the engineers’ hut, he managed to get Parry to agree to his searching Ackerley’s desk. Here, however, he had no luck. There was nothing in it which gave him the least help.
Having called in to tell Rhode the result of his first day’s work, French returned to his hotel to write up his notes and consider his next step.
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