“No,” said Tommy. “He’s not a friend of mine, but I happen to know who he is. Name of Reilly.”
“Ah!” said the policeman. “Well, I’d better be getting along.”
“Can you tell me where the White House is?” asked Tommy.
The constable jerked his head sideways.
“This is it. Mrs. Honeycott’s.” He paused, and added evidently with the idea of giving them valuable information: “Nervous party. Always suspecting burglars is around. Always asking me to have a look around the place. Middle-aged women get like that.”
“Middle-aged, eh?” said Tommy. “Do you happen to know if there’s a young lady staying there?”
“A young lady,” said the policeman, ruminating. “A young lady. No, I can’t say I know anything about that.”
“She mayn’t be staying here, Tommy,” said Tuppence. “And anyway, she mayn’t be here yet. She could only have started just before we did.”
“Ah!” said the policeman suddenly. “Now that I call it to mind, a young lady did go in at this gate. I saw her as I was coming up the road. About three or four minutes ago it might be.”
“With ermine furs on?” asked Tuppence eagerly.
“She had some kind of white rabbit round her throat,” admitted the policeman.
Tuppence smiled. The policeman went on in the direction from which they had just come, and they prepared to enter the gate of the White House.