"Did you learn this from the Guides?" he asked, nodding at her occupation.
"Oh, no. They burn paper and smell salts and things. I learned this in Bradford Pete's dressing room."
"Where?"
"You know. The welterweight. I used to have great faith in Pete, but I think he's lost his speed lately. Don't you? At least, I hope it's his speed. He's coming to nicely." This last referred to Tisdall. "I think he'd swallow the brandy now."
While Grant was administering the brandy, she said: "Have you been giving him the third degree, or something? You're police aren't you?"
"My dear young lady — I don't know your name?"
"Erica. I'm Erica Burgoyne."
"My dear Miss Burgoyne, as the Chief Constable's daughter you must be aware that the only people in Britain who are subjected to the third degree are the police."
"Well, what did he faint for? Is he guilty?"
"I don't know," Grant said, before he thought.