"Haven't you heard about me?" he said. "I do these tricks for my living."
"Of course," she said. "I always knew you were supposed to be frightfully clever, but I didn't really believe you were as clever as all that… Oh well, we live and learn, and anyhow you haven't got it all your own way. I think I was pretty clever myself, the way I got away from your house. I worked it all out before I went to bed last night. Don't you think it was clever of me?"
"Very clever," he agreed. "But you see it was just the way I expected you to be clever."
She stared at him.
"The way you…"
"Yes."
"But you don't mean you—"
"Naturally," he lied calmly. "I knew that if you got away, the first thing you'd do would be to get hold of those papers, wherever you'd left them. I wanted to know where they were, and I didn't want to have to beat it out of you. So I just let you get away and fetch them for me."
"I don't believe you!"
"Would you like me to tell you all about it? I was behind you all the time. You picked up the ticket at the South Kensington post office, and then you went on and collected the package from the checkroom at Paddington. You took the first train down here, and you were driven up from the station by a bloke with no roof to his mouth and one of the oldest taxis on the road. Does that help?"