"All right," said Danny. "I'll be along right now."
When a portly constable led him into Grant's presence Danny, who was small and slim, indicated the departing one with a backward jerk of the head and a humorous lift of an eyebrow. "It isn't often any one troubles to announce me," he said.
"No," said Grant, smiling, "your presence is usually announced after your departure, isn't it?"
"You're a wit, Inspector. I shouldn't have thought you'd need any one to jog your brains along. You don't think you've got anything on me, do you?"
"Not at all. I thought you might be of some use to me."
"You're certainly flattering." It was impossible to tell when Miller was serious or otherwise.
"Did you ever know by sight a man like this?" While he described in detail the murdered man, Grant's eyes were examining Danny, and his brain was busy with what his eyes saw. Gloves. How could he get the glove off Danny's left hand without deliberately asking for its removal?
When he came to the end of his description, particularized even to the turn-in toe, Danny said politely, "That's the deader from the queue. No, I'm very sorry to disappoint you, Inspector, but I never saw the man in my life."
"Well, I suppose you have no objections to coming with me and having a look at him?"
"Not if it'll set your mind at rest, Inspector. I'll do anything to oblige."