Hannasyde stretched his hand out across the table, and gripped Giles Carrington's. “Splendid!” he said. “Many congratulations! Yes, come in, Sergeant; while we've been chasing red-herrings, Mr Carrington has solved our case for us. We shall have to let Mr Vereker go after all!”
“Let him go?” said Hemingway. “You'll have a job to make him go. The last I saw of him he was asking what they'd charge for board-residence till he's finished a set of the most shocking pictures you ever laid eyes on. Portraits of the Police, he calls them. Libels, I call them. Are we going to make an arrest, Super?”
“Yes, thanks to Mr Carrington. Just take down the addresses he's got for us, will you?”
The Sergeant drew out his notebook and opened it, and moistening the tip of his pencil, looked at Giles, waiting for him to begin.