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.
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