"Indeed," he said grimly. "I thought you had met Mr. Foyle. In fact, I believe that he afforded you some opportunity of seeing a portion of the workings of our police system. Do you smoke? May I offer you a cigarette?"
She selected one daintily.
"Thank you. But that was different. I don't think it quite nice of you to refer to it. It was all a mistake.
Mr. Foyle will tell you so, if you ask him. Do detectives often make mistakes?"
Her air of refreshing innocence tickled Blake. He laughed.
"Sometimes," he admitted. "I made a mistake just now in coming on this train alone."
She laughed musically in pure amusement.
"I believe the man is afraid of me," she said, addressing the ceiling. Then more directly, "Why, what harm could a poor creature like myself do to a great stalwart man like you? I should have thought you'd greater sense."
"Common sense is my strong point," he parried.
"And therefore you are afraid," she laughed. "Come—Mr.—Mr.——"