His reefer jacket fitted him faultlessly, but his trousers
were cut so unfashionably narrow that the protuberant thigh muscles
and the line of a highly developed calf could quite easily be
discerned. The hand twirling the cane was small but also muscular,
freckled and covered with light down. Red Kerry was built on the lines
of a whippet, but carried the equipment of an Irish terrier.
The telephone bell rang. Inspector Kerry moved his square shoulders in
a manner oddly suggestive of a wrestler, laid the malacca cane on the
mantleshelf, and crossed to the table. Taking up the telephone:
"Yes?" he said, and his voice was high-pitched and imperious.
He listened for a moment.
"Very good, sir."
He replaced the receiver, took up a wet oilskin overall from the back
of a chair and the cane from the mantleshelf. Then rolling chewing-gum
from one corner of his mouth into the other, he snapped off the
electric light and walked from the room.
Along the corridor he went with a lithe, silent step, moving from the
hips and swinging his shoulders. Before a door marked "Private" he
paused. From his waistcoat pocket he took a little silver convex
mirror and surveyed himself critically therein. He adjusted his neat
tie, replaced the mirror, knocked at the door and entered the room of
the Assistant Commissioner.
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