CHAPTER EIGHTGeorge Colton’s shop in St. Giles-street was of the type that has almost disappeared from London. Soon the South Kensington Museum will be the only place where they can be seen. There was the eighteenth century rounding front with its small panes of heavy clouded glass that had weathered, with infrequent breakage, two hundred years of London street life. The heavy steel bars behind were as discreetly unobtrusive as it was possible to make them. Outside, the insignia of successive generations of royal patrons were small and weatherbeaten—not large, shiny and vulgar, as they are sometimes displayed by new stores. The upper storey was low, the many windows narrow and leaded. Inspector Bull knew the place very well. He supposed Mrs. Colton would sell it to Woolworth’s. Still, Wool
