Johnson Lee sat back in his chair.
“Half-past six? He should have been here by now.”
“How far away does he live?”
“About fifteen miles. I thought he might have come down from London rather late. That is extraordinary.”
“He may have had tyre trouble,” said Leon, not shifting his fixed stare.
“He could have telephoned.”
“Did anybody know he was coming—anybody outside your own household?” asked Gonsalez.
The blind man hesitated.
“Yes, I mentioned the fact to the post office this morning. I went in to get my letters, and found that one I had written to Mr. Poole had been returned through a stupid mistake on my part. I told the postmaster that he was coming this evening and that there was no need to forward it.”
“You were in the public part of the post office?”