In any case, whatever the fugitive’s goal, he would be almost certain to pass through Exeter. It was true he could double back to Plymouth, but the probabilities were he would keep away from the district in which he was known. As Tanner’s train ran into St David’s Station, Exeter, he felt sure his victim was not far before him. A tall efficient looking sergeant of police was waiting on the platform. This man, sharply scrutinising the alighting travellers, promptly fixed on Tanner. ‘Inspector Tanner, sir?’ he questioned, and as the other nodded, continued, ‘they phoned us from Plymouth you were coming through on this train. We have inquiries in hand both here and at Queen Street, the other station. So far we have heard nothing of your man.’ ‘What exactly are you doing?’ ‘We have a man at each station working the staffs—booking-clerks, ticket collectors, porters, refreshment rooms—the usual thing. Another man is going round the hotels, another the restaurants open at that hour, and another the garages, in case he might have gone on by car. Is there any other line you would wish taken up?’ ‘Why no, sergeant. I think you have covered all the ground. Have you advised your men that the fellow got shaved?’ ‘Some of them, sir; some of them we couldn’t get hold of. We advise them as we can get in touch with them.’ Tanner nodded again. ‘Well, we had better go to headquarters and wait for news.’ For a considerable time Tanner remained, chafing and impatient, until, just as eleven was booming from the town clocks, a constable appeared accompanied by a tall, fair-haired young man in a leather coat and breeches, and a peaked cap. The latter explained that he was a taxi owner, driving his own vehicle, and he believed he knew something that might be of value. It appeared that he had been at St David’s Station when Douglas’s train had come in. He was engaged by a small, elderly, clean-shaven man with grey hair, dressed in a tweed overcoat and a cloth cap. The man seemed nervous and excited, and told him to drive to any ready-made clothes store which would be open at that hour. He took him to a shop in the poorer part of the town. The man went in, returning in a few minutes dressed in a soft, grey felt hat and a khaki coloured waterproof, and carrying a bundle. He re-entered the taxi and told the driver ‘Queen Street Station as quick as you can.’ He drove there, and the man paid him and hurried into the station, and that was all he knew. ‘What time did you reach Queen Street?’ asked Tanner. ‘Going on to half-past seven.’ ‘We’d better go to Queen Street and find out what trains leave about that hour.’ Their visitor’s car was waiting outside, and engaging it, they drove rapidly off.