“Right into it,” said Antony.

“Then you’re the man I want. There are all sorts of rumours and mysteries about, and that inspector fellow simply wouldn’t keep to the point when I wanted to ask him about the murder, or whatever it is, but kept asking me questions about where I’d met you first, and all sorts of dull things like that. Now, what really happened?”

Antony told him as concisely as he could all that he had already told the Inspector, Bill interrupting him here and there with appropriate “Good Lords” and whistles.

“I say, it’s a bit of a business, isn’t it? Where do I come in, exactly?”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, everybody else is bundled off except me, and I get put through it by that inspector as if I knew all about it⁠—what’s the idea?”

Antony smiled at him.