Edgar Wallace

“ Not a sound reached the two men, though the door which gave into the hall was half open.
"I'll feel safer when that bird is under lock and key," were the words he heard, as he came, like a ghost, into the tiny lobby, and with infinite caution closed the door behind him. ”

“ Lomond uttered an exclamation of disgust.
"Again to-night? No, thank you! I've only just come from there. I've been taking measurements, with the aid of an unintelligent policeman who thinks in terms of liquid refreshment. I couldn't stick it any longer. The house is full of queer noises."
The whistle of the wind came within that cosy room and suggested an explanation.
"It's the sort of night you hear queer noises," said Alan. "The Ringer couldn't have chosen one more likely to set nerves on edge."
The doctor looked up.
"You still think it was the Ringer? A man and not a woman?" ”

“ The ambulance had come and gone, and there remained only Constable Harrap in charge of the house, and this energetic amateur.
"A man's normal stride covers twenty-seven inches. A woman's covers twenty-two," said Doctor Lomond impressively. ”

“ Meister," he corrected himself, "has got lashings of beer in the house. I've seen it come in by the case," he added mendaciously. And when the doctor, intent upon his calculations, took no notice: "Of course it's not usual to drink on duty, but a pint of beer never killed any man," said Constable Harrap. ”

“ Harrap told him. "The sergeant's going to make a search of the house. There ought to be some queer things found here. Personally," he added, "I'd like to have the job of searching the pantry or the wine cellar, or wherever he keeps the beer."
But Lomond had something else to think about. The police car had gone when the doctor reached Flanders Lane. He had to walk through the storm to the station house. Fortunately he was dressed for rough weather ”