From where he sat, nearly a hundred yards away from the Duke’s Steps, it was only with difficulty that he could make out the figures of the two detectives; it might be darker now than it was at 6.30 p. m. on the 24th October, but Poole doubted whether the visibility was much worse, especially as there were no other foot-passengers about to distract the eye. He could just see them as they approached the Mall and at what he considered the appropriate moment, he gave an order to the driver of his car. Acting under previous directions, the man drove slowly to the point where the two detectives were crossing and, as they left the island, pulled in as close behind them as he could, without obviously checking speed or altering direction. As the car passed behind them Poole leant out of the left-hand window and jabbed fiercely at Rawton’s back with his stick. The point of it just reached Rawton, brushing against his right shoulder—Poole cursed himself for his bad aim. “Pull up, Frinton,” he said. “You’ll have to get closer than that—I only just reached him—no force in the blow at all.” “Don’t think I can get much closer, sir, without hitting them. You see, my bonnet’s got to clear them first and by the time the window’s behind them they must have taken at least another pace. Any closer would have made them think they were going to be run over and they’d have skipped.” “It was all pretty obvious, Inspector,” said Sergeant Gower, who had come up. “I can’t believe the gentleman I’m supposed to be impersonating wouldn’t have noticed something odd. The car was going much slower than is natural—unless there’s traffic to check it, which I gather there wasn’t—and even so I thought it would run into them. Seems to me Frinton drove very well and that even so it was obvious.” “And even so I didn’t hit Rawton,” added Poole, frowning. “I may have to get hold of Smythe and find out if he remembers anything definite about the pace of the car. Meantime, we’ll try it again. Gower, you get in the car; go a shade faster, Frinton, and see if you can get any nearer. I’ll watch.” The reconstruction was repeated; Frinton drove faster and with great skill, missing the two detectives so narrowly that Sergeant Gower, leaning well out of the window, was able to reach Rawton with the point of the stick; the blow, however, was a glancing one, and did not hurt him. “Bad shot, I’m afraid, sir,” said the sergeant, getting out of the car. “It isn’t easy to make a good one at that pace.” “I thought he was going to knock us over,” said Rawton. “Made me jump it would, if I hadn’t known Frinton.” “Ay, an’ I saw the Sairgint from the corner of me oye,” interrupted Kelly. “Lanin’ that far out av the car y’r little man was bound to shpot him.” “Hessel was, you mean?” “Ay, him.” “I’ll be Hessel this time then,” said Poole. “Repeat.”