CHAPTER FIFTEENI
While Macdonald was occupying himself with the complexities of the Rameses and Nightingale detachment, Jenkins was busy with another angle of the case. He went and called on Mr. Hardwell, the connoisseur of Bentinck Street—the gentleman who gave good dinners in war-time. Jenkins was very much impressed by such an achievement, because it seemed to him a very long time since he had had what he would have described as a really good dinner himself. Pheasant had been mentioned as the pièce de résistance—and Jenkins sighed: he had not tasted pheasant since the war started.
Mr. Hardwell himself answered the front door of his chambers and he looked at the stout inspector with but little enthusiasm.
“I’m sorry to bother you again, sir,” said Jenkins, in a voice so apologetic tha
