Callaghan watched him. Gringall, he thought, ate just as he did everything else. Slowly, concisely, thoroughly. A great many people would assess Gringall's character on that, would sum him up as a slow and ponderous police officer who had attained seniority by the process of being slow and ponderous, concise and thorough. A great many people, thought Callaghan, would be wrong. Gringall was all those things and a lot of other things too. Gringall could produce quite a lot out of a hat if he wanted to. Even a certain brilliancy of thought and execution. Gringall was no fool. Too many people— clever people— had been taken in by that slightly ponderous attitude and recovered when it was too late.
Gringall began to fill his pipe. He said almost casually:
"I suppose you haven't found Lionel ye
