Fortunately, the night was calm and the boat was not crowded, so that the detectives were able to get berths and a sleep to prepare them for their toils on the following day. They reached Havre on time, and jumping into a taxi were driven to the berth of the _Enoch_, which was some distance down the docks. French hurried on board and asked to see the Captain, while Carter remained at the gangway lest the quarry, seeing French and knowing his appearance, might take fright and attempt to slip ashore. Captain Davis saw French immediately. “Sit down, Mr. French,” he said pleasantly when he had examined the other’s credentials, “and let me know what I can do for you.” French took the proffered seat as he drew from his pocket Mrs. Vane’s photograph as well as her description and that of her husband. “I’ll tell you, Captain,” he answered. “I’m after a man and woman who are wanted for murder and robbery. They call themselves Mr. and Mrs. Vane, though I don’t know if this is their real name or even if they are married. I have learned that they booked with you from Liverpool to Manáos, but I only found that out last night, so I came over by Southampton in the hope of making an arrest. There,” he passed over his photograph and papers, “are the descriptions.” The Captain glanced at him as he took the papers. He did not speak until he had looked through the latter, then he said gravely: “I’m afraid, Mr. French, they’ve been one too many for you this time. A Mr. and Mrs. Vane did book passages and even came on board at Liverpool, but they left the ship almost immediately and didn’t turn up again. I assumed that some accident had prevented their return, and that they would follow by Southampton as you did, but from what you tell me it looks as if they had learned you were on their track and made a bolt for it. But we had better see the purser. He will tell us details.” French was aghast. Once again had happened to him what he had so often previously experienced. When he was most sure of himself and most confident of success, that was the time of failure! How often had he taken a sporting chance, doubtful of himself and his ability to meet a situation, and the occasion had resulted in a brilliant coup. And how often, alas, had his certainty of success ended in disaster! By the time the purser arrived, he had to some extent recovered his equanimity. “Mr. Jennings—Inspector French of the C.I.D.,” the Captain introduced them. “Sit down, Jennings, and hear what the Inspector wants. It’s about that Mr. and Mrs. Vane that came aboard at Liverpool and left again before we sailed. Ask him what you want to know, Mr. French.” Mr. Jennings was a shrewd, efficient-looking man of about forty, and as French began to speak he felt a comfortable assurance that at least he would receive in answer to his questions concisely-worded statements of accurately observed facts.