Champneis paused with the sugar poised. He looked both surprised and amused and — somehow — admiring.
"He is with friends of Harmer's, near Tunbridge Wells."
"May I have the exact address?"
Champneis gave it, and also gave Grant his tea. "Why do you want Rimnik?"
"Because he is in this country without a passport — thanks to you!"
"He was. The office issued him a landing permit this morning. It took a lot of eloquence — Britain the lover of justice, the defender of the persecuted, the home of the righteous homeless: all that stuff — but it worked. Chests still swell in Whitehall, do you know? They were like a collection of pouter pigeons when I finished."
He looked at the Inspector's disapproving face. "I didn't know that that little business had been a worry to you."
"Worry!" Grant burst out. "It nearly ruined everything. You and Harmer both lying about what you had done that night — " He found that he was treading on delicate ground and pulled himself up.
But Champneis had understood. "I really am sorry, Inspector. Are you going to arrest me? Can one be arrested retrospectively, so to speak?"
"I don't think so. I shall have to inquire about it. It would give me great pleasure." Grant had recovered his temper.