“Quite so,” said Sir Clinton soothingly. “You were in a blue funk. We quite understand. An alarming situation. And what happened after that?”
“I ran out into the Maze. Luckily I’d spotted where the fellow was. He was at the same loophole that he’d used when he killed Roger. Oh, I had all my wits about me; I was really very cool, considering the state of affairs.”
“And then?”
“Then I ran through the Maze as hard as I could. Such a time! Fancy having the fellow after me with those darts!”
“He followed you, then?”
“It would be what he would do, wouldn’t it?”
“You mean that you didn’t actually hear him?”
“No, I didn’t hear him. I didn’t wait to hear anything. I was so busy getting out of the Maze. Of course, I know the Maze well, but it’s difficult to keep your head in a case like that, very difficult. But I did it,” he ended proudly. “I got away from the fellow. Never as much as saw him.”
His glasses slipped off again in the excitement of his peroration; and he adjusted them painfully.
“These things do give one a lot of bother,” he complained. “I expect it’s the perspiration on my nose, with all that running. I haven’t run for years.”