Ronnie was looking wan and tired. He had not recovered from his
fright.
"Well? I got your 'phone call. Don't 'phone me, d'ye hear--never!
You get people listening in at any time; just now the exchanges will
be stiff with detectives. What were you trying to tell me when I
shut you up?"
"About Sault--he came to me last night."
"Huh! Fine thing to talk about on the 'phone! Did you tell the
police?"
"No, and I've ordered François to say nothing. After Sault went, I
sent François to--to Moropulos' house. I knew Sault was going there."
"How did you know? And why did he come to you anyway?"
The answer Ronnie had decided upon after much cogitation. "Oh--a
rambling statement about Moropulos. I couldn't make head or tail of
it. He said he was going to the house; I was afraid of trouble, so I
sent François."
"You knew Moropulos was in Hampshire--I told you they were both
there."
"I'd forgotten that. I don't want to come into this, Steppe--"
"What you 'want', matters as much to me as what your François wants.
If Sault says he came to your flat--but he won't. He'll say
nothing--nothing."
He looked keenly at the other. "That was all he said, huh? Just a
rambling statement? Not like Sault that, he never rambles. Did he
tell you that he killed Moropulos?"
Ronnie hesitated.
"He did! Try to speak the truth, will you? So he told you he had
killed the Greco?"
"I didn't take him seriously. I thought he must be joking--"
"Fine joke, huh? Did Sault ever pull that kind of joke? You're not
telling me the truth, Morelle--you'd better. I'm speaking as a
friend. What did he come to talk to you about, huh? He never even
knew you--had no dealings with you. Why should he come to you after
he'd committed a murder?"
"I've told you what happened," said Ronnie desperately.