I have the kind of little idea—colossal, stupendous—that always comes sooner or later to Hercule Poirot. But if so—if that’s it—Oh! Lord, I hope I’m in time.”
He raced out of the Park, Albert hard on his heels, inquiring breathlessly as he ran. “What’s up, sir? I don’t understand.”
“That’s all right,” said Tommy. “You’re not supposed to. Hastings never did. If your grey cells weren’t of a very inferior order to mine, what fun do you think I should get out of this game? I’m talking damned rot—but I can’t help it. You’re a good lad, Albert. You know what Tuppence is worth—she’s worth a dozen of you and me.”
Thus talking breathlessly as he ran, Tommy reentered the portals of the Blitz. He caught sight of Evans, and drew him aside with a few hurried words. The two men entered the lift, Albert with them.