He flung the News away and leaped out of bed.
‘Tink!’ he called as he turned on the bath-water. ‘Tink, never mind breakfast. Get me some coffee.’
‘But you can’t go out on a morning like this with just a cup of—’
‘ Don’t argue! Get me some coffee!’
The water roared into the bath. The liar. The god-damned smooth heartless lime-hogging liar. The vain vicious murdering liar. How had he done it?
By God, he would see that he hanged for this.
‘On what evidence?’ said his inner voice, nasty-polite.
‘You shut up! I’ll get the evidence if I have to discover a whole new continent to find it! “Poor boy! Poor boy!” said he, shaking his head over so sad a fate. Sweet Christ, I’ll hang for him myself if I can’t kill him any other way!’
‘Calm down, calm down. That’s no mood to interview a suspect in.’
‘I’m not interviewing a suspect, blast your police mind. I’m going to tell Heron Lloyd what I think of him. I’m not a police-officer until after I’ve dealt personally with Lloyd.’