"Puppies?" Grant smiled.
"Don't know. Probably. Never a moment in the year, it seems to me, when there isn't a litter of sort at Steynes. Here is your excellent substitute. Good evening, Sergeant."
"Good evening, sir," said Williams, rosily pink from his high tea.
"I'm taking Inspector Grant home to dinner with me."
"Very glad, sir. It'll do the Inspector good to eat a proper meal."
"That's my telephone number, in case you want him."
Grant's smile broadened as he watched the spirit that won the empire in full blast. He was very tired. The week had been a long purgatory. The thought of sitting down to a meal in a quiet room among leisured people was like regaining some happier sphere of existence that he had known a long time ago and half-forgotten about.
Automatically he put together the papers on the desk.
"To quote one of Sergeant Williams's favorite sayings: 'As a detective I'm a grand farmer. Thank you, I'd like to come to dinner. Kind of Miss Erica to think of me." He reached for his hat.
"Thinks a lot of you, Erica. Not impressionable as a rule. But you are the big chief, it seems."