At Bertram's Hotel Read Online Free PDF Page B

the word “clearly.” “Fully” would have been better, since he had certainly written at length.
    All anxieties set at rest, Canon Pennyfather breathed a sigh of relief and was conveyed, together with his baggage, to Room 19.
    In Room 28 Mrs Carpenter had removed her crown of violets from her head and was carefully adjusting her night-dress on the pillow of her bed. She looked up as Elvira entered.
    “Ah, there you are, my dear. Would you like me to help you with your unpacking?”
    “No, thank you,” said Elvira politely. “I shan't unpack very much, you know.”
    “Which of the bedrooms would you like to have? The bathroom is between them. I told them to put your luggage in the far one. I thought this room might be a little noisy.”
    “That was very kind of you,” said Elvira in her expressionless voice.
    “You're sure you wouldn't like me to help you?”
    “No, thanks, really I wouldn't. I think I might perhaps have a bath.”
    “Yes, I think that's a very good idea. Would you like to have the first bath? I'd rather finish putting my things away.”
    Elvira nodded. She went into the adjoining bathroom, shut the door behind her and pushed the bolts across. She went into her own room, opened her suitcase and flung a few things on the bed. Then she undressed, put on a dressing gown, went into the bathroom and turned the taps on. She went back into her own room and sat down on the bed by the telephone. She listened a moment or two in case of interruptions, then lifted the receiver.
    “This is Room Twenty-nine. Can you give me Regent 1129, please?”

At Bertram's Hotel

Chapter 4
    Within the confines of Scotland Yard a conference was in progress. It was by way of being an informal conference. Six or seven men were sitting easily around a table and each of those six men was a man of some importance in his own line. The subject that occupied the attention of these guardians of the law was a subject that had grown terrifically in importance during the last two or three years. It concerned a branch of crime whose success had been overwhelmingly disquieting. Robbery on a big scale was increasing. Bank holdups, snatches of payrolls, thefts of consignments of jewels sent through the mail, train robberies. Hardly a month passed but some daring and stupendous coup was attempted and brought off successfully.
    Sir Ronald Graves, Assistant Commissioner of Scotland Yard, was presiding at the head of the table. According to his usual custom he did more listening than talking. No formal reports were being presented on this occasion. All that belonged to the ordinary routine of C.I.D. work. This was a high-level consultation, a general pooling of ideas between men looking at affairs from slightly different points of view. Sir Ronald Graves's eyes went slowly round his little group, then he nodded his head to a man at the end of the table.
    “Well, Father,” he said, “let's hear a few homely wisecracks from you.”
    The man addressed as “Father” was Chief Inspector Fred Davy. His retirement lay not long ahead and he appeared to be even more elderly than he was. Hence his nickname of Father. He had a comfortable spreading presence, and such a benign and kindly manner that many criminals had been disagreeably surprised to find him a less genial and gullible man than he had seemed to be.
    “Yes, Father, let's hear your views,” said another Chief Inspector.
    “It's big,” said Chief Inspector Davy with a deep sigh. “Yes, it's big. Maybe it's growing.”
    “When you say big, do you mean numerically?”
    “Yes, I do.”
    Another man, Comstock, with a sharp, foxy face and alert eyes, broke in to say:
    “Would you say that was an advantage to them?”
    “Yes and no,” said Father. “It could be a disaster. But so far, devil take it, they've got it all well under control.”
    Superintendent Andrews, a fair, slight, dreamy-looking man, said thoughtfully:
    “I've always thought there's a lot more to size than people