“He always was. I can't rise to those affectionate heights, but tell him I congratulate him on not being dead. Where did he spring from?”
“South America, I suppose. I didn't ask. Anyway, he landed yesterday. Do come round!”
“I can't do any good if I do, Tony; but I'll look in after dinner, if you like.”
With this she had to be content. At the other end of the telephone Giles Carrington sat for a moment after he had laid down the receiver, thinking. Then, with a faint smile hovering about his mouth, he picked up the receiver again, and rang up Scotland Yard.
Superintendent Hannasyde was still in the building, and after a few minutes Giles was put through to him.
“Is that you, Hannasyde?”
“It is,” replied the Superintendent.
“Do you remember, I wonder, that I prophesied something unexpected would turn up?”
“I do.” The Superintendent's voice quickened with interest.
“Well, I thought perhaps you'd like to know that it has,” said Giles. “Roger Vereker has come home.”