"It's the fine tale ye're spoiling," he complained.
"But just tell me that," I pleaded.
"They did not," he answered with ill-concealed disgust. "Unless ye'd be calling a printer's devil one of God's fine men and women. But the polis...."
I hurried down the steps and jumped into a taxi. I thought first of calling to warn them at Chester Square. Then I decided to communicate by telephone. If Joyce had not already been arrested, and if I was to be of any assistance later on, I could not afford to be discovered in the incriminating neighbourhood of her house.
I gave the Seraph the heads of my story as I looked up the number and waited for my call.
"You're through," the Exchange told me after an interminable delay.
"Hallo, hallo!" I kept calling, for what seemed like half an hour. "Will you give another ring, please, Exchange?"
A further age dragged its course, and I was told that there did not seem to be any one at the other end.
"Now will you tell me what we're to do, Seraph?" I exclaimed.
We sat and stared at each other for the best part of five minutes. Then the decision was taken out of our hands. I saw him prick up his ears to catch a sound too faint for my grosser senses.