Читать книгу Seven Sins онлайн

6 страница из 79

The bare room in which he sat behind a bare desk (it contained a pewter inkpot and pens, a blotting pad, a calendar, a writing block, a wire basket and a telephone) was furnished with such severe simplicity that, excepting the desk and a framed print of Lord Trenchard over the mantelpiece, four chairs and a hatrack would have completed the inventory. This was the Scotland Yard office of Chief Detective Inspector Firth, and the tall man was the celebrated Chief Inspector.

"That's right," remarked the smaller man.

From a pocket of his sports jacket he withdrew a tightly rolled copy of an evening newspaper, glanced at it, rolled it up even more tightly and put it back into another pocket. Red faced, clean shaven, with surprised sandy hair, this was the Chief Inspector's assistant, Detective-sergeant Bluett.

He was never seen without an evening paper; indeed, it was believed that he invariably slept with a Final Edition under his pillow. There was no evidence to show that he ever read one.