‘All right, Tom?’

Tom nodded.

‘I saw Inspector Crome himself. The one who’s in charge of the case.’

‘What’s he like?’

‘A bit quiet and lah-di-dah—not my idea of a detective.’

‘That’s Lord Trenchard’s new kind,’ said Lily with respect. ‘Some of them are ever so grand. Well, what did he say?’

Tom gave her a brief résuméof the interview.

‘So they think as it really was him?’

‘They think it might be. Anyway, they’ll come along and ask him a question or two.’

‘Poor Mr Cust.’

‘It’s no good saying poor Mr Cust, my girl. If he’s A B C, he’s committed four terrible murders.’

Lily sighed and shook her head.

‘It does seem awful,’ she observed.

‘Well, now you’re going to come and have a bite of lunch, my girl. Just you think that if we’re right I expect my name will be in the papers!’

‘Oh, Tom, will it?’

‘Rather. And yours, too. And your mother’s. And I dare say you’ll have your picture in it, too.’

‘Oh, Tom.’ Lily squeezed his arm in an ecstasy.

‘And in the meantime what do you say to a bite at the Corner House?’

Lily squeezed tighter.

‘Come on then!’

‘All right—half a minute. I must just telephone from the station.’

‘Who to?’

‘A girl I was going to meet.’

She slipped across the road, and rejoined him three minutes later, looking rather flushed.

‘Now then, Tom.’

She slipped her arm in his.

‘Tell me more about Scotland Yard. You didn’t see the other one there?’

‘What other one?’

‘The Belgian gentleman. The one that A B C writes to always.’

‘No. He wasn’t there.’

‘Well, tell me all about it. What happened when you got inside? Who did you speak to and what did you say?’

II

Mr Cust put the receiver back very gently on the hook.

He turned to where Mrs Marbury was standing in the doorway of the room, clearly devoured with curiosity.

‘Not often you have a telephone call, Mr Cust?’

‘No—er—no, Mrs Marbury. It isn’t.’

‘Not bad news, I trust?’

‘No—no.’ How persistent the woman was. His eyes caught the legend on the newspaper he was carrying.

Births—Marriages—Deaths…

‘My sister’s just had a little boy,’ he blurted out.

He—who had never had a sister!

‘Oh, dear! Now—well, that is nice, I am sure. (“And never once mentioned a sister all these years,” was her inward thought. “If that isn’t just like a man!”) I was surprised, I’ll tell you, when the lady asked to speak to Mr Cust. Just at first I fancied it was my Lily’s voice—something like hers, it was—but haughtier if you know what I mean—sort of high up in the air. Well, Mr Cust, my congratulations, I’m sure. Is it the first one, or have you other little nephews and nieces?’

‘It’s the only one,’ said Mr Cust. ‘The only one I’ve ever had or likely to have, and—er—I think I must go off at once. They—they want me to come. I—I think I can just catch a train if I hurry.’