“Quite right.”
“I thought as much. 16 Westerham Road, Finsbury Park? Was that it?”
“You’re wrong there,” said Tommy with a smile. “Dead wrong. The Larches, Hampstead.”
Dymchurch seemed honestly taken aback. Clearly he had not expected this.
“I don’t understand it,” he muttered. “It must be a new layout. The Larches, Hampstead, you said?”
“Yes. I’m to meet him there at eleven o’clock tonight.”
“Don’t you do it, sir.”
“There!” burst from Tuppence.
Tommy flushed.
“If you think, Inspector—” he began heatedly.
But the Inspector raised a soothing hand.
“I’ll tell you what I think, Mr. Blunt. The place you want to be at eleven o’clock tonight is here in this office.”
“What?” cried Tuppence, astonished.
“Here in this office. Never mind how I know—departments overlap sometimes—but you got one of those famous ‘Blue’ letters today. Old what’s his name is after that. He lures you up to Hampstead, makes quite sure of your being out of the way, and steps in here at night when all the building is empty and quiet to have a good search round at his leisure.”