She looked at me, a queer light in her brilliant blue eyes.
"You'll get that from your father," she said.
I had told Sophia in Cairo that my father was Assistant Commissioner of Scotland Yard.
He still held that office.
At her words, I felt a cold weight settling down on me.
"It's as bad as that, then?"
"I think so.
Do you see a man sitting at a table by the door all alone - rather a nice-looking stolid ex-Army type?"
"Yes."
"He was on Swinly Dean platform this evening when I got into the train."
"You mean he's followed you here?"
"Yes.
I think we're all - how does one put it? - under observation.
They more or less hinted that we'd all better not leave the house.
But I was determined to see you." Her small square chin shot out pugnaciously. "I got out of the bathroom window and shinned down the water pipe."
"Darling!"
"But the police are very efficient.
And of course there was the telegram I sent you. Well - never mind - we're here - together... But from now on, we've both got to play a lone hand." She paused and then added: "Unfortunately - there's no doubt - about our loving each other."
"No doubt at all," I said. "And don't say unfortunately.
You and I have survived a world war, we've had plenty of near escapes from sudden death - and I don't see why the sudden death of just one old man - how old was he, by the way?"
"Eighty five."
"Of course.
It was in the Times.
If you ask me, he just died of old age, and any self-respecting G.P. would accept the fact."
"If you'd known my grandfather," said Sophia, "you'd have been surprised at his dying of anything!"
Chapter 3
I'd always taken a certain amount of interest in my father's police work, but nothing had prepared me for the moment when I should come to take a direct and personal interest in it.
I had not yet seen the Old Man.
He had been out when I arrived, and after a bath, a shave and a change I had gone out to meet Sophia.
When I returned to the house, however, Glover told me that he was in his study.
He was at his desk, frowning over a lot of papers.
He jumped up when I came in.
"Charles!
Well, well, it's been a long time."
Our meeting, after five years of war, would have disappointed a Frenchman.
Actually all the emotion of reunion was there all right.
The Old Man and I are very fond of each other, and we understand each other pretty well.
"I've got some whisky," he said. "Say when.
Sorry I was out when you got here.
I'm up to the ears in work.
Hell of a case just unfolding."
I leaned back in my chair and lit a cigarette.
"Aristide Leonides?" I asked.
His brows came down quickly over his eyes.
He shot me a quick appraising glance.
His voice was polite and steely.
"Now what makes you say that, Charles?"
"I'm right then?"
"How did you know about this?"
"Information received."