‘Well – er – no,’ said the irrepressible young man. ‘But,’ he added, dropping his voice a tone, ‘my own is rather aristocratic, and I never use it in business. Campion will do quite well.’
Abbershaw smiled in spite of himself.
‘Very well, then, Mr Campion,’ he said, ‘as I remarked before, you know something about this business, and you’re going to tell us here and now. But my dear lad, consider,’ he went on as the other hesitated, ‘we’re all in the same boat. You, I presume, are as anxious to get away as anyone. And whereas I am intensely interested in bringing Dawlish and his confederates to justice, there is no other delinquency that I am concerned with. I am not a policeman.’
Mr Campion beamed. ‘Is that so?’ he inquired.
‘Certainly it is,’ said Abbershaw. ‘I am a consultant only as far as the Yard is concerned.’
Mr Campion looked vastly relieved.
‘That’s rather cheered me up,’ he said. ‘I liked you. When I saw you pottering with your car I thought, “There’s a little joss who might be quite good fun if he once got off the lead”, and when you mentioned Scotland Yard just now all that good impression just faded away.’
He paused, and Abbershaw cut in quickly.
‘This doesn’t get us very far,’ he said quietly, ‘does it? You know the explanation of this extraordinary outrage. Let’s have it.’
Mr Campion regarded him frankly.