The Valley of Ghosts by Edgar Wallace

Mr Downer came out of the Newspaper Club with a tightly rolled umbrella under his arm and two inches of cigar in the corner of his mouth.

The day was hot and breathless. It seemed that unless he employed his umbrella to relieve him of the pitiless glare of the sun it was a superfluity. But Mr Downer would no more have thought of going out without his umbrella than an ordinary man would have thought of going about without his collar and tie. It was part of his personality, like his cigar and his hard Derby hat, and the three pencils and stylo that peeped out of his left-hand waistcoat pocket.