He laughed on the last word, and the effect of the deep-throated chuckle emerging from that still expressionless face was curiously inhuman.
Abbershaw thrust his hand into his pocket and drew out the red wallet. To his astonishment neither Dawlish nor his two subordinates betrayed any sign of recognition, and with a feeling approaching dismay he realized that this was not what they had visualized as the container of the thing they sought. He opened it, drew out his own papers, and laid the case upon the desk in front of the German.
‘The papers you were looking for were sewn inside the lining of this wallet,’ he said. ‘I ripped them out and destroyed them.’
There was silence for a moment after he had spoken, and Gideon leant forward and picked up the case in his pale, exquisitely tapering fingers.
‘It is too small,’ he pronounced at last, turning to the German.
Dawlish spoke without taking his eyes off Abbershaw. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking.
‘If you are not lying, young man with red hair,’ he said, ‘will you explain to me why you saw fit to destroy the papers that were concealed in that pocket-case? Did you read them?’
‘They were in code,’ said Abbershaw sullenly.
Gideon shot a swift glance at him under his bushy eyebrows, and then turned to Dawlish.
‘Code?’ he said. Still the German did not look at him, but remained staring at Abbershaw unblinkingly.