The fair-haired girl pressed her hands still harder over her face, and began to rock back and forth.
The pipe-smoking young man preserved the gravity of a Spanish grandee as he continued to make notes.
" 'Stolen his watch…'?" he prompted, as H.M. paused. "Yes?"
H.M. pondered deeply before resuming.
And Chief Inspector Masters walked up the lawn, removing his hat.
"Ah, sir!" he said.
"So it's you," said H.M., breaking off and squinting round evilly over the putter.
"Yes, sir, it's me. And," said Masters grimly, "you don't need to tell me. I know. We're in it again. Another impossible situation. And you deliberately had me sent for."
"You sit down and be quiet," said H.M. sternly. "I've got another chapter to dictate before I can talk to you. Making..?"
He looked round inquiringly at the note-taker.