Morag handed the cup to Watters. "There you are Sergeant Watters, a nice cup of tea."
The ticking of the longcase clock was soft against the crackle of the fire and the hiss of the gas lighting. Lighting the cigarette on the end of his ivory holder, Beaumont sat back in his winged armchair. "It was as well that I bought a steel anti-garrotter collar after all your warnings," he said. "That American fellow could never have strangled me with that thing around my neck."
"He could have shot you though," Watters reminded, but Beaumont shook his head.
"Not with you there, Sergeant. I knew that you would not let me down." Beaumont"s eyes were suddenly terribly wise. "Of course, I have informed Mr Holderby. He was so frightfully upset about the whole thing that he could not apologise enough."
