“Burton!”

“Yes?”

“See if this telephone in the office is in order.  It appears to be an extension from the outer room.”

While the others stood grouped about that still figure on the floor, Sergeant Burton entered the little office.

“Hello!” he cried.  “Yes?” A momentary interval, then:  “It’s all right, sir.  What number?”

“Gentlemen,” said the Inspector, firmly and authoritatively, “I am about to telephone to Vine Street for instructions.  No one will leave the premises.”

Amid an intense hush: 

“Regent 201,” called Sergeant Burton.

CHAPTER VI

RED KERRY

Chief Inspector Kerry, of the Criminal Investigation Department, stood before the empty grate of his cheerless office in New Scotland Yard, one hand thrust into the pocket of his blue reefer jacket and the other twirling a malacca cane, which was heavily silver-mounted and which must have excited the envy of every sergeant-major beholding it.  Chief Inspector Kerry wore a very narrow-brimmed bowler hat, having two ventilation holes conspicuously placed immediately above the band.  He wore this hat tilted forward and to the right.

“Red Kerry” wholly merited his sobriquet, for the man was as red as fire.  His hair, which he wore cropped close as a pugilist’s, was brilliantly red, and so was his short, wiry, aggressive moustache.  His complexion was red, and from beneath his straight red eyebrows he surveyed the world with a pair of unblinking, intolerant steel-blue eyes.  He never smoked in public, as his taste inclined towards Irish twist and a short clay pipe; but he was addicted to the use of chewing-gum, and as he chewed—­and he chewed incessantly—­he revealed a perfect row of large, white, and positively savage-looking teeth.  High cheek bones and prominent maxillary muscles enhanced the truculence indicated by his chin.

But, next to this truculence, which was the first and most alarming trait to intrude itself upon the observer’s attention, the outstanding characteristic of Chief Inspector Kerry was his compact neatness.  Of no more than medium height but with shoulders like an acrobat, he had slim, straight legs and the feet of a dancing master.  His attire, from the square-pointed collar down to the neat black brogues, was spotless.  His reefer jacket fitted him faultlessly, but his trousers were cut so unfashionably narrow that the protuberant thigh muscles and the line of a highly developed calf could quite easily be discerned.  The hand twirling the cane was small but also muscular, freckled and covered with light down.  Red Kerry was built on the lines of a whippet, but carried the equipment of an Irish terrier.

The telephone bell rang.  Inspector Kerry moved his square shoulders in a manner oddly suggestive of a wrestler, laid the malacca cane on the mantleshelf, and crossed to the table.  Taking up the telephone: