“Carter,” said Angel more cautiously still, “are you on for a lark?”
“Like a bird, sir,” said Carter, unconsciously humorous.
“I want a dozen men, the sort of men who won’t talk to reporters, and will remain ‘unofficial’ so long as I want them to be,” said Angel, and he unfolded his plan.
When the younger man had gone Angel drew a triangle on the blotting-pad.
“Spedding is in with the ‘Borough Lot,’” he put a cross against one angle. “Spedding knows I know,” he put a cross at the apex. “I know that Spedding knows I know,” he marked the remaining angle. “It’s Spedding’s move, and he’ll move damn quick.”
The Assistant-Commissioner came into the room at that moment.
“Hullo, Angel!” he said, glancing at the figures on the pad. “What’s this, a new game?”
“It’s an old game,” said Angel truthfully, “but played in an entirely new way.”
Angel was not far wrong when he surmised that Spedding’s move would be immediate, and although the detective had reckoned without an unknown factor, in the person of old George, yet a variety of circumstances combined to precipitate the act that Angel anticipated.