“I'll ask him,” said Hannasyde.
“You might ask him at the same time whether young Vereker has got himself hanged yet,” recommended the Sergeant.
Mr Giles Carrington did not keep Superintendent Hannasyde waiting for long, He got up from his big, untidy desk as Hannasyde was ushered into his room, and came forward with his hand held out. “Well, this is indeed a pleasant surprise!” he said. “How are you, Hannasyde? Sit down!”
Hannasyde shook hands warmly, and accepted a chair and a cigarette. “How are you, Mr Carrington? And Mrs Carrington?”
“Oh, we're both very fit, thanks!”
“And Mr Vereker? Hemingway—you remember him?—wants to know if he's got himself hanged yet. Those pen-and-ink sketches he did of the police still rankle!”
Giles laughed. “He went abroad immediately the case was over, and I'm happy to be able to tell you that a marriage has now been arranged, and will shortly take place.”
“Miss Rivers? That's splendid. I hope you'll give him my best wishes.”
“I will, with pleasure. If you like to drop in and see us one evening you can give them to him yourself. He's staying with us at the moment.”
“Nothing I'd like better,” said Hannasyde. “But the sight of me might bring up what must be pretty painful recollections, mightn't it?”