“The worst of being a policeman is that you’re always on duty,” he said during the meal. “I suppose you’re storing every scrap of talk in your mind, in case you have to use it.”
Dick folded a thin slice of bread and butter very deliberately before he replied.
“I have certainly a good memory,” he said. “It helps me to forget. It also helps me keep silent in circumstances which are very difficult and trying.”
Suddenly Ray spun round in his chair.
“I told you he was on duty!” he cried triumphantly. “Look! There’s the chief of the spy corps! The faithful Elk!”
Dick looked in astonishment. He had left Elk on the point of going north to follow up a new Frog clue that had come to light. And there he was, his hands resting on the gate, his chin on his chest, gazing mournfully over his glasses at the group.
“Can I come in, Mr. Bennett?”
John Bennett, alert and watchful, beckoned.
“Happened to be round about here, so I thought I’d call. Good afternoon, miss—good afternoon, Mr. Johnson.”
“Give Sergeant Elk your chair,” growled John Bennett, and his son rose with a scowl.