Chapter 9
SUPERINTENDENT RUDDOCK of Scotland Yard paused on the threshold. So this was to be his room—not so large or fine as the room of Chief Inspector Wilkins, but a good room. His predecessor had liked to feel at home in his working hours. He had put down a carpet on the floor, unearthed from somewhere a collection of prints of Old Scotland Yard, and contrived to do himself pretty well in the way of office furniture. The desk was well placed and well appointed. There was nothing that suggested a sordid routine, no litter of papers on the mahogany trays, no thumbed, tattered files anywhere to be seen. Through the open window came the sun and the pleasant murmur of London.
Superintendent Ruddock closed the door and stood in awed content looking about him. His thoughts went back to the
