“Oh, I know,” agreed Henry. “The rest of us are all quite prepared for the dawn to rise on our lies and evasions.”
“I hope not,” said Alleyn.
“Actually we are a truthful family, only the things that happen to us are so peculiar that nobody ever believes in them. Still, I expect you’ve got a sort of winnowing ear for people’s testimonies and will know in a flash if we try any hanky-panky.”
“I expect so,” agreed Alleyn gravely. From the shadow of the lift Henry seemed to look solemnly at him.
“Yes,” he said. “I’m afraid I expect so too. My father suggested that you ought to be offered a drink and some sandwiches but the rest of us knew you wouldn’t break bread with suspected persons. Or is that only in books? Anyway, sir, if you would like us to send something out here or if you would like to join us for a drink, we do hope you will.”
“That’s very kind of you,” said Alleyn, “but we don’t on duty.”
“Or if there’s anything at all that we can do.”
“I don’t think there’s anything at the moment. Oh, as you’re here, I may as well ask you. Who is the owner of those gloves?”
“What gloves?” Henry’s voice sounded blank.
“A pair of heavy driving gloves with stiff gauntlets.”