2: Manon
CALLAGHAN parked the Jaguar in a narrow street opposite the Regency. He got out, locked the car doors, lit a cigarette, began to walk up and down the dark pavement. He was thinking about Admiral Gardell.
Gringall hadn't wasted much time about the late Admiral, thought Callaghan, and the County Police hadn't wasted any time in asking the Yard for assistance. Every one, including Miss Gardell, seemed urgent about the business. And Gringall had, in the few hours at his disposal, discovered something of the Admiral's movements of the night before; had elicited the fact that Gardell had come to town for the purpose of seeing Callaghan— a process that he must, being ordinarily intelligent, associate with the murder. If it was murder.
Gringall would think, ruminated Callaghan, that th
