«Yes — poor devil. They've had him up on the mat at headquarters for bungling the case. All that evidence of Thipps's about the night club was corroborated, you know. That girl he gave the gin-and-bitters to was caught, and came and identified him, and they decided their case wasn't good enough, and let Thipps and the Horrocks girl go. Then they told Sugg he had overstepped his duty and ought to have been more careful. So he ought, but he can't help being a fool. I was sorry for him. It may do him some good to be in at the death. After all, Peter, you and I had special advantages.»
«Yes. Well, it doesn't matter. Whoever goes won't get there in time. Sugg's as good as another.»
But Sugg — an experience rare in his career — was in time.
Parker and Lord Peter were at 110 Piccadilly. Lord Peter was playing Bach and Parker was reading Origen when Sugg was announced.
«We've got our man, sir,» said he.
«Good God!» said Peter. «Alive?»
«We were just in time, my lord. We rang the bell and marched straight up past his man to the library. He was sitting there doing some writing. When we came in, he made a grab for his hypodermic, but we were too quick for him, my lord. We didn't mean to let him slip through our hands, having got so far. We searched him thoroughly and marched him off.»
«He is actually in gaol, then?»
«Oh, yes — safe enough — with two warders to see he doesn't make away with himself.»
«You surprise me, Inspector. Have a drink.»