Uttershaw's finely modeled face was as soberly thoughtful as if he had been concentrating on an ordinary business problem.
"The first time I met you, I was afraid something like this might happen," he said. "You really have been very clever… Of course, when you walked into the Algonquin, with that suitcase I knew you were getting on too well."
"I hoped somebody would think that."
"But I did think I was doing a pretty good job myself."
Simon nodded.
"You were terrific," he said sincerely. "With all the things that must have been skittering about in your mind, it was the coolest job I ever saw. It was quite a bit later when you spoilt it."
"When was that?" asked the other interestedly.
"When you improvised such a wonderful build-up for the Ourleys. It was just a little too pat. It fitted in just a little too neatly. You might have gotten away with just setting the combination, on the bag to open at Ourley's initials — did you pick those for final insurance, or just out of your own sense of humor, by the way?… It doesn't matter. But you were just a little too coy about telling me that Ourley might have had a cosy corner of his own with somebody like Barbara waiting for him. And you were just a little too circumstantial and detailed about giving me the inside dope on the intricacies of the Ourley menage. You bore down too hard on being the impeccable I-don't-want-to-say-this- but guy. But it couldn't possibly have been quite as good as that unless you'd known just a little too much… All those little things, but what a big difference they make."
Uttershaw grimaced ruefully, the gleaming barrel of his gun still drawing a solid and level line at Simon's middle.
"This is an invaluable education," he remarked. "Please don't stop."