A gust of extra violence howled down the street, rattling the windows, shrieking around the corners, tearing down signs, and doing such other damage as lay in its power.
There was a certain similarity in the faces of the two men, especially in the expression of the eyes and mouth. Age, however, had given to Simmonds’s features a trace of stolidity which was wanting in those of his companion. He had been connected with the Central Office for many years — was dean of the force, in fact — and though he had developed no special genius in his dealings with crime, he possessed a matter-of-fact industry and personal courage which had frequently achieved success. In the end, his chief had come to trust him greatly, probably because the brilliant theorists of the force made so many unfortunate mistakes.
Godfrey was a brilliant theorist and something more. He was not so patient as Simmonds, but then he was much younger. He had more imagination, and perhaps his greatest weakness was that he preferred picturesque solutions to commonplace ones. During his three years’ connection with the force he had won four or five notable victories — so notable, indeed, that they attracted the attention of the Record management. The end of it was that Godfrey resigned his badge and entered the Record office as criminal expert, climbing gradually to the position of star reporter. Since then, the Record had not waited on the police; indeed, it had been rather the other way around.
It was with Simmonds that Godfrey had long since concluded an alliance offensive and defensive. The
