"Anything to report, Sowerby?" asked Dunbar.
"Yes, Inspector," replied Sowerby, in his Police Court manner;—he faced the Assistant Commissioner, "with your permission, sir."
He took out a note-book which appeared to be the twin of Dunbar's and consulted it, assuming an expression of profound reflection.
"In the first place, sir," he began, never raising his eyes from the page, "I have traced the cab sold on the hire-purchase system to a certain Charles Mallett…"
"Ha, ha!" laughed Max breezily—"he calls me a hammer! It is not Mallett, Sergeant Sowerby—you have got too many l's in that name; it is Malet and is called like one from the Malay States!"
"Oh," commented Sowerby, glancing up—"indeed. Very good, sir. The owner claims the balance of purchase money!"
Every one laughed at that, even the satanic Assistant Commissioner.
"Pay your debts, M. Max," he said. "You will bring the Service de
Surete into bad repute! Carry on, Sergeant."
"This cab," continued Sowerby, when Dunbar interrupted him.
"Cut out the part about the cab, Sowerby," he said. "We've found that out from M. Max. Have you anything to report about the yellow car?"