‘Isn’t it? Well, I got my cigars, and then I went to the Stationmaster’s Office and asked what I should do. It appeared there was a comparatively slow train to Dundee at 8.30, but the next to Montrose was the express at 10.30. Even by taking a car from Dundee this earlier train would not get me to the stables in time for the morning exercise, so I decided my best plan would be to take the 10.30. I then asked about a sleeping berth. But here my luck was out. All those on the 10.30 were engaged. ‘“And what about my things that have gone on in the 7.15?” I asked. ‘“They will be all right,” the clerk answered. “The first stop of both the 7.15 and the 10.30 is Grantham, and I shall wire the agent there to have your things collected from the 7.15 and handed in to you on the 10.30.” ‘This seemed the best arrangement, and I thanked the man, and having telegraphed to the dealer at Montrose, I strolled out of the station, wondering how I could best put in my three hours. ‘More by force of habit than otherwise I took a taxi and drove back to my rooms. But my little adventure had made me restless, and I couldn’t settle down to spend a lonely evening. I would have liked to go to the Follies and see my friend Miss Betty Belcher, but I knew she was acting all the evening except during part of the second act, say from about 9.30 till 10.00. To pass the time till 9.30 I at last decided to go to the Empire. I did so. I left my rooms almost at once, drove to the Empire, sat there for an hour or so, and then went to the Follies. From about 9.30 till 10.00 I sat with Miss Belcher in her room, then when it was nearly time for her to go on again I made my adieux and returned to King’s Cross. I took care not to miss the 10.30, and at Grantham I got out and found a porter looking for me with my things. I duly reached Montrose about half-past eight next morning. So I trust you won’t any longer suspect me of being at Halford.’ Tanner laughed. ‘How was I to know, sir, what you did until you told me? I am very greatly obliged. You have saved me an immensity of useless work.’ Cosgrove Ponson was quite mollified. He seemed like a man from whose shoulders a weight had been removed. He took out his cigar-case. ‘I don’t know if it will confirm my story,’ he said smiling, ‘but I hope in any case you will smoke one of the actual cigars I bought at King’s Cross.’ The Inspector accepted. He asked a few more questions, obtained the name of the Montrose horse-dealer, and then, with further compliments and thanks, took his leave.