“said Edmund, sitting forward in his chair. “Can it be true? From all I had heard his wounds weren’t that severe.” Lenox shook his head, frowning, as he pored over the note. “Apparently he worsened overnight. An infection reached his blood, and he died quickly.” He looked up. “I hope not painfully.”“What was he like, Inspector Exeter?”“Did you never meet him? A bluff chap, proud—as a policeman he was determined and hardworking but never imaginative. He was a bully, I’m afraid. No use eulogizing ...him. Still, say this for Exeter,” said Lenox, thinking of the few times they had worked together, “he was always on the side of the law. He wanted what was best for London. People forget that Scotland Yard is still a young institution, bound to make its own mistakes before it improves.”“Yes,” said Edmund.Lenox shifted uneasily. “It’s a selfish thing to say, but I hope he wasn’t shot because of the case. I feel a sense of foreboding about my return to London.”“It hadn’t even occurred to me,”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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