‘Who knows?’ said Rocco, twisting his beautiful moustache. ‘That would have depended on several things—on your police, for instance. But probably in the end we should have restored this mortal clay’—again he jerked his elbow—‘to the man’s sorrowing relatives.’
‘Do you know who the relatives are?’
‘Certainly. Don’t you? If you don’t I need only hint that Dimmock had a Prince for his father.’
‘It seems to me,’ said Racksole, with cold sarcasm, ‘that you behaved rather clumsily in choosing this bedroom as the scene of your operations.’
‘Not at all,’ said Rocco. ‘There was no other apartment so suitable in the whole hotel. Who would have guessed that anything was going on here? It was the very place for me.’
‘I guessed,’ said Racksole succinctly.
‘Yes, you guessed, Mr Racksole. But I had not counted on you. You are the only smart man in the business. You are an American citizen, and I hadn’t reckoned to have to deal with that class of person.’
‘Apparently I frightened you this afternoon?’
‘Not in the least.’
‘You were not afraid of a search?’