"And moreover, time was precious to him," Grant pointed out. "There were only a few days left. The tenancy of the cottage expired at the end of the month. He knew that. She might not go bathing again. The weather might break, or she might be seized with a desire to go inland. More especially she might not go swimming in the early morning again. It was an ideal setting: a lonely beach in the very early morning, with the mist just rising. Too perfect a chance to let go to waste."
Yes, it was a good case. Edward Champneis went back to the house in Regent's Park which he had inherited with the Bremer fortune, and which between his peregrinations he called home. And Grant went down to Westover with a warrant in his pocket.
Chapter 9
If there was one thing Toselli hated more than another it was the police. All his life he had been no poor hater, Toselli. As commis he had hated the maitre maitre d'hôtel, as maitre d'hôtel he had hated the management, as the management he hated many things: the chef, wet weather, his wife, the head porter's mustache, clients who demanded to see him at breakfast time — oh, many things! But more than all he hated the police. They were bad for business and bad for the digestion. It stopped his digestive juices flowing just to see one of them walk in through the glass doors. It was bad enough to remember his annual bill for New Year «presents» to the local officers — thirty bottles of Scotch, thirty of gin, two dozen champagne, and six of liqueur brandy it had come to last year — but to suffer the invasion of officers not so far "looked after," and therefore callous to the brittle delicacy of hotel well-being — well, it was more than Toselli's abundant flesh and high-pressured blood could stand.
That is why he smiled so sweetly upon Grant — all his life Toselli's smile had been stretched across his rage, like a tight-rope spanning a chasm — and gave him one of the second-best cigars. Inspector Grant wanted to interview the new waiter, did he? But certainly! This was the waiter's hour off — between lunch and afternoon tea — but he should be sent for immediately.
"Stop!" said Grant. "You say the man is off duty? Do you know where he will be?"
"Very probably in his room. Waiters like to take the weight off their feet for a little, you understand."
"I'd like to see him there."
"But certainly. Tony!" Toselli called to a page passing the office door. "Take this gentleman up to the room of the new waiter."
"Thank you," Grant said. "You'll be here when I come down? I should like to talk to you."