Watters lifted his hat and cane from their stand.
“I’m going for a walk to think this all out, Scuddamore. Take over at the desk.”
“Yes, Sergeant,” Scuddamore sat on Watters’ chair, placed his feet on the desk and began to fill his pipe.
“And you can get your feet off the table for a start!” Watters said. “I want you to check Shaw’s daily findings at the pawns. We’ve been neglecting our routine work lately.” Having made his point, Watters left the duty room and clattered down the stairs.
“George!” Sergeant Murdoch looked up from the signing-in-book. “There’s a young woman here to see you.”
Watters sighed. “Where?”
Murdoch nodded to the wooden bench opposite his desk. “I normally place my visitors there.”
Watters turned and forced himself to be pleasant. “Ah, Miss Fletcher!” he tappe
