DR CHARLES WANTAGE, for once, was in his study, not propping up the university bar. He sat opposite the two detectives and treated them to his usual self-satisfied smile. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure gentlemen?’
‘Your indiscretion has found you out, Doctor.’ Llewellyn wore his most severe face. Dr Wantage quickly looked away from him, and instead, fastened on Rafferty’s less forbidding visage.
Without glancing further at Llewellyn, Wantage leant back in his chair, stretched his legs wide, and asked. ‘To what particular indiscretion are you referring, Sergeant?’
‘Why? A lot of them, are there?’ Rafferty put in.
‘No more than most, Inspector, and less than some.’
‘As to the particulars; I’m sure my sergeant can enlighten you. Llewellyn?’
‘We have discovered that you have a key to Pro
