"You could break the door down with it." 'Yes," Martin Beck said. They parked the car in Rådmansgatan, went around the corner and saw several colleagues on the sidewalks near the entrance to number 57. The arrival of the police did not seem to have attracted anyone's attention. 'We'll go in…" Gunvald Larsson began, and checked himself. Perhaps he remembered his lower rank, for he looked at his wrist watch and said: 'I suggest I go in with you half a minute behind me." Martin Beck nodded, crossed the street, stood in front of the shop window of Gustaf Blomdin's jeweler's shop and watched an unusually beautiful old grandfather clock tick away thirty seconds. Then he turned on his heel, crossed the road diagonally without bothering about the traffic and entered the main doorway of number 57. He crossed the yard without looking up at the windows, opened the door onto the staircase and went swiftly and quietly up the stairs. From the workshop on the main floor came the muffled pounding of machinery.
