"I think so, Billy," I said complacently.
"Have you heard anything fresh about the facts?" he asked. "Who the devil put it across Prado, and how did the police get on to your track?"
"I think it must have been Da Costa," I answered, "but we shall know more about it before very long. I'm due to meet the magistrate at eleven."
Billy looked at his watch. "Eleven, is it?" he said. "I ought to be going, then. I've promised to call for your girl and take her to the court."
"Mercia!" I exclaimed. "Does she know?"
"Yes," said Billy. "I told her this morning when she rang up. Was that wrong?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "Lord, no," I said. "She'd have heard all about it by midday in any case. The papers will be shrieking themselves purple. The only thing is that I don't want her name dragged in if I can help it."
"Well, she'd have to come to court in any case," said Billy, "so I thought I might as well take her, and let her know the real truth right away. It'll save her a lot of worry."
I held out my hand. "Billy," I said, "you're a brick."
He gave me a vigorous grip, and jumped down off the table.