Read At Bertram's Hotel for Free Online Page A

Possibly an escape engineered.”
    “There's been too much of that,” said Comstock.
    “I think, you know,” said Sir Ronald, “that it's not much good going over and over our speculations again. We always say much the same thing.”
    McNeill laughed.
    “What is it you really wanted us for, sir?”
    “Well -” Sir Ronald thought a moment, “we're all agreed on the main things,” he said slowly. “We're agreed on our main policy, what we're trying to do. I think it might be profitable to have a look around for some of the small things, the things that don't matter much, that are just a bit out of the usual run. It's hard to explain what I mean, but like that business some years ago in the Culver case. An ink stain. Do you remember? An ink stain round a mousehole. Now why on earth should a man empty a bottle of ink into a mousehole? It didn't seem important. It was hard to get at the answer. But when we did hit on the answer, it led somewhere. That's - roughly - the sort of thing I was thinking about. Odd things. Don't mind saying if you come across something that strikes you as a bit out of the usual. Petty if you like, but irritating, because it doesn't quite fit in. I see Father's nodding his head.”
    “Couldn't agree with you more,” said Chief Inspector Davy. “Come on, boys, try to come up with something. Even if it's only a man wearing a funny hat.”
    There was no immediate response. Everyone looked a little uncertain and doubtful.
    “Come on,” said Father, “I'll stick my neck out first. It's just a funny story, really, but you might as well have it for what it's worth. The London and Metropolitan Bank holdup. Carmolly Street Branch. Remember it? A whole list of car numbers and car colours and makes. We appealed to people to come forward and they responded - how they responded! About a hundred and fifty pieces of misleading information! Got it sorted out in the end to about seven cars that had been seen in the neighbourhood, any one of which might have been concerned in the robbery.”
    “Yes,” said Sir Ronald, “go on.”
    “There were one or two we couldn't get tags on. Looked as though the numbers might have been changed. Nothing out of the way in that. It's often done. Most of them got tracked down in the end. I'll just bring up one instance. Moms Oxford, black saloon, number CMG 256, reported by a probation officer. He said it was being driven by Mr Justice Ludgrove.”
    He looked round. They were listening to him, but without any manifest interest.
    “I know,” he said, “wrong as usual. Mr Justice Ludgrove is a rather noticeable old boy, ugly as sin for one thing. Well, it wasn't Mr Justice Ludgrove because at that exact time he was actually in Court. He has got a Morris Oxford, but its number isn't CMG 256.” He looked round. “All right. All right. So there's no point in it, you'll say. But do you know what the number was? CMG 265. Near enough, eh? Just the sort of mistake one does make when you're trying to remember a car number.”
    “I'm sorry,” said Sir Ronald, “I don't quite see -”
    “No,” said Chief Inspector Davy, “there's nothing to see really, is there? Only - it was very like the actual car number, wasn't it? CMG 265 - 256. Really rather a coincidence that there should be a Morris Oxford car of the right colour with the number just one digit wrong, and with a man in it closely resembling the owner of the car.”
    “Do you mean -?”
    “Just one little digit difference. Today's 'deliberate mistake.' It almost seems like that.”
    “Sorry, Davy. I still don't get it.”
    “Oh, I don't suppose there's anything to get. There's a Morris Oxford car, CMG 265, proceeding along the street two and a half minutes after the bank snatch. In it, the probation officer recognizes Mr Justice Ludgrove.”
    “Are you suggesting it really was Mr Justice Ludgrove? Come now, Davy.”
    “No, I'm not suggesting that it was Mr Justice Ludgrove and that he was mixed up in a bank