“Knowing your personal character, I doubt if you have communicated the fact of your possessing this evidence to anyone else. I suggest, in your own interests, that before doing so you interview me.”
Kerry thought rapidly, and then:
“I don't say you're right,” he rapped back. “But if I come to see you, I shall leave a sealed statement in possession of the officer in charge here.”
“To this I have no objection,” the guttural voice replied, “but I beg of you to bring the evidence with you.”
“I'm not to be bought,” warned Kerry. “Don't think it and don't suggest it, or when I get to you I'll break you in half.”
His red moustache positively bristled, and he clutched the receiver so tightly that it quivered against his ear.
“You mistake me,” replied the speaker. “My name is Zani Chada. You know where I live. I shall not detain you more than five minutes if you will do me the honour of calling upon me.”
Kerry chewed furiously for ten momentous seconds, then:
“I'll come!” he said.
He replaced the receiver on the hook, and, walking across to the charge desk, took an official form and a pen. On the back of the form he scribbled rapidly, watched with curiosity by the officer in charge.