"Get that address in London, somehow."
"Phooey!" exploded Sir Henry Merrivale.
It was such a bellow that they all were touched by it except Stannard. Ever since that remark about Martin rushing across the road after Ruth, Stannard had been faintly smiling. Sir Henry Merrivale was standing behind the desk, surveying the quill pen with its blue feather. Ricky went over to him.
"Look, sir." He spoke with directness. "There's a lot more going on here than most of us can understand. Can you help?"
"Well, son, that's just what I was goin' to tell you." H.M. raised his head and spoke with the same directness. "Across the road," he indicated, "there's a snake named Masters. Chief Inspector Masters."
"Yes. I heard my gov — my father's death was being investigated again. It's my mother I’m.. ’ H.M. shook his head.
"Masters wont bother your mother, son. He thinks it's all eyewash. I'm the one who believes there was hokey-pokey."
"It's a funny thing." Ricky had the same, desperately undecided look. "Today I was giving Jenny and Martin here my personal reminiscences of what happened on the day of— well, the day it happened."
H.M.’s interests quickened, "So? You remember it?"
"Very plainly; but by fits and starts. Anyway, in telling them, I had just got to the point where Miss Upton and I came round, the side of the house and saw him lying there with the tapestry-piece over his head. Then, as I told them, we started back. And I looked up at a window, the upstairs window on the first floor just to the right of the front door."