"Vine Street," shouted Kerry. "Brisk."
He leaned back in the cab, chewing industriously. Coombes, having
somewhat recovered his breath, essayed speech.
"Is it something big?" he asked.
"Sure," snapped Kerry. "Do they send me to stop dog-fights?"
Knowing the man and recognizing the mood, Coombes became silent, and
this silence he did not break all the way to Vine Street. At the
station:
"Wait," said Chief Inspector Kerry, and went swinging in, carrying his
overall and having the malacca cane tucked under his arm.
A few minutes later he came out again and reentered the cab.
"Piccadilly corner of Old Bond Street," he directed the man.
"Is it burglary?" asked Detective-Sergeant Coombes with interest.
"No," said Kerry. "It's murder; and there seems to be stacks of
evidence. Sharpen your pencil."
"Oh!" murmured Coombes.
They were almost immediately at their destination, and Chief Inspector
Kerry, dismissing the cabman, set off along Bond Street with his
lithe, swinging gait, looking all about him intently. Rain had ceased,
but the air was damp and chilly, and few pedestrians were to be seen.
A car was standing before Kazmah's premises, the chauffeur walking up
and down on the pavement and flapping his hands across his chest in
order to restore circulation.
Pages:
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66