Accordingly, when the business of the inquest was over and he was once more free, he returned to the railway station at Halford. Here he was able after careful inquiries to confirm the statement made by Innes, the valet, as to the trains Sir William had travelled by on the two days. He went himself to town by the 4.32, determined that on Monday morning he would try to pick up the trail at St Pancras. But before Monday morning his thoughts were running in an entirely different channel. He had gone home on Sunday determined to enjoy a holiday. But Fate ruled otherwise. The grilling afternoon had hardly drawn to a close when a note was sent him from the Yard. It read: ‘_Re_ Ponson Case.—Halford sergeant phones important information come to hand. You are wanted to return immediately.’ Tanner caught the 7.30 train, and before nine was seated in the Halford Police Station, hearing the news. The sergeant was bubbling over with importance and excitement, and told his story with an air of thrilled impressiveness which considerably irritated his hearer. ‘About four o’clock this afternoon a young woman came to the station and asked for me,’ he began. ‘She was a good-looking girl of about five-and-twenty. She gave her name as Lucy Penrose, and said she was typist and bookkeeper in Smithson’s, the grocer’s in Abbey Street. I didn’t know her, and she explained that she lived three miles out in the country, and had only got this job since the beginning of the month. Then she said she had just read about the inquest in the evening paper, and that she knew something she thought she ought to tell.’ The sergeant paused, evidently delighted with the attention the London officer was giving him. ‘She said,’ he went on after a moment, ‘that about half-past nine on the Wednesday evening of the murder, she and a young man called Herbert Potts were walking in the spinney belonging to Dr Graham, on the left bank of the river, and just opposite the Luce Manor boathouse. They saw a boat coming down the river with a man in it. He stopped at the boathouse, and seemed to try the water gate, but apparently couldn’t get in, for after a moment he pulled on to the steps and went ashore, making the boat fast. In a couple of minutes he came back with another man and got in the boat again, and then went in through the water gate. The other man stood on the steps and watched him, and then he went round seemingly to the door of the boathouse. That was all they saw, but, sir, they knew the men.’ Again the sergeant paused to heighten his effect. ‘Get on, man. Don’t be so darned dramatic,’ growled Tanner irritably. ‘Who were they?’ ‘Mr Austin Ponson and Sir William!’ The sergeant reached his climax with an air of triumph. Tanner was genuinely surprised. ‘Couldn’t have been,’ he said after a moment. ‘I went into all that. Mr Austin was half-way to the Abbey ruins at that time.’ ‘She was quite certain, and she said the man Potts was certain too.’ ‘Have you seen him?’