Sergeant Hemingway, a brisk person with a pair of bright eyes and an engaging smile, who had been waiting for his chief outside the gate, fell into step beside him, and said cheerfully: “I'll tell you something, Super. We aren't going to like this case, not by a long chalk. You know what it smelt like in the servants' quarters? Pea-soup!”
The Inspector, who was not acquainted with Hemingway, looked a little puzzled, and said: “Eh?”
“Figure of speech,” explained the Sergeant “Get anything your end, Super?”
“Not much,” replied Hannasyde. “It's early yet.”
“Early or late I don't like poisoning cases,” said the Sergeant. “Give me a nice clean bullet-wound where I've got something to go on, and not too many doctors to mess the case up disagreeing with one another! Ever handled a case of nicotine-poisoning before, Inspector?”
“No, I can't say I have,” admitted the Inspector.
“If I know anything about it you won't want to handle another by the time we're through with this,” prophesied the Sergeant. “Nor me either. The Superintendent here doesn't believe in premonitions, but I've got one right now.”
“You've had them before,” remarked Hannasyde unkindly.
“I won't say I haven't,” replied the Sergeant, quite unabashed. “This case remind you of anything, Super?”
“No,” said Hannasyde. “But you'd better tell me, and get it off your chest. What does it remind you of?”