Though,′ observed Sloan profoundly, ’where there’s a will there’s usually a relative.
If you can’t be a good example, then you’ll just have to be a horrible warning.
He did his best to explain this to Inspector Sloan afterwards. ‘A funny feeling, sir.’ ‘Yes?’ Funny feelings were not encouraged at Berebury Police Station.
If there was one thing which Sloan had learned over the years it was that you should never underestimate the element of luck in detective work.
Death went well with bare stone and it was the little crowd of modern men who looked incongruous.
Neither task appealed to a man of his temperament. One required action and the other thought. Both were anathematical to Constable Mason. His working life had been centered around the skillful ‘referral to higher authority’ of anything involving any effort.
Not even the Superintendent could play about with gravity.
Sloane wasn’t interested. As a police officer he was concerned with crime, not punishment.
That’s the idea sir,” he said heartily, “Smaller villains.
Gone out to look for a hair to split, I expect.