“That he used to be Guzmann’s personal assistant.”

“He did? Very interesting. No hope of tripping up Guzmann himself—”

“But no harm in trying. The Hampstead people—how odd, to know largely who they are.”

“They’re odd, if you ask me. Not quite the thing, as the old bird would say.”

“Who? Oh, Majendie. Do you know what he called your flash? A Verey light.”

“Distinctly passé.”

“At least it’s honourably passé. Anyone who’s tasted trench warfare has a right to have spent the rest of his life in a jewel box. Besides, he came through that episode in the car with colours flying, and look how he’s borne up since. So less of the old bird, Beddoes.”

“But that reminds me—you’ve heard that this wasn’t the usual exit for the stuff—sorry, the stolen property?”

“No?”

“The man in the van told me. By the way, I suppose you have sent home to get them to see to Kellett’s? All right, I only asked. Well, the heli was a last resort, to clear it as quick as poss in view of dangerous complications. I suppose they meant Mrs. Karukhin. As a rule they go by discreeter channels.”

“They’d have done better to stick to them,” said Brett. “I’m sure it wasn’t for want of advice from Wacey.”

“He skipped off, I gather. Sauve qui peut. Not the philosophy of Ivan the Terrible—no, can’t very well call him that since he’s donned his halo. Strange! Blood of the Boyars, I suppose, and so on. Well, no again, because I think they were a shower, mostly. How did he manage to get to your car without being stopped either by them or by us?”

“You forget his capacity for being overlooked—and underestimated. Besides, how he came is nothing to why. Can you make smoke rings to order, Beddoes, or are they quite fortuitous?”

“Just a chance. You haven’t seen Ivan since they locked him in?” said Beddoes slowly.

Brett shook his head.

“Oh. They asked him that. He said he went back because he had a friend in that car.”

“But he’d never set eyes on any of us till today! Good God!” Brett jumped out of his chair. “Surely we’re not going to have to start thinking about Majendie again?”

“Oh, boil, bake and fry me slowly!” said Beddoes. “Sometimes I wonder—” He stopped, sighed ostentatiously, and shook his head.

“What?” said Brett. “Well, what did he mean by it?”

“Forget it. He’s not too bright, after all. And you know the old bird—Mr. Majendie’s really all right, don’t you? Well, stop worrying. More to the point,” said Beddoes with a sly look, “to ask why he decided to give himself up. After all, to face a murder charge is no sneezing matter.”

“Ivan may get off with manslaughter. I think he should.”