“I don’t blame you in the least,” Lester Leith said. “I’m surprised that Sergeant Ackley had the temerity to arrest you and drag you aboard that train.”
“So am I, sir,” the spy said. And then, with a look of cunning in his eyes, added: “Incidentally, sir, while I was with them in the drawing room, I heard them discussing a crime which was committed no later than last night; a crime involving a drugged guard—”
Lester Leith held up his hand, palm outward. “Not now, Scuttle,” he said. “I don’t want to hear it.”
The spy said, “Perhaps tomorrow, when you’re feeling rested—”
“No, not tomorrow, Scuttle.”
The spy did not press the point. “Very well, sir,” he said.
“By the way, Scuttle,” Leith commented, “I think I’d like a brandy, and you’d better join me. I derived a great deal of satisfaction from the way you hung that punch on Sergeant Ackley’s jaw.”