CHAPTER NINEInspector Bull left the Commissioner’s office expecting to go at once to see Albert Steiner in Hatton-garden. It was not the first time a case had taken him there; he had heard strange tales of human greed and depravity from the short enigmatic Jew, peering myopicaily through incredibly heavy lenses, and smiling quietly, with half the wisdom of Solomon in his dark voice, across the wide oak table in that unobtrusive shop. Mr. Steiner knew a great deal that Scotland Yard would like to know. Both Scotland Yard and Mr. Steiner knew this, but neither ever referred to it. Mr. Steiner was always willing to help the police, but, as Commissioner Debenham once remarked, Steiner was born a thousand years before Scotland Yard was thought of. Still, Bull was counting on him—for what, he di
