"Not now!" Helen said. "This is too awful. I only feel sick, and - and desperate!"
"Take some bicarbonate," he advised. "Meanwhile, I'm going home to bed. Oh, did I say thank you for the cigarettes? By the way, where is John supposed to be?"
"In Berlin," replied Helen listlessly.
"Well, he isn't," said Neville. "I saw him in London today."
She came to her feet in one swift movement, paperwhite, staring at him. "You couldn't have! I know he's in Berlin!"
"Yes, I saw him," murmured Neville.
He was by the window, a hand on the curtain. Helen moved quickly to detain him. "You thought you saw him! Do you imagine I don't know where my own husband is?"
"Oh, no!" Neville said gently. "I didn't say that, precious."
Chapter Three
Well, it doesn't look such a whale of a case to me," said Sergeant Hemingway, handing the sheaf of typescript back to his superior. "No one in it but the one man, on the face of it."