"It was the best thing that ever happened to him," I said.
He didn't take in my meaning at once: he was a little hazy with the drinks. "The best thing?"
"Yes."
"You mean there wasn't any pain?"
"He was lucky in that way, too."
It was my tone of voice and not my words that caught Martins' attention. He asked gently and dangerously—I could see his right hand tighten, "Are you hinting at something?"
There is no point at all in showing physical courage in all situations: I eased my chair far enough back to be out of reach of his fist. I said, "I mean that I had his case completed at police headquarters. He would have served a long spell—a very long spell—if it hadn't been for the accident."
"What for?"
"He was about the worst racketeer who ever made a dirty living in this city."
I could see him measuring the distance between us and deciding that he couldn't reach me from where he sat. Rollo wanted to hit out: but Martins was steady, careful. Martins, I began to realise, was dangerous. I wondered whether after all I had made a complete mistake: I couldn't see Martins being quite the mug that Rollo had made out. "You're a policeman?" he asked.
"Yes."
"I've always hated policemen. They are always either crooked or stupid."
"Is that the kind of books you write?"
I could see him edging his chair round to block my way out. I caught the waiter's eye and he knew what I meant—there's an advantage in always using the same bar for interviews.
Martins said gently and brought out a surface smile: "I have to call them sheriffs."
"Been in America?" It was a silly conversation.
"No. Is this an interrogation?"
"Just interest."
"Because if Harry was that kind of racketeer, I must be one too. We always worked together."
"I daresay he meant to cut you in—somewhere in the organisation. I wouldn't be surprised if he had meant to give you the baby to hold. That was his method at school—you told me, didn't you? And, you see, the headmaster was getting to know a thing or two."
"You are running true to form, aren't you? I suppose there was some petty racket going on with petrol and you couldn't pin it on anyone, so you've picked a dead man. That's just like a policeman. You're a real policeman, I suppose?"
"Yes, Scotland Yard, but they've put me into a Colonel's uniform when I'm on duty."
He was between me and the door now. I couldn't get away from the table without coming into range, I'm no fighter, and he had six inches of advantage anyway. I said, "It wasn't petrol."
"Tyres, saccharin ... why don't you policemen catch a few murderers for a change?"