ss. Of no
more than medium height but with shoulders like an acrobat, he had slim,
straight legs and the feet of a dancing master. His attire, from the
square-pointed collar down to the neat black brogues, was spotless.
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.

This important official was a man constructed on huge principles, a
man of military bearing, having tired eyes and a bewildered manner.
He conveyed the impression that the collection of documents, books,
telephones, and other paraphernalia bestrewing his table had reduced him
to a state of stupor. He looked up wearily and met the fierce gaze of
the chief inspector with a glance almost apologetic.

"Ah, Chief Inspector Kerry?" he said, with vague surprise. "Yes. I told
you to come. Really, I ought to have been at home hours ago. It's
most unfortunate. I have to do the work of three men. This is your
department, is it not, Chief Inspector?"

He handed Kerry a slip of paper, at which the Chief Inspector stared
fiercely.

"Murder!" rapped Kerry. "Sir Lucien Pyne. Yes, sir, I am still on duty."

His speech, in moments of interest, must have suggested to one
overhearing him from an adjoining room, for