Poole had no difficulty in explaining what had occurred and his ample apologies soon elicited the sympathy and help of his former pursuers. Exhaustive enquiries established the probable identity of the taxi—which had been noticed waiting for fares—and, after taking its number, and the name of its driver (an habitué of the station rank) Poole started to walk back to Scotland Yard. Inez Fratten had not appeared and it was clear that the sudden move of the quarry had been too quick for her; she would probably get out at Westminster or St. James’s Park and go either to Scotland Yard or to her own home—there was no point in Poole’s searching for her. The detective felt thoroughly displeased with himself; he had got a sight of two, if not three, people whose whereabouts ought to be known to the police and he had allowed all three to escape him; following his double rebuke from Barrod earlier in the day this, unless it could be quickly remedied—he was too honest a man to conceal it—would be serious for him. Having decided to make a clean breast of his failure to his superior, Poole was none the less sensibly relieved to discover that Chief Inspector Barrod had already gone home; something might be done during the remainder of the evening to restore the situation. In the first place, he set in motion machinery to trace the taxi which had just picked up Miss Saverel and her friend at Charing Cross Underground Station—a very simple matter in view of his probable knowledge of the driver’s identity. He found plenty else to keep him busy. The plain-clothes man he had put on to watch Hessel had returned; Poole sent for him and learnt that the man had established beyond reasonable doubt that the banker was right-handed; he had seen Hessel use his right hand to blow his nose, use his latch-key, light a match, carry an umbrella—more important still, change the umbrella into his left hand in order to use his right for picking up a fallen handbag; he had not seen him use his left hand for any active purpose. It was not conclusive evidence, but it was convincing. Following on the heels of the plain-clothes man came the Park-keeper, Blossom. P. C. Lolling had told him to report to Inspector Poole at Scotland Yard as soon as he came off duty, and though he doubted whether he was under any obligation to do so, Blossom was too deeply interested in the case to stand on his dignity. Poole explained to him something—not all—of his theory of a waiting motor-car and was at once rewarded by a definite response.