Four of the policemen pushed past him and entered the building. He could hear them running up the stairs.
'I don't know how you found me . . .' George said, moving towards the car. 'I've always read how clever you are. I thought somehow . . .'
'You were identified,' the detective said, getting into the car and sitting beside him. 'The fellow at Kingston saw you about an hour ago. He telephoned the Yard, and here we are. We've had our eye on you for some time. We didn't like the company you kept.
Here, have a cigarette.' He offered a crumpled carton.
'I don't think I'll smoke,' George said slowly. 'I didn't drink my tea. Do you think I could get a cup where we are going? My mouth is very dry.'
'That's all right,' the detective assured him. 'That's all we do— drink tea. There'll be a cup for you all right.'
George nodded. 'I suppose they'll hang me,' he said. 'You know, I'm not afraid. I've been awfully lonely all my life.'
'Now don't talk like that,' the detective returned, looking at him sharply. 'While there's life there's hope, you know. You don't have to get depressed.'
'Oh, I'm not depressed,' George returned. 'I'm really quite happy now.'
A moment later the car took him away to meet his destiny.
The End
