The night was humid and misty, now threatening fog
and now rain. Many travellers were abroad at this Christmas
season, the pleasure seekers easily to be distinguished from
those whom business had detained in town, and who hurried toward
their various firesides. The theatres were disgorging their
audiences. Streams of lighted cars bore parties supperward; less
pretentious taxicabs formed links in the chain.
From the little huddled crowd of more economical theatre-goers
who waited at the stopping place of the motor-buses, Kerry
detached himself, walking slowly along westward and staring
reflectively about him. Opposite the corner of Bond Street he
stood still, swinging his malacca cane and gazing fixedly along
this narrow bazaar street of the Baghdad of the West. His trim,
athletic figure was muffled in a big, double-breasted, woolly
overcoat, the collar turned up about his ears. His neat bowler
hat was tilted forward so as to shade the fierce blue eyes.
Indeed, in that imperfect light, little of the Chief Inspector's
countenance was visible except his large, gleaming white teeth,
which he constantly revealed in the act of industriously chewing
mint gum.
He smiled as he chewed. Duty had called him out into the mist,
and for once he had obeyed reluctantly.
Pages:
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74