To be honest, I thought it most unlikely that I should obtain any useful information; in fact, I would almost have been content with arranging for an appointment at a later date. However, the lad at the front desk asked me not only my name and whom I wished to see, but also the purpose of my visit, and raising his eyebrows when I mentioned the name of Professor Ralston, he disappeared into the mysterious depths of the back offices, and returned after some little time, saying, ‘Mr Upp will see you now. Come this way, please.’I was led through corridors and down halls, and eventually ushered into a large room luxuriously furnished with a deep pile carpet in dark red, and a great deal of burnished mahogany. The discreet lad left us, closing the door, and Mr Upp, a small, spare and elderly gentleman, examined me with great interest. ‘Do sit down,’ he said at length. ‘In what way can I be of service to you?’‘I suppose I may as well tell you directly that I am a private detective, investigating the murder of Professor Gerard Ralston of King’s College,’ I said.
