Explore "The Amateur Crime" by Anthony Berkeley on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
For quite fifteen seconds George dithered silently on the doorstep. A Chief Constable was the last thing he had expected to be called upon to confront, and a stern-eyed, unsmiling, purposeful-looking Chief Constable at that. So far as George knew, Chief Constables were a contingency for which no preparation had been made at all. And of course it _would_ happen when both Guy and Doyle were not here to deal with it.
"Mr. N-n-nesbitt? " dithered George. "He-he's out."