4: Portrait Of An Expert Liar
CALLAGHAN stood before the front door of No 12 Pointers Mews ('luxurious and artistic self-contained flats for gentlefolk') with his fìnger on the doorbell and the grey homburg hat securely held under his overcoat between his left arm and his body.
When the door opened its space disclosed the figure of a manservant who regarded the caller with open hostility.
'Mr Meraulton is not at home,' he said shortly. 'In any event he would not wish to see any one!'
Callaghan smiled. There was a world of pity in that smile.
'Don't you believe it,' he said quietly. 'An' don't try and look insolent, or else I might put my fist on the end of that silly-lookin' beak of yours. Just you run inside an' tell Mr Bellamy Meraulton that Mr Slim Callaghan of Callaghan Investigat
