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Anthony Morton aka Joh Creasey

The Baron Again

Sampson Low 1938
Jacket Artist: Sadly Unknown

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INSPECTOR BRISTOW, of Scotland Yard, walked briskly from the police car towards the shining doors of the Elan Hotel. None of the several hundred people who must have glimpsed him as he crossed the wide stretch of Piccadilly pavement in front of the hotel, realised that he was a policeman. Bristow, who was by himself, looked the type of man who might be expected to spend an evening in the Elan, and September's late sun shone warmly on the fresh and fragrant gardenia in his button-hole. The sun also picked out the yellow stain of nicotine on his greying, close-clipped moustache. A stolid commissionaire, more acquainted with the members of the law than the average pedestrian, saluted smartly. "Good evening, sir. Mr. Gannett said to go straight to his office." "Thanks," said Bristow, and pushed his way through the imposing revolving doors. The clatter and roar of traffic and of hurrying feet on hot pavements dropped away into a distant

Anthony Morton Bibliography

Classic Crime Fiction

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