He sat down at the table and shaded his eyes with his hand.
Dr Fell turned from rummaging at the back of the sideboard, where he had found some clean glasses.
'So you feel it too, do you?' he demanded.
'Feel what?' asked the chief inspector. `Here's a bottle nearly full. Make mine strong. ' Feel what?'
`That he's here,' said Dr Fell. 'Driscoll.'
Hadley set down the bottle. 'Don't talk rot,' he said, irritably. `What are you trying to do throw a scare into us? You look as though you were beginning to tell a ghost story.'
`Listen, Hadley. I'm not talking about ghost stories. I' won't even say premonitions. But I'm talking about a wild surmise I had earlier in the evening, when we were talking to Lester Bitton. There was a tiny germ of reason in it, and it frightened me. Possibly it's stronger now because the hour's so late and we're none of us at our brightest…. By God! I'm going to take this drink and several others, because I genuinely need 'em. I advise the rest of you to do the same.'
Rampole felt uneasy. He thought he might look a fool or a coward; the strain of the day had made his thoughts more than a little muddled.
`All: right' he said, `all right. Pour a big one.' He glanced across at Dalrye, who nodded wearily.
'I think I know what you're talking about, Doctor,' Dalrye said, in a low voice. `I know I wasn't here, and I'm not sure, but I still think I know what you mean.'