The astounding import of it drummed through his head like the thunder of mighty waterfalls. It jeered at his credulity, and yet he knew that he must be right. It all fitted in — even if the revelation made him feel as if his mind had been hauled loose from its moorings. He sat in a kind of daze until a knock on the door brought him back to life.
Sentinel's secretary put her head in the door.
"Chief Inspector Teal is here, Mr Sentinel," she said.
"Oh yes." Sentinel stopped in the middle of a sentence. He explained: "Mr Teal made an appointment with me — is he interested in Everill too?"
"Very much," said the Saint. "In fact I was stealing a march on him. If there's any other way I can go out—"
Sentinel stood up.
"Of course — my secretary will show you. I wish we could have a longer talk, Mr Templar. The police are admirable in their way, but in a situation like this—"
He seemed to come to a snap decision. "Look here, could you dine with me tonight?"
"I'd be delighted," said the Saint thoughtfully.
"That's splendid. And then we can go into this thoroughly without any interruptions." Sentinel held out his hand. "Will you come back here at six? I'll drive you out myself — I live out at Bushey Park."