Chapter 2
INSPECTOR PROTHEROE— officially Station-Sergeant Protheroe, but, as there was also a section-sergeant at Eastrepps, he felt that he might justifiably adopt the more impressive title— entered the police station at nine o'clock on the morning of the 17th July, and hung his cap on the accustomed peg. He was a large man in the early forties. His face, adorned, as he considered, by a black moustache of the toothbrush variety, had no striking characteristics, except perhaps for a twisted wrinkle between the eyes only noticeable when he was put out in any way—in other words, rather frequently.
The office chair creaked protestingly as he bent to his desk and began to deal with a small pile of correspondence in the tray.
The first two letters he glanced at briefly and laid aside; the t
