folded them, and placed them neatly beside his overall. He retained
his bowler at its jaunty angle.

A cud of presumably flavorless chewing-gum he deposited in a brass
bowl, and from a little packet which he had taken out of his jacket
pocket he drew a fresh piece, redolent of mint. This he put into his
mouth, and returned the packet to its resting-place. A slim, trim
figure, he stood looking round him reflectively.

"Now," he muttered, "what about it?"



CHAPTER VIII

KERRY CONSULTS THE ORACLE

The clock of Brixton Town Hall was striking the hour of 1 a.m. as
Chief Inspector Kerry inserted his key in the lock of the door of his
house in Spenser Road.

A light was burning in the hallway, and from the little dining-room on
the left the reflection of a cheerful fire danced upon the white paint
of the half-open door. Kerry deposited his hat, cane, and overall upon
the rack, and moving very quietly entered the room and turned on the
light. A modestly furnished and scrupulously neat apartment was
revealed. On the sheepskin rug before the fire a Manx cat was dozing
beside a pair of carpet slippers. On the table some kind of cold
repast was laid, the viands concealed under china covers. At a large
bottle of Guinness's Extra Stout Kerry looked with particular