The Theft of Magna Carta Read Online Free PDF

went on in a self-chastened mood: “I get carried away on this business. I—” He paused and then blurted out: “I wonder if you could spare me an hour some time.”
    â€œYes,” Roger said. He vacillated between saying there was no time like the present and the wisdom of taking his time; he decided not to rush it. “I’ll be in touch soon. Meanwhile, this man Caldicott.”
    â€œThe simple answer is that he’s a very shrewd judge and he’s often been at showrooms and galleries, even private houses, a week or two before a robbery. But he always appears to be in the clear, doesn’t seem to have anything at all to do with the actual job. What’s your interest in him, may I ask?”
    â€œHe’s down at Salisbury, and a Salisbury C.I.D. man recognised him.”
    â€œThat sounds in character,” Kempton answered. “That stuff at Leech’s Gallery, I suppose.” So he kept his finger on the pulse in the provinces as well as London. “He goes everywhere – never know where he’ll turn up next. If anything develops will you let me know, sir?”
    â€œYes,” Roger answered, and rang off.
    He pushed his chair back and pondered. Clearly, Kempton was a zealot, and the Yard couldn’t do without some. He, Roger, hadn’t worked with him a great deal and their last meeting had been a brief one in the canteen. And he, Roger, hadn’t realised that Kempton had been concentrating on art thefts. It was surprising how departmentalised one could get, so to speak – be aware of one’s own and any major job but be virtually oblivious of what was going on in the rest of the C.I.D. He put in a call to Salisbury and ran through the rest of the papers on his desk. They nearly all covered jobs which were at trial stage. Perhaps Coppell wanted to see him about an assignment: there was nothing he would like more.
    His bell rang.
    â€œYou’ve been very quick, Mr. West,” Batten said.
    â€œI found the man who could give me the information we needed off the cuff,” said Roger. “Caldicott has never been in jail but he’s known to be very knowledgeable and at least one of our chaps is suspicious of him.”
    â€œ That’s a relief,” Batten said. “I’d persuaded my C.I. to detail an officer to watch him, and this fully justifies it.”
    â€œGood,” Roger said. “Will you let us know what happens?”
    â€œI certainly will, Mr. West. We’ve had so many art thefts in this area lately, including the one at Longford Castle, I don’t want anyone to slip through my fingers. Goodbye, sir, and thank you again.”
    Roger, replacing the receiver, wondered whether there could be more to Batten’s calls than he had admitted: that last remark seemed to have widened the issues a great deal. Roger tucked this fact into the back of his mind, then picked up the newspapers. There was little or nothing of interest: Great Scott, he was actually waiting for ten o’clock! At least he could go and eat in the canteen; toast and coffee didn’t satisfy him for long. What he needed, he decided, was to plan a few days ahead carefully. A morning with Fingerprints, for instance; another with Records; one with Photography and another with Ballistics. In other words, take some refresher courses. It was easy to allow developments in detective sciences and medical jurisprudence to get past one. The danger was that he should take his knowledge of the different departments for granted.
    Should he make out a schedule? If he did he must use it casually, the “just dropping in” technique. He moved from his office to another, reached by a communicating door. The room was shared by two detective sergeants and two detective officers who worked for him and the superintendent, whose office was directly opposite his.
    â€œI’ll be in the canteen, Venables,” he said to the very tall,