speed. There were several questions that needed answers, but all his attention was required for his driving if he was to maintain the pace at which he was driving without piling us into something. So I didn’t disturb him, but hung on and kept quiet.
Half a dozen police detectives were waiting for us when we reached the detective bureau. O’Gar—a bullet-headed detective-sergeant who dresses like the village constable in a movie, wide-brimmed black hat and all, but who isn’t to be put out of the reckoning on that account—was in charge of the investigation. He and I had worked on two or three jobs together before, and hit it off excellently.
He led us into one of the small offices below the assembly room. Spread out on the flat top of a desk there were a dozen or more objects.
“I want you to look these things over carefully,” the detective-sergeant told Gantvoort, “and pick out the ones that