"Garroway," said Hamilton Beamish, in a quiet, compelling voice, "Mr. Finch is a friend of mine."
"Very well, Mr. Beamish," said the policeman resignedly.
Mrs. Waddington was plucking at her husband's sleeve.
"Sigsbee."
"Hello?"
"Sigsbee, dear, I'm starving. I have had nothing to eat since lunch. There is some wonderful soup in there."
"Let's go," said Sigsbee H. "You coming?" he said to George.
"I thought of taking Molly off somewhere."
"Oh no, do come with us, George," said Mrs. Waddington winningly. She drew closer to him. "George, is it really true that you hit that policeman in the eye?"
"Yes."