"I shall be pleased to receive him," I replied, with dignity.
A minute later Billy was ushered into the room by the constable, who then withdrew, closing the door behind him.
Billy looked round with an expression of mild surprise.
"Hullo, my son!" he observed. "I expected to find you in a dungeon cell. What's the meaning of this magnificence?"
"We try to make prisoners on remand as comfortable as possible," I quoted. "I'm sorry I can't offer you a whisky, but there's some excellent cocoa here, if that's any good."
Billy seated himself on the edge of the table and thrust his hands into his pockets. "Well," he said, "this is rather an unholy mix-up—eh?" Then he looked at the door. "I suppose we've got an audience," he added.
"I expect so," I said, "but it doesn't matter. I'm going to do the George Washington act in any case now. As Northcote's dead, I consider our bargain's at an end."
He nodded. "Of course it is. The only way is to make a clean breast of it. You'll have to have a lawyer or a counsel or whatever they call it over here to put the thing properly. I'd better see about getting one, hadn't I?"
"I've written to Lammersfield," I said, "and asked him to come and see me. I'll wait and hear what he's got to say before I take any further steps."
Billy slapped his leg. "By Jove!" he cried, "that was a sound notion. Nothing like having the Home Secretary behind you. Do you reckon he'll come?"