Mr. Maverick Narkom Superintendent of Scotland Yard sat before the litter of papers upon his
desk. His brow was puckered his fat face red with anxiety and there was about him the air of
one who has reached the end of his tether. He faced the man opposite and fairly ground his
teeth upon his lower lip. Dash it Cleek! he said for the thirty-third time I don't know what
to make of it I don't indeed! The thing's at a deadlock. Hammond reports to me this morning
that another bank in Hendon a little one-horse affair has been broken into. That makes the
third this week and as usual every piece of gold is gone. Not a bank note touched not a bond
even fingered. And the thief or thieves made as clean a get-away as you ever laid your eyes on!
.... Reprint of the detective novel originally published in 1929.
