And there was no answer from the Commissioner of Police at Scotland Yard.
True, the overnight telegram might have reached the Department after
office hours. Grant, like most members of the general public, held the
vague belief that Government officials do very little work. Still, one
might reasonably expect better things from the institution which was
supposed to safeguard law-abiding citizens.
Calm analysis of Ingerman's nebulous threats had revealed a hostile
force not to be despised. Possibly, the man was already in league with
that narrow-minded village constable, so every passing hour made more
urgent the need of a trained intelligence being brought to bear on the
mystery of Adelaide Melhuish's killing. Grant racked his brains to
discover who could possibly have a motive for committing the crime.
Naturally, his thoughts flew to Ingerman. Surely that sinister-looking
person should be forced to give an account of himself instead of, as was
probable, being allowed to instill further nonsense into the suspicious
mind of P.C. Robinson.
There were two morning deliveries of London letters in Steynholme, one at
eight and another at half past ten.
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