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.