A little more than eight months ago.. Rampole looked back on those terrifying scenes in the Hag's Nook, and the twilight by the railway station where Dr Fell had put his hand on the shoulder of Martin Starberth's murderer. Now there were only happiness and Dorothy.
Again the chief inspector smiled faintly. `And you, I believe,' he continued in his deliberate voice, `carried off the young lady. I hear glowing reports of you from Fell… He did rather a brilliant piece of work in that affair,' Hadley added abruptly. `I wonder… '
`Whether he can do it again?'
The other's expression grew quizzical. `Not so fast please. You seem to be scenting crime again.'
`Well, sir, he wrote me a note to meet you here..'
`And,' said Hadley, `you may be right. I have a feeling.' He touched a folded newspaper in his pocket, hesitated and frowned. `Still, I thought that this thing' might be rather more in his line than mine. Bitton appealed to me personally, as a friend, and it's hardly a job for the Yard. I don't want to turn him down. I suppose you've heard of Sir- William Bitton?’
`The collector??
'Ah,' said Hadley, `I fancied you would. Fell said it would be in your line, too. The book-collector, yes, Though I knew him better before he retired from politics.' He glanced at his watch. `He should be here by two o'clock, and so should Fell.'
A thunderous voice boomed, `AHA!' They were conscious of somebody flourishing a cane at them across the room, and of a great bulk filling the stairway to the street. The only other occupants of the room were two business men conversing in low tones in one corner, and they jerked round to stare at the beaming appearance of Gideon Fell.
All the old genial days, all the beer-drinking and fiery moods and table-pounding conversations, beamed back at Rampole in the person of Dr Fell. The American felt like calling for another drink and striking up a song for sheer joyousness. There was the doctor, bigger and stouter than ever. He wheezed. His red face shone, and his small eyes twinkled over eyeglasses on a broad black ribbon. There was a grin under his bandit's moustache, and chuckling upheavals animated his several chins. On his head was the inevitable black shovel hat; his paunch projected from a voluminous black cloak.