It was at its best at the top end. Just there it skirted a small park or garden, and the houses which faced it, Edwardian Rococo, had a wistful air of having known better times and more civilized people. Outside one of these a crowd had collected. It spread along the pavement in both directions and was a model of quietness and patient expectancy. On the steps behind them the careful Copping had stationed a uniform-man, but his authority was somewhat vitiated by the presence of three gentlemen with cameras supported by four gentlemen without cameras – a contingent possessed of far more glamour than a mere police constable. ‘Blimey!’ exclaimed Dutt, as he, Gently and Copping came dramatically on the scene in the back of a police Wolseley, ‘there wasn’t a soul about here half an hour ago.’ ‘That woman must have blabbed,’ snapped Copping, ‘I sent Jennings down to try and stop it … blast her tattling tongue!’ ‘Of course, she’s got a perfect right to …’ murmured Gently.
