‘I don’t think the Scots need to refer to the calendar before they plan a knees-up. And the many-antlered Cernunnos would hardly recognize our friend as an acolyte,’ Joe added since the sergeant seemed to be partial to a bit of northern folklore. ‘Lord! Let’s hope our chap isn’t the bridegroom. What’s his name?’
‘Doesn’t remember his name or his address. Thick accent — we can’t work out a word he’s saying.’
Sandilands put a hand on Lily’s arm. ‘My turn, I think, Wentworth. You have his belongings, sarge?’
The officer produced a shoe box from under the counter. ‘No calling card, I’m afraid, sir, to give us a clue. Let’s see what we have got.’ He muddled through the items, listing them one by one. ‘Just a small amount of cash, a couple of beer mats, a map of London, a used handkerchief, a ticket stub and a sporranful of confetti.’
Joe held back a flash of impatience as he viewed the contents of the box. These clowns had all they needed to hand and had ignored it. He pounced on the ticket. ‘It doesn’t exactly have his address on it, but this ticket was issued in Glasgow. He came down on a return ticket and this is the all-important return half. What time is the next train to Scotland from King’s Cross?’
‘One every hour, on the half-hour, I think.’ The response was subdued as the sergeant took account of the lapse. He hung his head, waiting for the inevitable reprimand.
It didn’t come. The commander’s tone was encouraging. ‘Right. Then our problems are over. There’s one in twenty minutes. Send one of your blokes with him in a taxi to the station. He’s to be sure to put him on the train and watch him disappear.’ He took out another ten-shilling note. ‘This is for the taxi and any other expenses. Now give him his belongings back and get him out of here.’ He looked about him as the sergeant saw to it and commented drily: ‘Not sure I can afford to know you lot much longer.’
‘Peace and quiet comes at a price around here,’ murmured the sergeant.
‘I’m already enjoying my quid’s worth,’ Joe replied as the great door swung closed and everyone listened in relief to nothing but the distant hum of traffic on Piccadilly.
‘Now, to business,’ he went on. ‘Constable Wentworth wishes to cast an eye on the pair arrested in connection with the shooting of Admiral Dedham last night. You still have them here? I left instructions that they were to be handed on to no one else. Come on, man! You have them?’